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oh-for-merlins-sake · 3 years

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SLOW BURN | gw | golden

summary: y/n, a local florist, stops in weasleys’ wizard wheezes for the first time and finds more than she bargained for. soon, she’ll teach george that there are many reasons to stop and smell the roses.

pairing: george weasley x fem!reader

word count: 2.6k

warnings: alcohol

a/n: AAAAAH you guys i did not want to stop writing this!! i had so much fun, and i’m really happy with how it turned out! it was really challenging for me to write a “slow burn” relationship, but i hope i did it justice! as you’ll see, this is not a “song” fic, but a lyric (in bold and italics) was used. cheers to the first installment of the golden collection!!

taglist: @iliveiloveiwrite @andromedaa-tonks @pansydaisy @a-little-too-much @slytherinsunrise @marvelettesassemble @msmarklee1213 @letsgotothehop @finnishslytherin @starlightweasley @witch-and-a-half @darthwheezely @vogueweasley @gcdric @breadqueen95 (message/ask to be added/removed, loves!)

Blackbirds trilled overhead as you glided over the cobblestone path to work. The sun was finally reemerging from behind the dark, dreary clouds, which had just finished bathing the streets of Diagon Alley in a springtime shower. You admired the lingering smell of fresh rainwater that dripped from the eaves above you.

Today, you were taking a detour from your ordinary route. Your younger brother’s birthday was just around the corner, and you had yet to find a gift worthy of a teenage boy’s microscopic attention span and angst-ridden ennui. You smiled to yourself as you spotted the vibrant shop down the street with its mechanical mascot tipping his hat to you.

It was curious to you that this shop had a natural magnetism to people of all ages. If you hadn’t found a thing yet, this shop should surely hold something that would cater to your brother. You’d seen the troves of young wizards clamoring in a morning or two before.

As you approached the large front doors, you glanced at your watch: half an hour until the start of your shift. You strolled into the whimsical shop, dodging a Fanged Frisbee in the process. You slowly turned in place, eyeing the towering shelves of eccentric gadgets and vivid pyrotechnics. Truthfully, it was a little intimidating; where to start was beyond you.

“Can’t find what you’re looking for?”

Startled by the sudden voice, you spun to face its origin. You were met with a tall, redheaded man with freckles that practically danced across his cheeks as he chuckled at your expression. Suddenly, you felt sheepish. “Sorry?”

“You looked a little...” he pondered the right word, “overwhelmed.”

You laughed, “To be honest, I’m not even sure what I’m looking for.”

He nodded, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. “Younger brother’s birthday?”

“How did you know?”

“Just a guess,” he shrugged.

You were quite impressed. As he motioned for you to follow him up the stairs to the next floor of the shop, you couldn’t help but notice how familiar he looked. Surely you’d seen him before — perhaps in line at Gringotts or sipping mead in the Leaky Cauldron. You couldn’t quite pin it.

You were relieved to leave the gargantuan fireworks below — on behalf of your mother mostly. You followed him to a wall of massive tubes that were filled to the brim with colorful candies.

“Our full collection of sweets,” he announced.

You eyed the assortment, noticing the words Puking Pastilles on a golden label. “Are these different flavors or...?”

“Yes, but more importantly, they serve different purposes. These, for example,” he pointed to the pastilles, “induce vomiting — perfect for skiving class!”

You chuckled. “Surely these aren’t allowed at Hogwarts?”

“‘Course not! But that’s what makes them so bloody popular — hot commodity,” he said, grinning from ear to ear. “We’ve got a sweet for nearly every malady.”

“Who even thinks of this sort of thing?” you mused — again, thoroughly impressed.

“I guess we do,” he answered, leaning against the counter.

Your jaw dropped. “You made these?”

He shrugged, the faintest smirk on his lips, “I made everything.”

“Get out!” you laughed, pouring some candy into a purple plastic bag.

“Of my own shop?” he teased. “I don’t think so!”

You twist-tied the bag shut and turned to face him. “So you’re Weasley?”

“One of them, at least — George, to be exact.”

“That’s wicked!”

You noticed his freckled cheeks growing rosier by the second. “That’s awfully kind of you,” he said, waving dismissively.

“No, honestly! It’s incredible!”

As you reached for another plastic bag, George rushed over to interrupt. “Here,” he pointed to the display of Skiving Snackboxes. “Take one of these — they’ve got all our best-selling sweets in one box. Your brother’s sure to love it.” He led you over, plucking a box from the top and handing it to you. “On the house.”

“Oh, I couldn’t,” you said, shaking your head.

“I insist! Consider it an incentive.”

“An incentive?”

He nodded. “To come again.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Thank you, George — really! I just know he’ll love it!” As you turned the box in your hands, you caught sight of the time on your wrist: five ‘til. “Merlin!”

George furrowed his brows.

“I’ve got to go!” If you hadn’t known any better, you could’ve sworn you’d seen a flash of disappointment in his eyes. “But, perhaps you’ll stop by sometime. I can return the favor — clip you a free dozen roses for your girlfriend or something,” you rushed out.

“I’d have to find one first,” he chuckled, following you as you skipped down the steps towards the doors.

A warm blush flooded your face as you laughed nervously. You spun to face George one last time as he landed at the foot of the stairs. “Well, maybe you’ll stop by anyways.”

“Florist down the road?” he asked, pointing in the general direction.

“That’s exactly the one!” you called, stepping backwards onto the street.

You rushed down the path towards the florist, your step feeling a touch lighter than it did earlier. You noticed the result of the sudden sun after the storm: a rainbow hanging above the grinning man attached to the storefront.

“Aha!” you exclaimed, finally realizing why George had looked so familiar.

When you arrived at work, you swung the screen door into the greenhouse open, announcing your presence, “Sorry I’m late!”

“Not to worry, dear,” Muriel remarked.

Muriel hired you a few months prior, admiring your proclivity to gardening and greenery. She taught you something new every day without ever realizing she was doing so. Her green thumb had a knack for nurturing every flower both under and out of the sun. And her extraordinary eye for piecing together various plants and flowers to create a stunning and elegant arrangement never ceased to amaze you.

“Be a dear, Y/N, won’t you?” Jasmine grunted as she attempted to haul a heavy-bottomed, ceramic pot.

You threw your things onto a nearby stool and rushed over to lift the side closest to you. The two of you managed to hoist the pot just above the dirt floor to carry it to its destination.

“Re-potting the Wiggentree,” Jasmine explained, dusting off her hands. “Pretty soon it’s going to be too big to stay, mum,” she called to Muriel.

“Yes, I know, dear,” Muriel muttered, “That does not change the fact that it must be re-potted.”

Jasmine was less fond of gardening than her mother was. But if something unfortunate were to happen, the shop would fall to Jasmine, so she figured it’d be best to at least try and learn a thing or two.

You walked through the door leading directly from the greenhouse into the shop. “Morning, Candace!”

“Morning, Y/N!” the cheery teenager chirped as she balanced a vase full of violets on the counter.

A set of hooks adorned with various dirt-stained aprons lined the wall just behind it. You reached for the one with your initial embroidered in the upper right corner, quickly throwing it over your head and down your body. You tied a bow behind your back before throwing your hair up and stepping back into the greenhouse. You grabbed a pair of gloves and began heaving soil into the planter with Jasmine.

Beads of sweat were already forming on your forehead as the humidity of the greenhouse settled into your skin.

Re-potting the Wiggentree proved to be a difficult and timely task, taking up most of the morning. By lunchtime, you’d moved on to trimming daisies and de-thorning roses, and come sunset, you were planting hyacinth seeds and watering Flutterby bushes in the garden.

“Y/N,” Jasmine announced, stepping out from the greenhouse. “Someone’s here to see you.”

You wound your way through the garden and the greenhouse, stepping into the shop in search of your guest. Candace giggled as she zipped her coat and nodded towards the front door. You stepped onto the patio, where the outdoor displays danced in the gentlest of breezes. You were shocked to spot George leaning over to smell the roses.

“George?” you laughed. “What on earth are you doing here?”

“Someone said something about roses,” he teased.

“Well,” you began, walking over and gesturing to the basket of pretty, pink roses, “What do you think?”

“Well worth the walk over here,” he answered, smiling brightly at you as he rocked on his heels with his hands in his coat pockets.

Jasmine rushed onto the patio with her jacket and purse draped over her shoulder and swiftly said, “Y/N, I completely forgot about my mother-in-law’s birthday dinner, and Candace just left! I’m so sorry — would you mind —”

“Go on!” you hurried, waving her off of the patio, “I’ll close up!”

“Thank you, Y/N!” she called over her shoulder, “You’re an angel!”

You chuckled and rolled your eyes in amusement as she disappeared around the corner.

“I’ve got to tidy a few things but... the bar down the street doesn’t close for an hour,” you began, your heart fluttering as your stomach burst with butterflies, “We should take a walk and look at all the flowers down the alley.” You chuckled, feeling your face grow warm, “I planted half of them.”

George smiled, a light laugh gracing his lips, “All right, sounds good then.”

George busied himself with the outdoor displays while you prepared the shop for closing. He brushed his calloused fingers over the delicate flower petals, occasionally indulging in their sweet scents. He imagined how you likely smelled of flowers after a long day of work, and how that would be the perfect antidote to the lingering smell of gunpowder that constantly plagued his pillows.

“Ready?” you asked, stepping back onto the patio.

“More than ever,” he said.

As you walked down the alley together, you pointed out flowerbed after flowerbed resting on the windowsills of various shops and bakeries. Your favorites, he learned, were always the dahlias. He was surprised by the natural beauty that erupted from the brick and stone storefronts, and even more so by the fact that he never once paid attention to any of it. How could he have missed this?

“Merlin!” you gasped, rushing over to Mr. Reilly’s butcher shop. “Mr. Reilly has been doing an absolute lovely job tending to his poppies! You see, when I first popped in, he swore to Godric that he was incapable of keeping anything alive but himself, but look!”

George laughed, racing to keep up with you.

You led him to the pub that had just opened the month prior, Brenda’s Brews, whose owner agreed with your suggestion of keeping a few Fire Seed bushes out front to “really grab the people’s attention!”

Upon entering the pub, Brenda greeted you from behind the bar, “The usual, Y/N?”

“Two please!” you called, sliding a few sickles across the counter faster than George was able to dive into his pockets. “Don’t worry about it,” you winked.

“Okay, but next one’s on me, yeah?”

“No, no, consider it a thank you for earlier,” you said, raising your glass.

George clinked his glass with yours before sipping from the foamy ale. “Good choice,” he nodded.

“Can’t go wrong with a little Dragon Scale,” you remarked, savoring in its tangy, bitter taste.

“I’ve got to ask,” George began, setting his glass down on a coaster with The Weird Sisters plastered on it, “It seems like you know everyone in this bloody part of town. How come we haven’t met? Have you been here long?”

You laughed at his disbelief. “I’ve only been here a few months, so I haven’t quite gotten to everyone yet — for example, Number 93,” you muttered as you fidgeted with your diminishing glass.

“That’s wild,” he paused before snapping his fingers and saying, “Y/N?”

“Y/N,” you confirmed, taking a swig from your glass.

“And you’ve already made that big of an impact on everyone?” he continued.

You blushed, feeling flooded with a sudden warmth. You were quite flattered by the idea that you may mean something to this place; a place that was so new and intimidating not that long ago; somewhere you were certain a florist could never thrive: the middle of the city.

Perhaps the finger pricks from a thorn every now and then was worth it.

You shrugged bashfully, “I don’t know about all that.”

“Y/N,” a bartender called as he raced past, carrying two different mugs with different colored ales, “May loved the mayflowers! She said yes, by the way!”

You clapped, squealing in excitement, “Congratulations, Borden!”

George raised his eyebrows, as if to say, See?

Brenda bellowed, “Last call!”

You checked your watch: half an hour until close.

And despite the short burst of time remaining, it felt as though you’d been laughing and chatting away with George for hours. If someone insisted that they’d magically slowed time, you might have believed them. It felt so familiar to talk to George; it came so naturally. You wondered if he’d been talking since birth, given the way he animatedly told stories and produced witty comebacks within nanoseconds of the original comment.

At last, your glasses had been drained of their contents, and Brenda was shooing the last of the stragglers out the door. George followed behind you as you ducked out, calling goodbye to Brenda and Borden back inside.

Perhaps you’d been imagining it, but it certainly seemed that you and George were walking much closer together than you had been originally. One misstep and you might have brushed his hand.

You were suddenly distracted by the vibrant purple dahlias sitting outside of Rosa Lee’s. You raced over, carefully assessing exactly which flower to pick, explaining, “She won’t mind, I give her a new basket every week.”

George felt suddenly in awe of your natural grace and delight. It seemed so simple to please you: a dainty dahlia was all you needed to feel like the world was a good enough place to live. In a way, he envied your childlike wonder; it was different than the one exhibited in his shop by his products. It paid attention to the smaller things in life, rather than inciting big, booming bangs. It provided a sense of serenity.

You giggled and tucked the flower behind his right ear. He blushed as your hand gently grazed his skin. “How do I look?” he managed.

“Beautiful,” you said sincerely.

You continued walking as George fiddled with the dahlia. “Your favorite, right?” he asked, pointing to it.

“That is correct, sir,” you answered, impressed by his memory.

Once you reached Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, George leaned against the door and twiddled with the tiny flower between his fingers. He considered asking you inside, despite the lights clearly being off, indicating that the shop was clearly closed, and therefore, indicating that he meant inside his flat.

Likewise, you pondered the same prospect. You wondered if it’d be too forward: to suggest the idea of coming inside. Perhaps, tonight wasn’t the night.

And that was all right.

“Well, George,” you sighed, “I must say I’m really glad I stepped into this wacky shop of yours today.”

“I’d say the same,” he said earnestly.

You paused. “You’ll have to stop by again... you know, to finish off your bouquet,” you said, gesturing towards the dahlia.

He smiled. “You’ll be there tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” you echoed, a smile growing on your lips. You stepped onto the street and waved.

The sight of George waving back with a lopsided grin on his freckled face was enough to tide you over until next time. You spun in place and apparated home.

Honestly, George liked the idea of taking his time, carefully picking flowers — a few each day — until his bouquet was erupting from its vase.

Maybe then, you’d come in.

#george weasley x reader #george weasley x you #george weasley x y/n #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley #hp fanfiction #george weasley x fem!reader #golden collection

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sopxhiea · 4 years

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Wicked

Alfie Solomons X Reader

Enemies to Lovers!

Warnings: Large age gap.

Summary: Alfie stumbles upon a very familiar face around Birmingham and he finds his feelings to alter as he watches her.

“Don’t fall in love with me.”

The weather is gentle against the lilies growing around. There are a couple kids running around under the chirpy April weather as the city moves on. The sounds of cars and footsteps fill the humid air while the smell of freshly baked bread escapes the bakery around the corner, inviting any hungry souls with a penny to spare.

The heels of your leather boots create loud thuds against the pavement’s surface while you check your pocket for the watch, eyes scanning the accessory in an attempt to stop time.

It’s a busy day.

There is a small job to be taken care of, a stubborn lad has to be threatened in exchange of some cash. It’s time to take the main road after that, visit the Shelby company to see the familiar man and get as much as you can out of him.

You look like a woman in love.

An outsider could mistake you for a foreigner to this town, your beige coat and airy summer dress compliment your skin as the heavy boots contradict the soft image created by the upper half of the outfit. You look like a kind person from the outside, someone who probably owns a cottage with her husband and lives quietly.

You’re far from that.

Your family business has shaped you into a sharper person than what you would’ve been. It’s made you a person capable of persuading just about anyone whether it’s for a murder case or some expensive jewels.

There’s no point on dwelling on it. You hadn’t chosen the live you were born into, being the only heiress of a gang was not your first choice anyway but you got on with it. You grew up learning how to conceal how you felt, learned to choke a man to death and even came close to doing it once.

An hour passes, you run your pretty mouth by a couple people in search of a name and a sweet little lady gives it to you not too long after. You don’t like to think about how all this thrills you, the reason why you’re so good at it is because you enjoy chasing men down.

Not too long after you visit to the given location, you return to the heart of the area with the information you needed and blood on your sleeve. You hide it by pulling the sleeve of the already oversized coat. You flash smiles, the way to the Shelby company is close.

Sometimes, you think of the past.

It’s a bad habit, you know. It makes you feel stuck, like there is war again and you’re the only hope the family has. There’s the horror of being young and helpless when you dwell on the past, it mostly brings doom and desperation from the painful years that cast a glassy look in your eyes.

But there are parts you don’t wish to forget.

You recall his name, Alfie. He had been a rival of your dad’s for a long time even after he’d passed away. He was relentless, stubborn and much bigger than you were. You were a teenager when you’d first seen him, he was a young man then. You had sworn to him that you’d get taller than he was, both in height and the status he upheld.

He was gentle, had been there all along while your family went through some rough patches that only left you and your little brother on the upper part of the soil that coated this earth. There was an understanding you had with the man, almost like your souls were made of the same parts.

He was the enemy.

You often told yourself that when his name came up in conversations. You didn’t have any contact left with him, the jewish community was on the far end of the city from where your business operated so there was no reason to mess with his area. It had been over four years since you’d seen him, the enemy.

You were grown now, respected and very well known. You knew the business, how the thick headed men operated and you were an expert in getting what you wanted, not the shaky small girl he knew you as.

Walking in the bet shop, you heard Tommy’s assistant call your name. You had been long lost family friends and the business benefited from an associate like the Shelbys. You were older than Finn by a couple months, making most of the people in the shop treat you like a small girl but his assistant knew better.

You were escorted to his room by a brunette woman, she seemed nice enough to let you know that he had another meeting. Her remark made you check your watch, you didn’t have that much time if you wanted to get everything done for the day. Your brother would be waiting for you in front of the factory soon.

Shaking your head, you knocked the door once and entered without the approving sound of ‘come in.

It was hard to comprehend the scene before you.

Tommy was sitting behind his desk, leaning back on the chair in a calm state. There was Finn, a smile spread on his lips when he saw you, he’d been a friend since you were kids. You didn’t return the gesture, your gaze fell on to the new blinder next. He had a similar look to John, just broader and he looked more like he was from Tommy’s mother’s side.

Then you saw him.

It took you a minute, his face was covered in the usual scruff but it was kept in a nicer shape. He hid behind his hat, you recognised the velvet fabric first and the owner of it not too long after. The sight of him with wide eyes, looking directly at you made you swallow while Tommy stood up.

“Y/N.” the Shelby spoke and you returned his gaze with a soft smile. It was half-assed.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.” Tommy spoke once more and Alfie got up, shaking his hand and muttering something into Tommy’s ear. You ignored the rush of excitement that washed over you when he passed by, the smell of vanilla and rum evident when he stopped by to greet you with his hat.

You smiled and spoke with a low hum. “Mr. Solomons.” you murmured as he inspected you.

You were not the little girl he saw in pony tails around the mansion anymore. You had grown up to be a woman, a very beautiful one at that. You didn’t look like your family, they were all average looking people with dangerous stares whereas you were much softer to the eye, it was like inspecting a well-done painting to look at you.

His eyes pierced through yours for a few moments, hand tugging at his beard while he spoke. His voice was all the same. “Lass.” he said, making you frown in the slightest because it made you think that he didn’t remember your name.

You were his rival more than anything. Your company ruled one end of the city and he did the same to the other. There was always hunger for more, wars and murders to make sure everyone stayed in their territory but also deals made behind closed doors to make sure one business controlled all over.

But you’d play nice.

You shook his hand, didn’t reach for your gun and waited a little for him to leave before you got down to business. Your deceased father would tell you to knife his throat if it weren’t for the multiple gang wars that would arise, so you stayed put and let him leave.

Sitting down on the chair in front of Tommy’s table after greeting Finn and learning that the new blinder was indeed Pol’s son, you got to business. There was whiskey drank and deals made as you tried to ease Tommy’s tension behind Alfie’s leave. You didn’t care that the man was stressed but to get what you wanted, you’d have to be patient.

Two hours later, you bid a farewell to the familiar faces and left the building. Walking towards the factory your little brother would pick you up from, you hurried your steps, making the dress swish around your ankles while a car followed you.

You knew who it was.

When the machine stopped right next to you on the side walk, you watched Alfie get out of the soft seats. He had a cane in his hand but he looked the same he did after the war. You looked right at him when he towered above you, no words spoken because you had to be careful with him.

He was the enemy, and had been for longest time.

“Why are you following me?” you spat, feeling warmth radiate off of his body at the close proximity.

He recalled the time you’d said you’d grow taller than him, it brought a smile to his lips as he spoke.

“I remember, yeah..” he said, fingers waving through the air as he spoke. “You were just a small fuckin’ girl then..” he chuckled and you waited for him to finish, arms crossed. “Tellin’ me, yeah, that you’d be taller than me when ya’ grew up.” he said, his smile was infectious but you concealed his affect on you.

“That doesn’t answer my question.” you spat back, ready to have a go at him as a look of pleasant surprise flashed across his face.

You’d always been the one with wits. He recalled the times when your teenager self would bicker with him, the playful banters would grow heated but he’d do nothing much after lewd images of you filled his mind. You were eighteen then, old enough to know what you wanted but young enough to mistake an enemy for a lover.

He knew better.

“You’re still fuckin’ fiesty, eh.” he spoke, nodding as he took the image of you as a grown woman.

“How’s business?” you ask, ready to mock him the minute he answered but he spat back another question.

“How’s Jack? he asked, seeing the slight rise of emotion in your eyes and that was enough for him. He knew your little brother well and knew what you went through to protect him.

“Jack’s fine.” you said, voice stern while amusement filled his blue orbs.

“So is business.” he spoke, answering your question and making the fire in your eyes light up once again.

You nodded, a soft smile on your lips while you uncrossed your arms. He’d seen you grow up even though he was the enemy since your parents had always been a fan of the mantra of keeping enemies closer than friends. He’d been there, casting in the shadows when they’d died, too and he was still there when the business had risen from the ashes you’d picked up.

“’s been some time, yeah?” he said, nodding at his own words while you forgot about your brother and the place you had to be

“It has.” you said, feeling yourself grow comfortable at the familiar conversations. They had been missed, he was the only man who knew how to speak to a woman around here after all, had always been that way.

“You’ve grown.

“You’ve aged.” you spoke, earning a chuckle from his lips. The sound of him was still the same.

He had aged, but like fine wine. It wasn’t the same way you’d seen man around here age, he’d just gotten better looking. He was young when you got to know him, barely had half of his might he possessed now. There were less wrinkles on his face than you’d seen a man his age have, he just looked rugged and you hated that your heart did a little flip every time he licked his lips.

“Got somewhere to be?” he spoke, realising that you had been going somewhere before he held you up.

“I do, actually.” you spoke, your voice was breathy and soft and he wondered how you would sound with his head between your legs. He nodded at your words, you looked at the road before you while he got to talking again.

“Why don’t we go for a cup of tea, yeah?” he asked, much out of the blue as you stared at him with wide eyes.

He was the enemy.

Sure he was attractive and much more pleasant to be around than your brother but your family had spent too much to be where you were. There were too many factors involved and no matter just how badly you wanted to say yes, you knew how to play this game well and that meant brushing arms with the jewish man before you.

He spoke once again before you could start speaking. “For ol’ times’ sake, right, no funny business.” he spoke, refraining from cursing every two words because frankly he wanted to impress you.

He sensed the hesitancy you had, it was only natural that you had doubts regarding the familiar face before you. You smiled first, there were too many ways this could go. He watched as you took in a deep breath, your chest rising as he tried his best to look at your eyes and only, it was amusing.

For old times sake.

“If it’s just for some old company..” you said, liking the way his eyes sparkled when he looked at you. “...you won’t mind Jack being there..” you spoke, knowing very well that he would in fact mind your brother being there.

It took him a minute. Of course he minded. He couldn’t show you that though, things were still pretty fresh in his mind. He remembered the way you’d catch him looking during a business meeting and frown, it made him smile to this day. He recalled the days where you’d spend the hours around his office, trying to find a stable deal for what your father wanted. You’d been young then, smart regardless.

“That’d be fuckin’ lovely, yeah..” he said, pulling at his beard as he watched you inspect him. “Missed the lad myself.” he said, clearly lying.

Jack and Alfie didn’t get along as friends but they were compatible enough to be business partners. They’d always bicker around but the words thrown around were much different compared to when you’d mess around with Alfie. It was more aggressive, not as light-hearted.

You nodded, telling him to come meet you in this coffee shop around the corner from his place. He smiled at your words, you still knew the address. You gave him a couple quick glances, one to look at his face one last time as he blushed under the afternoon sun and one to finally say goodbye.

He watched as you walked towards the car.

-----------

In the span of two hours, you’d managed to scold your brother, score a large deal and make it to the shop. Jack, who was a couple years older than you, was being a pain as usual. He wasn’t so unpleasant to the people you were making business with but he was to you, it was the bond you’d developed after everyone in your family had passed away.

You found yourself sitting in a wooden circle table with Alfie and Jack not too long after. They were chatting about the business, the incomings and the outgoings and all that. You listened intently, realising just now that you’d missed the way Alfie said things, not only because of his accent but his charisma and charm that had been mere illusions when you were small.

Alfie’s eyes landed on you as Jack talked about some deal you’d made just an hour ago. He started speaking about the buyers and the receivers of the deal but Alfie’s focus was solely on you as you poured some milk into the coffee cup. He watched as you stirred, not looking up at anyone and purely living in your own world.

You knew when Alfie had something to ask, he would.

You’d liked that about him. He was honest and blunt, didn’t beat around the bush and said whatever was going on in his mind. You only knew a handful of people who were capable of doing that and most were women.

Your eyes met his at last after a few fidgeting moments from your part. You looked at him, thinking that he’d probably asked something but you were living too much in your head to realise that there had been a real conversation going on in the first place. Your eyes were wide open as you spoke, making him want to giggle.

“Huh?” you said, Jack stopped talking and looked at you. “You said something, Mr. Solomons?” you spoke once again, the addressing him with his surname sting him but he’d be gentle.

“’s Alfie, luv.” he spoke and watched you nod, searching for an answer to your previous question.

“I said, right, do ya’ still got the dog?” he spoke, the question was openly directed at you.

You had a large dog when you were a teenager. It was a great dane, a black creature that would follow you around all the time. Alfie had last seen him in your dad’s office, the thing used to reach above your knee level.

You smiled at the question, he patted himself in the back for seeing your beautiful smile once more after all these years before he listened.

“No. He was getting too old so we put him to rest a couple years back.” you said, a glint of sadness evident in your eyes but Alfie swore that he almost missed it.

You faced him this time, a little more confident and asked him about his dog, Cyril. He told you about how he got bigger, even though he was already impossibly large the last time you’d seen him. The dull conversation then turned into a lively one, you chatted the day up, asking about anything and everything you were curious about until you looked to your right and Jack wasn’t there.

He had excused himself to go take care of some business, even though there was none to take care of currently. You guessed it was because of how intense the talk was between you and Alfie. It ran smoothly but the speed was much harder for an outsider to pick up, so was the sarcasm and the wit.

He also didn’t quite like the way Alfie’s gaze ran along your body from head to toe every now and then.

You weren’t a little girl anymore so Jack couldn’t boss you around, that was why he’d mumbled a small excuse and left you and Alfie alone. You dismissed the thought and kept on asking him about his new home, the one he’d bought in the years of your absence.

“I got them, right, to do the walls in fuckin’ oak.” he said, smiling at the end of the sentence while you chuckled to yourself.

You had missed this.

There had been a voice at the back of your mind this whole time, it was your father’s, warning about not sleeping with the enemy. You had low intentions of maybe kissing the handsome lad who was currently speaking about his new office, you didn’t know if you wanted to take it so far as to sleep with him.

He was the enemy.

There was flour on the his shoe sloes, he smelled of vanilla and rum. His skin was rough, the experience of life gave him a tougher look than the one in his eyes that were directed at you. He made you laugh, it was silly just how giddy this bear of a man was.

You shook your head, nodding along the words he was saying but you’d missed the question and so you were met with curious eyes of the jewish gangster. This was the second time you were daydreaming about him in front of him and a low colour of pink blush rose on your cheeks.

“You’re not the listenin’ type these days, eh?” he spoke, chuckling lowly when you shook your head.

“Sorry, I just..” you breathed out, your voice was much breathier now and he casted a hungry look in your direction. One you decided to ignore.

You didn’t say anything more, the shake of your head was enough to let him know what had been on your mind. He had always been able to see right through you, more so than the people you were related to by blood. You murmured a small excuse, telling him that you needed to leave and he nodded.

You offered him a smile as he continued to talk, both of you standing up now that the night was near. It had been hours of talking and you’d lost track of time. You needed to take care of some things at home and also listen to your brother bitch about how he’d been left out of the coffee talk you had with Alfie.

“I’ll see ya?” he asked while you waited outside the shop, he’d always been the one to address things a little to quickly than the average person.

“Do you want to?” you asked, the game of push and pull was natural in between the two of you.

He chuckled wholeheartedly and you ignored the small smile on your lips formed by the action. “Do I wanna fucking see ya?” he nodded, repeating the question as if it were something he’d never heard of but you nodded like it was common. It made him shake his head and lean closer to you so that you felt his hot breath against your face.

“I would love to fuckin’ see ya, lass, right, and I know, yeah, that you know that fuckin’ well at this point.” he spoke, eyes moving up and down along your body, just enough to make you forget that he was supposed to be the enemy.

You smiled wickedly at his words, you knew that he wanted to, why else would he be looking at you the way he was?

“Well, then..I suppose you know the rule.” you whispered against his face, making him weak in the knees. He was comforted by the wicked ways your mind worked and enjoyed this game all too well.

“What fucking rule?” he spoke, almost rolling his eyes when your lips ghosted over his.

You’d been waiting for this for so long.

“Mr. Solomons, you’re the enemy..” you spoke, seductive enough to earn a grunt of extreme approval from him and he felt your small hands on his chest. “We’re supposed to be hating each other, not flirting in a public setting.” you smirked as he listened you, eyes never leaving your lips.

“Tell me the fuckin’ rule then, yeah, lass, or else I’ll end up takin’ ya’ right here.” he spoke against your lips, you hadn’t kissed him yet but he was already drowning the moment your lips ghosted over his. You pushed him down by the slightest, making sure he wouldn’t do anything funny before speaking.

“As much I like the idea..” you breathed against his face, watching his eyes glisten with want. “..here it goes.” you spoke before listing the rules almost too quietly. You felt his eyes close when he felt you speak against his lips.

“Don’t fall in love with me.” you said, earning a low chuckle from him, he wasn’t gonna have something half his size order him around, no matter how aroused the idea made him feel.

He shook his head at the idea, he couldn’t deny that you were made to love. He’d been intrigued with the idea all those years back as well but you were entirely too young, no matter just how much you toyed with him at times. The age difference was significant still but you were much older now. Certainly not the rosy cheeked eighteen year old he once found amusing.

“Luv, ya-” he stared speaking but you cut him off, taking a step towards the man twice your size as he towered above you.

“Alfie, I don’t mind all the fuss right..” you spoke, very well aware of the fact that you were on dangerous waters but that made it even more appealing. “I don’t mind the sleeping around either. We just need to keep it casual.” you spoke against his face and he swore he would kill anyone to kiss right there and then. But he didn’t.

“Casual aye?” he spoke, mumbling something under his breath that you failed to catch.

You knew it would be hard and that it was a challenge, you knew he loved to love domestically, to show his girl off and worship her. You’d heard things and while all that sounded blissful, you’d have to do it under closed doors. That was the way go when you were sleeping with the enemy.

“I’m not saying it’ll be easy but if you so badly wanna do this..” you swallowed while catching a glimpse of something in his eyes. “We have to be secretive.”

You watched him as he took a good look at you, almost like he was trying to see if doing things behind everyone’s backs would be worth it. Oh, it was so worth it. He tugged at his beard, trying to make some words out without being too blunt, scared of hurting your feelings when things hadn’t even started.

So he didn’t say anything. Neither did you. For a couple minutes, you just stood there, letting the light breeze touch the soft skin of your cheeks and play with the ends of your dress. He watched you while your eyes traveled across his ginger beard, looking like beams of sunlight when the gentle rays hit his face.

A smile formed on your lips while you walked towards him, close enough so that if you whispered anything, he’d be the first one to hear. You looked around, trying to savour the last moments before the soft sounds of your voice filled his ears. You would walk to your car after speaking and he would watch.

“Let me know if you decide to do this.”

-----

Tagging: @clairecrive @parkbearum @sourirez @bicevans @mollybegger-blog

a/n: First piece since being back and I apologise for how long it is. Lemme know if you want another chapter!

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guqin-and-flute · 4 years

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Xuan Lu and Zhu Zanjin (the actors for Yanli and Meng Yao | JGY) are both such graceful dancers, and now I'm imagining Yanli and Meng Yao in the PtL verse dancing together for some Yunmeng festival and being the most graceful and in sync dancers literally ever. Like, graceful ceremonial dance, but also just dancing cause they're young and (starting to be) in love. (Possibly accompanied by music from special guest Lan Xichen.)

!!!!!!!! I love everything about this image yes.

I can see Yanli having been a favorite performance through the years because she grew up there and the people all know and love her. And she is in full ‘you are one of us, this is your home’ mode by the time the first festival of their marriage comes around and she brightly suggests that she teaches him some of their traditional dances! He smiles, real and slightly uncomfortable, and says that he actually already knows several of them. It takes some excited probing and play pleading for him to admit that his mother had been very cultured and had taught him many, many dances from a young age that he would sometimes perform on slow nights for the other women, sometimes took to a street corner to see if he could earn any extra coin.

She’s delighted and asks to see. It takes some convincing--it’s from his past, after all, and it’s like pulling teeth to get him to tell her anything about it--but he obliges her in the privacy of their own room and immediately, she knows that this is not the easily dismissed dabbling he tried to pass it off to be. He has talent and grace and poise of someone who had indeed learned how to control his body very early on and insists he join her for the festival. With all of the kind, patient diplomacy at his disposal, he responds with the equivalent of ‘I would rather die’. She hears it for what it is and smiles and kisses his cheek and agrees to drop it.

Until next year.

And next year, she is heavily pregnant and deeply in love and in no shape to be performing for a festival. She says that he should take her place instead and he smooths his thumbs over her cheeks as he looks at her with utter adoration and basically says, ‘I love you with all of my heart. No way in hell.’ She grins and kisses him and agrees to drop it.

Until next year.

And now next year, he has his bell, he has his place, he has his child. He has his sworn brothers stable around him again after hard work from Yanli and Xichen. He has the trust and affection of everyone at Lotus Pier. She has convinced him to dance several more times for her and with her, always secretly. She cards her fingers through his hair, gathering it as a brush to flick his nose playfully and says that he should join her. He hesitates. Then says that they don’t want to see him, they want to see her. She tells him that that’s a pretty lame excuse and he chuckles, shaking his head. She grins and kisses his head and agrees to drop it.

Until next year.

And next year, she is sick and unable to dance again. It’s nothing too serious or too horrible but it’s lasted a while and it’s making him very anxious. She pets his head where it lays on her chest, where he’s allowed himself to rest for the first time in days, listening to her clotted breath, and says, again, that he should take her place. And this time there is no hesitation when he says ‘there is no way I’m leaving your side.’ She smiles tiredly and kisses the back of his hand and agrees to drop it.

Until next year.

And next year...well. Next year Lan Xichen is with them and oh dear, Yanli has just let it slip about what an amazing dancer their A-Yao is and he is glaring at her with a mixture of affection and annoyance because Lan Xichen is turning to him with obvious fascination, asking, as she had, to please, please show him. A-Yao stubbornly maintains that there is no music (though that had not been a problem before) and Lan Xichen readily pulls out Liebing and strikes up a light, lilting tune. And with obvious exasperation, he sets aside his work, rises and with an air of almost pointed obligation, executes a series of complex steps, seeming to fully intend to sit back down after fulfilling the letter, if not the spirit of their request. And she does not let him, springing up to take his hands and spin him around with a grin. The tune is from Gusu, not Yunmeng, but they make do, falling into a familiar back and forth, push and pull of a dance they had performed together time after time. When it finishes, they are all breathless and giddy and Yanli turns to Lan Xichen, tugs on his collar and says with deliberate keenness, ‘Zewu-jun don’t you think that A-Yao should dance with me at the festival?’

And with their eyes dancing already, they both look over with a wicked gleam at his resigned affection as he sighs and says ‘there is no escaping you,’ and finally agrees to do it. And they make very sure that his surrender is well rewarded with many encouraging kisses and the 3 of them do indeed perform for the festival that year.

And every year.

#YAY HAPPY THINGS #yaoli #yanxiyao #ask #my stuff #my fic #This got longer than I thought but this was FUN #peony to lotus #january-summers

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hlcreators · 4 years

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AUTHOR REC: mediawhore / @mediawhorefics

Be sure to show some love and leave kudos and a comment!

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#writer appreciation week #1dsource #hljournal #fics #author rec

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mrsunderhill678 · 3 years

Text

Ya Gorl’s Been Tip Tappin’ against the keyboard and makin’ magic with her fingies

“I used to think I was a troubled man, stumbling mistake to mistake, wondering what people's lives would be like without me. But now I've come to realize I'm not troubled, just hurt, and there's such a fine difference in that. Love and trouble used to look like cocaine and sugar, and I could hardly tell the difference between pain and gentleness. So I let neither guide my way in fear of choosing the wrong thing and breaking myself in ways I could never fix.” - Dan Castlestone

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“I'm a love riddled fool, sipping on sorrowful poetry and sad songs in the dark, knowing I shall never be me, for I was born somebody else.” - Anderson Mafasa

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“There's no one but me in my mind, so how could I blame anybody but myself for the thoughts in my head?” - Anderson Mafasa

“It feels as if I have sunken deep into the recesses of myself, and there's no one but me to run to.” - Anderson Mafasa

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“He built hell on the streets of our home, but I'll be damned if we can't find heaven in ourselves.” - Adellia Rustfey

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“I cannot live dancing under the shadows of ghosts.” - Achilles Arrowheart

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“I can say sorry for wot I've done, but dat doesn't change dat it 'appened. For some people, it just won't mattah dat I've changed, because when dey look into me eyes dey'll see da memories'a da cruelty in me. But a man don't change because 'e expects ta be forgiven. A man changes because he just can't fuckin' live wif da person he's been, so 'e kicks 'imself outta 'is 'ead and learns ta be somebody new past all 'is fuckin' pain.” - Lincoln Essex Twis

“I've got blood on me 'ands and ghosts in me blood.” - Lincoln Essex Twis

“No man wants ta go through redemption, for it's one'a da most torturous scars a soul can bare.” - Lincoln Essex Twis

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“I stepped into that old mansion like a flickering and killing light drawing in the wicked moth, but as I walked out, I learned I had never been the flame, nor had Ickabod been the moth. I was human, and fragile, and Ickabod knew that, huh?” - Shamallo Green

“I was a white dove grenade hurtling toward darkness, but I was caught in the arms of cruelty and thrown back to the light where pieces of my shrapnel trouble broke through the skin of peace.” - Shamallo Green

“I'll never come to understand what life has in store for this old, blood spilling sinner, but I suppose all I can do is keep my head up high and pretend I've got a heart that's whole.” - Shamallo Green

“I ain't much more than a name in a book, these days, waitin' ta be cut down with ink scrawled 'cross my damn spine.” - Andraak Flint

“My full moon faded ta black and shadow, and God damn, I ain't much but a haunted man fallin' through the echoes of his snarl.” - Andraak Flint

“There ain't enough words on my tongue ta describe the love I lost. But 'er name tastes bitter on this guilty tongue. Carmellia was everythin' I never knew I needed, and when she danced 'er fingers 'cross my bare and scarred chest and told me I was er's, I could'a sworn I was gon' die a better man than I was born.” - Andraak Flint

“I look ta a grave too young, and ta me, it still feels like that soil was freshly dug.” - Andraak Flint

“I look to a cloudy sky and in the drops'a rain that splash on my eye I see the tears'a the holy pourin' down on the man peace and mercy forgot.” - Andraak Flint

“My life fell apart before I ever had a chance to live it.” - Arco Dogson

“It's always strange, losing yourself. Because when you find yourself again, he almost feels unfamiliar. Like an old friend you haven't seen for years. But then you get to talking and you realize everything changed, all but the laughter and joy that came with talking about nothing with a friend.” - Arco Dogson

“The powerful always call your whispers too damn loud cause they're morality stands on fragile glass, cracked and hollow, ready ta break with whisper decibels.” - Lockman Pierce

“I was a cracked seed wonderin' if he'd ever bloom, but all I needed was someone ta come on by with water and love, tendin' ta my heart and my soul and touchin' the scars in me with the tips'a their words in places my hands couldn't go. And that, is what Lucille is ta me. She's strong and valiant, risin' 'bove all trouble and cruelty. And when the war cry comes, you best believe she's gon' fight.” - Lockman Pierce

“It is when we are at war with ourselves that darkness comes on by, beggin' ya to diverge from your path. But don't stray, brother. When you're at an all time low, you gotta keep on walkin' the path'a the right. Cause darkness stands as the only poison mankind dares ta swallow.” - Lockman Pierce

“On the edge of death and madness I met a man with sadness bleeding from the edges of his eyes. He was just another broken man under a cruel man's shadow, and ever since I met him, trouble's known my name. But I don't blame him, for that.” - Fisher Rupkal

“We all need to cry a little, we all need to die a little to live a little. The sky's heavy with the scent of trouble and sin, and as the storm comes down I know, we'll face the rain and cackling thunder clouds side by side with those we call brother and sister. It seems people pass by the sorrowed man, hands in their pockets and ill thoughts in their heads, wondering why we don't help ourselves. But truth is, we left our hearts out in the storm to rust and always felt like if we put them back in our chest, our bones too, would rust over with the musky scent of trouble.” - Fisher Rupkal

“Hey man, look, the powerful will tell you you're nothing, but doesn't that mean you're free to become anything?” - Derrick Furmusa

“I'm just a curious spirit walking home in the dead of night, passing old identities by like stumbling strangers, knowing all I wanna do is walk through the front door of who I am and embrace this person I've become. And sure, as I walk inside claw marks etch the wallpaper and there might be one or two shadows hiding in the corners of my sanctuary. But this person I am is home, he's me, and I'll never let that change. All these hallways and doorways of me tell a story dotted with trouble and love that builds who I am from scars and memories.” - Derrick Furmusa

“I was never strong, but I've always figured the most important kind of strength is the kind that walks in your heart and your mind, rather then the kind that resides in black eyes and broken knuckles. I've got a lot of fight left in me, so I think it's high time I face the cruelty of this world with a crooked little smile and a few quips and jokes.” - Derrick Furmusa

“Someone once asked me why in the face of death, I smile. And maybe it's because I never saw death as a foe, or something to fear, rather just another part of life coming and going as the wind blows on by.” - Derrick Furmusa

“I's got a cold shoulder, but it's all I got to lean on, holdin' on long enough for it ta haunt me. My daughter says that it's okay, ta be me, but bein' me has only ever made me regret who I am. And so I let this person I am drift away from the cigarette smoke, wishin' a princess would come and save me. Cause I sit here in my eyes like Rapunzel, lookin' out her stained window'a glass and regret, wonderin' why she can never leave her tower. And I only ever let down my hair to let those that hurt me inta my mind.” - Julianne Hufflesburg

“My lips taste like lies whispered on a cold afternoon, my love feels like a flickerin' spark driftin' from the cigarette, and my heart, in the hand'a someone who cares, feels like not the rose, but the thorns from it's stem.” - Julianne Hufflesburg

“I must remind myself that life is a slow and insidious killer, drainin' the soul and heart outta ya before ya ever get a chance ta fuckin' live.” - Casimir Heartfull

“When I first met Remana she asked me who I was prayin' ta, and I sparked up a cigarette and told her truthfully? I was prayin' ta the silence hopin' I'd hear sumthin' in the echoes 'a my prayers. But now I look back at all these memories'a her and I see a red eyed ghost, lost in addictions and some delusional 'ope that she could crawl 'er way outta hell. I tried ta help her, but who I am simply weren't enough, so I took our kids and I ran from 'er ghost, wonderin' if I did the right thing or the cowardly thing.” - Casimir Heartfull

“I'm just a waste'a fuckin' life, sippin' on whiskey and lies in hopes ta bury this man I am six foot deep beneath liquor, cigarettes and sex. But part time pleasures never saved a man. Only made 'im forget who he is. I've got midnight rain swimmin' in my heart, growin' a garden'a regret and weeds in my soul. And God damn, man, I forget the way her fingers feel on my skin or the way her lips tasted on mine. And I gotta wonder if she misses me when I ain't around, or if she wishes she'd never met me and saved herself the trouble'a rememberin' me.” - Casimir Heartfull

“I was stolen away in the night by wolves in the dark, and now I grasp at who I am, clutching only air, wondering how I'm to bloom in gravel and bark.” - Candie Scavell

“The thing bout life is, it ain't fair. And it ain't never going ta be, nor will it ever be. We're all born different, given different lives and opportunities, so ta say life treats all as equals would be a lie. But that don't mean we can't treat each other, as equals.” - Vernon Crazendale

“I've been a wild, country rockin' ramblin' soul for a long time now, dancin' under the sunlight with cheep beer on my breath and just another reason ta live in my heart. But when that beautiful woman caught me up in her arms and tangled her way inta my heart, I knew it had been trouble and nuthin' I'd been livin'. Bobbi's a kind, gentle and wild soul, singin' her heart out, never afraid ta share her melody. When she places a hand on my cheek and tells me we'll brave this storm together, I always git this feelin' we'll walk out the other side, all be it scarred, and damaged. But still intact and fightin'.” - Vernon Crazendale

“I've never been a blind man, but it feels like, when Bobbi presses her lips against mine, she taught me ta open my eyes. I wouldn't want anybody but her lyin' on my chest when I fall inta sleep, I wouldn't want anybody but her tangled in my sheets. She's this beautiful guardian angel and I'm always swearin' up and down she was sent from heaven on peace's wings. She always chuckles and says she's human just like me, but I always figured that's what angels were.” - Vernon Crazendale

“A place an orange capped revolver under my chin, breathing in, breathing out as with the click of a plastic trigger, I let my imagination kill me.” - Alvadia Crow

“I often wonder if trouble kisses her knuckles before they hit my cheek, or if she loves the man she torments. I've crossed my heart and vowed to die, trouble looking me up and down with hungry eyes, my faith pinning me against the wall and stealing the mercy from my lip. I have a menace in my bed, he tosses and turns, nightmares plaguing him, faith killing him, and he is me, he's always been me. And so long as I am me, I shall never truly be. How cruel it must be to live under the shadow of love and faith, falling in love with all the things that want to kill you.” - Alvadia Crow

“I am beginning to fear God watches over me not as a loving mother or father, but as a watcher and tormentor, learning the ins and outs of me before she learns the cruelest ways to kill me. Perhaps it was never God's voice I heard, but a steady and aching silence I mistook for guidance.” - Alvadia Crow

“With trembling hands and shaking fingers I place this orange capped revolver under my chin, closing my eyes with a mind so weary. And as I slide my finger gentle against the trigger, and place my hand cruel against the hammer, I whisper to the sorrowful sinner that is I, "I think I better go before I try something I might regret." - Alvadia Crow

“My head's cloudy and my mind's up in the empty sky, soaring like Icarus toward their death, knowing as they fall, clutching at the world with tears in their eyes and freedom in their smile, they died themselves.” - Juno

“My father was everything to me, you know? He was like this hero I could always look up to when my mind treated me cruelly, and when I let the truth spill from my words, he accepted me as I am and pulled me into this warm hug that smelled of leather and acceptance with the slight tinge of smoke. It honest to God feels like I'm crumbling without him, and as villains and bastards swarm around me, I cry out to a grave to save me.” - Juno

“I just wish I could have one last hug from my father, one more kiss goodnight from my mother. But as I close my eyes and fall back into my mind, it's not their smiles that greet me, it's their graves that come to haunt me.” - Juno

“I'll always stand as a whiskey burning question, wisping and fading away like cigarette smoke on a cold afternoon.” - Tristan Ripburn

“I sink ta the bottom’a my thoughts and begin ta wonder who all the bones at the bottom’a the sea belongs ta. Only ta learn they was me, they was always me.” - Alaric Alistair

“I look up at grey eyes, wonderin' who I am as my tears and sorrows disappear like silence in the rain.” - Alaric Alistair

“I was just a boy with nuthin', tryin' ta make a somebody outta himself until I met the man that'd kill all the things that made me Alaric Alistair. He always tells me it's my fault that I continue ta live in his shadows and lies, and God damn, he's right. I pass by guns in the nightstand but never pull the trigger, I walk past him as he sleeps and don't kill the monster in my head, and as he tells me ta kill another soul and enact another consequence, I do as told.” - Alaric Alistair

“I'm a skinny and starvin' dog that never learned how ta bark, and so I rile myself up and leave no warnin' for my bite, always leavin' teeth marks and claws in everythin' I ever let go.” - Alaric Alistair

“I wonder what my mother would say if she saw me today, old bat slung over my shoulder, wicked grin lyin' crooked on my lip. I ain't the boy she rose no more, just the boy that fell.” - Alaric Alistair

“All that's left of me is an old chalk outline laying at the bottom of the streetlight, knowing that it was a knife in the back that killed this man I am.” - Maxlion Saltkal

“Some men will claim themselves good, some men will claim themselves bad, but I don't think I've got a definition for me. Cause I've been good, bad and everything in-between, wondering who I'll be when that first bullet flies. It was in the flashing and colored lights of the nightclub that I met my demise. There he stood, dancing to dead melodies and sins, not knowing, as the two of us met, fate had decided both of us would die.” - Maxlion Saltkal

“Bits and pieces of me have died throughout the years, and as I realize I can't carry all of them in my arms, I regretfully shove them into my empty chamber, slinging six broken pieces of me at the man that shattered me.” - Maxlion Saltkal

“I can never tell if I'm the hammer or the nail, but when we stare each other down, pistol's eye to pistol's eye, the smoke that leaves the gun shall determine who we are.” - Maxlion Saltkal

“Carva was just another justice bound soul until we met, and in my eyes she saw something wild, something reckless, but more importantly, she saw the possibility of us. She didn't care that I was a fucking lowlife livin' the outlaw life, because all she saw when she looked at me were the beautiful things I built my scars of. I've got blood on my hands and regret in my mind, but when she takes me by my hand and tells me I'm good enough for her, I can't help but think I'm on the path to redemption.” - Mika Hammerclub

“All cruel men who ever walked always left some kind of death in their stride, gunshots and echoes always following wherever their bootprint lied. But to all the cruel men of this world? I'm a cold fucking reckoning. Because God damn, I stand for justice these days and my chamber's full of names.” - Mika Hammerclub

“I'm a finger trembling on a dead woman's trigger, knowing I've no bravery left, only the emptiness that comes with sorrow.” - Kecia Brightburn

“It feels as if, in someway, my heart has become vacant in my chest and my demons rent out rooms in my head. And here I lie under the shadows of the bed, waiting for my monsters to slide their ankle over the edge. And as they do, I drag them under, hoping I have the courage to do what I must. But I always stare back into the eyes of my son, wondering if it's right of me, to kill the monster that stares at me with eyes I used to love. And so I let him go and sit like a shadow under the bed, knowing above me lies a wicked angel sleeping gently in his chaos.” - Kecia Brightburn

“In the span of a few days I lost my life, and now I swing from the hook skinny, starved and silent, wonderin' who I'd be if I never met all the things God's come ta fear.” - Markus Caesar

“In my small town'a secrets and lies I found an angel watchin' over the remnants'a Eden with a flamin' sword and sorrow in 'is eyes. And there he stood, defendin' the serpent for he was just another victim ta the lies'a the wicked. I used ta damn the man who bit down on his tongue ta keep secrets in the dark, but I's learned we're all victims ta the cold, hearts beatin' empty in a heavy and burdened chest.” - Markus Caesar

“I look up ta the empty sky, wonderin' what my aunt would think if she saw me now. She were my light in the dark, really, but now that she's gone my restless head's been singin' the damn blues and I'm lost on the silent highway ta freedom and grace. When ya lose your guardian angel, what are ya 'sposed ta become? I sit here like a regretful dog, layin' at his owners' grave, wonderin' when she'll come back. But it's bones and soil I'm lovin' and hopin' on.” - Markus Caesar

“A thousand dreamless lives sit heavy on my heart, howlin' for justice, but the beat'a my heart's become just another sound, and my bravery's fadin' like sparks in July.” - Markus Caesar

“The way I see it death has always been mercy. The moment a man falls he's been spared of the misery life tends ta bring, and whosoever lives on shall die a man they're not. After all, it's what happened ta me, eh? I stared into the unblinking eyes of death, but she turned my gaze to cruelty and shut my damn eyes.” - Zachary De’Lillium

“I bite down on bullets etched with my own fucking name.” - Max Tripp

“I've been a bad, bad man, and as I look at the sky and see the sorrowed eyes of my love in the clouds, I know she died ashamed of this man I am. I was her last mistake, and now here I sit like a flickering remnant of who she was, wondering when I'll get the justice I deserve. But I never find karma at the bottom of the glass, I never find redemption in the burnt stump of the cigarette. It's impossible to find who you are when you've always been blind, huh?” - Max Tripp

“Me and my demons play this funny little game of two regrets and a lie. I let her down, I whisper, I loved another, I shout. I'm a good fucking man, I weep. And there the demons sit in my mind, laughing and clapping, for they always know the lie.” - Max Tripp

“In the shadows of the wood I met a wolf, and with childlike glee and curiosity I followed him as he tossed rose petals on the ground. I built a rose from his lies, not caring for the way the thorns bled my palm. And just as I began to realize all wolves lie, he ripped me away with hungry eyes and carved my innocence into darkness.” - Carrie Howl

“I've got a few scars beatin' in my chest, whisperin' in the melody of my heart that I don't deserve these things I've got. But family ain't about deserve I reckon, it's more about who sticks by your side even when you don't really deserve it. When my rifle becomes too much ta bear, and my sins sit too heavy on my shoulder, I've got my family ta lean on. Cause it's when you're at your worst, that family's love is at it's best.” - Despevada Solace

“I've got prayers sittin' on my cowboys' sleeve that never made it ta God, and I wonder if he sees these words I scrawl on the scarred leather and linen'a who I've become.” - Despavada Solace

“I've got demons in my fucking head, man. They stand there just in the edges of my sanity, always leaving scratches and bites on the inside of my skull until pieces of them bleed into me. I've never been someone worth while, just another sad boy whispering lies to himself that everything would be okay. But look at me now! I've got power and insanity on my side, and I can't help but think these wicked things are what I should build my name off of.” - Wulf Azari

“In the shadows of murder and the light of sin I met a devil like me. She sits quiet and still with a festering rage in her heart and when you dare think she's a sheep, she'll smile and show you her fangs.” - Wulf Azari

“I've said goodbye to myself too many times, it's time I met who I'm not.” - Wulf Azari

“The world will remember the boy it forgot.” - Wulf Azari

“I am a quiet strangulation hidden behind words like, "No need to worry bout lil' ol' me.” - Hildon Crowrappha

“I was just another man on the streets, consuming part time highs, filling myself full of substances that would kill me. But as the angels started carrying me back home on wings of glass and fragile prayer, I had this horrible realization that I had never lived, for it had always been through death I walked. And so, kicking and screaming I tore myself from heaven, condemning myself to a life on Earth.” - Hildon Crowrappha

“I'm standing under the shadow of another woman's damnation, wondering why, if God is watching over us, she is allowed to exist? But perhaps God never had a plan for us, and all he could do was observe us like a dream, wondering why it was never lucid.” - Hildon Crowrappha

“It feels as if I carry a cross in my heart, and slowly but surely, it is turning itself upside down.” - Hildon Crowrappha

"I'm drownin' under the trouble I created, and I can blame my problems all I like, but it's my mind workin' against me, so in a sense, I've got an enemy inside my head and he looks like a God damn mirror." - Stefanio Dogvalk

"You wanna kill a man? Well then God damn, brother, just give 'im a reason ta hate." - Milo Horvinshay

"Something sinister lurks deep within his kindness, for it is just another masks he wears like gossamer and silk." - Maddox Spelfellheim

"Even the farmer stares at the coyote through the scope of a rifle." - Alfred Godsel

"And so when fate finds itself at the crossroads of two promises, which do you think it'll choose? Because from where I'm standing it sure as fuck seems like fate don't vow for the conquerors." - Mac McVale

"Sometimes life bats around the good people because it doesn't trust them to keep good hearts in their chests, so it dares fate to make the good hearts black." - Coby Mackentime

"I'm pretty sure the soul is a concept we made up ta answer the uncertainty of our morality." - Lockman Pierce

"Fear is a very funny word, it runs through many a man's veins, bringing them so gently to death. But death was never a friend, nor was life, nor fate, nor mortality. It was always just another way God could keep us trapped, for the day we sinned, immortality flitted away into nothing." - Calzell Flickerfeid

"A threat is a threat, the words matter not, the intention breathes through the blood in the air." - Calzell Flickerfeid

"Life is lived right up until the moment it isn't." - Calzell Flickerfeid

“Crazy only exists in the eyes of the well man." - Comodus Kalchamber

"Staring into my eyes, you see every man who fell like an angel from the sky. I used to believe God stood by all who worshipped, but I now know he only stands by those who worship right. I knelt at the altar, heart empty in my bones, and I prayed to a God who could never hear the quiet whispers I spoke. For he was never there, it was just who I am shouting in the corner of my mind." - Alvadia Crow

Man dun'it make a sound as he falls apart." - Oswin Sealock

"You think me a crack in this castle of glass? Brother, I'm the fucking hammer." - Lorenzo Storm

"My monster looks at me through the edges of my eyes, he's corrosive like poison, seepin' into my thoughts, my actions and the way I speak. Because in the end he's apart'a me, and ain't nuthin I can do to change that other than hope he leaves with the driftin' smoke." - Rustin Threadpatch

"I don't fear. I analyze, I come to understand. Then I damn, I fight. I condemn not what I don't, understand. But what I do." - Rustin Threadpatch

”I’m falling apart like a 1965 photograph. I’m faded and torn at my edges, little pieces of me missing, like a puzzle that you know ain’t never gonna look right. They can put little pieces of me back together, stitch my edges back against one another, but in the end I’m the still the same old photograph, caught as a ghost in a single frame of time.” - Rustin Threadpatch

"Some people like to think that getting away with it is another form of mercy. This is untrue! You didn't get away with it, my friend. The world simply forgot you did it. How unfortunate for you that I didn't." - Lieutenant Stenbarge

"People are, monsters at best, human at worst." - Rustin Threadpatch

"He walks confident like a loaded gun with the hammer pulled back and ready." - Rustin Threadpatch

"A delusion is only beautiful if the mad gives it a reason to be." - Maureen Chiseldowe

"Thing bout second chances, Graham. Is that they give the spared man the wicked fuckin' idea, that he can get away with it." - Henry Sinix

"Mankind does not believe the broken man. In the whole we trust, in the broken we condemn." - The Crow

"Be it God or man, we are always looking for someone to blame. Unfortunately, I am the blade others fall onto." - Arasill

#writing #oneliners #characters #author #dialouge

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concussed-to-pieces · 3 years

Text

The Mettle Of A Man; Part Seven

Fandom: Fallout (4)

Pairing: Eventual Paladin Danse/Female Sole Survivor

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Enjoy!

Part One: ArcJet

Part Two: The Prydwen

Part Three: Orders

Part Four: Finding Brandis

Part Five: Weston Water And Oberland

Part Six: Meeting Preston And Matthew

Paladin Danse, pride of the Brotherhood of Steel, yawned loudly right before he took the shot. The radstag looked up, alerted to his presence, but it was already too late for the beast.

Danse lumbered down to the water's edge, hauling the body up onto the withered grass and then drawing his combat knife. As messy as field dressing creatures could be, Danse found himself soothed by the memorized motions. He wondered idly whether he could have been happy doing something like this. Just hunting to support his own needs, staking a claim on some forlorn piece of land and slowly shaping it into a home, maybe even starting a family...

He almost nicked his thumb due to his inattention and Danse grunted, a little irritated to have caught himself daydreaming about a more domestic existence. You're a member of the Brotherhood of Steel , he scolded, start acting like it! Imagining fake lifetimes was reserved for those who hadn't sworn the Creed, dedicating their lives to carrying out the will of their Elder and honoring the tenets of the Brotherhood.

Theirs not to make reply, theirs not to reason why, theirs but to do and die.

Danse's familiarity with the task made quick work of butchering the animal, the paladin rolling everything neatly into the bedraggled hide he had peeled off the beast. The inedible bits of the animal he buried, not wanting to draw any predatory attention to the site.

With the lumpy, makeshift sack slung over his shoulder, the paladin trekked back up the hill to the station. Preston waved at him from the fortified wall and the paladin saluted out of habit.

Danse found himself powerless to stop his smile when a freckled face popped out from the doorway of the station, Matthew staring down at him. The child's fear seemed to have evaporated overnight, replaced by the verbose curiosity that so many of his age group eagerly employed. It probably helped that Danse had left his power armor behind the station.

"Whatd'ja get?" The boy asked, skittering down the stairs.

"Radstag. Notoriously gamey, but ultimately acceptable for consumption." Danse replied as he rinsed off his hands and knife, surprised when Matt nodded solemnly.

"My papa and older brothers get them sometimes. He says I can't see them shoot one yet though. When I'm older I can come along." Matthew squatted beside the paladin, watching intently as Danse unrolled the pelt and separated out the different cuts of meat. Some would benefit immensely from being aged, but out in the field there was little chance of a reliably-cooled environment.

Danse frowned. He had been hoping for smaller game, like some mole rats. He hadn't wanted to pass up the prolific meat the larger beast offered, but now he felt a bit foolish for impulsively going after a creature they may not be able to consume entirely before it spoiled. He couldn't spend all day cooking or preserving it either, he had promised Preston he would finish the wall--

"Good news!" Garvey called, a spring in his step as he approached the two. "Matt's folks are coming 'round to collect him as soon as possible. I'd expect them by noon, if not earlier."

"Does your family need food, Matthew?" Danse asked the boy bluntly, gesturing down at the meat.

"I got three brothers and four sisters, Mister Danse sir." Matt said by way of reply, his eyes a little wide. "We grow some stuff and my mama makes pretty things to sell, but food's kinda' tight." A flush rose on his face. "We're not poor though! Not poor. We have a place to live, and clean water." He continued defiantly.

Danse was stunned silent for a moment, and Preston cleared his throat. "You need a hand with that, Paladin?"

"I...yes. Thank you, Lieutenant." Danse mumbled, struggling to gather his thoughts. "I may have bitten off more than I could chew as far as resources go. If you would...just...uh, wrap the…"

"You want them to have the decent stuff, or the larger stuff?" Preston asked simply, crouching down.

The paladin grimaced. "The whole damn thing, but I'm certain they wouldn't accept it." He muttered incredulously under his breath, " eight children."

"They're lucky. A lot of times, pregnancy doesn't really work out so well." Preston rumpled Matthew's hair. "How about you decide, big man. You want the whole deer, minus what we eat for breakfast?"

"What, really? All of it?!" The boy asked excitedly, looking up at Danse like he was waiting for confirmation. Danse nodded jerkily, unsure of exactly which emotion was choking him at the moment. "This will make my mama wicked happy! I hear her cry sometimes about food. S'why I went to the water place, I was tryin' to scavenge for stuff like my big brothers do."

It was hardly Danse's first time encountering a family that was low on resources. He had grown up a scavenger himself, alone and hungry. The Capital Wasteland had been rife with desperate people who were willing to try their luck against fully armored BoS troops. Danse couldn't even begin to count the amount of times hostile situations had erupted due to the Brotherhood sitting pretty atop a mountain of supplies.

"I'm glad it'll be put to good use, then." He managed to say, his fists balled up tightly.

At least right here, right now , he could help.

…

Danse trudged across the lot yet again, dragging a massive fallen tree behind him. Thanks to his power armor, the paladin was a machine of industry when it came to building the remaining two sides of barricades. Backhand was just grateful that he had waited until after eight o'clock to begin. Her sleep had been poor, filled with dreams of chasing after Shaun.

Danse worked almost silently aside from noises of exertion, and it seemed as though his mind was elsewhere. If Backhand had learned anything during her brief stint of traveling with the paladin it was that when he pondered, he appeared to devote his whole body to the task.

"He's really somethin', General." Preston commented. "I mean, just look at him go! If more folks in the Brotherhood were like him, I feel as if the tide would finally start to turn for the Commonwealth."

"You're not wrong." Backhand agreed, wiping the sweat off her forehead. After Danse had assured her that he was more than up to the task of finishing the fence, she had decided to start planting the crops. So here she was, General of the Minutemen, up to her elbows in dirt, tato seeds and corn kernels while Matt 'supervised'. "I think he likes helping."

"Kindred spirits?" Preston teased.

"Maybe so!" She laughed, flicking his knee with dirt-covered fingers. "I think the Commonwealth could always use more people willing to lend a hand, though."

"The Minutemen certainly can, even if the rest of the Commonwealth wants to stick its head in the sand." The radio on Preston's lapel crackled to life and he dashed off, practically bounding up the steps to the station so he could get a little higher and clear the signal. " Lieutenant Preston Garvey here… "

"I hope my parents come soon." Matt said quietly. He toed at a mound of dirt, his expression troubled. "D'ya think they'll be mad at me?"

Backhand grimaced. "I doubt it. They'll be happy that you're okay. You're really lucky, y'know."

"I know." Matt continued staring at his feet, "I just didn't want my mama to cry anymore. I wanted to fix it."

Backhand raised her hand and placed it on his shoulder, giving him a little shake. "Hey, sometimes we're just not big enough to fix stuff by ourselves. Sometimes we're not strong enough, even when we think we are. But that's how you learn, right? So you gotta' pick yourself up and try to help where you can." The little boy still looked dejected. "I'll tell you what, Matt. As General of the Minutemen, I'm giving you a field promotion to Intel Lieutenant."

"Intel Lieutenant?" Matthew echoed in confusion, his eyes wide.

"Yep. You're observant and resourceful, excellent qualities in an intelligence operative. I need you to keep your family safe, and that includes keeping you safe. A smart intelligence operative always ensures the safety of the people around them. Can I count on you, Lieutenant?" Backhand asked, wiping her hand off on her jeans and extending it to the boy.

"Yeah. Yeah! Yeah, I can do that!" Matthew puffed his chest out a little, small fingers grappling her own when he shook her hand. "What's my first order, General ma'am?"

"Your first order will be to work in tandem with Preston and secure the perimeter. You walk the inside beat, he walks the outside." Backhand instructed, barely stifling her laugh at the child's stiff salute.

"Matthew?" An unfamiliar voice called, a thin woman slipping through the doorway Danse had left in the fence. "Matthew!"

"Mama!" Matthew hollered, bolting across the settlement to fling himself into his mother's arms. The woman sank to her knees, holding her son close and crying into his hair as he clung to her.

Backhand's throat ached and she looked away, blinking away the tears she wanted to shed at the reunion. She noticed that Danse had stopped mid-motion, the paladin appearing to silently watch the scene unfold.

Preston trundled down the stairs, his smile kind as Mrs. O'Brian tried to thank him. "All part of the job, ma'am. We were happy to help." He assured her. "Really, you can thank that curmudgeon Rob. Without him telling the General about the super mutants, she never would have gone to Weston."

Backhand rose from the dirt, brushing her knees off and meandering forward. Mrs. O'Brian launched into a new wave of thank-yous which Backhand attempted to graciously deflect, and in the midst of their conversation Mr. O'Brian arrived. He was wheezing a bit from the climb, freckled face red with exertion.

"Matthew Amadeus O'Brian!" He thundered, and Matt lunged for him.

"Papa!" The little boy cheered, hugging his father's leg.

"You had us out of our minds , young man!" Mr. O'Brian scolded, the relief in his eyes belying his sharp tone. "Don't you dare wander off like that again!"

"I won't, I promise!"

"We seriously can't thank you enough, we...we've been so worried ." Mrs. O'Brian daubed at her eyes with her sleeve.

Backhand caught her arm and carefully took her aside, speaking in undertones when she said, "Matt told us that he was trying to scavenge like his older siblings did. Apparently he overheard some discussions about food scarcity."

Mrs. O'Brian froze guiltily, looking back at her son and husband. "I...well, the winter was so hard , General, and caps have been tight because the corn wouldn't pollinate properly. We'll get by, though. We always have." She said staunchly.

Backhand cocked her head towards the motionless Danse. "My friend Danse butchered a radstag earlier today. We ate our fill this morning, and Matt already promised us that you'd be willing to take the rest. It'll just go to waste, otherwise." She reasoned, watching the other woman's eyes glisten with tears all over again.

"Oh General, we...I mean, if you're sure -?"

"Absolutely. Myself and the paladin will be going our separate ways from Lieutenant Garvey today, and that much meat will definitely spoil before we reach our next destination. Please, I insist."

"I thought the Brotherhood of Steel wasn't willing to help civilians?" Mrs. O'Brian whispered cautiously, her eyes flitting to Danse.

"I can't speak for anyone else, but my friend Danse is a cut above your average grunt." Backhand said proudly. "Once this settlement gets up and running I hope to establish a caravan between here and Starlight. If we can get the logistics squared away, hopefully that will make trade a little easier. I can't promise anything, but-"

"I can already tell better days are coming." Mrs. O'Brian said softly, her hand clasping Backhand's own. "Now that the Minutemen are back...well, it gives folks hope again, and sometimes that's all you need." She then waved Danse over.

His power armor grinding loudly, Danse obligingly approached the two women. "Citizen." He addressed Mrs. O'Brian with a polite nod once he was within earshot.

"I wanted to personally thank you, Paladin Danse." The older woman announced, her voice wavering slightly. "For finding my son, a-and for the food."

"Oh, you don't...er, thanks are not necessary, citizen." Danse floundered, rubbing the back of his neck. "A good Brotherhood of Steel soldier knows that their responsibilities lie with the people under their protection." His smile was slow, and a bit awkward. "I am simply glad that we discovered Matthew before any serious harm could be done, though I have to apologize for the cut above his eye."

"Matt was hiding in a wall when we entered the facility, and we thought he was a hound. We may have gone through the wall." Backhand explained with a wince.

"The super mutants would have done much worse. Hopefully that little scrape helps him learn." Mrs. O'Brian brushed off their apology ruefully. "He's very fond of getting into trouble. I call him my little wanderer."

"If you'll excuse me." Danse murmured, offering the older woman a salute and then turning to Backhand. "I should be done by fifteen hundred hours or thereabouts. At that point, I believe it would be prudent for us to return."

"Are you sure? You're already burning your grease, Paladin." Backhand pointed out worriedly.

Danse shook his head. "Paladin Brandis will have reported in by now. I can get my armor serviced at the base."

"Alright, I'll have everything locked and loaded."

The paladin nodded and headed back towards the framework of a wall that he had constructed. "God, he is tall ." Mrs. O'Brian muttered. "And stiff." She seemed to remember herself after a moment. "Uh, anyway! We really appreciate everything that you've done for us, General. Everything . If there's anything you need, or...even if you're just in the area, you're more than welcome to stop by. We'd love to have you visit!" She said, loudly enough so that Danse could hear her.

He simply nodded again and heaved a log up into his arms, then slammed it down over his armored knee to snap it in half. The bark essentially exploded off the trunk, bits and pieces landing on the ground as Danse shoved the crude beam into the dirt. Where the first half of the wall had been constructed with various scrap, the second half was much more reliant on raw lumber. It looked more like a stockade wall than anything.

"Oh." Mrs. O'Brian said weakly. "Are they all...like him?"

"I imagine some of them are way worse." Backhand chuckled. "We'll leave him to it. Let's get you that radstag."

Mr. O'Brian was a touch more reserved than his wife, but he still expressed a wild amount of gratitude to Preston and Backhand. The entire time Matt was glued to his leg. "I'm just happy to know that there's still damn decent people out here." The older man remarked, looking a little misty as he secured the pelt over his shoulder. "We owe you a lot, General. You can count on us if the Minutemen ever need help."

"I'll hold you to it, Mr. O'Brian. Lieutenant Matt." Backhand inclined her head to the little boy, who saluted her. "It's in your hands now, soldier. I'm depending on you. I know you're up to the task."

"Uh huh." Matthew replied, sounding a bit breathless. He scrambled away from his father right before they departed, fumbling with the knotted bandanna around his hand. "Here, General! I gotta' give you your luck back before I go." He said seriously, unwinding the cloth and returning it to Backhand. Without waiting for a reply, he then rushed at Danse. "Mister Danse! Hey, Mister Danse!"

Danse halted where he was. "Yes, Matthew?" He replied.

"I wanted to say thank you. And I'm sorry I thought you were scary before. You're not that scary." Matthew said plainly. "You're nice even though you look scary."

Danse arched a brow. "A charitable allowance, citizen. Maybe I'll bump into you again someday. In the meantime, try to stay out of mischief and listen to your parents. You are…" Danse paused, his expression sad. "You're very lucky to have them, Matthew."

"I know!" The boy answered brightly, wrapping himself around Danse's greave in a makeshift hug before skipping back to his parents. "Bye, Mister Danse!"

Danse raised one large gauntlet. "Goodbye, Matthew."

…

There was no easy way to say it. Danse was in a slump . It felt like the closer he got to the airport, the harder it was to force himself to keep moving forward. He doubted the amount of labor he had done earlier was helping matters, as the joints in his armor protested vigorously with every step.

When Knight Vega tentatively suggested that they find shelter for the night, Danse hated the relief that flooded his body. "The next suitable structure we come across." He promised, knowing that she must have spotted the radstorm he had been tracking on the horizon for several hours.

Steaming rain began to fall as Vega pointed out a ramshackle-looking lean-to, butted up alongside a collapsed house. "There, c'mon!" She said urgently, running through the tall grass alongside the road.

"Vega-!" Danse began to protest, lumbering along in her wake. Green lightning split the sky in the distance, the odd warbling thunder that accompanied radstorms rolling shortly thereafter. "Knight Vega, you don't know whether that's inhabited! "

"I don't care!" Backhand retorted, shoving open the door with her shoulder and vanishing inside.

Danse tried to enter through the doorway, but it was too narrow. "Dammit Vega, you need to think your trajectory through. Don't just go running off whenever you get an idea in your head." He scolded, swapping his rifle to his right hand and flicking on the tact-light as he sidestepped gingerly through the door instead.

The beam wavered in the darkness, playing over the battered walls and half-tarpaulin roof. It did appear that the tiny structure was deserted, and Danse wasn't sure if he should be even more cautious. What could have caused the previous inhabitants to depart?

Backhand stood in the middle of the room, her arms folded around herself as she shivered. "C'mon, get in here. The wind is picking up and I'm freezing ." She complained.

Danse attempted to oblige, nearly cracking his head open on one of the ceiling trusses in his haste. The paladin grimaced, ducking and then carefully closing the door behind him. "Better?" He asked, a little irritated with her demanding attitude.

"Y-Yes." She replied, her voice sharp. She immediately began stripping her armor off, as well as the Vault suit beneath it.

Danse flinched, turning his head away. "Vega, will you-"

"Please just...just give me a second." She begged.

Danse's brow furrowed, and the paladin shot her a look. Thunder rumbled in the distance and...was that a flinch? "Vega, are you-"

"Just give me a second! " Backhand cried, probably louder than she had intended. Danse took a reflexive step back, his gauntlet clattering against the wall. "I'm sorry, I...I'm sorry, Danse. Paladin." She apologized after a second, floundering with her greaves. "It's the rain, I can't...it makes me feel sick to my stomach."

"You should have said something earlier, Vega." Danse chided gently. "We could have found a more defensible position."

"I thought if we moved quick, we might make it back to the airport before it hit." Her motions were jerky as she yanked the Vault suit down, unlacing her boots as an afterthought. "But now we're stuck here for the night."

"At least the roof appears to be sound." Danse tried to look on the bright side of their incarceration, and tried to not look at her as she stripped to her smallclothes. He was dry aside from his head, the gorget seal at his neck saw to that. But Backhand had no such luck. "I'll put my armor in front of the door to barricade it." Danse offered after a moment, taking the opportunity to turn his back to her. He didn't get a reply, and he honestly wasn't sure if he had even expected one in the first place.

Danse emerged from the armor, stepping down and back smoothly before he urged the hatch closed once more. He then popped the fusion core out and tucked it into his utility belt. He knew he was being overly cautious and performative when it came to giving Knight Vega her privacy, but at this point he was doing this for his own sanity as well.

After a pregnant pause, he heard her shift her weight. "Okay, I'm decent." She mumbled.

The scent of lantern oil wafted past his nose and a light flared up behind him, turning his shadow into a pitch black silhouette on the wall. Danse took a gamble and slowly turned around.

Vega had thrown on a shirt that reached her mid-thigh. That was her idea of decent? She scuttled around bent nearly double, spreading her bedroll without even bothering to clear the floor beneath it. "Vega." Danse addressed her quietly, then a bit louder when she failed to respond, " Vega . You'll do serious damage to your back if you sleep so rough. Take a minute to prepare."

"I-" Backhand's eyes were wild when they met his own. For a moment, Danse wasn't certain she knew who he was, or if she even saw him .

"Knight," He paused, clearing his throat and then mumbling, "Elizabeth." Saying her actual name, the name she had given Matthew, felt oddly inappropriate. "You're alright." He assured her calmly. "You're fine. We have shelter, light and food. You're alright."

"I know ." Backhand retorted. "I-I know. And don't call me that."

"What?" Danse asked in confusion. "I apologize, I didn't mean to-"

"Paladin, please ." Backhand's eyes had gone fierce, pale blue snapping in the light from the lantern. "I'm not his fucking Beth anymore." She practically snarled the words.

"I didn't call you Beth. I called you Elizabeth." Danse replied, trying to gentle his tone.

"Oh. I... God , Danse, I'm so sorry. I don't mean to be all…" she trailed off helplessly, making a vague gesture. "I didn't sleep well and getting sick from the rain wouldn't help. We used the last of the Rad-X for you."

Ah . Danse should have known. This wasn't about her getting damp or being uncomfortable, it was the usual resource scarcity that had her on edge. "It'll be alright, Knight Vega. We're only a few hours out from the airport." He hesitated, unsure if he should continue. "I apologize for using your first name. I was unaware that it was a raw subject for you."

"It's not , not really. I just...he used to call me Beth and I'm not that person anymore. It's been so long since I heard Elizabeth that I must have just assumed you said Beth. I'm sorry, Danse." She was wringing her hands nervously.

"Logan." Danse murmured.

"What?"

"Fair's fair, right? My first name is Logan. I regret that I have no nickname to give you."

…

Backhand's eyes widened. Logan . It was a good name. It suited him. She mouthed it once to herself. "Don't encourage me to give you a nickname." She joked, aware that she probably sounded a little too reedy. "I can guarantee you'll regret it."

Danse's eyes crinkled good-naturedly at the edges when he smiled down at her. "I don't doubt it," He allowed, repeating, "but fair is fair, Knight."

"I don't like the radstorms at all." Vega blurted out, a blush staining her face. "The thunder, it's wrong and I hate it."

"Understandable, Knight. The noise is highly unsettling." Danse had her gather her sleeping bag back up, the paladin using a spare piece of plywood that he found by the door like a makeshift plow to shove the debris off to the side. "There," He said finally after he was satisfied with the state of the floor, " now you can lay down. Without worrying about tetanus or a herniated disc." He teased.

"The Brotherhood will not forget your sacrifice." Backhand ribbed in reply, smoothing the wrinkles out of her bedroll.

"And this is how I'm promoted to star paladin." Danse said dryly. "For my dedication to the art of proper slumber in the field." He shook his head ruefully, unrolling his own sleeping bag and spreading it lengthwise at the base of his armor. He was blocking the door, Backhand realized after a second. Like the immobile armor wasn't enough!

"Hey, come over here." She requested boldly, patting the cement beside her.

Vega didn't expect him to obey, the larger man dragging his bedroll parallel with hers after a moment of thought. "I suppose the floor is more level here." He reasoned. "Good eye, Knight."

"Oh yeah, it's not because you're probably warm or anything. I was definitely looking out for you."

Danse's chuckle was soft. "Understood. I am a commodity." He lowered himself onto his sleeping bag, waiting patiently as she dug through her satchel.

"So for dinner, we have a wonderful assortment of Cram. After that, I'll brew us some tea." Backhand said finally, digging two cans out of the pack. " God I wish I'd had the stuff to bake bread, would have made us some back at Oberland."

Danse shook his head. "It spoils so fast out on the road. Though during the harsher months there is nothing quite like a fresh slice of hot bread with a little grease alongside the meat stew from the mess hall." He sounded wistful, despite the fact that Backhand knew he was talking about military food and therefore it probably wasn't anything to write home about.

"Remind me to bake you some bread." Backhand tossed him a can of Cram, and then opened her own with less-than-steady hands. She did her best to ignore the storm that was raging closer and closer, steeling her spine from flinching at every rumble of thunder.

Danse all but devoured the canned substance, the large man obviously starving from his day of labor and walking across the Commonwealth. He drowsily watched Backhand set up the small coffee pot she lugged with her, the lantern now doubling as a brazier of sorts. Backhand pried open her tea tin after a momentary struggle, grabbing one of the bags inside and dropping it into the pot of dubiously-clean water without much ceremony.

The tea was a hubflower blend, lacking in caffeine and bearing a sweet, calming scent. Backhand often employed this beverage when she had difficulty sleeping, finding that the entire tea-brewing process tended to calm her racing mind.

Danse dug out the cup from his mess kit for her to pour into, the thin metal thoroughly scoured clean and dented from use in the field. "Be careful, it's really hot." Backhand warned, gingerly scooting the cup across the floor to the large man.

He nodded absently, cradling the cup close. He looked pensive, as though he wanted to ask something but couldn't quite think of how to phrase it. "Knight... how do you know of the way to get into the Institute?" Danse's tone was wearily quizzical. "That information is...it's unprecedented , but I assume you must know that already."

Backhand exhaled, staring up at the ceiling as she tried to gather her thoughts. It was a relatively straightforward story, all things considered, though some portions would sound insane . So she started talking.

She told Danse about going to Diamond City and employing the assistance of a well-known detective. Finding out that Kellogg had been there, with a ten year old child. The grueling endeavor of tracking him across the Commonwealth, culminating in a ferocious gunfight against the mercenary and his group of synths. The grisly discovery of the devices implanted in his body, and the slow unraveling of the truth from the escaped Institute scientist in the Glowing Sea. Teleportation .

Backhand conveniently left out the fact that Detective Nick Valentine was a synth, and that Virgil the Institute scientist was once a man, who had in turn become a super mutant by force of necessity.

She sipped her tea, realizing that her throat was parched from talking. The look that Danse was giving her was one of extreme incredulity and she grimaced into her cup.

"Christ, Vega." He said hoarsely. "What happens now?"

"Well, if I have any luck left , I figure out how to convince someone to help me build a giant machine that I don't really understand." Backhand shrugged glibly. "Sturges has been working on a few things, but I think this project might be beyond his scope of expertise."

"Maybe Proctor Ingram should take a look at the plans you have? If there's anyone I know that can make sense of a mess, it's Ingram." Danse suggested tentatively. "Her and Haylen are...just outstanding ." The warmth in his tone whenever he spoke of Haylen never failed to make Backhand smile, but this was the first time he seemed to notice her doing it. "What? Did I say something funny?"

"Not at all! You just talk about Haylen like she hung the stars." Backhand pushed down the brief flare of envy she felt. "It's sweet."

" Sweet? " Danse sputtered, a flush rising on his cheeks. "I am not...she isn't--Knight, you misinterpret my admiration. She is a phenomenal soldier, an immensely talented field scribe. I sponsored her as an initiate. She and Rhys are...they're the only ones left of Gladius. I'm thrilled that they've decided to pursue a relationship." Danse's eyes were soft and haunted in the dim light of the guttering lantern, but his words were sincere when he said, "They deserve to be happy."

"What about you, though?" Backhand asked gently before she could stop herself. Danse tilted his head, appearing confused. "Don't you deserve to be happy too?"

His smile was sad. "I am a paladin of the Brotherhood of Steel, Knight Vega. I am sworn to uphold the tenets and be an example to the troops. My own happiness was doomed to irrelevancy the moment I accepted the promotion." He folded his hands in front of him, leaning forward a little and staring at the floor. "Truthfully, it was rendered obsolete long before then."

…

"Why?" Vega sounded curious and Danse cursed himself for even bringing up the topic.

He could lie, or simply brush off her question. But that didn't sit right with him. Danse sighed heavily and began to speak.

He talked about growing up alone in the Capital Wasteland, no parents or siblings that he could recall. Always alone, picking through the ruins for anything edible or salvage that he could trade. He talked about opening his own little stand in Rivet City once he was grown, and he was ashamed of how his voice broke when he mentioned Cutler. Joining the Brotherhood had been a no-brainer, like it was the only course of action possible. Everything had gone so well. He had felt like he was actually making a difference. Until the day Cutler disappeared on a scouting mission. Danse vaguely remembered arguing with Paladin Krieg, his sponsor attempting to shout down the then-knight. But Danse was fiercely stubborn.

He tried to tell her what he had found when he had finally tracked the remains of Cutler's squadron down, tried to continue his explanation as to why his personal happiness held little to no ground in his life, but the lump in his throat left him incapable of speech.

Backhand's touch on his arm startled him and he jerked, looking up at her. Her eyes were sorrowful. "Hey, you don't have to say any more." She offered him a weak-looking smile. "I get it. I lost my C.O. during an assault on an enemy bunker. You feel like it's your fault and you stay up all night trying to figure out what you could have done to save them."

"I know it's futile to think of such things. " Danse rasped.

"And yet you do it anyway." Backhand rubbed his arm. "Empathy is some rotten stuff, Paladin Danse, but we need to be reminded that we're human sometimes." Her sigh followed the tail end of a rolling boom of thunder. "I was incapacitated by the same explosion that killed Sergeant Cathan. He bled out next to me. I was shipped home with him technically, although I wasn't in a pine box. I went to his funeral, got to listen to his widow try to keep her shit together when I knew all she wanted to do was bury every single uniformed asshole there that had sent her husband to die." Backhand scoffed. "I knew because I felt the same way."

"I was furious with Arthur for sending Cutler's squadron out to that corner of the wastes." Danse admitted. "It was shortly after I had discovered what happened to Cutler that Ar-" He stopped short, horrified that he had nearly let the information slip.

" Come on Danse! " Arthur had complained, rolling his eyes . " I know you did this stuff for Cutler. "

Danse cleared his throat. "It doesn't matter." He breathed. He had always been a terrible liar and he knew Vega didn't buy it for a second .

Those pale blue eyes narrowed and she scooted even closer, her sleeping bag pooled around her knees as she studied his face. Danse just tried to avoid eye contact. "What did he do, Danse?" She asked softly.

" Nothing ." Danse stressed the word, his tone sharp. "I said it didn't matter, and it doesn't."

"Hey." Backhand murmured, "I'm on your side, okay? Don't lie to me. Whatever it is, it's eating you alive."

Danse's breath hitched. How could she tell? How could she pierce through the stoic facade he had painstakingly crafted over the course of his military career?

The answer came to him suddenly and he felt a little foolish for not having seen it sooner.

She wanted to.

Ludicrously simple, almost child's play. It was because she dared to bother . In a world that was more than content to let appearances be, she did the unthinkable and probed past the first glance.

She was like Cutler. Perhaps a bit too much like Cutler. Curious to a fault, whip-smart and witty. Danse's heart ached in his chest. The idea of opening himself up again like he had with Cutler was... terrifying , mind-numbing, it was like standing on the deck of the Prydwen knowing that one misstep could send him plummeting to his demise. He had barely survived the depression that had engulfed him after he was forced to end Cutler's life, knowing that it was what the other man would have done in his stead but also hating himself for being able to carry it out at all. What did that say about him as a person, that he could stare into the eyes of the only individual he had been truly intimate with and kill him without a word?

Danse was a model soldier. He was relatively certain that he would be following orders until the day he died. No one had ordered him to go after Cutler. He could have left it alone, simply gone along with the " missing, presumed dead " verdict. But those damn emotions he struggled with so much had reared their ugly head, made him volatile to the point where he had gotten into a screaming match with Paladin Krieg .

The person he had really wanted to shout at had been Maxson, both for assigning Cutler such a far-flung post and for doing it without warning. Danse hadn't even been able to say goodbye , damn it.

And then the hive, the empty suits of power armor covered in blood and gore and fragmentary human remains and Cutler , babbling nonsense in a voice that grated and shrieked. He hadn't recognized Danse when the other knight foolishly removed his helmet. Instead, Cutler had lunged at him, trying to tear him apart with his newfound mutant strength--

"Danse?"

The paladin jolted at the sound of her voice. "It doesn't matter, Knight." He repeated dully. "We should get some sleep." Without waiting for a reply, he shifted down a bit in his bedroll and tugged the fabric up over his shoulders.

Backhand stayed up for a bit longer, probably finishing her tea. The rain continued to beat on the roof, the occasional flash of green lightning blazing through every crack and crevice in the dilapidated lean-to.

The Capital Wasteland hadn't gotten storms like these. Danse had to assume that they must blow in from the Glowing Sea to batter the surrounding landscape.

He heard her shuffling around, and her whisper of " good night, Danse ." He didn't reply, hoping she would believe he was asleep.

Vega sighed softly and Danse barely kept himself from jumping when he felt her back press against his own. He wasn't sure if the defensive sleeping position was really necessary what with his armor in front of the door and all, but he appreciated the strategic forethought.

It felt like he had only closed his eyes for a second, the rain pounding on the roof lulling him into a doze and then he was being blinded by a particularly vibrant beam of sunlight. Danse grunted, half-lidding his eyes to try and adjust to the light.

He idly watched over the top of Vega's head as motes of dust wafted lazily through the beam, the paladin feeling weirdly peaceful and unhurried. As if he could take the time to simply observe the world. He noted that he had rolled over in his sleep, and so had Elizabeth. Backhand. Knight Vega .

His thighs were pressed against the jut of her knees, her elbows tucked into his stomach through the layers of their bedrolls. Backhand apparently slept with her hands folded beneath her chin, but her left arm was threaded up beneath the hem of her shirt to do so. It pulled the fabric to bunch just above the bottom of her breasts and only through extreme self control did Danse manage to exhale slowly through his gritted teeth, knowing that his face must be bright red.

He flicked his gaze back up to the sunbeam, feeling like a lech. What the hell was he supposed to do now? He could pretend like he was still asleep, but that may come at the cost of their progress. He'd rather not sleep rough yet again, although if it was beside Vega--

No , Danse reprimanded himself sharply. Maxson had given him hell for his lack of self control the last time he had seen him. The last thing he wanted was to give Arthur the satisfaction of…

Of what? Having something else in Danse's life that he could ruin or take away?

Danse reached out slowly, cautiously, taking hold of the fabric of Vega's sleeping bag and drawing it up and over her shoulder to preserve her modesty. Then, the paladin eased his body away from hers to rise, his back protesting a little when he stretched.

The sooner we get back to the Prydwen, the sooner I can get my armor serviced , he mused, still opting to let Backhand sleep a bit longer as he checked over their weapons and his gear.

Part Eight

#fallout 4 #fallout four #paladin danse #paladin danse x sole survivor #paladin danse/sole survivor #paladin danse x f!sole #paladin danse imagine #fallout fandom #fallout fanfic #brotherhood of steel #BOS #bethesda #fo4 companions imagine #fo4 companions

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greenjacketwhitehatdocmui · 3 years

Text

Those Left Behind, Chapter 4

Well, here it is, chapter 4. This can also be found on FF.net here

or AO3 here.

Sorry about the delay, but I’ve had to deal with quite a bit in the last few months. Hope this was worth the wait!

--Doc

Elsa stood before her father's portrait. A lifetime ago, he'd held her hand and admitted that he'd been very nervous when posing. He thought that he looked stiff and uncomfortable.

She didn't see it that way. To Elsa, her father looked regal and in control, a far cry from her state now. She could only hope to be half as good a ruler as he had been, gates notwithstanding.

Would he have been proud of her? No, who could ever be proud of someone like her? She was a freak, her powers a curse. If only she had been born a normal girl like Anna, none of this would have happened.

For years, she had hoped that someone would tell her that her suffering was not in vain. No, it hadn't been just her suffering. Anna's warm, loving heart had been trampled on so many times with each refusal.

What would her parents think? For years, she'd hoped beyond hope that they were out there somewhere. But she knew that it was a lost cause. They could no longer offer her any advice or comfort. She only had their memories to guide her.

--------

Anna practically leapt from her bed and changed. Today was the only day that the gates would be open and she wasn't about to waste it!

Now dressed, she paused as she looked outside the window. She'd done so many times in the last three years. She knew that her parents were gone. She still dreamt about them every so often, hoping that they would have some advice to offer.

The moment passed. This wasn't a day to think about the past. This was a day to go out and bask in the sun.

She dashed out of her room without another look backwards. Today was going to be a good day.

--------

Iduna felt the sunlight on her eyes and groaned. She snuggled closer to Agnarr, who responded with a chuckle.

"And here I thought that you were the early riser," he joked, kissing her on the top of her head. He paused. "Something wrong?"

Reluctantly, she opened her eyes. The interior of their "cabin" certainly wasn't very fancy. It was a bit sturdier than the huts that her family favored. It had been built by everyone in the Arendellian contingent. Fortunately, Captain Hansen had been quite adept at woodworking before he joined the Navy. With his direction and the convenient abundance of fallen wood, the makeshift log cabin had been built fairly quickly. Doing so was more comforting than trying to salvage the remains of their yacht.

(They had tried to reach Ahtohallan after the first month. Before they reached the sea, they found the yacht, empty and wrecked. They scavenged the interior, coming away with a map and a few other items. Agnarr had then carved a marker to commemorate those who were lost.)

Outwardly, Yelana had feigned indifference to the construction effort. In private, however, she'd wondered why the Earth Giants had spared any effort towards anyone from Arendelle. It was a conflict that she couldn't quite reconcile. Her faith in the Spirits didn't mesh with her emotions towards Arendelle.

It had been three years since they'd been trapped in the forest. In that time, Iduna saw how much Agnarr had wanted peace between Arendelle and her family. He did his best to try to work things out. There had been trade agreements, general boundaries drawn out and a crash course in Northuldra etiquette and social norms.

Iduna wondered whether or not it was enough. In the last three years, she could count on one hand the times that the misty sky had almost cleared. One night had been particularly calm and she could have sworn she'd seen a star in a patch of midnight blue. Then the moment passed.

"I'm not sure what we're doing wrong," she admitted quietly. "The mist came because everyone started fighting. But now, nobody's fighting and the mist is still there."

Agnarr said nothing for a moment. He looked at the wall and sighed heavily.

"I know," he said softly. "I've tried everything I could think of. I just wish that the Spirits would say something."

"It doesn't work that way," she reminded him, frustration coloring her voice. "Father once told me that the closest he came to communicating with them was like trying to understand raw emotions. They don't really use words, more like sensations. Then he interpreted their desires as best as he could."

He sighed heavily. He'd pushed himself for what peace he could manage between the two groups. The soldiers and sailors still admired him, followed his orders with almost fanatical zeal. The Northuldra had been...resigned and somewhat accommodating, but hardly enthusiastic.

Oddly enough, it was because they were removed from the castle that they could focus on the main issue: Peace with the Northuldra. Had they been still in Arendelle, they would have been bombarded by servants, townspeople and demanding diplomats.

Then again, they would have been a family. There was never a day that they didn't think of their daughters and how things might have been.

"Do you think that Elsa's having her coronation?" she asked.

Agnarr hummed thoughtfully. "She came of age last December," he said. "This would be the most convenient time for diplomats to come in."

“Can you imagine Anna just going from person to person like a butterfly?” she asked. “She’d be having the time of her life.”

A somewhat wicked little smile made its way on his face. “Can you imagine your mother in that situation? I would feel very sorry for the diplomats.”

“Would you?” she asked. “She’d ruffle their feathers like the peacocks they are. They’d act all indignant until they found out who she was.”

“And then they’d fall all over themselves to apologize.” He chuckled. “That’s quite an image.”

For a long moment, they basked in the impossible dream. Then they sighed and got ready for the day.

--------

Yelana stepped out of her hut and surveyed the camp. Everyone was busy, the better to keep their minds off of their situation.

She had to admit that things were better now than they had been three years ago. Agnarr had done his best time and again to try to smooth things out between his people and the Northuldra. Iduna's visits were also a factor. Surprisingly, the Arendellian contingent had been behaving themselves.

It was the younger generation who seemed more curious than fearful, she noted. Ryder, Honeymaren and the other children had been raised on tales of how horrible Arendelle had been to their people. After Agnarr and his sailors arrived, however, there were murmurs that the king didn’t seem like a bad sort.

She frowned. She’d fallen in that trap once before with Runeard.

--------

“Erke, why can’t you be more like Runeard?” she asked her brother-in-law. “He’s a strong leader.”

“What makes him strong?” he gently countered. “Is it because he’s charismatic? Do you admire his ambition? Or is it because he appears `civilized’ compared to us?”

"I just think that there may be better ways to do things," she sighed. "And who knows? Our two nations may become closer in time. After all, Iduna seems quite taken with Prince Agnarr."

He smiled. "I've noticed. She's like Sunna, always following her heart." His smile faded, replaced by a furrowed brow. "Agnarr is a good person, but I'm not certain that Runeard has shown all of himself."

Yelana frowned. "If Runeard means any harm, wouldn't the Spirits intervene?"

"The Spirits trust our judgment. They could intervene in every little injustice, but where would that leave us?" He shook his head. "I think that they're waiting to see what happens. For good or ill, our choices are our own. I think that they'd only act if they had no other choice. And with the power they wield..." he trailed off uncertainly.

"I'm sure that it won't come to that," she said, trying to sound reassuring. "Look, I know that you're cautious of Runeard, but I think that this alliance will benefit all of us."

"Perhaps," Erke allowed. "I still think that the dam is a bit too...grand of a gesture. And when I mention the Spirits, Runeard has an odd look in his eyes.”

“Not everyone is as blessed as our people,” Yelana said. “To have the Spirits on our side, helping us whenever possible—that’s a rare thing.” She offered a reassuring smile. “At least he’s not charging in with an army.”

“I doubt that he’d be foolish enough to try,” he remarked. “Still, once the dam is complete, we can try for further negotiations. I’d like to show Runeard’s people that we aren’t the savages some think we are.”

“Perhaps over a toast?” she suggested. “I think it would be fitting.”

Erke hummed in approval. “A symbol of trust between equals? That sounds like a wonderful idea."

"We can celebrate once the dam is complete," she said. "And maybe in a few years, Iduna and Agnarr..."

He groaned theatrically. "I don't want to think about that now. He's 14 and she's 12, Yelana. I do not want to force them into anything."

"But they are cute together, aren't they?" she gently needled him. "The Wind Spirit likes them both."

"Well, then...Runeard can't be that bad if his son's turned out well," he reasoned.

--------

Yelana tightened her grip on her staff. She had been such a trusting, naive fool. She had talked her brother-in-law into that fateful toast, which led to Runeard's betrayal. And the Spirits had reacted accordingly.

Never again, she thought to herself. We have paid enough for our mistakes.

A gentle touch on her shoulder interrupted her thoughts. There was only one person she would have allowed that contact.

"Good morning, Yelana," Sunna said brightly. "You're brooding again."

Yelana sighed. "I'm just...checking up on a few things."

She had to admit, Iduna's return had done wonders for Sunna's health. In the three years since the Arendellian contingent had arrived, mother and daughter had reconnected through stories and long walks in the forest. While Sunna wasn't the boundless font of energy she was in her youth, she could easily keep pace with everyone else when it came to the chores.

Technically, Sunna could have resumed leadership from Yelana. However, the former had demurred. After all, blood was not the main requirement for leading the tribe. Yelana had proven herself more than capable, even though she was the younger sister. The tribe supported them both. The most Sunna would interfere with Yelana's decisions would be to whisper a delicately-phrased suggestion.

Iduna gave Sunna a reason to live again, Yelana sighed. Another few years and I'd be alone. She gave me back my sister, not a hollow wreck.

"Iduna and I are going to be gathering herbs," Sunna said. "Is there anything that we should be looking out for?"

Yelana ran through her mental inventory. Thankfully, the tribe was pretty healthy, but there was always the possibility of accidents. Besides, the Arendellians were more than happy to take whatever herbal remedies were offered.

"We could use some more spruce resin," Yelana said. "You know how the boys can get." She smirked at her little nickname for the Arendellian sailors.

Sunna sighed. "Give someone a staff and they can walk with it. Give someone a sword and they feel the urge to stab." She shook her head. "I have never liked swords, even before..."

"I know," Yelana said gently. For a moment, they were transported back to simpler times. Both sisters in their prime had been fierce staff fighters, something that Erke had appreciated. The moment passed. "Iduna will be waiting outside. You should get going."

Sunna gently squeezed Yelana's shoulder. There was an odd hesitation in her eyes. "I dreamt of snow last night," she blurted out.

Yelana arched an eyebrow. "Snow? In July?" she asked dubiously.

"It's the strangest thing," Sunna admitted. "It's not like when the Spirits communed with--with Erke," she got out awkwardly. "I don't get visions, not like some of our ancestors. I'm just...ordinary."

Yelana rolled her eyes. "`Ordinary?'" she repeated. "You are anything but ordinary." She paused. "Go on, Iduna's waiting. She'll probably storm the camp soon."

--------

"A vision of snow?" Iduna asked. She'd knelt down to gather some herbs. Her royal clothing had proved to be impractical for the long run, so she and Agnarr had some Northuldra clothing for day-to-day business. Even Mattias reluctantly admitted the necessity of the change. His soldiers and the sailors still wore uniforms, of course.

They'd taken Honeymaren along for an extra pair of arms. She was a good distance behind, allowing mother and daughter some privacy.

Sunna nodded. "It's probably nothing. Maybe I was just hoping for a respite from the heat."

"It's not that hot in the forest," Iduna reminded her. "It's humid, but it doesn't get as warm as it would in...Arendelle..." She trailed off as a wave of homesickness threatened to engulf her. The irony that she was homesick while in the forest had not escaped her.

Iduna relaxed as she felt her mother's gentle hand on her shoulder. They'd certainly had their fair share of disagreements during their reconciliation, but it had only strengthened their bond in the end.

There was, of course, one subject that was never really discussed: Elsa's magic. She had kept that tidbit from everyone. There had been times when she had wanted to tell her mother, but it would have been futile. Elsa and Anna were beyond their reach.

"Calm down," Sunna urged her. "It's the oddest thing. Whenever I mention snow or ice, you have this distant look in your eyes. It's been that way ever since you came back to me." Her expression softened. "You weren't caught in an avalanche or something, were you?"

"No, I--" Iduna shook her head. She hated lying to her mother, even by omission. But she wasn't sure how Elsa's magic would be received. Magic was for the Spirits, after all. Revealing Elsa's magic would most likely lead to Elsa either being worshipped as a goddess or shunned for blasphemy. Neither outcome was terribly desirable.

"It's just that...the girls loved snow so much," she half-lied. "Some of the happiest times had to do with snow."

Sunna eyed her skeptically. She knew that something was being hidden, but she was kind enough not to pry.

Iduna's heart ached. She'd lost track of how many times she'd dreamed of being back in the castle. Countless tears had been shed in the cabin she and Agnarr shared. She just wanted to make things right again. And the worst part was, she couldn't even tell her own mother.

She barely registered her mother's gentle touch on her shoulder. Iduna didn't dare to look back.

"We have to believe," Sunna said gently.

Iduna took a ragged breath. "In what?"

"That you will see them again," Sunna said. "That one day, we'll all see the sun."

--------

Yelana sighed as she saw the glints of metal dancing in the sun. Once again, the troops and sailors were having their morning workout. And that meant...swords.

Inwardly, she scowled at the word. To her, a sword was a barbaric symbol of oppression. The Northuldra had never needed them. The staff was far less intimidating and no less deadly, if it came to that. A staff was also far more readily available in the forest than a sword.

Her scowl faded and she almost smiled. For some reason, the Arendellian contingent was never able to make any fire hot enough to forge new swords. All the swords they possessed were either already on their person or scavenged from their ship. She wondered if the Fire Spirit had some influence in that.

"Discipline and control," she heard Mattias call out to the assembled group. "Any idiot can hold a sword and swing it. It takes effort to use a sword properly."

Yelana's right eye twitched. Runeard had been excellent with a sword. Then again, with a sneak attack, you only had to strike once.

She remembered that Runeard had been proud of his Viking ancestors. He'd made them sound like bold explorers and fearless warriors. He'd conveniently left out the fact that they were raiders and despoilers, something he was most likely also proud of. Runeard, like his ancestors, took what he wanted--though at least he had a thin veneer of civility before striking.

She stood on a small hill that unofficially separated their two domains. She gripped her staff tight as she watched the remaining soldiers and the sailors going through sword exercises. They were using, she noted, wooden practice swords carved from fallen branches. Then she saw Agnarr consulting with Mattias and Captain Hansen, pausing only to look in her direction and nod.

Every day for three years, she and Agnarr would meet at this hill. Heated words were exchanged, but no blows...yet. She had to admit that he was an excellent negotiator, no doubt thanks to expensive tutors. He always came alone, though well within sight of Mattias or Captain Hansen.

She sighed as she saw him approaching. She waited until they were facing each other before she put her staff down and sat on the grass. Unarmed, he did likewise.

Even though he'd been fair with his negotiations, there was something that had always bothered Yelana. She knew that Agnarr was hiding something--something he refused to talk about even in the company of his own men. If Agnarr truly wanted her full trust, he would have put everything out in the open.

Agnarr sighed inwardly. It had been three years of constant negotiation and at best, they had a ceasefire. It was a fragile, tenuous thing, though younger members of the tribe had been less fearful of the sailors. Some of the children were almost on friendly terms with the sailors, though not with the older soldiers.

He wondered if Yelana could see the fear in his eyes whenever he thought about his daughters. He didn't love Anna any less than Elsa, but Elsa's...issues...were a far more pressing concern. Anna didn't have potentially destructive magic at her disposal. But then, in trying to work with Elsa's powers, he found himself giving Anna less time than she deserved.

He had so many regrets and no way to correct them. And he had to try to negotiate with someone who had mostly-good reasons to hate him. He just couldn't accept that his father was a murderer, though.

--------

Mattias eyed Yelana warily. He had a clear view of anything that might have happened on the hill.

"You still don't trust her?" Captain Hansen asked. He'd gained a few grey hairs in the last few years, but he was still in seafaring shape. He had to be; he had an example to set for his sailors.

Mattias shook his head. "Not entirely." He sighed heavily. "At times like this, I wish I knew what King Runeard had been thinking."

Captain Hansen nodded. "It's too bad there's nobody we can ask."

Mattias frowned. Those who had been close advisors to King Runeard had either run from the mist or been killed. He still remembered the almost fanatical zeal with which they tried to defend the king--but to no avail. As the remaining officer, it was up to him.

He ached to go home. He'd found out from Captain Hansen and his sailors that Halima was still alive at her little sweet shop. Oddly enough, she'd never married. It was something he'd always put off for duty, that one day he'd kneel before her and...

He shook his head. He wasn't the only one who was homesick. But until Agnarr had arrived, he'd had to serve as an example for his troops. He'd had to stay strong and resolute, holding back the pain and the resentment.

He had a better read on troop morale than Agnarr. Mattias knew that tensions were still high between the Arendellian contingent and the Northuldra tribe. All it would take was one spark, one incident that couldn't be smoothed over, to set them against each other again.

--------

The day had been long, and not without some results. As much as Yelana's loathing had been a sticking point, some progress was made. And yet, there was always an unspoken secret that hung in the air between them.

Agnarr noted with some satisfaction that a small group of Northuldra children were leaving the Arendellian camp. They were flanked by Ryder and Honeymaren, who looked amused that they'd been saddled with this duty.

"Did you have a good time?" Agnarr asked with no small amount of amusement."

"The little ones wanted to taste some Arendellian food," Honeymaren said. "Not that there's anything wrong with what we have; they were just curious."

"Little steps, Honeymaren," Agnarr reassured her. "Little steps."

She managed a small, crooked smile. Then she urged her brother and the children to follow her back home.

Mattias approached Agnarr and handed him a bowl of stew and a crudely carved spoon. He accepted it gratefully.

"How were the negotiations?" Mattias asked.

"Same as ever," Agnarr sighed. "I just can't figure out how to get past a certain point."

"She's stubborn, that one," Mattias agreed. "I have to give her that. She wouldn't have been able to lead, otherwise."

Agnarr said nothing. He'd used just about everything he had and Yelana had only conceded minor items. It was frustrating, but one day, there would be a tipping point.

"The Queen's in the cabin," Mattias said, breaking Agnarr out of his reverie. "You should get some rest."

Agnarr nodded. "Thank you, Mattias."

Mattias watched his king move towards the cabin. Then he set about assigning which of his troops and the sailors would have night watch. Not that he was expecting anything unusual, but odd things could happen on even the quietest of nights.

--------

The Spirits felt a disturbance in the air. It was a wave of power that was raw, uncontrolled and terrified.

The Fifth Spirit's power had rushed out towards the misty barrier. Snowflakes formed in the cool July night, seeping through the mist. The barrier only worked on animals and people, not natural phenomena.

Ahtohallan had intended Elsa to be the balance between the other Spirits. In time, she would gain control and focus, enough to subdue another Spirit if necessary.

The wave of magic that had created the snow looked deceptively gentle. Each of the Spirits felt it as a resounding slap, weakening them. It was by Ahtohallan's design, after all.

Most of their strength had gone into maintaining the barrier. None of them could venture outside the forest, weakened as they were. Still, they had to protect the people within--even if they hadn't learned their lesson quite yet.

The Water Spirit had managed to keep a few parts of the river from freezing, guaranteeing a fresh supply. The Fire and Earth Spirits offered warmth where they could with bonfires near each camp. The Wind Spirit mitigated the worst of the cutting, icy gusts.

The Spirits could tend to physical needs. The mental states of the people on both sides were beyond their ability to influence. They had always been happy to help people, but they had never asked for the worship that the Northuldra offered.

All they could do was hope that their efforts were enough. It was simply a matter of weathering the storm.

--------

Mattias and Captain Hansen looked aghast as the snow fell. It was impossible, but it was actually snowing in July. There was only one explanation: Magic.

Mattias felt a snowflake drift into his hand. It melted as he clenched it into a fist, his features twisting into a scowl.

"What have they done?" he growled.

--------

For a moment, Yelana and Sunna were at a loss. Most of the tribe hadn't seen snow for years. For most of them, the wonder and amazement gave way to chills and fear.

Yelana gripped her staff tightly. Obviously, the Spirits had been offended.

"What have they done?" she growled.

--------

Both Agnarr and Iduna had burst out of their cabin when they heard the shouting. They'd been getting ready for bed when they felt the chill in the air.

"What's going...on...?" He trailed off as his breath fogged. His jaw dropped as the snow fell. "No..." he whispered.

"No..." Iduna echoed, her blue eyes filling with tears. "Agnarr, it's--"

"I know," he whispered. It was the day that they'd dreaded for years:

Elsa had somehow lost control of her powers. Now, the world was going to pay the price.

--------

It was thanks to good planning and quick action that neither side had suffered any sickness from the sudden snowfall. Winter clothes were brought out from storage and extra firewood was gathered.

The tension between the groups was at an all-time high. Fingers were twitching for action and tempers were flaring. The men in the Arendelle camp were murmuring dangerous things.

"Can't believe that they'd do this."

"What are they thinking?"

"What did we do wrong?"

"Three years of living together and now this!"

"I trusted them!"

"Goes to show that you just can't trust magic!"

Captain Hansen and Mattias toured the camp. They frowned at the understandably low morale. They found Agnarr and Iduna urging the soldiers and sailors to stay warm, even if it meant condensing the perimeter.

Mattias could see the dread in Agnarr and Iduna's eyes. They knew something, but it wasn't his place to question his king and queen.

--------

The Northuldra camp wasn't in much better shape. They, too, had gathered their huts and campfires closer together to keep warm. The murmurs floated towards Yelana's ears.

"They obviously offended the Spirits somehow."

"You mean that this wasn't our fault?"

"Of course not! We follow the ways of nature! We are the chosen ones!"

"Then this is a sign from the Spirits? Are we finally done with Arendelle?"

The chatter stopped as soon as Sunna approached the group. Her normally kindly features were pinched in disapproval. More than one member of the tribe straightened up. She may have relinquished her leadership to Yelana, but she still carried herself as a leader.

"You would think of waging war against my daughter?" she asked in a low, dangerous tone. "Have we become so hardened that we would be willing to kill our own?"

"She's no longer--" a man spoke up, only to be cut off by Sunna's sharp blue eyes. He gulped and swallowed his words.

Sunna frowned and her gaze swept over the assembled tribe. Many of the men squirmed. The women found that they couldn't meet her gaze.

"The Spirits have never called us to war," Sunna said levelly. "Our way is to live in peace and defend ourselves when necessary, not to strike because we believe ourselves to be superior."

"This is obviously a sign from the Spirits!" a woman protested. "We must do something!"

Sunna fixed her with a solemn, almost chiding look. "Do you speak for the Spirits?"

The woman realized that, despite the cold, people had edged away from her. She looked away in shame.

"No," she croaked out.

Sunna's gaze softened as she gently laid a hand on the woman's shoulder. The woman flinched slightly at the contact.

"I understand that you are afraid," Sunna said, her voice gentle and warm. "But we cannot let fear twist what we are as a people: Peace-loving, understanding and kind."

There was a tap of wood on stone as Yelana made herself known. Her expression was stern, as if ready to scold a child.

"We should follow Sunna's example," Yelana declared. "She has lost the most, yet she still believes in the peaceful ways."

There was a murmur of agreement. The tension defused for the moment, the tribe went on to more important matters like campfires and the state of the reindeer herd.

Sunna and Yelana walked just out of sight, out of earshot. Judging by the older sister's look of disapproval, Sunna was not happy that Yelana had been absent until now.

"You should have been the one to calm them down." She was justifiably angry, but kept it under control. "Where were you?"

Yelana frowned deeply. "I was making sure that nobody was taking advantage of this...storm. We are vulnerable in this snow."

"I doubt that they could sneak up on us in an open field," Sunna remarked. She sighed deeply. "You've carried this anger for decades and I am to blame. It's like comfortable, worn leather. It's rough at first, but you grow used to it--until you can't imagine a day without that anger."

"What should I do, o wise leader?" Yelana snapped back. "You put this burden in my hands, remember? What advice could you offer me now, after years of mourning?"

"One day, I hope that you take this anger and let it go," Sunna said. "This has poisoned you, and with it, the tribe. What good is fighting if you lose sight of why?"

"Agnarr's responsible for this," Yelana muttered. "I can feel it. He's hiding something."

"And you are always upfront and honest?" That was Sunna's "older sister" voice, the one she used to drive home a lesson. "You never told him that you once believed Runeard."

"That is my shame to bear. He never has to know."

Sunna tilted her head slightly. "Is this for his sake, or your pride?"

Yelana found that she couldn't look her sister in the eye. Sunna had every reason to cry out for blood, yet still sought peace. Her older sister would have been a better leader, but she'd declined. Sunna trusted her.

Sunna sighed a frosty plume between them. She decided to change the subject. "In any case, I doubt that his people are in much better shape than ours. They haven't exactly been stockpiling on supplies."

"Are you suggesting that we share with them? Right now? When they could--"

"It was just an observation," Sunna said quietly. She turned back towards the camp. "What good is the bounty of the forest if it is hoarded?"

Yelana said nothing for a long moment. Then she nodded, admitting defeat.

"I will meet with him," Yelana said at last. "If getting through this together is what is required, then I...shall do whatever it takes."

Sunna smiled benignly. It was enough.

--------

It was midday when Yelana and Agnarr met at their usual place. They were both flanked by people close to them. Agnarr had Iduna, with Mattias and Captain Hansen at their side. Yelana had Honeymaren and Ryder while Sunna waited patiently. This in itself showed how tense things had become.

"Interesting weather we've been having," Yelana said acerbically. "I don't suppose that you know the reason for it?"

"I know that neither of our groups is responsible for this winter," Agnarr said carefully. "My people have done our best to abide by the rules and customs we've learned."

"And you don't think that the Northuldra are responsible?" Yelana offered. "We are, after all, savages who worship magic," she finished acidly. "We might have convinced the Spirits that everyone from Arendelle deserved to be frozen."

"I've explained it to everyone, Aunt Yelana," Iduna said, her breath forming a frosty plume. "They all know that we commune with nature and magic--but we don't control either. And we certainly don't control the Spirits. They do as they will."

Yelana's eyes flicked from Agnarr to Iduna. She felt Sunna's reassuring hand on her shoulder. Everything rode on her next few words.

"Oddly enough, I believe you," Yelana said. "If you were in control of this...odd winter...you would hardly freeze yourselves with us. Like it or not, we are trapped together."

"The best option is to pool our resources," Iduna suggested. "Firewood and food can be shared and we'll have a better chance of surviving together."

"Yes, that seems to be where we're headed," Yelana agreed reluctantly. "We have little choice, after all. Though it calls into question whether we had any choice at all."

"Of course we do," Sunna insisted. "Our choices always matter, whether we think so or not."

Agnarr nodded. "Whatever station we hold in life, it all matters."

"Such hopeful words in a seemingly hopeless situation," Yelana remarked. "Especially since the greater picture has not been addressed. Or were you planning to pray our way through the mist?"

"Sister..." Sunna frowned a warning, but it was too late.

Agnarr took a deep breath. Things were tense enough already without him adding to it. But there were several questions that had never been answered to his satisfaction.

“That's an interesting viewpoint," he began. "I have a question of my own: Why were your tribe and the men were trapped for so long?” Agnarr said. “If it were merely a matter of protection, the Spirits could have just forced the troops out.” He thought for a moment. “In fact, given their kind nature, they could have done it without harming a single person.”

“Only Ahtohallan knows,” Yelana said sagely. “If there were a better way, I am certain that the Spirits would have chosen that path. It is not for we humans to question the will of nature and the Spirits.”

Agnarr bit back a scathing response. His faith in religion and spirituality had diminished significantly since Elsa’s birth. After all, there were those who still subscribed to the old saying, “suffer not a witch to live.” And he would do anything to protect his family.

Furthermore, it almost seemed hypocritical of Yelana to imply that the Spirits could be convinced to harm people, then go back to a "who knows" sort of explanation. It honestly rankled him when people used faith as a way to dodge responsibility--or, at least, a straight answer.

"So, for the time being, can we agree to share resources?" Agnarr asked. He had to get things back on track. "It seems to be our best option."

"Of course," she agreed. "It's better to keep warm together than to freeze separately." She held up a finger. "But there is something I would ask of you...in private." She eyed her entourage.

Honeymaren, Ryder and Sunna reluctantly withdrew. Agnarr nodded and Iduna, Captain Hansen and Mattias did the same.

"There is something you are not telling me," Yelana said with a scowl. "You are hiding something from me."

Agnarr clenched his jaw. He forced himself to breathe, to try to keep calm. "This is not something I can tell anyone."

Yelana's scowl deepened. "It is not a matter of `cannot.' You simply will not. Even after three years of living together and trying to build bridges, you still do not trust me."

As if you have trusted me fully? the dangerous thought slipped into his mind, but not from his tongue. Voicing that would have only enflamed matters further.

"Even if I could tell you, it would do no good. Trapped within this forest, it is out of our control," he said flatly.

Yelana stared at him in disbelief. "You know exactly what is causing this winter."

Agnarr said nothing. That in itself confirmed her suspicions.

"It is someone or something in Arendelle that is causing this winter." Yelana's eyes sharpened. "Who or what is doing this? And why?"

Agnarr clenched his jaw. "I cannot answer that question. There are promises that I must keep."

"`Promises?'" Yelana almost spat out. "You honor promises to Arendelle, but not to my people." She kept her voice low, but it took on a dangerous tone. It was deliberate, so as not to draw attention to her entourage. "Arendelle has brought almost nothing but pain to the Northuldra," she declared. "Ever since your father had that dam built, there has only been misfortune."

"Well, if the dam is the issue, why haven't the Spirits done something about it?" Agnarr asked, trying to keep his voice from growing harsh. "They could have easily destroyed the dam. Why haven't they?"

"I am not one to question the will of the Spirits," Yelana said in a low, dangerous voice. "You do not know your place, boy." She paused. "Or are you more like your father than I thought? He thought that a crown gave him total authority."

"It didn't stop him from dying," he retorted.

"We have suffered more than you have."

He clenched his jaw. "Who suffers more if we keep this grudge going? This isn't a contest, Yelana. Both our people are suffering and we need to address it in the here and now."

"And we will," she promised. "But don't expect me to ever agree to things blindly, boy. You still haven't earned my full trust."

The discussion ended, she got up and called for her entourage. Sunna looked especially concerned, but nobody in the Northuldra group said anything.

Iduna was the first to reach him. She noted his drained expression and gestured for Mattias and Captain Hansen to wait.

"What happened?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper. "I thought that it was going well."

"She knew that I knew the source of this winter," he replied. "I couldn't tell her, Iduna. I just--I just couldn't. If she knew--who knows what she would do?"

She tightened her grip on his gloved hand. She wished that she had an answer.

--------

The unnatural winter had vanished on the third day. Most of the tribe and the Arendellian contingent had cheered as the snow evaporated. The only thing missing was the sun to warm their bones.

In private, Agnarr and Iduna wondered what had happened to Elsa. They hoped that the end of the unnatural winter meant that she'd gained control of her powers. The only other option was that Elsa was forever lost to them. There was no way of knowing, and that had made it more painful.

The frost, however, had set in between Agnarr and Yelana. Their daily negotiations were short, only dealing with concrete and tangible issues. The time for philosophical exchange had passed.

Despite Sunna's and Iduna's best efforts, relations between the tribe and the Arendellian contingent had become stiff and formal. Even Iduna's visits to her mother were enough to cause tension.

Three years of reaching out had evaporated in three days. Three more years passed under this oppressively neutral atmosphere. There were hints of regret on both sides, but nobody knew how to breach the walls that had been built.

Then, the sun briefly showed itself. It was as if the misty barrier had parted, just for a moment. That hadn't gone unnoticed by either side.

--------

"I shall go with the scouting party," Yelana insisted. "It's probably nothing, but it's best that you stay here."

"All right," Sunna agreed reluctantly. "Be careful."

--------

"Mattias, take a small scouting party to see what's going on," Agnarr commanded. "Do not engage unless someone attacks you first. The important thing is to get the information back to us."

"Yes, my king," Mattias nodded.

--------

Anna was worried. She'd never seen Elsa so obsessed before. And the fact that Elsa had been keeping secrets from her hadn't been helping, either. She was still trying to catch her breath after the whirlwind that was the Wind Spirit nearly killed them.

(Well, all right, the Spirit--"Gale," Olaf had named it--seemed friendly enough now, dancing leaves and all. But she was keeping an eye on it.)

Right now, all the noise in the forest just seemed to be out to get her. She'd been camping with Kristoff before, but she'd never felt so overwhelmed at all the noise. As such, she was understandably on edge when she grabbed an ice sword and sliced through some branches.

The Northuldran scouting party had their staves at the ready. They were in no mood for intruders.

"Lower your weapon," Honeymaren said in a low voice. She brandished her staff, ready to disarm Anna if the situation called for it.

The situation was only exacerbated by the clang of swords on shields. The Arendellian scouting party had intervened--not so much to rescue the group as to get information.

"Identify yourselves!" Mattias shouted.

Yelana strode purposefully towards Mattias. "Are you threatening my people, Lieutenant?"

"Do you have a problem with the terms we've agreed to?" he countered.

Anna eyed the two sides warily. Her body was a coiled spring, ready to strike at anyone who got close. She wasn't sure if the ice sword she'd commandeered would actually hold up, but it was sharp, pointy and intimidating.

Yelana frowned. "So, you're here too?" she asked sourly. Her frown deepened as she saw Anna defending Elsa. Something about the two women reminded her of the stories that Iduna told them. After all, platinum-blonde hair was a rare shade on anyone. That bought them some leeway, but she would not tolerate a sword brandished at her.

"Girl, I don't know how you entered this forest, but I will not be held at sword point." Her tone became colder. "Put. It. Down."

That didn't disarm the situation. In fact, Anna was even more tense. "No."

"This isn't helping," Elsa whispered. "I appreciate this, but maybe I should talk--"

"I'd listen to her if I were you, girl," Mattias said grudgingly. "I hate to admit it, but that overgrown stick of hers isn't just for show."

Anna felt Kristoff take a step behind her. He didn't grab the sword from her hand, nor did he try to push her out of the way. He was just there, supporting her without saying a word.

Anna managed a little smile. There were times when those little gestures of his were worth more than any flowery words.

Then both groups charged, intent on taking Anna's sword. Anna prepared herself for a fight.

"ENOUGH!" Elsa exclaimed, a blast of her power coating the ground with ice. Both groups slipped and fell in awkward heaps.

Mattias struggled to pick himself up. He gaped at the assembled group.

"That was magic," he whispered, flabbergasted. "Did you see that?" he asked Yelana.

Yelana blinked. Then a ghost of a smirk appeared on her face.

"Well," she began. "That does explain a few things." She managed to right herself and turned her gaze to Elsa. "So you're the reason for that winter in July."

Elsa blinked. "Wait, you know about--"

Then Olaf decided to make his appearance. Both groups stared in awe as the little snowman dramatically recounted the sisters' story.

(Yelana found it darkly amusing that Mattias was such a softy at heart. She made a note to remind him of this at the most inconvenient time.)

With a gesture, Elsa melted the ice. She looked a bit aggrieved at Olaf's overly-simplified, yet oddly charming retelling. Anna looked mortified. Kristoff, for his part, just kept near Anna, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Thankfully, the introductions were less dramatic than the initial meeting. Curiosity had overcome wariness. That, and Olaf's presence had lightened things considerably.

"Queen Elsa and Princess Anna," Yelana said, a little smirk forming on her face. "I should have known; you have much of your mother in you--including her stubborn streak." She looked pointedly at the ice sword.

With a nervous chuckle, Anna gently put down the sword. "Yeah, I guess I don't need that anymore, do I?" She paused. "Wait, you knew our mother?"

Yelana was trying very hard not to laugh at Anna's use of the past tense. Even though her relationship with Iduna had more than a bit of friction, there were some moments that she just didn't want to spoil.

"My niece," Yelana said. "Which makes you two my grand nieces, I suppose." She looked at Mattias with undisguised, malicious glee. "But the good Lieutenant has something to show you."

Mattias didn't quite grimace at having been saddled with the responsibility. Still, the girls deserved to know. The best way was to show them.

Anna and Elsa were understandably curious as they made their way to the dam. They were amazed that the Arendellian camp was so populated--though they didn't know that most of them were from the royal yacht. Any murmurs were quickly silenced by a glare from Mattias, which promised swift retribution if the surprise was spoiled.

They reached the cabin and Mattias urged them to wait outside. The sisters could see figures inside, but they couldn't make out anything.

"Your Majesties?" Mattias asked softly.

"What is it?" Agnarr asked. "Did you find what was causing the disturbance in the forest?"

Iduna caught the light of mischief in the old Lieutenant's eyes. She wondered what he had found.

"I have," Mattias admitted. "You may want to sit down, though." He thought about it for a moment. "Or not. Maybe just come outside, please. We have...visitors. From outside the forest."

"How is that--?" Agnarr began, but Mattias held a finger to his lips.

"Please, Your Majesties," he urged them. "You've both waited a very long time for this."

Agnarr and Iduna shared a questioning look. Mattias wasn't usually this dramatic.

"Lieutenant?" Anna asked from outside. "Is everything all right?"

Both parents' jaws dropped. Iduna's eyes started tearing up as she trembled. Agnarr wasn't much better off.

Mattias smiled and stepped aside.

"King Agnarr? Queen Iduna? I believe that you know these two young ladies."

As one, the color drained out of every member of the royal family. They gaped at the impossible sight of each other.

"Mama?" Anna squeaked. Her voice cracked as her lips quivered, tears forming in her eyes.

"Father?" Elsa asked hesitantly. She, too, had tears in her eyes. "How--?"

"Elsa? Anna?" Those were the only shaky words that Agnarr could get out. His kingly demeanor had evaporated.

Iduna's hands flew to her mouth as the tears flowed. "My babies..." she whispered. "Oh, my girls, how did you--?" She stopped trying to talk and just opened her arms wide.

Anna dashed forward and hugged Iduna tight. After a moment's hesitation, Elsa joined her. Soon after that, Agnarr completed the group hug, kissing both daughters on their foreheads.

For moments, there was nothing but the quiet sobbing from all members of the royal family. Mattias had backed off a little to give them some room.

Slowly, reluctantly, the parents released their daughters. Agnarr took in a ragged breath as he realized something: Elsa had allowed him to hold her, something she hadn't done since she was 12.

"We thought we'd lost you three years ago," Iduna said. "We had three days of snow in July and then...it was gone."

"It's a very long story," Elsa told her. "I--"

"Ooh!" Olaf exclaimed, popping out from behind Kristoff and Sven. "Does this mean that I can tell the story again?"

Iduna squeaked and kicked off Olaf's head. Kristoff caught that part of the snowman and immediately had a sense of deja vu.

Olaf's head shook itself. "Yup, Anna, she's definitely your mother!"

Kristoff sighed and reunited Olaf's head with the rest of his body. "There you go," he said, straightening out Olaf so that he was facing forward.

Agnarr's jaw actually dropped. He turned towards Elsa to try to make sense of things.

"Did you...?" he began.

"I made him," Elsa confirmed.

"`Made' or were there...other circumstances?" His usually tactful vocabulary seemed to have been out of reach at the moment.

Elsa flushed at the implications. "Father--no, just...he's from my magic. There wasn't anybody--just no."

"I guess I'm kind of like your grandson," Olaf noted. Then he smiled. "Anyway, I am Olaf and I like warm hugs! So, can I call you grandma and grandpa?"

"Take it easy, Olaf," Anna said gently. "Remember what we said about people taking their time getting to know you?"

"But if they're your parents, then they're my family too, right?"

Both Anna and Elsa chuckled nervously. Iduna, however, seemed to find it endearing. She knelt down and offered him a quick embrace. Agnarr, for his part, knelt down and gently patted him on the back.

"Not exactly the grandson I was hoping for," he remarked. "But you seem like a decent sort." He stood up and noticed Kristoff and Sven. "And whom might you two be?"

Anna was quick to intervene; she recognized the "reindeer in the lamplight" look that Kristoff had whenever he had to introduce himself. Introducing himself to King Agnarr was especially intimidating.

"Papa, this is Kristoff Bjorgman, Ice Master and Deliverer," Anna said enthusiastically. "And this is his reindeer friend Sven. Three years ago, they helped save my life and, well...Elsa knighted him in gratitude. So, I guess I should have started off with `Sir' Kristoff Bjorgman."

"We're meeting your parents," he muttered. "I don't believe this."

Anna patted him on the shoulder. "It's going to be okay," she whispered.

Both parents noted the byplay. Silently they agreed to talk to the young man to find out what was going on.

"Pleasure to meet you, Sir Kristoff," Agnarr said, extending his hand. He was duly impressed by the honest, firm handshake that Kristoff gave him.

Anna was almost vibrating with enthusiasm. Her father and boyfriend were already getting along so well! She didn't seem to notice that Kristoff seemed prepared to be executed on the spot.

"I think we should go inside the cabin," Iduna said. "From the looks of it, we both have tales to tell."

Elsa and Anna nodded. Before they could go further, Anna raised her finger.

"Before we do, could we have another group hug?" Anna asked as she sniffled. "Because I really, really missed that."

Agnarr and Iduna were more than happy to oblige. For the moment, their stories could wait. Right now, however it had happened, all was found.

#frozen #frozen 2 #king agnarr #queen iduna #elsa #anna #agduna #northuldra

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years

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Danny and Nate, please? 😊 mamihlapinatapei (yagán, n.) - the wordless, meaningful look shared by two people who both desire to initiate something, but are both reluctant to do so

So I’m not going to do Danny and Nate for this one, but I AM going to post for you an Au-to-the-AU of the Fillis Angst Parade with @whump-tr0pes! We had a conversation once about what would happen if Finn and Ellis were never freed from the Michaelsons and Iris grew up as a Syndicate daughter, and then I got this idea for this scene in my head and... I’ll just share the whole thing with you guys!

CW: Noncon touching (nonsexual), veiled threats, implied noncon, captivity (all of this applies to Finn, not Iris)

Iris Michaelson had just turned fourteen, and that seemed as good an age as any to save someone. First, though, she wanted to visit her mother.

Her real mother.

But she had to go see her fathers, first.

Both of them.

Grant and David flanked her on either side, the hulking bodyguards comically large and muscular compared to the lithe, short teenager they were sworn to serve and protect. Grant was human - David wasn’t, not that all that many people knew about it. Iris, did, though. Iris knew a lot of things that no one ever outright told her.

She knew, for one, that Patrick and Corrinne Michaelson were her parents by force and not by birth, by theft and not through love. She knew that they loved her in their way, that they had given her everything - and she knew that there were two other people who had given everything and still lost her. Who had given even more of themselves in a desperate attempt to see her at all.

If she could pull this off, she could save them, help them go home, wherever their home might be. They shouldn’t have to be stuck here as prisoners any longer, and Iris Michaelson had a secret:

She had found a way to get in touch with the Isaac Moore, the famous insurgent who had escaped three separate Syndicate families and done unspeakable amounts of damage in Syndicate territories just about everywhere anyone had heard of.

If anyone could save her parents, it had to be Isaac Moore.

She made her way down the hallway, the walls hung with framed photos of the Michaelsons through history, long before the takeover, back when Michaelson Group was a logging company, not a Syndicate at all. Ancestors stretched back to black and white and then to painted portraits. Here and there, a framed photo of Iris herself.

Riding a tricycle, standing in front of her first painting she’d done. The day she’d been given her own signet ring. All the photos made her cringe, now - the auburn hair and freckled skin didn’t feel right, except for the photos where she’s next to Danny.

Not that there are very many of those…

She knocked, her special knock - three fast knocks and two slow - only to hear her father’s deep voice calling her in. She turned the cold brass knob, ornately carved, and stepped inside with a smile already on her face, to find her fathers deep in conversation at Patrick’s mahogany desk.

Patrick Michaelson looked no different now than he did in the photos on the walls of her brother Danny as a baby, maybe just a hint more silver at the temples. He was smiling, leaning to the side with his fingers and thumb holding the chin of Iris’s real father, Finn.

All of Iris’s friends thought her fathers were devastatingly handsome, the both of them, and Iris thought they were probably right. They turned to look at her, Patrick with sparkling good humor in his eyes, and Finn with some fathomless love hidden deep inside themself.

“Hello, Iris.” Finn spoke first, and gave her a perfect practiced smile.

That smile - empty and false, a painted facade on a movie set - was why Iris had decided she would have to be the one to save them. No one else would - anyone she asked for help would tell Patrick immediately, or just want Finn for themselves. Finn was famous in the Syndicates, because Patrick had always lost interest in playthings, discarded them, set them aside. Finn, though, had been his for fourteen years now. Unheard of.

The whole devastatingly-handsome thing helped, too, and also that when people asked for Patrick to share them at parties, Patrick always, always refused.

“Good morning, Finn,” Iris said, setting a bright smile on their face. Deep within, she let herself think, Good morning, Daddy.

“Good morning, lovely,” Patrick rumbled, hand dropping from Finn’s chin to rest high up on their thigh. Iris ignored the movement of his thumb, rubbing back and forth, and the flip of unease it caused her to see it. “What can we do for you?”

“I want permission to go to the dayschool,” Iris said. She kept her eyes on Patrick’s and pointedly did not look at Finn.

Her real father didn’t flinch - they didn’t change their expression at all. If anything, they relaxed back into their chair, laying a hand over Patrick’s, looking a little dreamy. Lost in their thoughts.

“To see Ellis?” Patrick asked, sounding idly interested. “Why is that, Iris, darling?”

“Uncle Nate has a book for them to borrow,” Iris said, giving a shrug of her thin shoulders. Finn’s eyes might have flared, just slightly. Might not. They shifted a little closer to Patrick. “That’s all. I won’t be gone for very long. I’ll take Grant and David and be back for dinner.”

“I don’t see any issue with that, so long as you’re here for dinner.” Patrick paused, and then a wicked, teasing grin found its way onto his face and he turned back to Finn. “Do you have any message you’d like to send, little Finn? You were… close with Ellis once, weren't you?”

"Once." If the smile on her father's face wavered, Iris couldn't tell. Finn paused - only a second - and then shook their head. “No, I don’t think I have anything to say to them any longer, Patrick. Thank you for offering to allow me to send a message, though.”

“Mmmn. Hard to deny you just about anything, I think,” Patrick laughed, and Iris’s hands - folded politely behind her back - tightened on each other until her knuckles were white.

“It’s true, Patrick.” Finn’s smile was gorgeous and awful, all at once. Empty beauty layered over miserable mind. “You’ve only ever denied me the one thing.”

Patrick kissed them - and Iris's eyes flickered away, to the wall, focusing on a painting that hung there still, of green Irish hillsides. That painting had hung in Patrick's office long before Iris was born.

"You beg so well, it was hard to deny you even that," Patrick whispered.

Iris pretended, for her real father's sake, that she didn't hear.

"Hard as it was," Finn replied, easy as can be, "You still managed to take them from me."

"Took you from them. And gave you so much more."

Finn took a breath. "That's debatable. I would have chosen them." Their voice had stayed low and soft, affectionate and friendly, but Patrick's expression chilled.

"And that alone is why you don't have anyone but me."

Patrick's voice matched his eyes, and she thought Finn was probably going to be punished as soon as she was gone. He turned to look at her, and smiled. His eyes were dark. "You have my permission, sweetheart. Take your bodyguards and be back for dinner. Don't spend too much time with Ellis, love. They're a bad influence."

Iris nodded to her fathers and turned to go, but not before she caught a hint of sincerity in Finn's empty smile, a nearly silent good mouthed by their lips.

Iris didn't know what exactly she would, or even could, do.

But she knew how to get in touch with Isaac Moore, now. She had to hope Ellis would know what to do after that.

Time to see her real mother, before her other mother came back upstairs from the basement for dinner.

#whump #captivity whump #secret defiance #long term captivity #ash whumps athena #iris michaelson: a 14 year old who will fuck you up #ellis's child all the way #just wait until I can figure out how I want to do the scene of her meeting Isaac #and Isaac realizing who Iris is #that she's finn and ellis's stolen baby

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ffej16 · 3 years

Text

THEinc-HIM Daily Bible Meditation - February 20 - Full Text - Shabbat Shalom

FEBRUARY 20

PSALMS: 20, 50, 80, 110, 140

PROVERBS: 20

OLD TESTAMENT: 1 SAMUEL 12:1 - 13:23

NEW TESTAMENT: JOHN 7:1 - 30

PSALMS: 20

1 May the LORD answer you in the day of trouble.

May the name of the God of Ya`akov set you up on high,

2 Send you help from the sanctuary,

Grant you support from Tziyon,

3 Remember all your offerings,

And accept your burnt-sacrifice. Selah.

4 May He grant you your heart's desire,

And fulfill all your counsel.

5 We will triumph in your yeshu`ah.

In the name of our God we will set up our banners:

The LORD fulfill all your petitions.

6 Now I know that the LORD saves his anointed.

He will answer him from his holy heaven,

With the saving strength of his right hand.

7 Some trust in chariots, and some in horses,

But we trust the name of the LORD our God.

8 They are bowed down and fallen,

But we rise up, and stand upright.

9 Save, LORD;

Let the King answer us when we call!

PSALMS: 50

1 The Mighty One, God, the LORD, speaks,

And calls the eretz from sunrise to sunset.

2 Out of Tziyon, the perfection of beauty,

God shines forth.

3 Our God comes, and does not keep silent.

A fire devours before him.

It is very tempestuous around him.

4 He calls to the heavens above,

To the eretz, that he may judge his people:

5 "Gather my holy ones together to me,

Those who have made a covenant with me by sacrifice."

6 The heavens shall declare his righteousness,

For God himself is judge.

Selah.

7 "Hear, my people, and I will speak;

Yisra'el, and I will testify against you.

I am God, your God.

8 I don't rebuke you for your sacrifices.

Your burnt offerings are continually before me.

9 I have no need for a bull from your stall,

Nor male goats from your pens.

10 For every animal of the forest is mine,

And the cattle on a thousand hills.

11 I know all the birds of the mountains.

The wild animals of the field are mine.

12 If I were hungry, I would not tell you,

For the world is mine, and all that is in it.

13 Will I eat the flesh of bulls,

Or drink the blood of goats?

14 Offer to God the sacrifice of thanksgiving.

Pay your vows to Ha`Elyon.

15 Call on me in the day of trouble.

I will deliver you, and you will honor me."

16 But to the wicked God says,

"What right do you have to declare my statutes,

That you have taken my covenant on your lips,

17 Seeing you hate instruction,

And throw my words behind you?

18 When you saw a thief, you consented with him,

And have participated with adulterers.

19 "You give your mouth to evil.

You harnesses your tongue for deceit.

20 You sit and speak against your brother.

You slander your own mother's son.

21 You have done these things, and I kept silent.

You thought that the "I AM" was just like you.

I will rebuke you, and accuse you in front of your eyes.

22 "Now consider this, you who forget God,

Lest I tear you into pieces, and there be none to deliver.

23 Whoever offers the sacrifice of thanksgiving glorifies me,

And prepares his way so that I will show God's salvation to him."

PSALMS: 80

1 Hear us, Shepherd of Yisra'el,

You who lead Yosef like a flock,

You who sit above the Keruvim, shine forth.

2 Before Efrayim and Binyamin and Menashsheh,

stir up your might,

Come to save us.

3 Turn us again, God.

Cause your face to shine,

And we will be saved.

4 LORD God Tzva'ot,

How long will you be angry against the prayer of your people?

5 You have fed them with the bread of tears,

And given them tears to drink in large measure.

6 You make us a source of contention to our neighbors.

Our enemies laugh among themselves.

7 Turn us again,

God Tzva'ot.

Cause your face to shine,

And we will be saved.

8 You brought a vine out of Mitzrayim.

You drove out the nations, and planted it.

9 You cleared the ground for it.

It took deep root, and filled the land.

10 The mountains were covered with its shadow.

Its boughs were like God's cedars.

11 It sent out its branches to the sea,

Its shoots to the River.

12 Why have you broken down its walls,

So that all those who pass by the way pluck it?

13 The boar out of the wood ravages it.

The wild animals of the field feed on it.

14 Turn again, we beg you, God Tzva'ot.

Look down from heaven, and see, and visit this vine,

15 The stock which your right hand planted,

The branch that you made strong for yourself.

16 It is burned with fire. It is cut down.

They perish at your rebuke.

17 Let your hand be on the man of your right hand,

On the son of man whom you made strong for yourself.

18 So we will not turn away from you.

Revive us, and we will call on your name.

19 Turn us again, LORD God Tzva'ot.

Cause your face to shine, and we will be saved.

PSALMS: 110

1 The LORD says to my Lord, "Sit at my right hand,

Until I make your enemies your footstool for your feet."

2 The LORD will send forth the rod of your strength out of Tziyon.

Rule in the midst of your enemies.

3 Your people offer themselves willingly in the day of your power,

In holy array.

Out of the womb of the morning, you have the dew of your youth.

4 The LORD has sworn, and will not change his mind:

"You are a Kohen forever in the order of Malki-Tzedek."

5 The Lord is at your right hand.

He will crush kings in the day of his wrath.

6 He will judge among the nations.

He will heap up dead bodies.

He will crush the ruler of the whole eretz.

7 He will drink of the brook in the way;

Therefore will he lift up his head.

PSALMS: 140

1 Deliver me, LORD, from the evil man.

Preserve me from the violent man;

2 Those who devise mischief in their hearts.

They continually gather themselves together for war.

3 They have sharpened their tongues like a serpent.

Viper's poison is under their lips.

Selah.

4 LORD, keep me from the hands of the wicked.

Preserve me from the violent men:

Who have determined to trip my feet.

5 The proud have hidden a snare for me,

They have spread the cords of a net by the path.

They have set traps for me.

Selah.

6 I said to the LORD,

"You are my God.

" Listen to the cry of my petitions, LORD.

7 LORD, the Lord, the strength of my yeshu`ah,

You have covered my head in the day of battle.

8 LORD, don't grant the desires of the wicked.

Don't let their evil plans succeed, or they will become proud. Selah.

9 As for the head of those who surround me,

Let the mischief of their own lips cover them.

10 Let burning coals fall on them.

Let them be thrown into the fire,

Into miry pits, from where they never rise.

11 An evil speaker won't be established in the eretz.

Evil will hunt the violent man to overthrow him.

12 I know that the LORD will maintain the cause of the afflicted,

And justice for the needy.

13 Surely the righteous will give thanks to your name.

The upright will dwell in your presence.

PROVERBS: 20

1 Wine is a mocker, and beer is a brawler;

Whoever is let astray by them is not wise.

2 The terror of a king is like the roaring of a lion:

He who provokes him to anger forfeits his own life.

3 It is an honor for a man to keep aloof from strife;

But every fool will be quarreling.

4 The sluggard will not plow by reason of the winter;

Therefore he shall beg in harvest, and have nothing.

5 Counsel in the heart of man is like deep water;

But a man of understanding will draw it out.

6 Many men claim to be men of unfailing love,

But who can find a faithful man?

7 A righteous man who walks in his integrity,

Blessed are his children after him.

8 A king who sits on the throne of judgment

Scatters away all evil with his eyes.

9 Who can say, "I have made my heart pure.

I am clean and without sin?"

10 Differing weights and differing measures,

Both of them alike are an abomination to the LORD.

11 Even a child makes himself known by his doings,

Whether his work is pure, and whether it is right.

12 The hearing ear, and the seeing eye,

The LORD has made even both of them.

13 Don't love sleep, lest you come to poverty;

Open your eyes, and you shall be satisfied with bread.

14 "It's no good, it's no good," says the buyer;

But when he is gone his way, then he boasts.

15 There is gold and abundance of rubies;

But the lips of knowledge are a rare jewel.

16 Take the garment of one who puts up collateral for a stranger;

And hold him in pledge for a wayward woman.

17 Fraudulent food is sweet to a man,

But afterwards his mouth is filled with gravel.

18 Plans are established by advice;

By wise guidance you wage war!

19 He who goes about as a tale-bearer reveals secrets;

Therefore don't keep company with him who opens wide his lips.

20 Whoever curses his father or his mother,

His lamp shall be put out in blackness of darkness.

21 An inheritance quickly gained at the beginning,

Won't be blessed in the end.

22 Don't say,

"I will pay back evil."

Wait for the LORD, and he will save you.

23 The LORD detests differing weights,

And dishonest scales are not pleasing.

24 A man's steps are from the LORD;

How then can man understand his way?

25 It is a snare to a man make a rash dedication,

And later reconsider his vows.

26 A wise king winnows out the wicked,

And drives the threshing wheel over them.

27 The spirit of man is the LORD's lamp,

Searching all his innermost parts.

28 Love and faithfulness keep the king safe.

His throne is sustained by love.

29 The glory of young men is their strength.

The splendor of old men is their gray hair.

30 Wounding blows cleanse away evil,

And beatings purge the innermost parts.

OLD TESTAMENT: 1 SAMUEL 12:1 - 13:23

12:1 Shemu'el said to all Yisra'el, Behold, I have listened to your voice in all that you said to me, and have made a king over you. 2 Now, behold, the king walks before you; and I am old and gray-headed; and, behold, my sons are with you: and I have walked before you from my youth to this day. 3 Here I am: witness against me before the LORD, and before his anointed: whose ox have I taken? or whose donkey have I taken? or whom have I defrauded? whom have I oppressed? or of whose hand have I taken a ransom to blind my eyes therewith? and I will restore it you. 4 They said, You have not defrauded us, nor oppressed us, neither have you taken anything of any man's hand. 5 He said to them, the LORD is witness against you, and his anointed is witness this day, that you have not found anything in my hand. They said, He is witness. 6 Shemu'el said to the people, It is the LORD who appointed Moshe and Aharon, and that brought your fathers up out of the land of Mitzrayim. 7 Now therefore stand still, that I may plead with you before the LORD concerning all the righteous acts of the LORD, which he did to you and to your fathers. 8 When Ya`akov was come into Mitzrayim, and your fathers cried to the LORD, then the LORD sent Moshe and Aharon, who brought forth your fathers out of Mitzrayim, and made them to dwell in this place. 9 But they forgot the LORD their God; and he sold them into the hand of Sisera, captain of the host of Hatzor, and into the hand of the Pelishtim, and into the hand of the king of Mo'av; and they fought against them. 10 They cried to the LORD, and said, We have sinned, because we have forsaken the LORD, and have served the Ba`alim and the `Ashtarot: but now deliver us out of the hand of our enemies, and we will serve you. 11 The LORD sent Yerubba`al, and Bedan, and Yiftach, and Shemu'el, and delivered you out of the hand of your enemies on every side; and you lived in safety.

12 When you saw that Nachash the king of the children of `Ammon came against you, you said to me, No, but a king shall reign over us; when the LORD your God was your king. 13 Now therefore see the king whom you have chosen, and whom you have asked for: and, behold, the LORD has set a king over you. 14 If you will fear the LORD, and serve him, and listen to his voice, and not rebel against the mitzvah of the LORD, and both you and also the king who reigns over you are followers of the LORD your God, [well]: 15 but if you will not listen to the voice of the LORD, but rebel against the mitzvah of the LORD, then will the hand of the LORD be against you, as it was against your fathers. 16 Now therefore stand still and see this great thing, which the LORD will do before your eyes. 17 Isn't it wheat harvest today? I will call to the LORD, that he may send thunder and rain; and you shall know and see that your wickedness is great, which you have done in the sight of the LORD, in asking you a king. 18 So Shemu'el called to the LORD; and the LORD sent thunder and rain that day: and all the people greatly feared the LORD and Shemu'el. 19 All the people said to Shemu'el, Pray for your servants to the LORD your God, that we not die; for we have added to all our sins [this] evil, to ask us a king. 20 Shemu'el said to the people, "Don't be afraid; you have indeed done all this evil; yet don't turn aside from following the LORD, but serve the LORD with all your heart: 21 and don't turn aside; for [then would you go] after vain things which can't profit nor deliver, for they are vain. 22 For the LORD will not forsake his people for his great name's sake, because it has pleased the LORD to make you a people to himself. 23 Moreover as for me, far be it from me that I should sin against the LORD in ceasing to pray for you: but I will instruct you in the good and the right way. 24 Only fear the LORD, and serve him in truth with all your heart; for consider how great things he has done for you. 25 But if you shall still do wickedly, you shall be consumed, both you and your king."

13:1 Sha'ul was [forty] years old when he began to reign; and when he had reigned two years over Yisra'el, 2 Sha'ul chose him three thousand men of Yisra'el, whereof two thousand were with Sha'ul in Mikhmash and in the Mount of Beit-El, and one thousand were with Yonatan in Gevah of Binyamin: and the rest of the people he sent every man to his tent. 3 Yonatan struck the garrison of the Pelishtim that was in Geva: and the Pelishtim heard of it. Sha'ul blew the shofar throughout all the land, saying, Let the Hebrews hear. 4 All Yisra'el heard say that Sha'ul had struck the garrison of the Pelishtim, and also that Yisra'el was had in abomination with the Pelishtim. The people were gathered together after Sha'ul to Gilgal. 5 The Pelishtim assembled themselves together to fight with Yisra'el, thirty thousand chariots, and six thousand horsemen, and people as the sand which is on the sea-shore in multitude: and they came up, and encamped in Mikhmash, eastward of Beit-Aven. 6 When the men of Yisra'el saw that they were in a strait (for the people were distressed), then the people did hide themselves in caves, and in thickets, and in rocks, and in coverts, and in pits. 7 Now some of the Hebrews had gone over the Yarden to the land of Gad and Gil`ad; but as for Sha'ul, he was yet in Gilgal, and all the people followed him trembling. 8 He stayed seven days, according to the set time that Shemu'el [had appointed]: but Shemu'el didn't come to Gilgal; and the people were scattered from him. 9Sha'ul said, Bring here the burnt offering to me, and the peace-offerings. He offered the burnt offering.10 It came to pass that as soon as he had made an end of offering the burnt offering, behold, Shemu'el came; and Sha'ul went out to meet him, that he might greet him. 11 Shemu'el said, What have you done? Sha'ul said, Because I saw that the people were scattered from me, and that you didn't come within the days appointed, and that the Pelishtim assembled themselves together at Mikhmash; 12 therefore said I, Now will the Pelishtim come down on me to Gilgal, and I haven't entreated the favor of the LORD: I forced myself therefore, and offered the burnt offering. 13 Shemu'el said to Sha'ul, You have done foolishly; you have not kept the mitzvah of the LORD your God, which he commanded you: for now would the LORD have established your kingdom on Yisra'el forever. 14 But now your kingdom shall not continue: the LORD has sought him a man after his own heart, and the LORD has appointed him to be prince over his people, because you have not kept that which the LORD commanded you. 15 Shemu'el arose, and got him up from Gilgal to Gevah of Binyamin. Sha'ul numbered the people who were present with him, about six hundred men. 16 Sha'ul, and Yonatan his son, and the people who were present with them, abode in Geva of Binyamin: but the Pelishtim encamped in Mikhmash. 17 The spoilers came out of the camp of the Pelishtim in three companies: one company turned to the way that leads to Ofrat, to the land of Shual; 18 and another company turned the way to Beit-Horon; and another company turned the way of the border that looks down on the valley of Tzevo`im toward the wilderness. 19 Now there was no smith found throughout all Eretz-Yisra'el; for the Pelishtim said, Lest the Hebrews make them swords or spears: 20 but all the Yisra'elites went down to the Pelishtim, to sharpen every man his plowshare, mattock, ax, and sickle; 21 yet they had a file for the mattocks, and for the plowshares, and for the forks, and for the axes, and to set the goads. 22 So it came to pass in the day of battle, that there was neither sword nor spear found in the hand of any of the people who were with Sha'ul and Yonatan: but with Sha'ul and with Yonatan his son was there found. 23 The garrison of the Pelishtim went out to the pass of Mikhmash.

NEW TESTAMENT: JOHN 7:1 - 30

7:1 After these things, Yeshua walked in the Galil, for he would not walk in Yehudah, because the Yehudim sought to kill him.

2 Now the feast of the Yehudim, the Feast of Sukkot, was at hand.

3 His brothers therefore said to him, "Depart from here, and go into Yehudah, that your talmidim also may see your works which you do.

4 For no one does anything in secret, and himself seeks to be known openly. If you do these things, reveal yourself to the world."

5 For even his brothers didn't believe in him.

6 Yeshua therefore said to them, "My time has not yet come, but your time is always ready.

7 The world can't hate you, but it hates me, because I testify about it, that its works are evil.

8 You go up to the feast. I am not yet going up to this feast, because my time is not yet fulfilled."

9 Having said these things to them, he stayed in the Galil.

10 But when his brothers had gone up to the feast, then he also went up, not publicly, but as it were in secret.

11 The Yehudim therefore sought him at the feast, and said, "Where is he?"

12 There was much murmuring among the multitudes concerning him. Some said, "He is a good man." Others said, "Not so, but he leads the multitude astray."

13Yet no one spoke openly of him for fear of the Yehudim.

14 But when it was now the midst of the feast, Yeshua went up into the temple and taught.

15 The Yehudim therefore marveled, saying, "How does this man know letters, having never been educated?"

16 Yeshua therefore answered them, "My teaching is not mine, but his who sent me.

17 If anyone desires to do his will, he will know of the teaching, whether it is from God, or if I speak from myself.

18 He who speaks from himself seeks his own glory, but he who seeks the glory of him who sent him, the same is true, and no unrighteousness is in him.

19 Didn't Moshe give you the law, and yet none of you keeps the law? Why do you seek to kill me?"

20 The multitude answered, "You have a demon! Who seeks to kill you?"

21 Yeshua answered them, "I did one work, and you all marvel because of it.

22 Moshe has given you circumcision (not that it is of Moshe, but of the fathers), and on the Shabbat you circumcise a boy.

23 If a boy receives circumcision on the Shabbat, that the law of Moshe may not be broken, are you angry with me, because I made a man every bit whole on the Shabbat?

24 Don't judge according to appearance, but judge righteous judgment."

25 Some therefore of them of Yerushalayim said, "Isn't this he whom they seek to kill?

26 Behold, he speaks openly, and they say nothing to him. Can it be that the rulers indeed know that this is truly the Messiah?

27 However we know where this man comes from, but when the Messiah comes, no one will know where he comes from."

28 Yeshua therefore cried out in the temple, teaching and saying, "You both know me, and know where I am from. I have not come of myself, but he who sent me is true, whom you don't know.

29 I know him, because I am from him, and he sent me."

30 They sought therefore to take him; but no one laid a hand on him, because his hour had not yet come.

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pllandcompany · 5 years

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You GUYS. Sanders Sides Ice Skating AU? Sanders Sides Ice Skating AU.

Do I know anything about ice skating? Nope. Am I gonna write about it anyway? Absolutely. Google is a thing, right?

(please don’t ask me what possessed me to come up with this, the answer i don’t know, just let me be great)

Warnings: talk of injuries, performance anxiety, mention of illegal/dangerous performance enhancing practices, disordered eating/body image issues, past minor character death. illness mention, deceit is included in this

Also, just to be clear, the boys all train together on the same team. Under a cut because this 100% ran away from me.

Logan:

at 24, he’s considered to be what the team lovingly calls a lifer, meaning that skating is all he knows and all he’s ever done since he was born

truth be told, his former NBA cheerleader mother and NFL coach father forced him into several sports when he was small and this was the only one he showed any potential in

spoiler alert: they’re not thrilled that this was the only one he was good at

but they wanted their son to be an athlete so skating it is

fairly well known but doesn’t even acknowledge his own fame

known around the arena for being sort of intense and standoffish leading to him not always being well-liked

also weirdly brilliant? he frequently goes on rants about the physics behind skating that never fail to shock his teammates

despite being a frequent silver/gold medalist, Logan always felt like his parents were constantly disappointed in him so he vowed to train so hard that he would make his first Olympics by age 18

he missed his goal by one tenth of a point and had to wait until 22 to qualify again

also his parents didn’t even attend the competition where he qualified

it doesn’t bother him one bit (just kidding, he is Bothered)

very rigid with his diet and training regimen, sometimes to an unhealthy level depending on how well he believes he’s performing (roman and patton are Very Worried sometimes)

struggles with his height and wingspan, at 6′0 he’s tall for a skater and somewhat lanky which makes certain technical elements difficult for him

only at first though, when he meets a challenge, it becomes his ultimate goal to master it

ever the perfectionist, he will practice until he nearly collapses and often has to be dragged off the ice and forced to stop obsessing

(the occasional lack of adequate nutrition and/or hydration doesn’t have anything to do with him collapsing. nope. he’s fine.)

his technique is mostly impeccable but he’s a cerebral skater; often criticized for visibly “thinking” while skating and not emoting much

Roman:

23, total prodigy skater, also a lifer

both parents were Olympic skaters; they were actually part of two separate pairs when they met and quickly became both life and work partners

now Roman’s father coaches their team and his mother acts as his manager

very charismatic and magnetic, quickly became a public figure after his second Olympic gold medal

his mother takes every advantage of her son’s charm, constantly signing him up for guest roles and talk shows and commercials without consulting him first

he loves the attention though

sometimes

sometimes he just wants to skate

Roman’s father isn’t as impressed with his antics; he’s constantly on him to stay focused

the other teammates either genuinely love him or they love him in person and gossip about him in secret

he knows some of their adoration is fake but it’s fine, he doesn’t care what they think (he cares a great deal)

5′8 but very muscular, especially in his legs and shoulders

has been criticized for his broader body type but he doesn’t care; he loves that he’s Thicc

judges still love him though, he’s a very powerful skater, his jumps are explosive and very accurate and he’s always very connected to the music

he’s always looking for the next challenge, the next risky move or flashy element

at times he can be hard on himself to always outdo his last performance which has cost him his physical health at times; he spent the year leading up to his second Olympics battling a knee injury that almost sidelined him

he and Logan have a friendly/unfriendly competition going on as they tend to consistently trade places with each other for 1st and 2nd place on the podium

Virgil:

21, a newer addition to the team

wicked talented, possibly even more so than Roman

ask him though and he’d tell you he’s the worst one in the rink (which infuriates Logan considering Virgil achieved the very goal he couldn’t)

has severe performance anxiety and will often panic so much before competition that he’s physically sick

5′6 with a slight build; can jump wicked high and very clean lines

his teammates call him the Shrimp because of how short he is

(roman used to call him that too until he found out how much Virgil hated the nickname)

raised by a single parent, his mother worked three jobs so she could afford skating lessons and new boots as he grew

qualified for his first Olympics at just 18, won bronze and a sponsorship that finally took the pressure off his mother

now he wants gold but not for himself

his mother was diagnosed with cancer and the treatments are very expensive on top of the financial demands of his career

he knows if he makes more money, he can provide for her the way she provided for him

when he skates, it’s either damn near flawless or a shaky, inconsistent mess, there is no in-between

fortunately there are people around him to help his anxiety and keep him focused

Patton:

25; came to the arena shortly after Logan but unlike Lo was very quickly accepted

he loves everybody

everybody loves him

the other teammates call him Old Man, Dad, or Papa Patton because he’s always looking out for everyone

whether it’s making sure they stay hydrated or nourished or telling them to rest when they need to, he’s always looking out for his skate family

5′9 and somewhat muscular but still lean

not the most technically consistent skater but always receives high praise for his performance and artistry

one of the few skaters who actually loves the dance classes they attend and really gets into them (this confuses Logan greatly)

came to competitive skating a bit later in life, took more time to train and test than average

despite his age and experience, he actually has the least amount of medals among the four and has yet to win Olympic gold

is seemingly unbothered by that fact (this confuses Roman greatly)

also never appears to be nervous or stressed about competitions (this confuses Virgil greatly)

when asked about his calm and cheerful demeanor even in the face of disappointment (by Roman)

or his ability to display every emotion in the music so readily on his face (by Logan)

or how he manages not to puke for hours before a big skate (by Virgil), he answers with this

when he was nine, both of his parents were killed by a drunk driver on their way to see him skate

he almost quit skating after that happened

(if he’s honest, he almost quit everything after that happened)

but after the grief settled slightly, he made a promise to himself that no matter what, every time he stepped on the ice, he would skate for them

every turn, every spin, even every practice session is for them and whatever happens doesn’t matter because he knows that his family is watching over him and they are so proud

having discovered a new level of respect for their teammate, the others find themselves complaining much less around him now

Deceit (known as Dimitri):

22, not a member of Roman’s dad club, of Russian descent but skates for Team Canada

started showing up in competitions shortly after Virgil joined the team

immediately started crushing everybody, knocking Roman and Logan down to silver or bronze and Virgil and Patton off the podium completely

5′8 and the ideal build for a figure skater, judges go nuts over his lines and speed

deadly accurate jumper

the dude honestly seems almost perfect

Roman is Frustrated. Logan is Jealous. Virgil and Patton are Suspicious.

it’s Patton who finds out the chink in Dimitri’s sequined armor

he’s been blood doping for months in secret

but not for selfish reasons

he too was orphaned at a young age but unlike Patton, he was not the only child left behind

he has a sister and two brothers who he is the primary caretaker of

and almost every penny he earns is spent on their schooling, their healthcare, their overall well-being

he has to be the best in order for their family to survive

which is why Patton is sworn to secrecy

if this got out, he’d be done and so would his three siblings

Patton is Very Worried because doping is hella dangerous

but Dimitri will be fine

right?

I’m sure this has been done before but I don’t care, I’m in love with this concept and I can’t wait to write more.

Tagged: @ziallwarrior @apologieslogan @logansmolbean @crofters-jam @asylia5911 @ab-artist @band-be-boss-blog @unbefuckinglieveable @flyingfreeyt @thecatchat @thefallendog @backatthebein

#logan sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #deceit sanders #tw: deceit #sanders sides au #my writing #pllandcochats #sanders sides

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demoniccultivations · 4 years

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temerate: (v.) to break a bond or promise

Temerate (v.) To Break a Bond or Promise

The first time he every breaks a promise it is not intentional, he is small and he promises to not allow anyone hurt his brother. The two are playing together near the dock, he falls and skins his knees and for the rest of the day Wei Wuxian is inconsolable how dare that plank hurt Jiang, how dare it make him bleed, and get stuck under his skin ? Luckily, Yanli is there to help and he cries because he never thought that something like that might happen. He decides that he will become more attentive more vigilant.

He learns that it draws blood.

The second time he breaks a promise, is to Madam Yu. He runs in the hall, she forced him to promise be be a good boy to be well behaved. He promises that he will be good. He is fearful. Will she send him back to the street, she is harsh. She berates him and she hits him for the first time with the Ziadan, it is the first time he has ever been hit by anything of the sort. He screams so loudly he disturbs everyone in the house. Jiang hears and comes running, it is only that Jiang tosses himself over a smaller Wei Wuxian that his mother regains her senses, her hatred is self explained. She’s no doubt heard the rumors, that he is actual the son of her husband. There is no truth to it. This time it is really not Wei Wuxian who has broken a promise, but his Uncle in the eyes of Madam Yu.

He learns even love can be broken.

The third time he breaks a promise is to Yanli, he promises her that he will not use the Stygian Tiger Seal flippantly, that he will be a good boy. That he won’t allow it to steal from him all those things that she loves within him. The bright eyes, the brilliant smile the way mischief is around him like an aura of chaos itself. He doesn’t WANT to do it. He WANTS a little peace especially after the Sunshot Campaign, he wants to be away from the politics, he wants to avoid all of those who play the game of intrigue, but he’s wound so deep into the web, that he can’t see a way out of the entanglements. He wants to be that boy for his sister, because really she is more mother and sister than just a sibling. She is part of his moral compass she is the ever pointing true arrow. He learns even a conscious can be broken.

The forth time he breaks a promise, is to Jiang and OH it hurts so much to not be able to follow through. He allows his brother to think he’s just drinking and over doing it. How many times does he allow him catch him drinking. Its water at that time, his body is not repaired enough from the loss of his Golden Core to do anything with it. He is a diamond in the rough, he is a man to tired in his own skin and his bones. Yet, he finds the will to go on. He did promise Madam on that boat, that he would take care and protect Jiang, he has no other path to walk. Wei Wuxian will always say that he values his freedom above all other, but he is lying there as well. He wants someone to look to him and tell him Come, Come on lets go home. He wants to be wanted to belong. He is of no use to himself, or to his brother, because he’s damaged goods, he’s always been damaged but now its on such a spiritual level. He can’t train anyone, he can barely tolerate his own company at that time. Try, accomplish the impossible–he tries and he fails. Its his fault but its also not his fault at the same time, its all factors.

He learns the spirit can not be broken but the body can.

He flees, he is too damn smart to know once his uses to the Clans are done, that he will be simply a target for what they want from him. He is a wild card, he is a magic user of extreme skill. If they knew half of what he could do they would have long ago simply put him down, as a dog they could not control. This time he breaks a promise to himself, its the only real promise he has willingly broken. He uses the seal. He forges a new path for himself, he reforges himself in those three months from the broken–thing he had become without his Core, still there is the strut the quick smile it never quiet reaches his eyes anymore.

He learns even laws are broken

The next bond that is broken is his trust in the common good. They gather together to put the Wen down but than what do they do ? rather than leaving those who are beaten to nurse their wounds and consider their mistakes they began to destroy them. They being little more than the elderly, woman and children. HOW can they call him wicked, how can they call him walking a crooked path, when they are abusers, when they are as bad as what he helped put down ? He is disgusted with them. His good will is broken the minute he demands the location of Wen NIng, when he storms Carpe Tower, when he stops to rescue Lan Zhan whom they are pushing drink on knowing he does not drink, he is enraged at that. They want everyone to fit into their mold. He is fed up, he doesn’t kill the guard, but he is truly the Yiling Patriarch in that instant, the moment the flute touches his lips he draws the dead back to avenge themselves. He learns morals are broken (even his own)

It seems like a simple childish promise to be broken, but it cuts as deeply as anything else in his life. He and Jiang had sworn they would make sure that their sister had the best and most lavish wedding one that people would be talking about for years after. He can’t keep that promise, nor can Jiang because what can they give that her new beau can’t ? the Jin family is the most wealth in of Clans. In a heart in turmoil it’s that little piece that breaks.

He learns childhood dreams can be broken.

A wedding vow, a young love a promise of forever is broken, it is nothing that his sister has done or that Jin Zixuan should have occur no matter how little he likes the man. Things went wrong, his bonds of control are momentarily broken and the result costs so much for so many.

He learns forever is a joke even the bonds of true love can be broken.

A simple promise to him is broken and it is the one that he still weeps over even in his next life. He took them in all of them. The remaining Wen clan they promise to work and make a life of their own in the Burial Mounds. He would give them a chance at a new life and they would not squander it. They break it in the span that it takes the woman he trusts most in his own inner clan, whom puts him to bed, and uses acupuncture to save him, swearing to go to Carpe tower and turn themselves in taking the knife out of his hands and making it so there is no weapon. They all die, for the selfish reason of not having a simple thing, his Seal. Bonds of Community can be broken

He plans to show them just how broken they are. He has no plans after there is no reason. He is going to break everything. The second his steps into Nightless City his bonds are shattered and he knows this. He even fight the one he believe is his soulmate. He sees the broken body of his sister, clutched into the arms of his equally broken brother, not outside, no outside he is quiet fit, his golden core replenished but everything else is shattered. He turns there own evil upon them, he shatters it with a snap of his finger, the Tiger Seal float down upon a battlefield that never should have been. He hears the broken and discorded sounds of flute music, but believes its in his head. How many break bonds of fealty of family and of love on that field ? His laughter is broken as he attempts to escape. He learns bonds of faith can be broken for power.

He is caught before he can break the final bond that between himself and the Seal. He turns to face the man who has fought for him all along. The man whom he truly views as his soulmate. It is not broken no, its strong as ever beating as loudly as a shared heartbeat. It it terrified and there is a sense of impending doom upon both of them. He can see it in the blood that is too red. He’s hurt badly hurt, his body already lessened by lack of Golden Core is broken it can barely support him. He doesn’t want him to see him like this, he wants –he doesn’t know what he wants. He sees the shattered look on the handsome face of the man he thinks he might well love, but what a moment to break his own heart. There is no time for this or for them. He begs him to come back to him, not to do what he can see Wei Ying is going to do. No one see’s him as the Second Jade of Lan does. He does not hold the promise the made over him like some shackle. He does not want him for anything other than Wei Ying, the name he calls, always so elegant and cultured breaks and even he can feel something break within his soulmate, as he catches his hand and refuses to allow him to fall into the abyss.

Some bonds strength with threats of breaking.

It is the final bond of brotherhood that is broken, when the sword slams into the rocky mountain side that he is being held against. He can’t stand the idea that he might bring the only still beautiful thing in the world to him over the ledge with him. If the bond of rock to stone gives. Wangji would plunge over the side with him. Would he die for him there is a real fear there that he would indeed do so. He doesn’t want that he wants him to live for him. He wants to say this to him but as the sword twists there is no more time for words and he smiles to the ones he loves, though one will hate him and the other love him beyond death. The last and final bond that one breaks is that of life and death.

He learns the secret between the bonds of life and death.

He awakes to a whispering plea a begging voice to promise he will swear to avange him, destroy his enemies he stuck in shackles of flesh and blood again. The bond of death broken as he opens eyes. @jiangswanyin

#warning long post #jiang #drabble #temerate #jiangswanyin #𝓘𝓷 𝓦𝓪𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓰 & 𝓓𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓰-𝓐𝓷𝓼𝔀𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓭

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facelessxchurch · 6 years

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Church of the Faceless (Canon Info)

Here is all information I could find only skipping through the books, so I’ve probably missed something. If you notice something missing feel free to DM me and I’ll gladly add it!

Under the cut you’ll find all info I could find, plus quotes to proof my statements. Disappointingly enough I couldn’t find much information that wasn’t already widely known.

>>Click here for my headcanons on the Church of the Faceless<<

They believe the Faceless Ones will cleanse the world and their followers will be spared and live as their servants in this new world.

“Like his master before him, he believes some of our darker myths, our more disturbing legends. He believes the world was a better place when the Faceless Ones were in charge. They didn’t exactly approve of humanity, you see, and they demand worship.”

-Skulduggery about Serpine and the Facless Ones, “SP: The Sceptre of Ancients”, p.82ff

“How my lords and masters will reward me for my servitude is up to them. I would never presume to guess.“

“I get to be by their side when they raze this world, when they expunge the stain of humanity. And when it’s over, I get to bask in their terrible glory.“

-Serpine about the Faceless Ones, “SP: The Sceptre of Ancients”, p.218ff

“The creature on this table will open the gateway for its brethren and this world will be cleansed. The unworthy will be decimated and we will usher in a new paradise [..]“

-Vengeous to Valkyrie, “SP: Playing with Fire”, p.193

“When the Faceless Ones return I will rule by their side.“

-Vengeous, “SP: Playing with Fire”, p.324

“Maybe they will rule, maybe they will scorch, maybe they will obliterate, or maybe they will just simply be. It is not our place to question them. A long time ago you told me that. You told me this world belongs to them. We’ve overseen it for millennia and now it’s time to give it back.”

-Gallow to China, ”SP: The Faceless Ones”, p.297

“Our Gods will reward our faith when they return and whipe the heretics from the face of the world”

-Prave about the Faceless Ones, ”SP: Dark Days”, p.299

“If the Faceless Ones deemed those disciples unworthy, so be it. We’ll just have to make sure that the rest of us are worthy of their love the next time they return“

-Eliza about Krav and Rose’s death,”SP: Death Bringer” p.71

“I’m pretty sure Eliza views herself as some kind of pope figure, things she can lead the faithful into a world where the strong are rewarded and the weak are discarded.”

-Gallow about Eliza,”SP: Death Bringer” p.206

They are searching for a ritual to allow the Facless Ones to return to the main Dimension (the Darklands).

“He has committed untold atrocities in order to uncover obscure rituals, searching for the one ritual that he, and religious fanatics like him, have been seeking for generations.”

-Skulduggery about Serpine, “SP: The Sceptre of Ancients”, p.79

They have to vow their servidude to the Faceless Ones. Most likely during some sort of baptism.

“You have sworn your allegiance to the dark gods. You cannot simply change your mind.”

-Baron Vengeous to China, “SP: Playing with Fire” p.74

“You are their servant, [...] If you will not uphold the vow you made on your own then I will do it for you. You will be there when the Faceless Ones return, even if it is just so you can be the first traitor they kill.”

-Vengeous talking to China, “SP: Playing with Fire” ,p.74

The Diablerie were a group of zealots, founded and led by China Sorrows that only stood below Mevolent. Though, it appears it was possible for the generals to request help from that group.

“The Diablerie was a group of the sickest fanatics Mevolent had at his disposal. A group that China founded and led. [...] When China left and became, to use her own word, neutral, Baron Vengeous took over, but it’s been 120 years since they’ve been considered a real threat. It’s been over 80 years since they were actually heard of.“

-Skulduggery about the Diablerie, ”SP: The Faceless Ones”, p.114ff

The Faceless symbol is a small circle 'barely intersecting' with a much larger circle. representing how the Faceless ones are essentially everything and we, humans are dirt and are not worthy of our gods.

“The big one represents the Faceless Ones. All- encompassing, all-knowing. The little one is us. floating around the edge, barely intersecting. It means we’re little more than fleas, unable to even comprehend the full majesty of existance. It’s very patronising, as far as religious symbols go, and somewhat self-pitying“

-Other Dimension, Skulduggery about the Faceless symbol, “SP: Kingdom of the Wicked” p.441

“Like the others, her family crest had been carved into the lid a scorpion atop three circles. The circles were said to represent the blank features of the Faceless Ones, while the scorpions stood for the indomitable will and immutable nature of China’s bloodline.”

-about China’s family crest, “SP: Last Stand of Dead Men”, p.203

The sacred text of the church is the Gospel of the Faceless.

“China asked, flicking through the book on the altar. It was a particulary battered edition of the Gospel of the Faceless, a moronic book written by a moron in an attempt to rationalise the behavior of his ilk.”

-how China view on the sacred text, ”SP: Dark Days”, p.297

The Faceless Church does not have religious holidays. (Tho this information may be outdated by now also Landy doesn’t know how religions/culture work apparently) [Source]

Batu/Paddy believed allowing a Faceless One to posses him would grant him magical powers, while China’s family believed they could control a Faceless One and harness its power should one posses them. It is possible that other disciples/families have similiar believes they kept secret from the other followers.

““You’re going to let a Faceceless One take you over.” “And then I’ll be brimming with magic that ordinary sorcers would never even dream about. They’re not gods, Valkyrie. They are as pathetic as the people you left behind in your old life. But me? I’ll be a true god.” “But it won’t be you. Your personality will be wiped clean. Even your body will be changed. You’re not ever going to know what’s it like to use magic.” “I’ll know,” said Bato softly. “There will be some part of me that stays, some part of me that joins with the Faceless One. I know it. I’m strong, you see? I was born without magic. I’ve had to be strong. My will is iron. I’m not going to be simply erased - not like the others.”“

-Batu talking with Valkyrie, ”SP: The Faceless Ones”, p.359

“The arrogance of it all. China’s grandmother, a mere thirty years older than China’s mother, but two hundred years older than China, had taken it upon herself to school the children of the family in the ways of worship. The majority of those teachings were nothing if not standart - the Faceless Ones are the true rulers of the world, the mortals must be extingguished, sorcerers only exist to serve these wonderfully insane gods - the same rhetoric instilled in the minds of all disciples’ children. But China’s grandmother, who had in turn been taught by her grandmother, also passed down a particular addendum that was never spoken of to outsiders. The evenings China had spend with her brother Bliss, sitting by the fire while their grandmother explained the true realities of the Faceless Ones, that they were insane and that they were unpredictable, and according to legend they could take over a sorcerer’s body to use as they saw fit. Other sorcerers, China and her brother were told, were mere fodder for their gods - vessels waiting to be steered. But China’s family believed to be special. They believed the were different. They believed they were so strong and so clever that when the Faceless Ones took them over, they would retain control.”

- “SP: Last Stand of Dead Men”, p.203ff

The disciples seem to have at least some awareness of the true nature of their gods, since they know they require vessels as well as merely looking at them will drive you mad.

“Vakyrie frowned. “You’re offering up the rest of the Diablerie as vessels too.” “I didn’t want the Dark Gods wasting their time by seeking out suitable candidates. I just decided to make it easy for them.”“

-Batu talking with Valkyrie, ”SP: The Faceless Ones”, p.359

““I looked into the face of a god,” she whispered, her eyes following Skulduggery. “And we all know what that does to you,” said Serpine.”

-”SP: Kingdom of the Wicked” p.484

Description of the Irish Chapel

“The walls were decorated with the paintings and iconography of the Dark Gods, and the main room contained an altar and a well worn carpet, where a handful of desperate disciples had kneeled and worshipped and prayed for the end of humanity.”

-description of the Faceless Church owned by Jajo Prave, ”SP: Dark Days”, p.297

Eliza as an example for a Faceless martyr/saint

“Vengeous’ wife wore a grey shapeless dress made of sackcloth and her bare feet were chained were chained at the ankles, forcing her to take small, quick steps. There was a small piece of wood hanging from a cord around her neck, into which were carved the two circles. With her hair shaved off and not a trace of make-up on her pale, drawn face, it took Valkyrie a moment to regonize her as Eliza Scorn.”“

-Other Dimension, Eliza’s attire, “SP: Kingdom of the Wicked” p.363

“My wife wears thos chains in penance for us all, to show the Faceless Ones that we are ready to be punished for what was done to them. She is a true believer. Her soul is righteous and pure, unlike yours.”

-Other Dimension, Baron about Eliza’s attire, “SP: Kingdom of the Wicked” p.365

“They used to do that in our dimension as well. There’d always be one fervent believer who took it upon themselves to suffer for our sins. It was meant to be altrustic and selfless, but I generally found those people to be nothing more than attention-seeking martyrs.”

-Other Dimension, Skulduggery about faceless martyrs, “SP: Kingdom of the Wicked” p.441

It seems that only heathens aren’t allowed to look at high ranking spiritual members of the faceless church, or even talk to them, unless spoken to.

““You are not to look the master in the eye,” he said. “Mevolent is the voice of the Faceless Ones on this earth and as such you have neither the right nor the honour to look upon his face. Any attempt to meet his gaze will be met with punishment. Do you understand?”“

-Other Dimension, Baron about Mevolent, “SP: Kingdom of the Wicked” p.370ff

““Stop the filthy creature from speaking to me!” “Oh, for God’s sake...” Scorn pushed her away. “God? God? You know not what a true god looks like! You are a blasphemer! You may not gaze upon me!” [...] She frowned over at Serpine. “And how come she’ll let you gaze upon her but not me?” “Because I’m not a blasphemer,” Serpine replied, as Scorn rose to her knees and clapsed her hands in a muttered prayer.”

-Other Dimension, “SP: Kingdom of the Wicked” p.485

They believe the Faceless Ones will judge them in Death.

“Life was nothing and nothing meant anything and everything was meaningless and she should just lie down and die. Just die, for God’s sake, and let the Faceless Ones judge her in death. Just lie down here and stop fighting and accept the end. But she didn’t worship the Faceless Ones. She didn’t believe they straddled life and death. She didn’t believe they would judge her. These weren’t her beliefs. These were the beliefs of the Sense-Wardens, the men and women surrounding her and forcing these rthoughts into her head.”

-Other Dimension, the Sense-Wardens attacking Darquesse, “SP: Kingdom of the Wicked” p.567

The Church is split into different sub-groups. The American branches’ puritan faction, Mevolent’s faction that hates mortals yet still wants to use them as servants, Creed’s side that wants to kill off all mortals and another one that tolerates mortals since apparently there is no mention in the Gospel of the Faceless that mortals should not be allowed to worship the Dark Gods as well. There appears to be another sub-fraction that worships the Half-Breeds, like the Unnamed, though this group may have been killed off entirely by Mevolent when he murdered the Unnamed and his family.

“Granted, Nocturnal’s people were a notoriously conservative bunch of prim and proper puritans who sought to drain the fun out of living, but their hearts were in the right place, all things considered.“

-Eliza’s thought about the American bracnch, “SP: Kingdom of the Wicked” p.148ff

The Faceless Church advocates human sacrifices. In this case the sacrifices were meant to serve as vessels for the Faceless Ones once they return.

-Temper talking to Creed, “SP: Midnight” p.251

Quote on some of the churches clothing. (Clergy & Cathedral Guards)

Other quotes I thought were relevant

“If my enemy is weakened then my enemy will be destroyed. Such is the way of the dark gods.“

-Vengeous, “SP: Playing with Fire” ,p.324

“What’s wrong is that you are barely dressed. True believers pride modesty and humility above all other attributes save obedience. We do not try to overshadow or outshine our lords and masters by wearing tight or revealing clothing.”

-Nocturnal about Tanith’s outfit, “SP: Kingdom of the Wicked” p.170

“[...] It was the Faceless Ones who mined the crystal in the first place, this is true, but the Ancients made themselves invisible to its senses and thus immune to its power.“

-Echo Gordon about the Faceless Ones and the black crystals, ”SP: The Faceless Ones”, p.205

#skulduggery pleasant #faceless church #meta #ref #long post

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memescomicswriting · 6 years

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Delicate ft. Damian

Older!Damian x Reader

Summary: I saw someone ask a writer for Damian x Reader focused on this song. They said no. I got inspired. You’re the daughter of a businessman who was incited on embezzlement charges. You have a crush on Damian and you’re afraid of how this will affect your relationship.

Y/F/N: Your Father’s Name, Y/F/C: Your Father’s Company, Y/N: Your Name

Your eyes were glued to the bold print the newspaper. Beaming back to you, front page "Businessman Y/F/N Indicted on Embezzlement Charges". In one of the side columns, there was a small expo on all of your recent 'adventures'. They dug up every photo and gossip collum they could find. They dated back from your eighteenth birthday till now. Even though you were in college and in no way involved with Y/F/C, the Gotham Gazette hadn't spared the story for your expense. You had to turn your phone off at 10:30. There were too many calls and texts flooding in. Some were meant for comfort. Others were pointed. You'd made many friends at Gotham University, and they were from different backgrounds. Y/F/C stock value plummeted when the news broke. A few of your friends had families that invested in the company or worked lower end jobs there. Cuts were already being made. The only thing you were guilty of was accepting money from your father now and then. You had no idea that the money was dirty, and if you did you would have never accepted it. Your head snuck into your hands. You didn't want to read anymore. You were just a young girl having fun like any other person your age, but because of your father's monstrous deeds, you were the suddenly the focus of all the scrutiny meant for Gotham's elite. Your mother wasn't any help either. Though your parents were long divorced, she had taken the first flight out of Gotham. You were left all alone.

Eventually, the reporters were tipped off about the location of your apartment. For an hour you tried to ignore the persistent knocking and questions being shouted through the door. You decided it would be best to leave for a while. You changed into a pair of stylishly ripped black jeans, a bohemian royal blue tunic, your black converse, and your black hoodie. You tucked your hair back, slipped the hood on, and snuck out the fire escape. You went to one of your favorite places, and conveniently, the only place the paparazzi didn't know about. You doubted anyone cared enough to photograph you here. Sitting at the bar, you decided to turn your phone back on. You doubted that after several hours of silence anyone would message you now. You were wrong. You hesitated but picked up your phone despite your fears.

It was a message from Damian Wayne. To be honest, Damian was the last person you expected to hear from. Wayne Industries had been in business with Y/F/C, and they would be losing money with the company's stalk falling. Damian was interesting. As friends go, you were the closest thing he had to a friend. You had a few classes together at Gotham Prep and he found you to be the least insufferable classmate. Damian was wicked smart and he didn't have time for any rich twits. After an hour of working as partners on a project, Damian quickly learned you were just as smart and had no problem giving attitude back to him. After that, he reigned in his disposition. Once you gained enough of his trust, he let you past his defensive wall of sass and bitterness and got a glance at the real Damian. Over your four years at Gotham Prep and on and off again classes at Gotham University, the two of you had developed a unique friendship. Everything with Damian was unique. He tried to take after his father and become a playboy, but he didn't have the tolerance to sit through countless evenings with less than competent woman. So he'd ask you to accompany him now and then. You were known to have fun and date around, so it fit the persona of the girls Damian tended to associate with. The difference was, partying and dating wasn't the sole purpose of your life. You used those activities to let off some steam. It was also rare for you to have a boyfriend. He didn't know why. You were attractive, smart, and funny. Yet you came up with a million excuses. You'd say you didn't have time, or you never could find the right guy, and sometimes you would say that no one you knew was worth the time. No one knew, but over the past year, you had developed feelings for Damian. Despite the rough exterior, he could be exceptionally sweet and caring. He could also make you laugh, but not like "ha, ha, ha" like his brother Dick could, but it was his wit that made you laugh. He knew what to say to get you to laugh so hard that you would snort. When he did, he would give a sideways glance and tell you to pull yourself together. You'd always thought he was attractive, but lately, you'd catch yourself staring and glancing to place you wouldn't have before. Maybe Damian liked you back. Sometimes his brothers would tease him when you were around, and about you, but they always teased him. Occasionally, you'd see a softer glance here and there. Once, you stayed over at the manor after a tiring Gala. You could have sworn he kissed your forehead when he moved you from the couch you passed out on, to a bed. Despite all that, Damian rarely allowed his true emotions show, which is why you were never sure. You looked at the lock screen of your phone. It showed the most recent message. Damian Wayne 1min Meet me in the back. You whipped your head around. The place was small, but not too small where the back was in plain sight. You grabbed your drink and left your hightop seat at the bar. You walked through pockets of people gathered around pool tables and different bar games. In the back of the bar, there were several dim lit booths. You noticed Damian's tall tan figure leaning against the table of the booth in the far right corner. Damn. Was he attractive. He looked so casual. He was usually tense, but tonight in his uncharacteristic dark jeans and Nikes he looked calm. Oh and that shirt. It was a light cerulean that lit up his skin and highlighted his bulging muscles. You nearly groaned at the thought of what fun things you could do with what was under that shirt. You had the biggest crush. -"Damian, what are you doing here? You shouldn't be seen with me. I mean my reputation-" He quickly outstretched his hand and used it to clasp yours. All the air in your lungs escaped. "I don't care what anyone says Y/N. You know I don't care how the tabloids paint me. I just wanted to check on you. I saw the news. I'm sorry." "Bu-but how did you know where to find me?" You stammered. Slowly he had begun intertwining your fingers together like it was natural. "You lose your phone all the time. Don't you think that by now I would have your 'find my iPhone' memorized? And I know you come here when you don't want to be recognized." A quick grin flashed. It was sly and smart. It passed as quick as it came and he became serious. "Like I said, I don't care about my reputation. I care about you." You couldn't make eye contact with him. You were beginning to blush. Your heart felt like it was going a mile a minute, and your thoughts were racing even faster. "Ha, you're the only one who's ever cared about me regardless of my father and money and all that." You were mumbling to yourself and for a moment you forgot he was there. "You like me for me.” Sudden panic took over. Your face was so pink you looked sick. You had just announced to Damian that he liked you, whether he did or not. Yet, there was some feeling beneath the anxiety that reassured you. He did like you. Your head shot up to search his expression for something. He had dropped your hand and was rubbing the back of his head in what appeared to be a nervous vigor. Your mouth opened and closed upon the realization that you were correct. Most of the anxiety left. Your redness calmed and it was Damian's turn to turn pink. You huffed. "You cool Damian? Cool that I said all that?" A feline grin took over your features and you gently bit your lip. "Cause you know..." You paused to take his hand back. His eyes stopped their aversion and landed on you. "You're always in my head...my thoughts...but it may be too soon to say that. I know everything is delicate." Without warning his head sunk in and your vision was blurred. He was kissing you and oh god, was he a good kisser. You hummed content into the kiss and stepped between his open legs. That night you couldn't get enough of each other. You had never seen Damian like this. He ferociously fought off the reporters at your door and that was nothing compared to the way he kissed you. He acted like a caged animal suddenly set free. Your apartment was on the West Side of Gotham. It was a decent section of the town. There were parks all around and the crime rate was lower here, but as nice as your place was, it was nothing compared to the Manor. The view alone! Even with your thoughts racing, Damian could real you back in with one simple touch to the waist or a kiss on your neck. You were gentle with him. You wondered if any of the 'ladies' he surrounded himself with did more than jump for the belt buckle. The entire night, Damian directed you with those thick, calloused hands. He particularly liked running them through your hair as he tired you out. Oh and the morning. You woke up to the sound of him around your apartment. His footprints echoed on the stairs. You knew the bed was empty and yet you looked around. You picked up your discarded panties and his shirt. It draped you like a dress and it smelled like him. You realized you couldn't share him with any other girl. Then again, this may not be for the best. Damian may care about you, want you, but what about Wayne Industries? You knew there couldn't be any promises. Hopefully, Damian would bring her back a drink. You needed it. Promises or not you didn't know if either of you could do this yet. You still wondered, did he ever dream of you? Like you dreamed of him You sat on the edge of the bed but didn't leave it. Damian walked in with a bottle of water and a box of cereal. He hadn't expected you to be up. Then he saw you in his shirt. He raised a brow questioning your choice. Seeing you in his shirt...it did something to him. "I wouldn't have bought this if I had known you would be up when I got back." He placed the water bottle and box on the nightstand and sat beside you. He began to smooth his hand across your back. "Are you alright beloved?" You took a double take. DId he just call you beloved? "I... I was just wondering if it was too soon to do this. I know what you said last night, but that was rash... and- and there's your father's company, and me around you..." You were babbling. You were nervous, more nervous than when you announced he liked you. "I know we can't make any promises." "Why not?" Damian interjected. "I've been dreaming of this Y/N. Since the moment you corrected my arrogant attitude freshman year of Gotham Prep, I've wanted for us to be together. Nothing has or will affect that." Damian was waiting for you to acknowledge his affirmation. A slow but sincere smile burned across your face. Damian was all you wanted, and in a bold move, you pinned him back to the bed. "This is all I want. Promise intended."

There will be a Jason version of this fic. I hope you enjoyed it!

#damian wayne #damian wayne fanfiction #damian wayne x reader #batman #batfamily #fanfiction

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inkyardpress · 6 years

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Your 2018 YA Fantasy Guide, part 1

There’s no denying it: we’ve seen some excellent YA fantasies already this year, and the genre continues to top our TBR piles month after month. With a handful of fantasy blockbusters still to come before the year is even halfway over, we wanted to give you a quick guide to the books we’ve loved so far in 2018 and what we just can’t wait to read next! Here’s the best of 2018, part one:

January

The Cruel Prince by Holly Black

Jude was seven years old when her parents were murdered and she and her two sisters were stolen away to live in the treacherous High Court of Faerie. Ten years later, Jude wants nothing more than to belong there, despite her mortality. But many of the fey despise humans. Especially Prince Cardan, the youngest and wickedest son of the High King.

To win a place at the Court, she must defy him—and face the consequences.

In doing so, she becomes embroiled in palace intrigues and deceptions, discovering her own capacity for bloodshed. But as civil war threatens to drown the Courts of Faerie in violence, Jude will need to risk her life in a dangerous alliance to save her sisters, and Faerie itself.

The Cruel Prince is out now from Little, Brown Books for Young Readers. Add it to your Goodreads shelf!

Zenith by Sasha Alsberg & Lindsay Cummings

Most know Androma Racella as the Bloody Baroness, a powerful mercenary whose reign of terror stretches across the Mirabel Galaxy. To those aboard her glass starship, Marauder, however, she's just Andi, their friend and fearless leader.

But when a routine mission goes awry, the Marauder's all-girl crew is tested as they find themselves in a treacherous situation and at the mercy of a sadistic bounty hunter from Andi's past.

Meanwhile, across the galaxy, a ruthless ruler waits in the shadows of the planet Xen Ptera, biding her time to exact revenge for the destruction of her people. The pieces of her deadly plan are about to fall into place, unleashing a plot that will tear Mirabel in two.

Andi and her crew embark on a dangerous, soul-testing journey that could restore order to their ship or just as easily start a war that will devour worlds. As the Marauder hurtles toward the unknown, and Mirabel hangs in the balance, the only certainty is that in a galaxy run on lies and illusion, no one can be trusted.

Zenith is out now. Add it to your Goodreads shelf!

The Hazel Wood by Melissa Albert

Seventeen-year-old Alice and her mother have spent most of Alice’s life on the road, always a step ahead of the uncanny bad luck biting at their heels. But when Alice’s grandmother, the reclusive author of a cult-classic book of pitch-dark fairy tales, dies alone on her estate, the Hazel Wood, Alice learns how bad her luck can really get: her mother is stolen away―by a figure who claims to come from the Hinterland, the cruel supernatural world where her grandmother's stories are set. Alice's only lead is the message her mother left behind: “Stay away from the Hazel Wood.”

Alice has long steered clear of her grandmother’s cultish fans. But now she has no choice but to ally with classmate Ellery Finch, a Hinterland superfan who may have his own reasons for wanting to help her. To retrieve her mother, Alice must venture first to the Hazel Wood, then into the world where her grandmother's tales began―and where she might find out how her own story went so wrong.

The Hazel Wood is out now from Flatiron Books. Add it to your Goodreads shelf!

February

Everlife by Gena Showalter

At seventeen years old, Tenley “Ten” Lockwood had to make the ultimate choice—where to live after she died. Loyalty to her selected realm has not wavered…until now. She is out of time. Sacrifices must be made, and a terrible price must be paid. But is she too late?

As the Everlife descends into darkness, a single truth becomes clear: Troika and Myriad must unite—or perish. In order to bring sworn enemies together, Ten must enter forbidden territory…and destroy the powerful Prince of Ravens. But there’s only one way inside—bonding with Killian Flynn, a deadly rival who sets her blood aflame.

When nothing goes as planned and betrayal leads to the edge of utter defeat, Ten and Killian will have to rebuild trust from the ashes of their hearts. Victory seems impossible, the odds stacked against them. In the end, how far will they be willing to go for the sake of their realms and the Everlife?

The entire Everlife series is out now! Add Everlife to your Goodreads shelf!

The Belles by Dhonielle Clayton

Camellia Beauregard is a Belle. In the opulent world of Orléans, Belles are revered, for they control Beauty, and Beauty is a commodity coveted above all else. In Orléans, the people are born gray, they are born damned, and only with the help of a Belle and her talents can they transform and be made beautiful.

But it’s not enough for Camellia to be just a Belle. She wants to be the favorite—the Belle chosen by the Queen of Orléans to live in the royal palace, to tend to the royal family and their court, to be recognized as the most talented Belle in the land. But once Camellia and her Belle sisters arrive at court, it becomes clear that being the favorite is not everything she always dreamed it would be. Behind the gilded palace walls live dark secrets, and Camellia soon learns that the very essence of her existence is a lie—that her powers are far greater, and could be more dangerous, than she ever imagined. And when the queen asks Camellia to risk her own life and help the ailing princess by using Belle powers in unintended ways, Camellia now faces an impossible decision.

With the future of Orléans and its people at stake, Camellia must decide—save herself and her sisters and the way of the Belles—or resuscitate the princess, risk her own life, and change the ways of her world forever.

The Belles is out now from Disney-Hyperion. Add it to your Goodreads shelf!

Cadaver & Queen by Alisa Kwitney

When Lizzie Lavenza enrolled at Ingold as its first female medical student, she knew she wouldn't have an easy time. From class demands to being an outsider among her male cohorts, she'll have to go above and beyond to prove herself. So when she stumbles across what appears to be a faulty Bio-mechanical—one of the mechanized cadavers created to service the school—she jumps at the chance to fix it and get ahead in the program.

Only this Bio-mechanical isn't like the others. Where they are usually empty-minded and perfectly obedient, this one seems to have thoughts, feelings…and self-awareness.

Soon Lizzie realizes that it is Victor Frankenstein—a former student who died under mysterious circumstances. Victor, it seems, still has a spark of human intelligence inside him, along with memories of things he discovered before his untimely death…and a suspicion that he was murdered to keep that information from getting out. Suddenly Lizzie finds herself intertwined in dark secrets and sabotage that put her life, and the lives of Victor and their friends, in danger. But Lizzie's determined to succeed—even if that means fighting an enemy who threatens the entire British Empire.

Cadaver & Queen is out now. Add it to your Goodreads shelf!

Shadowsong by S. Jae-Jones

Six months after the end of Wintersong, Liesl is working toward furthering both her brother’s and her own musical careers. Although she is determined to look forward and not behind, life in the world above is not as easy as Liesl had hoped. Her younger brother Josef is cold, distant, and withdrawn, while Liesl can’t forget the austere young man she left beneath the earth, and the music he inspired in her.

When troubling signs arise that the barrier between worlds is crumbling, Liesl must return to the Underground to unravel the mystery of life, death, and the Goblin King—who he was, who he is, and who he will be. What will it take to break the old laws once and for all? What is the true meaning of sacrifice when the fate of the world—or the ones Liesl loves—is in her hands?

Shadowsong is out now from Disney-Hyperion. Add it to your Goodreads shelf!

March

Restore Me by Tahereh Mafi

Juliette Ferrars thought she'd won. She took over Sector 45, was named the new Supreme Commander, and now has Warner by her side. But she's still the girl with the ability to kill with a single touch—and now she's got the whole world in the palm of her hand. When tragedy hits, who will she become? Will she be able to control the power she wields and use it for good?

Restore Me is out now from HarperCollins. Add it to your Goodreads shelf!

Children of Blood and Bone by Tomi Adeyemi

Zélie Adebola remembers when the soil of Orïsha hummed with magic. Burners ignited flames, Tiders beckoned waves, and Zelie’s Reaper mother summoned forth souls.

But everything changed the night magic disappeared. Under the orders of a ruthless king, maji were targeted and killed, leaving Zélie without a mother and her people without hope.

Now, Zélie has one chance to bring back magic and strike against the monarchy. With the help of a rogue princess, Zélie must outwit and outrun the crown prince, who is hell-bent on eradicating magic for good.

Danger lurks in Orïsha, where snow leoponaires prowl and vengeful spirits wait in the waters. Yet the greatest danger may be Zélie herself as she struggles to control her powers—and her growing feelings for the enemy.

Children of Blood and Bone is out now from Henry Holt Books for Young Readers. Add it to your Goodreads shelf!

The Wicked Deep by Shea Ernshaw

Welcome to the cursed town of Sparrow, where, two centuries ago, three sisters were sentenced to death for witchery. Stones were tied to their ankles and they were drowned in the deep waters surrounding the town.

Now, for a brief time each summer, the sisters return, stealing the bodies of three weak-hearted girls so that they may seek their revenge, luring boys into the harbor and pulling them under.

Like many locals, seventeen-year-old Penny Talbot has accepted the fate of the town. But this year, on the eve of the sisters’ return, a boy named Bo Carter arrives; unaware of the danger he has just stumbled into.

Mistrust and lies spread quickly through the salty, rain-soaked streets. The townspeople turn against one another. Penny and Bo suspect each other of hiding secrets. And death comes swiftly to those who cannot resist the call of the sisters.

But only Penny sees what others cannot. And she will be forced to choose: save Bo, or save herself.

The Wicked Deep is out now from Simon Pulse. Add it to your Goodreads shelf!

April

Ace of Shades by Amanda Foody

Welcome to the City of Sin, where casino families reign, gangs infest the streets…and secrets hide in every shadow.

Enne Salta was raised as a proper young lady, and no lady would willingly visit New Reynes, the so-called City of Sin. But when her mother goes missing, Enne must leave her finishing school—and her reputation—behind to follow her mother’s trail to the city where no one survives uncorrupted.

Frightened and alone, her only lead is a name: Levi Glaisyer. Unfortunately, Levi is not the gentleman she expected—he’s a street lord and a con man. Levi is also only one payment away from cleaning up a rapidly unraveling investment scam, so he doesn't have time to investigate a woman leading a dangerous double life. Enne's offer of compensation, however, could be the solution to all his problems.

Their search for clues leads them through glamorous casinos, illicit cabarets and into the clutches of a ruthless mafia donna. As Enne unearths an impossible secret about her past, Levi's enemies catch up to them, ensnaring him in a vicious execution game where the players always lose. To save him, Enne will need to surrender herself to the city… And she’ll need to play.

Ace of Shades is out now. Add it to your Goodreads shelf!

Dread Nation by Justina Ireland

Jane McKeene was born two days before the dead began to walk the battlefields of Gettysburg and Chancellorsville—derailing the War Between the States and changing America forever. In this new nation, safety for all depends on the work of a few, and laws like the Native and Negro Reeducation Act require certain children attend combat schools to learn to put down the dead. But there are also opportunities—and Jane is studying to become an Attendant, trained in both weaponry and etiquette to protect the well-to-do. It’s a chance for a better life for Negro girls like Jane. After all, not even being the daughter of a wealthy white Southern woman could save her from society’s expectations.

But that’s not a life Jane wants. Almost finished with her education at Miss Preston’s School of Combat in Baltimore, Jane is set on returning to her Kentucky home and doesn’t pay much mind to the politics of the eastern cities, with their talk of returning America to the glory of its days before the dead rose. But when families around Baltimore County begin to go missing, Jane is caught in the middle of a conspiracy, one that finds her in a desperate fight for her life against some powerful enemies. And the restless dead, it would seem, are the least of her problems.

Dread Nation is out now from Balzer + Bray. Add it to your Goodreads shelf!

The Diminished by Kaitlyn Sage Patterson

In the Alskad Empire, nearly all are born with a twin, two halves to form one whole…yet some face the world alone.

The singleborn

A rare few are singleborn in each generation, and therefore given the right to rule by the gods and goddesses. Bo Trousillion is one of these few, born into the royal line and destined to rule. Though he has been chosen to succeed his great-aunt, Queen Runa, as the leader of the Alskad Empire, Bo has never felt equal to the grand future before him.

The diminished

When one twin dies, the other usually follows, unable to face the world without their other half. Those who survive are considered diminished, doomed to succumb to the violent grief that inevitably destroys everyone whose twin has died. Such is the fate of Vi Abernathy, whose twin sister died in infancy. Raised by the anchorites of the temple after her family cast her off, Vi has spent her whole life scheming for a way to escape and live out what's left of her life in peace.

As their sixteenth birthdays approach, Bo and Vi face very different futures—one a life of luxury as the heir to the throne, the other years of backbreaking work as a temple servant. But a long-held secret and the fate of the empire are destined to bring them together in a way they never could have imagined.

The Diminished is out now. Add it to your Goodreads shelf!

Inferno by Julie Kagawa

Ember Hill has learned a shocking truth about herself: she is the blood of the Elder Wyrm, the ancient dragon who leads Talon and who is on the verge of world domination. With the Order of St. George destroyed, Ember, Riley and Garret journey to the Amazon jungle in search of one who might hold the key to take down the Elder Wyrm and Talon. If they can survive the encounter. Meanwhile, Ember's brother, Dante, will travel to China with a message for the last Eastern dragons: join Talon or die. With the stakes rising and the Elder Wyrm declaring war, time is running out for the rogues and any dragon not allied with Talon.

The final battle approaches. And if Talon is victorious, the world will burn.

Inferno, the fiery conclusion to the Talon Saga, is out April 24. Add it to your Goodreads shelf!

May

War Storm by Victoria Aveyard

Victory comes at a price.

Mare Barrow learned this all too well when Cal’s betrayal nearly destroyed her. Now determined to protect her heart—and secure freedom for Reds and newbloods like her—Mare resolves to overthrow the kingdom of Norta once and for all…starting with the crown on Maven’s head.

But no battle is won alone, and before the Reds may rise as one, Mare must side with the boy who broke her heart in order to defeat the boy who almost broke her. Cal’s powerful Silver allies, alongside Mare and the Scarlet Guard, prove a formidable force. But Maven is driven by an obsession so deep, he will stop at nothing to have Mare as his own again, even if it means demolishing everything—and everyone—in his path.

War is coming, and all Mare has fought for hangs in the balance. Will victory be enough to topple the Silver kingdoms? Or will the little lightning girl be forever silenced?

In the epic conclusion to Victoria Aveyard’s stunning series, Mare must embrace her fate and summon all her power…for all will be tested, but not all will survive.

War Storm is out May 15 from HarperTeen. Add it to your Goodreads shelf!

Furyborn by Claire Legrand

When assassins ambush her best friend, the crown prince, Rielle Dardenne risks everything to save him, exposing her ability to perform all seven kinds of elemental magic. The only people who should possess this extraordinary power are a pair of prophesied queens: a queen of light and salvation and a queen of blood and destruction. To prove she is the Sun Queen, Rielle must endure seven trials to test her magic. If she fails, she will be executed...unless the trials kill her first.

A thousand years later, the legend of Queen Rielle is a mere fairy tale to bounty hunter Eliana Ferracora. When the Undying Empire conquered her kingdom, she embraced violence to keep her family alive. Now, she believes herself untouchable—until her mother vanishes without a trace, along with countless other women in their city. To find her, Eliana joins a rebel captain on a dangerous mission and discovers that the evil at the heart of the empire is more terrible than she ever imagined.

As Rielle and Eliana fight in a cosmic war that spans millennia, their stories intersect, and the shocking connections between them ultimately determine the fate of their world—and of each other.

Furyborn is out May 22 from Sourcebooks. Add it to your Goodreads shelf!

Legendary by Stephanie Garber

A heart to protect. A debt to repay. A game to win.

After being swept up in the magical world of Caraval, Donatella Dragna has finally escaped her father and saved her sister Scarlett from a disastrous arranged marriage. The girls should be celebrating, but Tella isn’t yet free. She made a desperate bargain with a mysterious criminal, and what Tella owes him no one has ever been able to deliver: Caraval Master Legend’s true name.

The only chance of uncovering Legend’s identity is to win Caraval, so Tella throws herself into the legendary competition once more—and into the path of the murderous heir to the throne, a doomed love story, and a web of secrets…including her sister's. Caraval has always demanded bravery, cunning, and sacrifice. But now the game is asking for more. If Tella can’t fulfill her bargain and deliver Legend’s name, she’ll lose everything she cares about—maybe even her life. But if she wins, Legend and Caraval will be destroyed forever.

Welcome to Caraval...the games have only just begun.

Legendary is out May 29 from Flatiron Books. Add it to your Goodreads shelf!

June

A Reaper at the Gates by Sabaa Tahir

Beyond the Empire and within it, the threat of war looms ever larger.

The Blood Shrike, Helene Aquilla, is assailed on all sides. Emperor Marcus, haunted by his past, grows increasingly unstable, while the Commandant capitalizes on his madness to bolster her own power. As Helene searches for a way to hold back the approaching darkness, her sister’s life and the lives of all those in the Empire hang in the balance.

Far to the east, Laia of Serra knows the fate of the world lies not in the machinations of the Martial court, but in stopping the Nightbringer. But while hunting for a way to bring him down, Laia faces unexpected threats from those she hoped would aid her, and is drawn into a battle she never thought she’d have to fight.

And in the land between the living and the dead, Elias Veturius has given up his freedom to serve as Soul Catcher. But in doing so, he has vowed himself to an ancient power that will stop at nothing to ensure Elias’s devotion—even at the cost of his humanity.

A Reaper at the Gates is out June 12 from Razorbill. Add it to your Goodreads shelf!

Dawn of Legends by Eleanor Herman

Prince Alexander of Macedon has battled both men and monsters, but his final war will determine his fate…and the future of mankind. While Macedon’s enemies close in from all corners of the earth, Alexander must fulfill one last prophecy that dictates only he—and he alone—can ensure humanity’s survival against the age of the deadly Spirit Eaters.

As the threads of fate draw Alexander closer to his destiny, an exiled queen will meet a runaway princess, a young sorceress will set the final path of her heart and generals will choose their final battles. Before the light of victory can shine, enemies must become allies, Death must be tamed and hearts must break.

Who will rise and who will die? All is revealed in the epic finale to New York Times bestselling author Eleanor Herman’s rich and fantastical Blood of Gods and Royals series.

Dawn of Legends, the final installment in the Blood of Gods and Royals series, is out June 26. Add it to your Goodreads shelf!

A Thousand Beginnings and Endings edited by Ellen Oh and Elsie Chapman

Star-crossed lovers, meddling immortals, feigned identities, battles of wits, and dire warnings. These are the stuff of fairy tale, myth, and folklore that have drawn us in for centuries.

Fifteen bestselling and acclaimed authors reimagine the folklore and mythology of East and South Asia in short stories that are by turns enchanting, heartbreaking, romantic, and passionate.

Compiled by We Need Diverse Books’s Ellen Oh and Elsie Chapman, the authors included in this exquisite collection are: Renee Ahdieh, Sona Charaipotra, Preeti Chhibber, Roshani Chokshi, Aliette de Bodard, Melissa de la Cruz, Julie Kagawa, Rahul Kanakia, Lori M. Lee, E. C. Myers, Cindy Pon, Aisha Saeed, Shveta Thakrar, and Alyssa Wong.

A mountain loses her heart. Two sisters transform into birds to escape captivity. A young man learns the true meaning of sacrifice. A young woman takes up her mother’s mantle and leads the dead to their final resting place. From fantasy to science fiction to contemporary, from romance to tales of revenge, these stories will beguile readers from start to finish. For fans of Neil Gaiman’s Unnatural Creatures and Ameriie’s New York Times–bestselling Because You Love to Hate Me.

A Thousand Beginnings and Endings is out June 26 from Greenwillow Books. Add it to your Goodreads shelf!

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