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demetriandelibinaryboyfriends · 2 years

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*throws this onto the tumblr and then collapses*

GOD

THIS TOOK SO MUCH LONGER THAN I THOUGHT I’M SO SORRY

SO ANYWAYS y’all remember when I said I owed everyone an Elimetri car makeout sesh on the homoerotic Mexico road trip, due to the gi-throwing business in 4x10 necessitating more Elimetri-Keenry parallels (I think in this post here)??? WELL, I was listening to the song Robby and Tory smooched to (this one, if you’re curious) and realized that, hilariously, it’s also an Elimetri song--hence the inspiration for this chapter! I’m doubling down on the car makeout parallels in every possible way and rest assured I have NO shame about it.

As always, big thank you to @xgardensinspace for helping with Spanish translations, the names of local flora and fauna, and giving me the idea of having Demetri find his own Bird Alter Ego! XD Also for informing me that there are an abundance of mangrove trees right around Demetri and Eli’s makeout spot, thus for better or for worse re-awakening my Rabid Ecology Nerd tendencies and making me feel the need to include them in the plot in some way XD

So someone in the Elimetri fandom mentioned they had a headcanon about Kyler knowing the binary boys since kindergarten, so I took that and rolled with it. Mans has been terrorizing our favorite gay nerds since grade school, and has no intention of stopping anytime soon!

Also trust me when I say that The Incident they talk about really is not too far off from how American elementary schools handle bullying...or at least how mine did -______- Like these bitch ass teachers will really have the audacity to say they “don’t care who started it” and then punish kids for retaliating to defend themselves, it’s insane

Some references to the Eli-looking-at-Demetri’s-lips scene in 2x09 because MY GOD like HOW do you explain that in a heterosexual way??? Like it’s such a bizarre acting choice if that scene was meant to be entirely platonic??? Like it absolutely read like Demetri was about to suck it up and finally tell Eli how he felt and Eli was like. Kinda down for it. If only Moon being nearby hadn’t fooled Eli into thinking he was Still Straight and dashed Dem’s hopes ;______;

Welp I really wanted to get this chapter out before S5 dropped, because it’s very saucy and that’s what the lads deserve, so...mission accomplished, I guess? XD

Quick disclaimer that I don’t mean SAUCY saucy because I am asexual af and have no desire to write straightuplegitexplicitsmut, but...this is defs the chapter where the sexy talk is the most blatant and direct lmaoooo

Anyways, read on for a deeper look at Eli’s vendetta against dioramas, another peek into Demetri and Yasmine’s doomed fling, and Demetri coming to a rather alarming realization!

Chapter 1: Here

Chapter 2: Here

Chapter 3: Here

Chapter 4: Here

Chapter 5: Here

All 5 previous chapters are also posted on my AO3, SummerPhlox!

Be warned, this chapter is a longboi!!! 9000+ words because I apparently have no chill! D:

***

The dashboard is warm against Demetri’s arms as he leans into it, the poor plastic still recovering from being cooked by desert sun all day. Sighing, he gazes out past the edge of the parking lot.

It isn’t a bad view. A tangle of fern-leaved green shrubs on the edge of the hill, a scraggly magenta bougainvillea tree, and the sprawling ocean beyond. It’s turning a paler blue as the sun lowers in the sky, sending golden ripples across the water.

Quite the spectacular luck they found this place. The GPS took them on some hilly backroad while trying frantically to avoid highway traffic, and they ended up stumbling on an empty parking lot right on the precipice of an overlook. Probably for a national park or something—if Mexico had national parks, anyhow.

In any case, no one seems interested in admiring out-of-the-way views or taking secluded hikes at 8 pm. He and Eli have the place to themselves.

Demetri shakes his head. “I cannot believe we made it here before sundown, with all the detours we took today.”

“Demetri, we took one detour. For, like, an hour.” He glances over to see his friend giving him an annoyed look.

“But we didn’t leave until 9 this morning,” Demetri retorts. “Per your request, I might add.”

“And yet here we are.” Eli smirks. “In Mazatlán, watching a beach sunset with no one to bother us. How do you find things to complain about when there isn’t anything to complain about?”

“Oh, I’m not complaining. I’m just shocked is all.” He whistles. “I must have been speeding on those highways more than I thought.”

Eli snickers. “Demetri the law-defying daredevil. Never thought I’d see the day.”

“Well, we haven’t gotten any enigmatic Spanish tickets yet. Why would we start now?”

To his surprise, Demetri finds himself easily smirking back. Some of his usual paranoia must be on vacation right now.

Eli’s eyes flick out the passenger window, and Demetri follows his gaze. Just past the bluff, the city sprawls out below them, yellow lights starting to blink on as the day fades.

It’s Eli’s turn to look concerned. His brow knits, and he glances back at Demetri.

“You sure we’ll find a hotel?”

“Oh, please.” Demetri rolls his eyes. “Half the people who come here this time of year are the lazy, irresponsible beach bum tourist type. You think they’re going to have the foresight to make hotel reservations?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“We’ll be fine. I mean, we’re not staying in the Hilton or anything, but there’s some run-down ‘luxury hotel’ on every corner here.”

“Fair enough.”

Eli leans back in his seat, body slumping as he exhales.

A small, stilt-legged bird flutters over the bluff, landing on one of the scraggly bougainvillea branches. The creature fluffs up pale brown and white feathers as he begins to prune, nibbling at himself with a long, needle-like bill.

His head flicks up, catching sight of the car with tiny, dark eyes. The bird does not take the news well. He bobs his neck and tail up and down, letting out a series of shrill, high-pitched chirps not unlike chihuahua yaps. Even with rolled-up car windows, the bird’s infuriated cries refuse not to be heard.

“Hey, look.” Eli sniggers. “It’s you as a bird.”

“What!” Demetri scoffs. “How?!”

Eli shrugs. “Gangly. Neck too long. Weird, fussy neat freak. Loud. Never shuts up. Jerks every which way while never shutting up.”

“I do not jerk every which way when I talk!” Demetri insists, practically banging the back of his hands on the steering wheel as he frantically gestures to prove his point.

Eli breaks out laughing. “You just did!”

“That doesn’t count! That was very coordinated movement!”

“You…almost smacked both your hands at once.”

“But I didn’t!”

Outside, the bird continues to squawk away, as if the sound’s power can send the unwanted car careening back toward the huisache and fern-encrusted hillside across the road.

“He really won’t shut his mouth, huh?” Eli clicks his tongue. “The resemblance is uncanny.”

Demetri rolls his eyes, shooting his friend a searing look. “In any case,” he mutters. “I can’t believe we’re getting into a game of chicken with a fucking shorebird.”

“Good story for Miguel, at least.” Eli smirks. “I can’t wait to tell him all about the time Human Demetri lost to Bird Demetri.”

“Oh, I am not losing this one,” Demetri growls. He leans against the steering wheel and glares out at the lanky bird, now marching back and forth on ridiculous bright yellow legs.

“At least after a while you can tune him out,” Eli says. “Just like your subpar—”

Demetri punches his arm before he can finish, and Eli bursts out laughing again.

The bird continues to yap away, patrolling the tree branch and shooting them dirty looks. After the creature seems to finally accept he cannot rid himself of the humans and their great metal beast, he gives one last defiant fluff of his wings and flutters away.

“Seems like that’s a win for Human Demetri, Eli,” Demetri says smugly, crossing his arms. His friend sneers disapprovingly, but doesn’t argue.

Not far off, a flock of shorebirds is traversing the bay, yellow stilt legs dangling underneath them. Demetri catches glimpses of flickering wings glowing white and amber in the dying sunlight. The bird from the bougainvillea tree sweeps off in their direction, squawking a greeting as he goes.

“Ah, shit.” Eli leans against the dashboard, eyes suddenly eager. “If there’s that many shorebirds around here, there’s probably mangroves, too.”

“Mangroves?” Demetri raises his eyebrows. “Are those fair game to talk about again?”

“Why wouldn’t they b—you think I’m still pissed about the 4th grade diorama project?!” Eli’s buzzed head whips around to glare at him, blue eyes genuinely offended. “I’m not a fucking baby! That shit was years ago. I’m over it.”

“I just figured. Ya know.” Demetri makes a face. “Bad association?”

Eli rolls his eyes. “Maybe for you. I’m 17, Demetri—I’m not gonna bawl over a swamp tree the way I did when I was 10.”

Demetri scoffs. Eli’s slipped into the old habit of being prickly and difficult when he doesn’t want to open up, and Demetri’s not having it. If Eli wants to hide away in a stone-walled cave, then Demetri supposes he’ll have to grab a pickaxe and play some fucking Minecraft.

He groans, leaning against the back of the driver’s seat. “For years you aggressively changed the subject every time that whole thing came up. You think I didn’t notice?!”

Eli snorts. “Did not! You’re insane, dude. I was normal about it—you were the one who kept being weird.”

“Oh, sure.” Demetri rolls his eyes, grievously unconvinced. “That’s absolutely how it was. And anyways, you ‘bawled’ because Kyler was being a fucking jackass, Eli. You have to stop talking like you’re some kind of weakling for getting upset about…something that would upset any reasonable person.”

Eli frowns, gaze fixed on the now-empty bougainvillea. “It was embarrassing. I broke down in front of everyone.”

“Who wouldn’t?! You worked your ass off on that thing!”

“Yeah, and crying sure brought it back, didn’t it?” Eli sneers. Though he’s scowling, something in his expression is pained. “Just rebuilt the whole damn diorama after Kyler flushed all the mangroves and the plastic crabs and shit down the toilet.”

“You spent hours making those trees,” Demetri recalls. “Out of model magic. I’d never seen you look so concentrated.”

His friend shrugs, not meeting his eyes. “I wanted them to be accurate. I remember I read they can do this like…saltwater filtration thing through their roots, and I thought that was the coolest shit. Did this crazy deep dive into the chemistry of it. I wanted all the roots to be linked up and tangled like they actually are.”

“Complicated and intricate. Just like whatever’s going on in here.” Demetri thumps Eli on the side of the head, and his friend groans.

“It was a really good diorama, you know.” Demetri smiles weakly. “Probably the best in the class.”

Eli stares vacantly at the glove box. “And then Kyler happened,” he mumbles.

Demetri lets out a dry, humorless laugh. “And then Kyler happened,” he confirms wearily.

Scarred knuckles work against the fabric of the car seat, scratching into it with short nails. “God. I was so excited for that stupid presentation, too.”

“Oh, I know.” Demetri smiles, remembering the feeling of sun-warmed window glass against his cheek as Eli’s eager little voice filled the car. “You wouldn’t shut up about it the whole ride to school.”

“I put it down for two seconds.” Eli clenched a fist. “To get some shit out of my backpack, or…I d’know. The damn bell hadn’t even rung by the time that stupid fuck was running off with it.”

“I never thought he’d be that bold,” Demetri grumbles, folding his arms and resting his chin on the steering wheel. “I should’ve predicted it. Given you a head’s up before homeroom or something.”

“Wasn’t your fault. I was the one who wasn’t looking. But…” He takes a sharp breath, eyes flashing. “Didn’t feel any less shitty. All those fucking trees, into the sewer.”

“And after your dad 3D-printed all those little blue plastic bases, too,” Demetri laments. “To make it look like the roots were underwater. It was the coolest thing.”

Eli turns and gives him a steaming look, and he raises his hands in surrender. “Sorry, sorry, I’m not helping. Still working on regulating that good ol’ brain-to-mouth tract.”

His friend copies his posture, slumping onto the dashboard. “He got everything but the shorebirds.”

“Everything but the shorebirds,” Demetri repeats wistfully. “They fell out on the way to the bathroom. I picked a few of them up.”

“They weren’t like the one outside, though,” Eli adds, glancing at the empty tree branch where “bird Demetri” had been. “They were like…herons or some shit. I spent hours getting one to perch on the big tree in the middle. Then I had to just awkwardly lay it down on that easter basket stuff we used as eelgrass.”

“Well, they lost their habitat,” Demetri says, shrugging. “And the rest of their ecosystem. You unintentionally created a poignant commentary on the dangers of deforestation.”

Eli sniggers. “Still can’t believe you tried to convince Mrs. Hardass Anderson that that was intentional.”

Demetri winces slightly at the memory. “I really thought it would work. I remember I’d just gotten that disposable camera, and I was taking pictures of everything. I had every angle on your project known to man in there, and every single one of them got shoved in her face while I was insisting those were the ‘before’ pics in some kind of ‘before and after’ thing.”

He’s fairly sure he was also holding the bawling, 10-year-old Eli’s hand the entire time, since only one hand was needed to practically cram his disposable camera up their teacher’s nose. He has a feeling Eli would not appreciate him mentioning that part.

He frowns, looking away. “And then Kyler walks in…”

Eli scoffs. “The teacher aide lady overheard him bragging about flushing half my diorama and knew you were full of shit. She was such a bitch about it, too.”

“It was outrageous!” Demetri throws his hands in the air. “She gave me this huge lecture about how terrible it was to ‘cover’ for your friend’s bully, and shame on me for not telling the truth about what Kyler did! Like tattling on him did any good the last sixteen times I tried it.”

Eli shrugs, not meeting Demetri’s eyes. “At least she gave me a passing grade. I probably would’ve failed if you hadn’t said anything. And if you snitched on Kyler, he would’ve given both of us black eyes.”

Demetri shakes his head, lip curling in disgust. “Gotta love that lecture I heard her giving him later. ‘Kyler Park, you need to show more respect for your classmates! This is unacceptable behavior and not at all in line with the West Valley Elementary Code of Conduct!’”

Eli bursts out laughing as Demetri raises his voice into a high-pitched squawk. “Oh my god. Is that really all he got? Or did they call an emergency parent-teacher conference?”

“Worse.” Demetri smirks. “Principal Holloway assigned him a take-home anti-bullying workbook.”

Eli gawks at him. “No fucking way.”

“Yes fucking way.” He grins smugly. “I heard the popular kids whispering about it when they thought the ‘weird loser freaks’ weren’t paying attention. Apparently he poured orange juice all over the first two, and only filled out the third one when they threatened his recess privileges.”

“Oh, god.” Eli winced. “That does explain why he cracked down on making us miserable after that.”

Demetri nods solemnly. “Truly nothing motivates Kyler Park like good old-fashioned revenge. If he could, I’m guessing he’d pour seventeen more bottles of Pepto Bismol over Miguel’s head.”

“You know…” Eli grins slyly. “Principal Holloway and Counselor Blatt would get along. They should hook up.”

Demetri scowls, making a face as Eli bursts out laughing. “Okay, you’re right, but fuck you for making me think about Counselor Blatt having sex.”

Eli only laughs harder. “Your mind went there, dude, not mine! Get your brain out of the gutter, Demetri.”

“You suggested it!”

“Only because it’d be the funniest shit. Like…I don’t want to think about it either, but I do wonder how that would work.”

Demetri scoffs. “What would their foreplay even be? ‘Oooooh baby, tell me about your 20-step plan to combat cyberbullying in youths!’”

As his voice rises into a nasal squeak, Eli is laughing so hard he’s struggling for breath. Soon Demetri is laughing too, breaking into giggles before he can even finish his next Counselor Blatt impression.

As the laughter dies down, Demetri shakes his head, tears in his eyes. “Look on the bright side, Eli. I’ll bet the West Valley Elementary plumbing system suffered dearly from Kyler’s hijinks. Mrs. Anderson probably had to shit at home for days.”

“Oh my god.” Eli snorts. “I do wonder what the sewage treatment plant guys thought when all that stuff showed up.”

“I mean…it’s an elementary school, Eli. I’m sure that’s far from the weirdest thing kids have flushed into oblivion. I heard Jake Manson say he flushed a hot glue gun once.”

Eli sniggers. “Yeah, that tracks. Wonder whatever happened to that guy.”

Demetri sighs sadly. “Heard he got wrapped up in some pyramid scheme and lost his water polo scholarship.”

Eli hums thoughtfully. “Somehow very on-brand for him.”

Demetri gazes out the windshield. As the last of the sun lingers on the horizon, the ocean starts to darken to a deep, hazy teal, broken only by streaks of white wave caps breaking around distant islands. He smirks, suddenly realizing something.

“Eli…?”

“Hm?”

“Did you destroy my earth sciences model because you figured diorama-smashing was just what big, bad, scary bullies did? Or were you trying to avenge your mangroves, and forgot for a moment what dojo their murderer was in?”

“That’s not why I—HEY! Quit laughing!”

Demetri does not quit laughing.

“I’m sorry, it’s just—‘oooooh, Hawk Moskowitz, thrower of soccer balls, destroyer of dioramas! The height of avarice and malevolence! No more will he be the recipient of such terrible crimes against environmental models, you see—the tables have turned, and now he will be the one sending every last creature and plant and landform in his enemies’ meticulous and work-intensive project to an untimely death!’”

“Holy shit, Dem.” Despite his best efforts, Eli is laughing again. “You’re such a fucking weirdo.”

“Well, I’m glad you finally got some revenge for the fallen mangrove diorama.” Demetri leans over and swats Eli’s shoulder. “Your target may have been a little off, but I’m sure all those 3D-printed tree bases still appreciate it, from somewhere in the Los Angeles sewer system.”

“I guess it did feel nice to wreck a diorama,” Eli admits, cheeks flushing.

“And thus the destroyee becomes the destroyer!” Demetri crows. “The cycle is complete!”

For a long while they sit there laughing, barely wheezing anything out between cackles. When Demetri’s aching sides demand he stop, he glances over at Eli.

To his surprise, his friend has gone quiet. He’s frowning and staring forlornly at the dashboard, all traces of amusement gone.

Guilt twists in Demetri’s stomach.

“Hey,” he says softly. “I was joking around, you know I’m not still mad about the earth sciences thing—”

“It’s not that.”

Eli’s voice is unexpectedly harsh. Demetri winces.

“…what is it, then?”

Eli’s frown deepens, eyes boring a hole in the plastic of the dashboard and looking anywhere but Demetri’s. “I missed this.”

Demetri blinks in confusion. “Missed what?”

“I missed this.” Eli finally looks up, unfortunately donning the doe-eyed stare that always makes Demetri’s rational side fly out the window. “I missed you.”

For a moment, Demetri is lost for words.

Even with Cobra Kai in the distant past, Eli still clings so desperately to the notion that he needs to hide his “embarrassing” sentimental streak. For him to be this forward…

He crosses his arms, giving his friend a half smirk. “Are you just now realizing this?”

“No, idiot.” Eli groans, slumping down and practically banging his head on the dashboard. He lets out a shaky sigh.

“Fuck.” His voice is muffled when he speaks again. “I never should have pushed you away like I did.”

Demetri frowns. Eli must really be a mess about this if he’s considering another apology. “You don’t have to—”

“I know, I know,” Eli cuts him off. “You don’t want me to say sorry again. And I’m not. But I’m done making excuses for all the fucked shit I did to you.”

“You’re not—”

“Would you shut up and let me talk?!”

Eli snaps at him with surprising ferocity, looking up to fix him with an icy glare. Demetri raises his hands in surrender, gesturing for his friend to continue.

“I didn’t get it. I didn’t know why you didn’t want to change with me, and I couldn’t figure out why you were holding onto this…this version of me that everyone else thought was a pathetic piece of shit. And I think I got angry at you for it. For I guess…caring too much about the loser part of me that I fucking hated. I thought you had bad taste, and I couldn’t respect that.”

“Eli, you’re not a loser—”

“I’m not done.” The icy glare intensifies. Demetri once again forces himself to shut up, difficult though it is.

“It felt great,” Eli goes on. “Having people respect me for the first time in my life. And I wanted you to be there with me. I thought no matter what happened, you’d always be there with me. But…you flaunted the stuff I didn’t want anyone to see, and it freaked me out. I was scared if you stuck around, people would realize I was full of shit, and they’d go back to hating me. So I pushed you away.”

Demetri stares at him, dumbfounded. He hasn’t heard Eli be this articulate about his emotions in a long while.

Eli groans again, staring out into the sunset. “It was all so stupid. I should’ve told you all this. Maybe if we talked about it, we wouldn’t have ever—well, shit wouldn’t have gotten as bad. And we almost did, too.” He gives Demetri a sorrowful look. “You tried to make things right at Moon’s party. And I fucked it all up, because I couldn’t accept that someone cared about me for—for more than how many punches I could throw.”

Demetri shakes his head. “No, Eli, that’s on me. I was the one who went up and ran my mouth. It’s my fault everything started spiraling like it did.”

“You wouldn’t have run your mouth if I hadn’t been a shit to you all summer.” Eli gives him a stern look. “And then been even more shitty to you when you were willing to let it be water under the bridge or whatever. I just…”

He lets out a shaky breath. “I can’t believe I let you slip away like that, after everything we’ve been though. All because I was too much of a pussy to admit that you weren’t some…horrible, pathetic nerd for caring about all the shit in me I didn’t like. For reminding me of all the shit I didn’t want anyone to see. Leaving you behind, that whole thing—it was the biggest fucking mistake of my life.”

Demetri catches his breath. That’s no small claim.

“I should’ve fought for us to stay together,” Eli goes on. “Like we always have. But I gave up on you for practically nothing, and that was fucked.”

Demetri can’t argue with that. He doubts it will ever fully stop stinging, thinking of Eli turning on him so easily.

Eli gives him a long look. “I was fucking stupid to take you for granted.”

He sighs, smiling weakly.

“You know…I was pretty fucking stupid to take you for granted, too. It had always been us, and it—well, it didn’t even occur to me that there’d ever be a time you weren’t around. Always just…Demetri and Eli, binary brothers!”

He sings the theme in a grating voice, and Eli has to break his serious demeanor to moan.

“Anyways, I…” Demetri trails off, frowning. “All the crap we were going through with people picking on us…I didn’t realize it was hurting you like that. I mean, it sucked for me too, but I get it wasn’t the same. I should have listened to what you wanted, and not just…I don’t know. Assumed I knew what was best for both of us.”

“You were trying to protect me, though.” Though Eli sounds surly about the fact, he doesn’t seem angry.

“I thought I was. I figured if things stayed the way they were, they at least wouldn’t get worse.”

“I know.” Eli huffs, melting back down into the dashboard and lying his head against the plastic. “And I knew you were fucking wrong. That the only way wasn’t to just…wallow in misery or whatever. I should’ve fought harder to make you see that. So I could just…” His voice breaks slightly. “So I could keep you with me.”

“You…” Demetri studies the steering wheel. “You really wanted to?”

“More than anything.” He turns to see Eli looking at him so sincerely that he thinks he might break apart. “I wanted us to be in Cobra Kai together. I nagged you to rejoin for months.”

“I know. I remember.” Demetri chuckles. “I guess it seemed easier to let you and Miguel do the intimidating if people bothered us. You two seemed to enjoy it.”

“Yeah, but…” Eli huffed. “You had to know we weren’t always going to be around to protect your scrawny ass.”

“Denial’s a powerful thing, Eli.” His friend only rolls his eyes. “And when I got to be a part of your little karate world without Gym Class 2.0, I didn’t feel the need to get kicked in the face.”

“I was used to you always being the one who talked.” Eli sighs, leaning back. “I wanted people to notice me for once. And I guess I got high off it when they did.”

Demetri shakes his head, smiling sadly. “I was happy for you, you know. I wished I was brave enough to be like you. But I felt you drifting, and I guess I got more and more frantic to hold onto you.”

“You never should’ve felt the need,” Eli mutters. “You were the only constant in my life, and I tried to wreck whatever we had. All so I wouldn’t have to feel like I was a nerd anymore.”

He groans, leaning against the dashboard with his head in his hands. Demetri leans over the console box, putting a hand on Eli’s shoulder. “Hey…”

Eli props his chin on his hands, giving Demetri a sidelong glance.

“This whole thing…this trip…” Demetri uses his other hand to gesture abstractly. “It can be a fresh start. Maybe all the painful crap between us from the last year doesn’t have to hurt anymore.”

Eli snorts. “It can’t be that easy.”

“Sure it can.” Demetri laughs, giving his friend’s shoulder a light squeeze. “We forgave each other. And we’re together now. Isn’t that what matters?”

Eli’s brow furrows, but he doesn’t contradict him.

“I know it sucks,” Demetri goes on. “Everything that happened. And frankly, I was a massive idiot to assume you’d stick around when I wasn’t really willing to…you know, adapt to your new thing. When I couldn’t see that karate could be a good shtick for you, too. I’m sorry if I was dismissive.”

“You were adapting,” Eli argues. “You came to the tournament and Valley Fest. You bought all that fucking merchandise. You just wouldn’t take my shit, and I hated it.”

“Still. I could have handled it better.” Demetri smiles meekly. “But it’s all in the past now. Right now? This epic quest through the wilds of Mexico, filled with adventure and daring-do? Well, not to be a sap, but it’s a chance for us to make new, better memories together. And I promise you that this is what I’m going to remember in the end, not any vague flashes of ridiculous karate war nonsense.”

“You mean that?” Eli sits up, eyes widening hopefully. “You’re not just saying that?”

“Why would I?”

“‘I say a lot of things. It’s a very polarizing attribute of mine.’” Demetri winces as Eli mimics him in a high-pitched nasally voice.

“Okay, well.” He chuckles nervously. “Not this time. Pinky-swear on it?”

He brushes his hand off Eli’s shoulder, extending his pinky. Eli smiles timidly and takes it with his own.

When Eli looks up, something in his expression is different. There’s a sort of cautious curiosity, like there’s something he’s on the brink of wanting to reach for. A strange kind of wonder imagining what will happen if he does.

It’s as though Demetri’s blood has decided to rush through him at 3 times its normal speed. He sits stiff, breaths coming fast, eyes locked with Eli’s.

He hopes whatever nervous sweat he’s inevitably pumping out isn’t going to make him stink.

And suddenly he’s back at Moon’s party, across the couch from a recently-dumped Eli. He’s watching Eli inch toward him—red camouflage jacket, eager smile, eyes stealing glance after glance at his lips. He’s edging closer himself, every molecule in his body fluttering and screaming from the way Eli is looking at him.

And there he is, about to take advice from his least favorite martial arts studio in the entire world.

Strike first. Strike first. Strike first.

It was something Miguel told him earlier that summer—how Sensei Lawrence talked about how you needed to “go all in.” Fully commit. Make a move before someone else did. Not usually Demetri’s style, but he wasn’t the same wimp who used to hide behind Miguel and Eli—he was Miyagi Do now. He was learning karate and he was learning how to be brave, just like the rest of them.

And Demetri was done lying to himself about how he felt about Eli. No more cowardice, no more pretending “best friends” was good enough. He was going to grow a pair and tell the truth.

And then he saw how Eli looked at Moon, face crumpling like his heart was breaking in real time. He realized how absurd it was to ever think Eli would feel the same way. That Eli would ever feel that kind of longing for a boy.

And so he chickened out.

Still a pussy, Eli said. And he was right. If Demetri was anything but, he would have leaned across that couch and told Eli Moskowitz that he wanted to be with him. That he didn’t care about karate rivalries or unhinged senseis or unsafe dojo practices or ripping shirts off for no reason or insane hairdos or cheating at martial arts tournaments—he wanted to be with him. Eli could call the whole world pussies and parrot back every absurd thing his senseis said, and Demetri would still want to hold him.

But they’re not at Moon’s party now. There’s no uninterested ex to draw Eli’s eye, and no looming threat of Kreese sinking his toxic “no defeat allowed” claws into Eli’s mind.

He’s free, and he’s using that freedom to look at Demetri.

I’m not going to be a pussy anymore.

He leans across the console box. Eli’s eyes widen, lips parting.

He’s shooting glances at Demetri’s mouth again, unabashedly hopeful. Out the passenger window behind him, Mazatlán is lighting up for the night, bathing Eli in a soft yellow glow. It’s a gorgeous color mosaic—orange and gold city lights, hazy blue-black mountains, rippling midnight blue waves, indigo sky, the faint green of illuminated palm trees, the red of radio towers. The beautiful soft blue of Eli’s eyes, staring at him like nothing else matters.

Demetri wonders if Eli looked at him like this all along, and he was just too blind to see it. He can’t allow himself to be that optimistic.

When his hand slides around the back of Eli’s neck, the other boy presses into it. His thumb brushes Eli’s cheek as they lean in, and Demetri barely dares to breathe.

Eli is the one who closes the distance. He kisses hard and fierce, like this is the most important thing he’s ever done. Demetri’s fingers flutter across Eli’s skin as they draw in and out, melting into each other and pulling away again.

If his blood was pumping before, it has more pressure than a busted water pipe now. Demetri’s doctor would faint if he knew.

It’s difficult to form thoughts, but Demetri arrives at a few.

The first is that Eli’s skin is soft, the back of his neck dusted with the lowermost velvety hair of his buzzcut. The second is that Eli’s lips are chapped from the desert heat—and unfortunately still taste a little like habanero-soaked carnitas, despite how many bottles of milk he downed after the fact. The third is that this is the first time they’ve kissed for no reason.

There are no Miguel worries plaguing them, hanging heavy in the air and making it difficult to think of anything else. There are no nightmares demanding physical comfort, be it arms or lips or both. There are no elderly homophobes nearby to make uncomfortable.

They’re kissing solely because they want to.

Demetri smiles into Eli’s lips and kisses him deeper.

He fancies himself quite a fool to believe that last night’s desperate cartop make-out session was the single greatest moment of his life, and everything after would pale in comparison. This make-out session clearly takes the cake, and only after this does he have to worry about his life taking a turn for the abysmal.

After what feels like barely any time at all, Eli pulls away. Demetri feels a wave of resigned disappointment trickle through him.

Ah, well. This is to be expected. It’s high time Eli Moskowitz comes to his senses.

Then, for not the first time in these last few whirlwind days, his best friend surprises him.

Eli pushes up the top of the console box and slithers over it with unexpected grace, maneuvering his way into the driver’s seat. He slides onto Demetri’s lap, knees straddling him.

Demetri hasn’t worried about spontaneous human combustion in earnest since he was 8 or so, but he certainly is now. Every neuron in his brain is firing at a thousand miles an hour, entire being buzzing with energy that has nowhere to go.

Eli’s hands begin sliding up his chest, finding their way under his shirt. Fingers dance across his skin tantalizingly slow, and Demetri is honestly surprised that the intensity of whatever is now capturing his body isn’t strong enough to make the windows shatter.

His skinny, bony form certainly doesn’t feel large enough to contain it. At this point, it wouldn’t surprise him if all the chemical reactions inside him, kicked into overdrive, collectively decide they’re exhausted with this nonsense and evaporate him on the spot.

“Oh.” A hand stops near the middle of his chest, and Eli smirks. “Your pulse is racing. Do I make you nervous, Dem?”

Demetri’s answer is incoherent stutters—because he really has no satisfactory answer.

Maybe he knows what the answer is. Maybe he knows what he wishes it wasn’t.

“Wait.” The blood drains from Eli’s face, and he goes rigid. “You’re not still…?”

The question goes unfinished, but Demetri knows what it is. You’re not still scared of me, are you?

Eli looks like he might throw up at the notion.

Demetri raises a hand to cup his face. “I was never scared of you, Eli,” he whispers. “I was only ever scared of losing you.”

Maybe it’s an exaggeration. He certainly was unnerved when Eli stalked through the computer lab shouting his name, or had him pinned on the arcade floor. But “scared” isn’t the right word for what he felt.

It was more worry. Grief, maybe. The anguish that Eli was slipping away into something cold and hard and dark and unfeeling, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. And, perhaps worst of all, that he knew Eli was miserable underneath it all.

He knows Eli, and he knows him putting on some over-the-top façade is exhausting and frustrating and empty. Any happiness that he got out of this fake-him would never quite be enough to cancel out what it took out of him.

And how could he be scared of Eli? How could he be scared of the same boy who once looked at him like he was the funniest kid at West Valley High, who only lashed out when he felt scared and unloved and alone?

It’s easy to fear what you don’t understand. Perhaps that’s why he can never fear Eli Moskowitz.

Because Eli is one of the few people in this chaotic and confusing world that he does understand. One of the few people he always has. And it’s hard to quake in terror when you know practically every turn and corner and dead end in the maze of someone’s mind.

Perhaps if Eli is something intimately familiar, the house he grew up in, then ‘Hawk’ is the basement at night. The one avoided corner, familiar yet eerie. Always there, but relatively untouched. The part of the house you minimize your time in—grab what you need and run back up the stairs. The one room that gives you chills, where you feel like you’re outside the jurisdiction of the rest of the house’s protective walls.

Nonetheless, the basement comes with the house, and it would be absurd to never go home again because one measly, cobwebby room gives you the creeps. It would be absurd to give up on Eli Moskowitz because he has an ugly side. God knows Demetri does, too.

“You’ll never lose me.” Eli’s voice is unexpectedly fierce when he speaks, eyes blazing with an icy blue fire. “Never again. I swear.”

He leans into Demetri’s hand, and as his eyes soften, Demetri realizes how unequivocally fucked he is.

I love you. Oh god. I love you.

He doesn’t say it. If Eli Moskowitz is inevitably going to shatter his heart into a thousand pieces, it’s not going to be on a trip when they’re stuck in a car together for at least two more weeks. There will be plenty of time for Demetri to be emotionally gutted once Miguel is safe and sound.

“I can’t lose you,” he says instead, voice cracking. “Please. I think it would kill me.”

“I’m staying.” Eli’s voice is quiet again, fingers starting to massage Demetri’s chest. “I promise I’m staying this time.”

Warm fingers continue sliding up his torso, and he leans into them. In one sweeping motion, they hook onto the inside of his shirt and pull it over his head—and just like that, Demetri can no longer inform people that he is silently correcting their grammar. Revolting.

Eli presses into him, and Demetri loops long arms around his waist, pulling him closer. He feels Eli’s hands slide behind his neck, holding it with a gentle firmness that sends shivers ripping through him. Eli smiles so softly that Demetri idly wonders if his brain will ever be able to fully function again.

And then Eli leans in, pushing him up against the back of the driver’s seat and kissing him hard. All at once, everything slides into place.

***

The first thing Demetri sees when he wakes up is a purple and brown blur.

He grunts, moving a hand to find it brushing across smooth, bare skin. The other seems to be interlocked with something soft and warm.

Demetri lifts his head, blinking until his eyes focus. The purple and brown smudges form into the shape of feathers.

Eli’s tattoo. Demetri starts.

The body underneath him shifts, and Eli turns his head to the side to look up at him. “Morning, Dem.”

Eli’s arms are folded into a makeshift pillow, the real pillows and blankets strewn chaotically across the backseat. Demetri realizes one of his own arms is tangled among Eli’s.

There’s a squeeze around his palm, and his face grows hot. His fingers are interlocked with Eli’s, apparently having stayed that way all night. What’s far more interesting, however, is that upon a backwards glance Demetri realizes that, in the king’s English, they’re both butt fucking naked.

There are a couple blankets loosely strewn across them, covering skin here and there, but it’s a sorry attempt at concealment. It’s clear they both went to sleep with not a garment to either of their names.

Demetri squawks in surprise, nearly falling off Eli and onto the car floor. “Did we…?”

Eli scoffs, lifting his head to roll his eyes more visibly. “No, Demetri, we joined a nudist colony last night.”

Demetri’s eyes trail around the disheveled makeshift bedding and land on a suspiciously non-empty condom on the floor, right under the driver’s seat. The previous night comes crashing back to him in one overwhelming rush, and his face suddenly burns like never before.

“We did,” he confirms, although the words come out as more of a squeak than a statement.

“Oh, don’t sound so horrified.” Eli lets go of his hand to swat his shoulder. “I wasn’t that bad, was I?”

“No, no!” Demetri shakes his head rapidly, unable to meet Eli’s eyes. If his cheeks were smoldering before, they’re an uncontrolled California wildfire now. “You were great, actually, I just, uh…I mean, I didn’t, uh…I just…”

He trails off, suddenly wholly unsure what he’s trying to say. Groaning, he presses his palm to his forehead. “Fuck.”

“Oh, noooo.” Eli’s voice is dripping with quiet sarcasm. “Did you get me pregnant?”

“Shut up!” Demetri punches his arm, and Eli cackles.

Demetri dares to look at his eyes, and they’re glowing. His best friend is so nonchalant, and Demetri wonders idly how many times Eli’s been in this exact situation. The morning after, wrapped up in blankets, processing the experience. The thought of Eli joking around while lying naked with someone else makes Demetri uneasy.

He can’t say why. It’s not like the thought is that surprising.

Maybe you just want to be different. Selfish prick.

Guilt gnaws at him. He shouldn’t feel like he has any claim over Eli. Not when he was oblivious to how miserable his best friend was for so long.

But for reasons he’d rather not get to the bottom of, it feels a little unfair.

“I feel like I’m the one who should be worried.” Eli rolls over, knocking Demetri off his back and sending him tumbling onto the ruffled comforter beside them. Blue eyes turn to face him, glinting suspiciously. “You didn’t give me herpes or some shit, right?”

“Wh—no!” Demetri gawks at him, mortified. He gestures wildly in exasperation, nearly smacking Eli’s bare chest in the process. “I don’t have any of those! Why would you think that?!”

Eli frowns, like Demetri’s failing to grasp a very obvious point. “Uh, because you were dating the most popular chick at West Valley High? And if you don’t think she got around before you, your head’s up your ass.”

“What, you think me and Yasmine—?” Despite himself, Demetri clutches his chest and howls with laughter.

Eli’s frown deepens. “What’s so fucking funny?! It’s a fair assumption!”

It’s a while before Demetri can breathe enough to answer. “You think Yasmine the lesbian and I had sex?”

“She wasn’t out yet!”

“Ah yes, and most lesbians, as we know, are just clamoring to get dicked by their beards.”

“Look, I don’t know! I thought she might do it to keep up appearances!”

“To whom, Eli? Her crazy homophobic mom isn’t going to ask about the details of her sex life. Who does she need to emphasize her undying love of penis to? Moon the bisexual all-accepting hippie? Sam ‘head filled only with karate wars and Miguel’ LaRusso? Were you under the impression that my girlfriend invited her mother to watch us get it on to make absolutely sure her family remained unaware she likes boobs?”

“Wh—dude, no! Why would you make me think about that?!” After seeming to shake the image from his head, he fixes Demetri with a devilish smirk. “I thought maybe it was so bad that that’s how she figured out she’s gay.”

Demetri scoffs. “Oh, you would love that. Nice try, but it never got that far.”

“That’s weird.” Eli frowns again. “She seems like the type who’d experiment with that shit. You know, even if she realized later she didn’t like guys. She did do other guys before you, right?”

Demetri doesn’t answer.

“Right?” Eli asks again.

Demetri sucks in a breath. “Well…not…not other, uh, guys.”

Eli’s eyes grow huge. “She banged a chick?! Do you know who? How did she get away with being that popular and never banging a guy?”

Demetri glares at him. “I’m not at liberty to divulge who. In any case, it was hush-hush enough that it never got out. Anyhow, Yas said she got plenty of dick, to maintain the ‘hottest girl in school’ reputation and all, but I mean…if you’re some shmuck and Yasmine says she bagged you, are you really going to deny it? That is social suicide, straight up.”

“So her sleeping with those football guys she went out with? That was all bullshit?”

“Pretty much. She lives by my philosophy of trying to get the gain without the pain. You get to be desirable without actually having to pop your cherry. Or having a cock pop your cherry, anyways.”

There’s a short silence. Blood begins to creep into Demetri’s cheeks as he remembers the whirlwind relationship, and how different it must have been from the outside vs. the inside. It was one of his stranger experiences, but one that he knows will make a good story in 20 years or so.

That is, of course, assuming he has any success making friends in adulthood. He hopes there will be at least a few he can entertain with the riveting tale of his extremely hot and extremely gay high school girlfriend.

“We messed around a bit,” he admits. “More than, uh, making out. She wanted to know what fooling around with someone with a dick was like. We tried handjobs.”

Eli hums in sarcastic sympathy. “And it wasn’t everything you dreamed it would be?”

“Not really. Pretty underwhelming. She seemed like she wanted to get it over with so we could go hang out with Moon at the mall.”

Eli snorts with laughter. “Oh my god, seriously?”

“Oh, yeah. She was treating the whole thing like a gaming speedrun. I didn’t even finish. And trust me when I say it does not take much.”

“Did you do anything else?”

He inches a little closer, gleaming with curiosity. Demetri wonders if there isn’t a tiny streak of worry in his pretty features, too.

He doubts it. Eli couldn’t care less what he did with Yasmine, he’s sure.

Demetri shrugs. “We dry-humped. Never took anything off, but she straddled me on the couch when her parents weren’t home and we went at it for a bit. She never seemed to get into it, though. Believe me when I say the moans were very fake.”

Eli snickers, and Demetri can’t help but smile. The whole thing is pretty funny in retrospect, if he’s being honest with himself.

He shakes his head, smile suddenly fading. “I had to tell her to stop. The whole thing felt…I don’t know, performative. I could tell she was just going through the motions and not actually enjoying it. Seemed like a waste of time if she was uncomfortable through the whole thing, so we put on Clueless and ordered burritos instead.”

“So she wasn’t into it at all?”

“Not even a little. It was lifeless.” He smiles wanly. “We agreed not to do anything after that, and honestly? I’d never seen her more relieved.”

“And was this before or after the stoned lesbian flirting incident?”

“Oh, months after. March, I think. If I suspected at Moon’s girls’ nights, I knew for damn sure then. After that I knew it was just a matter of time before she called things off.”

“Really?” Eli blinks in surprise. “So no more groping after that?”

“Nope. She was—well, you know how she was at school, but alone? We never tried anything else. It was too awkward.”

Eli looks at him contemplatively, eyes glinting with a light Demetri isn’t sure he likes. When he smirks again, Demetri groans.

“So I have to know.” Eli scoots closer, humming mockingly. “You said you and Yasmine broke up a couple of weeks before the All-Valley. And if you guys weren’t even messing around anymore…”

Eli rolls onto Demetri’s chest in one quick movement, grinning triumphantly down. “What the hell were all those condoms and things of lube doing in the glovebox, Mr. we’re-not-going-to-Mexico-to-get-laid?”

Demetri is sure his face is the same shade of red that Eli’s hair once was. “Uh…well…” As he looks away, Eli presses down harder on him. “I didn’t think, um—I didn’t think it was entirely out of the question that we might end up—”

“Ha!” Eli barks out a laugh, smacking Demetri’s chest. “You devious little fucker. You planned this whole thing out, didn’t you?”

“I did not!” Demetri splutters. “I just think it’s good to prepare for all possibilities is all! What’s so wrong about that?!”

“Nothing.” Eli reaches out and starts playing with a stray strand of Demetri’s hair. When he looks at him, his eyes are big and innocent and infuriating. “Just think it’s funny that you thought us fucking was likely enough to justify 20 condoms and 6 bottles of lube.”

Demetri is fairly certain that, once again, his face is at risk of burning off. “Well, was I wrong, Eli?!”

“No. But you’re so presumptuous it’s fucking hilarious. You just assumed I’d want to bang you?”

“Again! I assumed correctly!”

“You did. I’ll give you that. You know something?” Eli leans forward, lips by his ear. Demetri shivers. “That’s what I like about this new you. You don’t mope around all day thinking about what a piece of shit you are. You know you deserve some nice things.”

Demetri smirks against his shoulder. “Like dicking you?”

“Precisely.”

“You’re welcome.” Demetri lifts a hand, trailing his fingers across Eli’s bare back. “‘Demetri, I’m not gonna get laid this entire trip! This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me!’” He mimics Eli’s previous-day complaint in a nasally, squeaky voice.

“H—hey!” Eli shoves his chest hard, pressing him further down into the seat. Demetri sniggers.

“I hope I was as good as all the Mexican girls you won’t have time to seduce.”

“Hey, it’s young days yet—”

“Eli. That is all the sex you’re getting. We have a mission.”

“Fine. I guess that’ll do for now.” Eli pouts like a child, and Demetri can’t help but laugh.

“Oh, don’t be so ungrateful. You seemed to have a pretty good time.”

There’s a chill in the air, one that has been steadily creeping in through the cracks in the doors and filling the car with a damp ocean breeze. Demetri is suddenly reminded that they’ve spent the night without a heater and that his skin is growing frosty, even with Eli acting as an impromptu human blanket.

Seeming to read his mind, Eli reaches over and pulls a wad of blankets over them.

“We should go soon.”

Eli murmurs the words softly, pressing a kiss to Demetri’s neck. He tightens his arm around Eli’s back, another shiver rippling through him.

It’s really very unfair, how Eli can so easily unravel him with one small touch. He needs to work on that. It’s something ex-Sensei Lawrence might refer to as “pussy behavior”—and regrettably, ex-Sensei Lawrence is, occasionally, right.

Before he can figure out what to do about it, a sharp rap on the car window nearly makes him jump out of his skin.

“Señores?”

“Shit.” Demetri yanks the blankets closer, frantically trying to cover any exposed skin on both of them. Which is a lot. “Shit. Shit. Shit.”

A woman in some sort of security guard uniform is standing outside the backseat window, tightly gripping a notepad. Not a cop, Demetri doesn’t think, but nonetheless someone very displeased about them being there.

She knocks on the window again, frowning. Demetri shoves a bundle of blankets to Eli under the comforter, hissing for him to make himself decent.

As they scramble to cover themselves, Demetri squirms into the front seat, comforter in tow. He cracks the driver’s door, smiling brightly despite the icy rush of air that assaults his bedding-clad body.

“Hi, officer!” He doesn’t know the proper title for a night watch guard or what have you, but this seems close enough. “What seems to be the problem?”

She raises her eyebrows, looking at him like he’s just a little bit of a lunatic.

“Ustedes no deberían estar aquí.” Ah. Excellent. So no English, apparently. “El mirador no abrirá hasta dentro de 3 horas.”

Probably something to the gist of how they shouldn’t be here, this was a permit-only lot, etc etc. Demetri gives her his best remorseful look.

“Lo lamento, nos iremos.”

The security guard narrows her eyes, seemingly not satisfied. There’s a shuffling behind him, and he glances back to see Eli maneuvering his way into the front seat with a thick cloak of blankets trailing behind.

“Llegamos un poco temprano, así que decidimos ver el paisaje,” he pipes up. “Ya que estabamos aquí.”

He situates himself into the passenger’s seat, wiggling around in his blanket robes until he’s sitting up straight and looking very confident in himself. He raises a hand and smooths down some rumpled hair, presumably to look more dignified.

Ah, so Eli’s hair is long enough to rumple now. Demetri tries not to think about how cute it looks.

The security guard’s gaze drifts from the lowered backseat and the strewn bedspread to the two blanket-wrapped teenagers. Her bag-accompanied eyes glint sharply, like she’s finally putting two and two together.

Demetri very much wishes she wasn’t.

“Esperen, ¿acaso estuvieron aquí toda la noche?” she demands. “¿Y haciendo qué rayos, exactamente?”

Demetri and Eli exchange a panicked look. “Nada,” Demetri mumbles, not meeting her eyes. “Nada importante.”

She looks over them again, expression prying. Like she’s trying to get them to come clean about a dastardly crime. Despite the chilly air, Demetri imagines his entire face is glistening with nervous sweat.

He wonders if he’s about to wither away.

“¿Y qué onda con todas esas cobijas?” she pipes up, frowning.

Luckily, Eli answers indignantly before Demetri can panic over what to say. “¡Esque hace frío aquí atras!” Demetri nods earnestly as Eli begins to shiver for effect. Something about them being wrapped up in blankets because they’re so cold, and definitely not because they’re in their birthday suits underneath.

The security guard hums in consideration before letting out a long, weary sigh. “Los vi aquí adentro esta mañana,” she says finally.

Demetri turns to look at his friend. From the way Eli’s face drops, this is not good.

The security guard sighs again. “Bueno, caballeros... Me temo que tendré que multarlos por traspasar propiedad estatal e indecencia pública.”

She pulls out what looks like a ticketbook and starts scribbling away, brow creased. Demetri lets out a mewl of despair.

He feels a reassuring hand squeeze his arm, and turns to give Eli a desperate look. “Do something!” he hisses.

Eli shrugs apologetically. “She said she saw us in here this morning, man,” he whispers back. “We’re not even supposed to be here. We’d better just take the L.”

Demetri whimpers again, and Eli groans. “What, you’ve never gotten a ticket before?”

“No! Normal people don’t go around committing ticketable crimes, Eli!”

A hand pokes through the car door crack, offering a narrow red strip of paper. As soon as Demetri takes it, the security guard stalks off, mumbling about turistas cachondos.

Demetri looks over what he can only assume is a ticket and lets out a wail. Not a word of it is written in English, and the largest of the text is no bigger than his pinky nail.

“I can’t understand any of this—”

Eli snatches it away and scrutinizes it, brow furrowing. A fond smile tugs at Demetri’s lips. Eli has always looked so intense when he concentrates.

“Fuck, dude, I can barely make out shit, either,” he mutters. He looks up, fixing Demetri with a small smirk. “All the more reason to find Miguel, right? He can translate for us. Otherwise you’ll never be able to pay this ticket, and the Mexican government will hunt you down.”

He raises his hands and wiggles his fingers, making ghost noises. Demetri promptly smacks him.

“Cheer up.” Eli snakes an arm around Demetri’s neck, giving his shoulder a brief squeeze. “I’ll protect you if they send parking violation assassins after you.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

Demetri laughs, leaning across the console box to slump against Eli’s shoulder.

“Can we get Starbucks?” he mumbles.

Eli chuckles. “Sure. But we should probably put clothes on first.”

***

Eyyyyy let’s hear it for Counselor Blatt x Principal Holloway, the real OTP of this whole operation!!!

Hilariously enough Dem and Eli’s elementary school principal is 100% based off my own, like this fucker never stopped kicking up a fuss about how you absolutely had to tell a teacher if you were being bullied and fighting back made you “just as bad as them” like sorry my man but if you teach bullying victims to be weenies and snitches they’re literally never going to learn how to solve any of their life problems on their own lmaooooo

Yes, Demetri is a virgin and Hawk is not. Yes, I will attest to this in court. Yasmine’s sudden over-the-top horniness was 1000% an act because a) that is the ONLY way her S4 behavior makes ANY goddamn sense and b) the idea of Demetri dating what seems to be the thirstiest girl in the entire school and never getting any is just so objectively hilarious to me.

Realistically, would Eli and Demetri slut-shame Yas for supposedly “getting around” a lot??? Maybe, but slut-shaming does not exist in this dojo because I say so, get fucked

Also how fucking funny is it that I just instinctively knew Clueless would be Yasmine’s favorite romcom and only later remembered that it had a subplot about the girly-girl protagonist dating a guy aND REALIZING HE WAS GAY HOLY SHIT

Not giving the exact Spanish translations this time because it’ll be objectively much funnier to make y’all wait until Miguel translates that ticket for them >:3 BUT the basic gist is that the security guard lady is like “wtf are y’all doing here? This lookout point doesn’t open for 3 hours...also fucking excuse me, were you here all night??? What were you doing???” and then Eli frantically tries to save their asses by being like “Ohhhh well we just got here early and figured we might as well stay and uh...look at the beautiful scenery!!! Also we’re totally not naked, we’re just wrapped in 5 layers of blankets because it’s cold in here, promise!!!”

These dumb horny idiots I stg XD GOOD FOR THEM THOUGH GOOD FOR THEM

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shameonmeeguiltypleasure · 2 years

Text

Seducing Mr Bridgerton Author rambles: 04.08.2022

Hi guys 👋

So I'm sick and I have to take a few days off from work. But I feel soooo guilty about taking sick leave I've been typing away at my laptop as if to play pretend like I'm still working 😂😅

What does this mean? Well it means I've been doing aloooooot of thinking for SMB and it's future plot events.

And y'all don't even get how much more is left to be written!!

I think all that's left from book Canon is the Cressida lie, Church scene, carriage ride, engagement party, then Daphne's party (I think).

Chp 9-10 of SMB is defs the kiss and the aftermath that follows.

But I've decided to ignore the 'Colin insecure bout his writing' thing. I think the whole Sir Lee thing is a bigger aspect to my Colin. And a whole lot more interesting to write and explore. I mean he still writes.... He's just not insecure about it. (I have plans. I will explain it eventually 😂)

I very much feel like we are entering the second half of SMB once Chapters 9 & 10 are posted.

And I intend for chapters 11 onwards to focus more on Lady Whistledowns persona, My version of the Featheringtons, and Colin and Penelope fully embracing their true selves without care for the opinion of others.... It's gonna be glorious 🤩 Like take all the tension between Colin and Penelope now, then make it LW & Sir Lee. 💥🤯💥

Secrets will be revealed, confessions will be made and dares will be issued. I can't wait to share it all!!!

In saying that... I am confirming the next fic for this series will be 'To Sir Phillip with Pleasure'. Once SMB is finished I want to leave my Polin characters to marinate in their ending for a bit.

Also, with how many Eloise scenes I've been cutting out of SMB I think she's due some major attention.

My Eloise is nowhere similar to Canon Eloise. And in her prologue you're gonna really get to know how she became so different from canon and really get to see SMB Colin's influence on her growing up.

I will say that I'm using Marina from the show' characteristics. I think I already mentioned it in SMB. But Marina is Penelope's cousin, and Eloise and Phillip met a little differently than canon.

First half of Eloise's book will mostly be letters between her and Phillip and her POV on SMB Polin events. Second Half is her running away and how she and Phillip get on.

Only once Eloise's book is finished will i return to writing SMB's direct sequel "Loving Mrs Bridgerton".

LMB will follow my version of Polin after Eloise's wedding. As I won't be using any canon sources as references this entire plot is going to be completely original. Despite the title, the story is gonna be more adventure, thriller and action then it will be romance. Let's just say....

Colin has some unfinished business to properly wrap up before he can officially retire his alter Sir Lee. With his beloved wife along for the journey, Colin is determined to see it done swiftly & properly. Having successfully retired Lady Whistledown and no longer being a spinster , Penelope is all for the new adventure. But only time will tell if she'll be able to handle the danger Colin has been risking as Sir Lee while traveling all these years. He's terrified the truth of his travels will cause him to lose her. She's not sure what to expect... But from the way her silly husband is acting, Penelope's determined to overcome it all...so long as she gets to keep him.

.... So yeah.... I'm suuuuuuuuuuper excited!!!!

I've got 1000 something words done for Chapter 9 and estimate a final word count of 5-7000. I will be leaving you readers on a cliffhanger BUT I fully intend on posting chapter 10 a week or so after. Chapter 10 is estimated to be about 7-9000 words long because there are lot of things to happen.

But Chapters 11 is currently planned to focus on the Featheringtons.

Honestly!!! I'm super excited so for all of this to get done 😆😆🤩🤩

It's exhausting but I love it!!

Anyway, hope everyone stays healthy,safe and strong ✨💪😘

#excited #bridgerton #polin #romancing mr bridgerton #fanfiction #seducing mr bridgerton #ao3 #author rambles

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deanwanddamons · 2 years

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after years of reading fanfiction and being in the supernatural fandom i finally got to the conclusion that you're MY FAVORITE DEAN/ JENSEN WRITER 😭😭😭 god i don't even know where can I START to express myself about your writing, (just a important note, i said specifically "dean/jensen writer" as in "i ONLY read dean/ jensen fanfictions" and not in a "i don't like your other stories" kind of way"!) let me just start by saying how much i ABSOLUTELY LOVE your long chapters, i swear to god every time you upload a new chapter of a dean/ jensen fic and i see the "word count: 5000+/7000+/9000+" it just brings so much JOY to my soul. the biggest the chapter the happiest i get, bc it means I'll spend even more time reading your incredible work! i love EVERYTHING, i love the plots, i love the storylines, i love how you portray the reader, i love how you deal with the characters emotions (specially in the dean ones, these ones just hit me harder ngl), the scenarios, the absurdly amount of angst (and i mean it in a good way because I LOVE me some angst), the slow burns, the fluff that feels like a missing part of my SOUL, so basically, EVERYTHING. thank you very much for posting your fanfics for us to read, they amaze me more and more every single time and i always have a good time with them! i discovered fanfictions when i was 17 and it helped me through some shit, now I'm 23 and having some tough times with college/ my anxiety and stuff but whenever I see you have uploaded a new story and i have some time to kill i immediately go to read them and it always makes me feel a little bit better, so thank you for that! take care love, hope life's been treating you well <3

- 🥧

Oh my sweet, sweet Nonnie.

Thank you so much for taking the time to send this message. It has made me so happy, and my smile is so big right now.

Honestly, I have been struggling with my writing recently, always thinking that I’m not good enough and comparing my work with others who I think are so much better than me.

But this message has truly given me motivation to continue as knowing that my stories have helped you through rough times makes everything worth it.

So again, thank you for taking the time to get in touch with me and for reading my work. I appreciate it more than you know ❤️

#deanw answers #sweetest anon

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meimae · 3 years

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Language Learning Through Immersion: One Year Japanese Update

11/03/2021

I did it, you guys! I’ve successfully reached my very first year of Japanese language immersion! I honestly thought that I would have given up by now, but this really has been a fun and ultimately rewarding endeavor.

Studying the language has been at the back of my mind for years since elementary school, I just never really knew how to go about it before, and I always thought that I could learn it in a classroom setting someday. That someday for me was in two elective courses in university, and while those were fun as well, it did not give me the same gains that I have achieved in this past year.

It’s probably easier to quantify learning a language in a classroom setting, especially when going through a program to earn a language degree. Learning through immersion, however, I had to really consider what my goals should be on my own. Eventually, I stumbled upon an article saying that for an English speaker, Japanese was exceptionally difficult to learn and that at least 2,200 hours must be spent with the language to reach a certain level of proficiency. So I said to myself, “well okay internet, if you say so!”, and set that as my long term goal going forward.

Spoiler Alert: I did not hit that goal in my first year. I am not crazy and will never listen to Japanese in my sleep regardless of what Khatzumoto (the creator of All Japanese All the Time) says.

I did, however, hit a total 1,226.65 active immersion hours in my first year, so I guess I’m still a bit nuts. That is 874.96 hours of active listening and 351.69 reading hours. I also did 270.59 hours of passive listening, also known as the time in the very beginning of my immersion where I was using Japanese subtitles (therefore not really concentrating on listening alone). That’s a cumulative 1,497.24 hours spent with Japanese. That’s more than halfway towards my goal!

To further break that down for curious animanga fans out there, that’s 973 episodes from 109 anime, 765 episodes from 33 dramas, 7 movies, and 967 chapters from 107 volumes of manga (21 series). Here’s my anilist and mydramalist to see what I’ve read/watched.

During all this, I was also doing my daily Anki reps and now I have a 530 day SRS streak (includes the time prior starting immersion and only doing RTK and some vocabulary cards) and a total 8,857 sentence cards. I’ve been averaging 406 cards daily (because I’m trying to cure my leeches) and I spend about an hour per day doing reps and learning new cards. I don’t really track my time on Anki, but I do have a set timer that goes off after 1-1:30 hours.

What I haven’t touched upon at all is output. I have not gone out of my way to find a tutor or a language partner. There’s still plenty of input out there to immerse in before I even consider outputting.

Graphs, stats, and more thoughts:

Here's my current card count in my main deck (minus the cards in my new/learning queue and leeches I've been relearning which are in separate decks):

That one day in 2019 where I did not do my cards because I was seriously doubting whether I can actually stick with language learning this time around will forever haunt and inspire me to keep going everyday.

Workflow and Tips

You might be wondering, how do I have a lot of time? I started this whole endeavor in the middle of a pandemic, which eliminated the option of me going to a language school, and a slew of other things I were considering doing last year became impossible (and if anything, very scary to do in a pandemic). All I can say is that, things work out eventually if it is His will, and if I can learn a skill before everything properly settles back down again, then why not?

I wake up at 5 in the morning everyday to either do my Anki reps or read until the time when I need to get up and I listen to compressed audio throughout the day. The biggest tip is to switch the time you spend watching/reading in your native language to your target language instead. Listen to a podcast during your commute, watch an episode during lunch break, read before going to bed, do your Anki reps in the bathroom if you have to.

But, if you’re feeling burnt out, there is no reason for you to not take a break! I have been watching a lot of Among Us streams before bed, and I chat with my friends from time to time. Language learning is not a race.

More Stats

Here are a couple of grids of the kanji characters that I have encountered at least once in my immersion and how well I have answered them in my vocabulary/sentence cards.

It's interesting that after almost 9000 words, I have yet to encounter every single character from the Remembering the Kanji 1 (RTK 1) book by James Heisig, which teaches you the most common use characters that are part of the 常用漢字. Which brings me to the question, was writing down every single character being taught in RTK worth it every time it came up in my reviews for the first 3-ish months I was reviewing them? Maybe, maybe not. It certainly removed my anxiety whenever looking at blocks of text in Japanese, but the longer I think about it, the more I feel I should have switched to Recognition RTK earlier. Still, being able to write in proper stroke order is cool I guess, and it also helps me when looking things up in the dictionary.

Here’s the same grid but in JLPT order:

I clearly need to grind those N2 and N1 level cards! Speaking of which, I have apparently almost covered every single character that could possibly appear in the JLPT (except for the N1 which I have only covered half of) in just a year's time. If the JLPT word frequency lists I’m using are accurate, I have about 2,000 words more to go to to cover most vocabulary that could appear in the test. This makes the "10,000 sentences/words to fluency" argument a reasonable milestone to aim for for Japanese learners if said aim is only to pass the test. That said, 10,000 words is just that, a milestone. It's more akin to a comfortable level of comprehension, but not my own concept of fluency which is being able to read with ease, speak articulately, and write comfortably.

READING IMMERSION GRAPHS

My biggest motivation for tracking my stats is for the purpose of seeing whether my reading speed is improving over time. Reading speed is also easier to measure than listening comprehension which is kind of subjective, so I had a lot of fun making these. What I found is that for the first volume or chapter of whatever it is I’m reading, I always take the time to get used to the writing style of the author. My speed really improves whenever I keep reading the same topic over and over again. On the other hand and quite obviously, looking up many new words in a row and trying to parse sentences slows me down.

Manga: Reading Speed Progression per Volume

I clearly love ちはやふる and I am not ashamed to admit it.

I need to start reading longer manga. When I do, I’ll probably split this graph into less than and greater than 20 volumes. Imagine if I start reading something ridiculously long as 名探偵コナン or ワンピース, these graphs will start breaching the bounds of time and space.

Novels: Time Spent Reading per Chapter

#neverforget the time I read chapter six of Norwegian Wood for 9 hours when it took me less than half that time in English RIP. Also, my interest in Kitchen plummeted LOL. Still planning to finish it don’t worry.

I also need to start branching away from manga and start reading more novels and light novels, too just so I can make more pretty graphs.

Visual Novels: Time Spent Reading and Daily Word Count

Also known as images that clearly show that I’ve already spent several days only reading the prologue of Island. I’m not sweating. 切那 needs to stop using words I don’t know in succession. More thoughts on this VN far into the future.

Thoughts on Immersion

I can’t really say anything else other that that it works for me, and needless to say if you’re considering this method, remember that the SRS is your friend but immersion should be your one true love.

Prior to all this, I couldn’t even read a sample paragraph from Genki without being confused to my very soul. Yes, I know, it’s embarrassing, but that’s the truth. I was way more scared of failing my Japanese classes than my actual thesis for my bachelors degree, I kid you not. I would quite literally spend all my free time in university trying to understand grammar, memorize vocabulary, and answer my workbook exercises with little to no success.

I tried so hard to get all the grammar “formulas” into my head for 1.5 years and it only brought me more confusion. I’m never going back to traditional classroom study for language learning, but I will still refer to grammar books when I need to, and not because I feel like I need to answer 4783342 different workbook exercises like my life depended on it.

I still can’t believe it, but with immersion this statement is actually true to a point, don’t try shadowing anime/or calling your boss anime language slurs, use your common sense:

study anime to understand Japanese > study Japanese to understand anime

Future Goals/Plans

2,200 immersion hours was my initial goal, but honestly I feel like that number could be much higher. There’s still a lot of stuff I don’t understand (news, politics, sciences, etc.), so I’ll make attempts to cover more of those things in my immersion.

I’ll continue reading more, because that’s a natural SRS in itself. Try to read longer manga, more novels, visual novels, and light novels, and maybe news articles.

I’ll try to mine as much “JLPT vocab” as I can before making any attempts at taking the JLPT. I noticed that a lot of the words I know don’t appear in the JLPT word lists as much, even though they appear a lot in media/daily conversation.

Continue mining all words I don’t know because all words are useful anyway. There is no such thing as useless words. I never really understood mining only “interesting words” or words that “pop up” in your immersion. As I said in my previous blog post, 美人局 is an interesting word and I certainly caught it being said in my immersion, but in the three languages I know, I wouldn’t know when I would be able to use such a word, as compared to something like ジャガイモ which is a significantly less interesting word, but is certainly useful to know.

I have managed to talk up a storm, but if you have any questions regarding my process or recommendations for new immersion material, please feel free to send an ask/reply to this post. I love hearing about other people’s language learning/immersion journeys.

See you on my next post!

#language learning #japanese language #language acquisition #study blog #langblr #studyblr #graphs #language immersion #japanese #visual novels #manga #novels #anime #dramas #movies #youtube #podcasts

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a-hundred-jewels · 3 years

Text

cruel summer ch 12: i have these lucid dreams

Ao3 Wattpad

Summary: sabrina starr, pegasuses, and oh no! the fourth wall broke! do we have a carpenter in the audience?

Word Count: 9000 ish

Tags: Rachel Elizabeth Dare/Jane Penderwick, Rosalind Penderwick/Tommy Geiger, Nico di Angelo/Will Solace, Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, Jane Penderwick, Rachel Elizabeth Dare, Rosalind Penderwick, Skye Penderwick, Chiron (Percy Jackson), Martin Penderwick, Elizabeth "Batty" Penderwick, Elizabeth Penderwick (senior), Iantha Aaronson-Penderwick, Ben Aaronson-Penderwick, Nico di Angelo, Will Solace, Annabeth Chase, Jeffrey Tifton-McGrath, Percy Jackson, Demeter (Percy Jackson), Apollo (Percy Jackson), Camp Half-Blood (Percy Jackson), Camp Half-Blood AU, Demigods, demeter!elizabeth penderwick, demeter!rosalind (second generation), demeter!batty (second generation), apollo!alec mcgrath, apollo!jeffrey (second generation), demeter!jane (second generation), demeter!skye (second generation), all of that's in no particular order, main focus is on jane because i love her and she's so so fun to write, tomsalind is there (and stuff will happen - i can't really say what, it will really be eventful though), yes of course there's solangelo, takes place right before Penderwicks In Spring, After Trials of Apollo, more tags to come??, Minor Swearing

Notes and Full Chapter below cut:

Hello everyone and welcome back! I'll admit, this is a little later today than I'd been planning to post (was hoping to get an early start), but hey! If the Puppet History season 4 finale can be late, then so can I!

First off, a massive massive thank you to waterbottle_stickers for being the best beta reader ever. This chapter would be a mess without you. Also, if you haven't already, please check out their enola holmes fic wherever you stray, i follow it's truly wonderful.

If you've been following me on tumblr, then you'll know that, in addition to reblogging an alarming quantity of good omens fanart, I've been making some plans for fics this month. The original plan from back in august was to post every day of the month, but... ahhh.... I just don't work that fast lmao. I'll have to be content with just posting a fair amount this month. Happy october! Anyway, stay tuned.

On this fine day, we've got two lovely QUEER fanfic recommendations that I'm very excited to share. Up first is one from the tumblr blog izzielizzie (which you should all absolutely check out! especially if you're into the one of us is lying fandom!). it centers around the skye/melissa pairing and their senior prom, which Skye is said to have only gone to last minute, and also wearing a lab coat, in a passage of the penderwicks at last. featuring some oblivious lesbians and also jane. once again a massive thanks to izzielizzie, as this fic is one of my favourites!. click here to take a look! (also keep an eye on her blog in general bc her penderwicks fics are awesome!)

The second fanfic is also one I'm very fond of, as it focuses on the siblinghood of skye and jane, which is one of my favourite topics on earth. check out rolling down the ancient high street by hanchewie/ramblemadlyon (tumblr and ao3 respectively) for the sibling antics of aroace skye and bisexual jane when the latter visits the former at her college in california! and, if you like it, ramblemadlyon has two other penderwicks fics from the past couple days that look fantastic as well, and that I look forward to reading.

This chapter is dedicated to my therapist, since I've decided this will be the month of oddly specific dedications. thank you for telling me to stop referring to cruel summer as my "trash baby" and help me recognize the true worth that it holds in my life.

Disclaimer: not my characters, you know the drill. Jeanne Birdsall and Rick Riordan are lucky ducks indeed. chapter title is (obviously) from "lucid dreams" by Juice WRLD.

FROM THE POV OF JANE PENDERWICK

The woods loomed around me, seeming as tall as buildings as they invited me in further. I took another step, the sharp pain of a pinecone digging into my foot barely registered in my mind. I kept walking. A crack sounded throughout the air, and, behind me, a tree splintered round its base and fell down, only inches away from crushing me dead, and completely blocking the path out.

Frightened, I began to run, looking for a way out of the forest. But no matter which way I went, there were only trees in front of me. Where was the path? Where was the grassy hill I had walked down to get in here in the first place. Had I even walked down that hill to begin with? Now that I thought about it, I wasn’t sure I remembered coming here. I wasn’t sure I remembered waking up this morning, or going to bed last night, or anything besides existing in the forest. Who was I? What was I doing here? How could I get out?

Panicking, I stood in the middle of a clearing, looking frantically at the trees around me, trying to find something familiar. Nothing. I was exhausted. How long had I been here? An hour? A day? A lifetime? I collapsed at the base of a tree, sobbing as I tried to remember. Something. Anything.

Then, a voice echoed around me. “Welcome,” it said, and my mind went black.

I bolt upright in bed, a scream halfway out of my throat. I clamp it back, not wanting to wake my cabinmates. Thin light whimpers through the window--enough for me to see my white-knuckle grip on the sheets, but not enough to pass as daylight.

What time is it?

Our cell phones don’t really work here--that was one of the first things Miranda told us when we arrived, and Batty’s been gleefully lording it over us that her Mp3 player will still play music and, like, function, while our smart phones recline sadly in our duffel bags. That being said, I don’t feel quite brave enough to get out of my bed just yet and tiptoe over to the big analog clock that Rio bought at a pawn shop in Colorado. Maybe my phone will at least show the time.

I reach under my bed and fumble for my duffel, hooking my pinky through the zipper loop and yanking it out onto my floor. My phone’s in the front pocket, buried under two pairs of headphones, several gum wrappers, and some strawberry leaves (?????). A piece of gum peels off the screen as I disentangle my phone, and I mentally chide my past self for being so messy.

My phone does not turn on. Big clock it is.

I tiptoe across the cold tile and peer around the tree.

5:45 .

Jesus Pagan Christ.

It’s too early to wake anyone up (as I think this, Batty lets out a snore to rival any crabby Tyrannosaurus Rex), so I wrap a blanket around myself like a criminally attractive burrito, and creep out onto the porch, with my notebook and pen tucked into my shirt.

As long as I live, I will never get tired of summer mornings. There’s something deeply lovely about the soft light of the still-sleepy, pink lemonade sun, the quiet anticipation of the cool air, damp from dew and preparing for the upcoming heat. At home in Cameron, Skye’s woken me up many an early morning to go for a run or do soccer drills or for a grueling “Seven Minute Workout Except You Don’t Follow The Rules And Torture Your Sister by Making It Actually A Forty-Nine Minute Workout.” (But it’s okay, I’m not bitter). But, as delightful as those experiences have all been, I don’t think Skye really gets it. The beauty of the summer morning is not what it can do for your workout schedule, but rather in its gentle softening of an otherwise boiling day. It is to be appreciated in the way that I am now, sitting curled up on this frighteningly creaky porch (I mean, seriously, who built this?) and calling up the Sabrina Starr section of my brain to try and write away the residual panic from my nightmare.

Sabrina sighed as the plane took off. She wasn’t sure if she should have followed the voice in her head telling her to come here. Saying it out loud--even just thinking it--made it sound ridiculous. A dream, a voice in her mind. Barely more than a whim.

Worse than that, Sabrina wasn’t even sure where this whim was taking her. On a napkin in her pocket, she’d scrawled everything she remembered about the dream from the night before. The dark sky, lit only with spiderwebs of lightning, the shadowy figure huddled on a beach and soaked through with rain. The voice crying for help.

And a name. Aeaea.

After she’d woken up, Sabrina had looked up Aeaea, too tired to fully connect why the name felt familiar. Her heart had sunk further after reading the Wikipedia entry, and a breath of hopelessness had left her lips. According to the internet, Aeaea was not a real place. It had been the island prison of Circe. Fiction wasn’t new to Sabrina, and neither was mythology (she recalled an adventure spent with a ghost called Rainbow from a few years back).

Fictional places, though, were another matter. How could she get somewhere if she didn’t know where she was going? Was she trusting her gut with too much this time?

Sabrina folded up the napkin and put it back in her pocket. There was no point in worrying about that now. She’d looked at enough maps to make a guess at where Aeaea might be if it was real. When she got there, she could get more information. Sabrina Starr had survived this long in her career of rescues and whims. She could survive one more adventure. Worst case scenario, she said to herself, I spend a few days running around for nothing and have to brush up on my Greek.

She repeated it to herself like a promise. Worst case scenario, worst case scenario… Eventually, tired out from all her anxieties, and from trying desperately not to worry about what would come next, Sabrina fell asleep.

FROM THE POV OF RACHEL ELIZABETH DARE

“Okay, I give up. Tell me what’s wrong.” Annabeth’s voice startles me away from my plate of eggs, which I had been pushing around with a fork. Anxiety bubbles in my throat, just as it had been since I woke up, and food just doesn’t sound like a good idea.

“I--what?”

Annabeth waves her hand impatiently. “Don’t play dumb. I’ve been talking to you for five minutes and I don’t think you’ve looked up once. Also you’re always hungry in the mornings, so unless you, like, ate an entire cow before I got here, this ,” she gestures to my uneaten eggs, “is unusual behaviour.”

I give her a look. Sometimes, I get the feeling that Annabeth exists as a part of multiple different dimensions at once, like she’s having four other conversations that I can’t hear, and is still ten steps ahead of me in the one I’m actually a part of.

Or maybe I’m just easy to read.

“Nothing’s wrong.” I don’t want to talk about it. “I’m fine.” I’m terrified.

Annabeth sighs. “Is this about the prophecy?”

“No,” I spear another piece of egg, and don’t eat it. “Maybe. Yes.” I feel like going back to my cave and staying there for the rest of my life. Waiting with a book and some paints for the prophecy to get bored and go away. Maybe I’d take Jane with me, or Nico, for some company. That sounds nice.

My plate is pulled away from me as I aim my fork again. “I can’t pay attention when you do that,” Annabeth huffs. I think I wouldn’t invite her to stay in my cave. She’s too on the nose when I want to mope. Then again, she says the same about me.

“Fine,” I turn and face her. “Let’s talk feelings.” Connor Stoll, who had been making his way towards our table, abruptly turns around and walks the other way. I should get Chiron to hire a therapist. Gods know we need it.

Further proving my point, Annabeth’s eyes widen a little, before she remembers it is I who will be spilling. (I make a point to corner her later. It’s a routine we have). “Wow. You broke fast.”

I nod. “I’m tired and you’re annoying.” (False. We both know it. Another routine). “Like you said, I’m nervous about the prophecy.”

Annabeth nods. “And?”

I frown. “What do you mean, and ? There’s no and.”

Annabeth frowns back at me. A mirror, a mime, an annoyance. The nerve to look disappointed in me. “I thought you were spilling, Red.”

I roll my head back and study the roof of the pavilion, which Annabeth designed, and slowly lean my head down to stare at the table. I really don’t want to have this conversation. I go along anyways. “I’m worried about Jane.”

Annabeth leans back, triumphant. “Ah, yes. Your girlfriend.”

Maybe if I try reeeeeeeally hard, I can activate the Oracle of Delphi and freak Annabeth out enough to make her go away. “ Not my girlfriend. You know that.”

“You called Percy my boyfriend for weeks before we actually officially decided.”

I wave my hand dissmissively. “That’s different, you guys were dancing around each other for like three years. You needed a bit of a push. Jane and I kissed once! Over a week ago! And nothing came of it.” We actually haven’t really talked about it. We’re in this sort of in-between zone where we spend a ton of time together, but don’t have a label for it. Honestly, it’s been nice.

Annabeth grins, apparently reading my thoughts. “You’ve been eating lunch with the Demeter cabin, like, every other day. I saw you doing archery together yesterday. Both of you were awful at it, but you stayed there for hours. I’ve never seen you focus on something that long outside of your paintings.”

I stare at the ceiling again. Maybe Annabeth designed it so that a single square foot of rock might fall down onto my head and relieve me from this conversation. “Yes, fine, we spend a lot of time together. But that doesn’t make us a couple, and has nothing to do with what I’m actually worried about!” I can see in her face that Annabeth is more serious now, and is about to fully listen to me, when Percy and Malcolm show up, sliding into the seats across from us, and clanging several plates of pancakes down onto the table in front of them.

“Made them ourselves! Wanna share?” Percy gives Annabeth heart eyes and a kiss on the cheek when she folds a large blue pancake into thirds and bites it like a burrito. I roll my eyes at them because they are a horrifying and disgusting couple and also I kind of want to be them when I grow up. Malcolm ignores them, instead turning to me. “Were you talking about Jane?” he asks, pushing wire rimmed glasses up his nose.

I frown. “Sort of. Why?”

He shrugs, sheepish. “You know. Just, uh, just wondering.”

I narrow my eyes at him, then Percy, who tears himself away from looking at Annabeth to sigh dramatically. “Malcolm wants to ask out Jane’s sister. You know, the blond one.”

I snort. “ Skye? Seriously?”

Malcolm looks vaguely offended. “What’s so weird about that?”

“Sorry, it’s not weird.” I reach over the table to pat him on the shoulder with my fork. “Perfectly normal teenage hormones.” He glares at me and I smile sweetly back. “I just can’t imagine Skye going out with anyone, that’s all.”

Malcolm stares down at his pancake, disappointed. “Oh. You sure?”

I nod, feeling a little more normal with my friends and less doom-related breakfast conversation. My eggs are past the threshold of “warm and appetizing” but I take a bite anyway. “Pretty sure. Jane told me that she’s aroace and, based on past occurrences, there’s a seventy percent chance she’ll punch anyone who asks her out. Anyway, why the interest? I didn’t know you guys talked.”

Malcolm shrugs. “We don’t, really. She just seems cool.”

Percy pipes in, “He’s been practically obsessed with her since she won that soccer game against the Nike kids and made them cry.”

I nod approvingly. “Well, Malcolm, at least we know you have good taste.”

Annabeth pats him on the head, ignoring his complaints that her hand is covered in blue maple syrup. “Better luck next time, brother of mine.”

Piper and Leo join us next, contributing an alarming volume of grapes and a single hardboiled egg to the breakfast display. Leo grabs a pancake and wraps it around some grapes, before taking a big bite. “I hear you’re discussing Malcolm’s romantic failures,” he says around the world’s worst breakfast burrito. Piper gasps in mock offense, then swallows the unpeeled hardboiled egg whole, like a snake. (This is a regular morning routine. She’s trying to work up to being a sword swallower, since her dad did it in a movie once and she thought it looked like fun). “ Malcolm, why didn’t you come to me? I could have given you a verdict within five minutes!”

“I wanted advice on whether I should ask out that Heaphestus boy two weeks ago and you told me to fuck off.”

Piper pouts at him. “That’s on you, you caught me at a bad time.”

Annabeth holds up a pancake with the air of a respected royal and we turn to her. “As delightful as this is, Rachel and I were initially talking about her romantic prospects and also her worries and fears, and I feel that we should get back to that before she slinks off and avoids the rest of the conversation.”

I glare at her. “Why would you bring this away from the very nice conversation we were having about everyone else’s problems? Do you hate me?” Annabeth rolls her eyes. “No, dumbass, I’m just not letting you walk away from a potential breakthrough. Now, where were we? You were saying that you’re worried about Jane but it has nothing whatsoever to do with your relationship, or lack thereof.”

I give a long suffering sigh, and try to communicate telepathically with Piper that she needs to Save Me Now, but she’s looking at me in interest with her chin resting in her hands, her long fingers adorned with rings sent to her from her Mortal girlfriend, Shel, who bought them at a vintage punk store. The traitor. Defeated, I turn back to Annabeth.

“It’s just that, whatever ends up happening with this prophecy, I don’t want it to fuck her up, in the way the quests have sometimes done to us. Like, we’re used to this by now, but it hasn’t been a smooth road. I don’t exactly like going on quests, and at first I was really worried at the prospect of being included in a prophecy, since that’s fairly abnormal, but Jane was only made aware of her heritage a couple months ago! What if this turns out like Silena or Beckendorf or-or Jason, and the prophecy destroys her, and it’s all my fault because I’m the one who pulled her into all this?”

Everyone tenses up at the mention of Jason, but they continue to look at me with a mixture of concern and love that makes something soften inside of me. For the hundredth time, I think of how lucky I am to have these people who love me unconditionally. Even if they really, really need therapy.

“I know that I didn’t plan any of this, but we’re both tied in now, especially since both Chiron and I had the prophetic dream and I actually gave the prophecy that day in the woods, and, well, this isn’t her world yet. She’s only got a little bit of ichor in her, and she grew up knowing nothing of any of this. In a way, I did too, and I have no ichor, but I had clear sight. For me, it was ineffable, but she could technically leave any time, if it weren’t for the prophecy. She can leave, and I feel like it’s up to me to make sure that doesn’t change.”

“Oh, Rachel.” Annabeth reaches her arms out to me and I let myself be pulled into an embrace. “Jane’s going to be okay. We’ll make sure of it.”

Sabrina stood in line at the boat rental hut, her arms crossed and a frown plastered on her face. It had not been a successful afternoon. For hours, she’d been searching the coastal towns near where her plane landed, looking for some trace of Aeaea, or anything else she’d seen in her dream. She was used to working with dregs. It was normal for her to have to squint a little at the evidence, have to shuffle things together around big holes of “Maybe,” like she was working a jigsaw puzzle with half the pieces missing.

But this was something else.

Sabrina had read about places where mythology shaped the culture. Places where the tourist draws were events that had supposedly happened thousands of years ago, or creatures that only existed in grainy photographs and people’s imaginations. Hell, she’d met the Loch Ness monster. Was it insane for her to have assumed she’d be able to find the same kind of thing here? All her training and years of experience had told her that, if you sniff around long enough, you’ll find a conspiracy theorist or a slightly off-the-rails guidebook.

So far, though, Sabrina had found nothing. Absolutely nothing. She hunted around, searching up library catalogs, checking every store on the street. “Aeaea,” “Circe,” even “the Odyssey.”

Nothing.

The line edged along slowly, and Sabrina ran her hands up and down her arms. The air was chilly from its proximity to the cold sea water. There were three people in front of her now. She just had to wait a little longer, then she would have a boat and be able to explore these waters herself.

Something was wrong with this place. Something was wrong with all of these places. And Sabrina was going to figure out what.

Later, Jane and I are taking our time walking to the pegasus stables to watch the riding lesson that Rosalind has reluctantly agreed to let Batty take (provided that Percy, who’s teaching today, doesn’t let her fly high enough that she’ll die if she falls off, and that Batty wears all of the necessary protective gear). Jane looks lovely, wearing a sunshine-y yellow bandana that sets off her dark curls and warm sepia skin. She has on her Camp Half-Blood shirt again, and a short green skirt, and all of it should clash horribly, but it doesn’t.

We’ve decided to cut through the strawberry fields, and I swallow a sun-warmed strawberry while Jane tells me about the dream she had last night. I think back to my conversation with Annabeth this morning when she tells me of the dark woods and the feeling of drowning, the memory warping and the echoing voice. At some point we sit down in a patch of grass, a simple circle amidst strawberry plants with a couple logs where the campers and satyrs take their breaks when they work here. Jane finishes her story and we sit in comfortable silence for a few moments, only broken by the grunts of annoyance Jane makes while trying to get her plant powers to activate again. She’s been doing that a lot.

“Well that sucks,” I say finally. “Have you been having other dreams like it?”

Jane shrugs, the neon orange fabric of her shirt wrinkling on her shoulders. “One or two, I think. Last night’s was the first one I really remembered. ” She smiles out of the corner of her mouth. “I hardly ever remember my dreams. It used to upset me. I thought I was losing potential writing material.”

I laugh. It’s such a Jane thing to think, that I can’t help it. She goes quiet, like she’s reminiscing, and I picture a tiny version of Jane, sitting crossed-legged on her summer quilt, writing. I look at her now, scrunched up nose and big brown eyes. Oh gods, she must have been an adorable child.

“My mother used to say that my imagination was the eighth wonder of the world,” Jane says. She’s looking down the hill at the cabins, plant powers temporarily forgotten, and I remember her telling me about her mother, the first Elizabeth Penderwick, who came here and was a daughter of Demeter and loved opera. The Penderwick siblings’ beloved mother who died so young.

I move closer to Jane on the log. “I can understand why she’d say that.”

Jane smiles again, a little sad this time, a little absent, but full to the brim with love.

“Bet you she’s in Elysium,” I say softly. I explained the Underworld to Jane a couple weeks ago, and she’d gotten this same absent look on her face, that I now know means she’s thinking about her mother. Jane nods, now, then turns to me. “Could we talk about something else?” Her voice is quiet, her eyes a little shiny.

“Course,” I say. “Shall I regale you with tales of dimwittery at this camp in the years past?” I told her last week about the time some Hermes kids tried to order pizza to the camp, accidently causing Chiron to think we were under attack. Jane had nearly fallen off the bench laughing.

She grins now, but shakes her head. “Tell me what it’s like being an Oracle.” I give her a look. She’s asked me before and I never really know what to say. When I give prophecies, it’s like I black out. I’m taken over by another entity who shares my body. (“Like that lady in Suicide Squad ,” Leo had said when I tried to explain it to him once, but I’d refused to be compared to such a gods-fucking-awful movie). So, in a way, I don’t know what it’s like to be the Oracle.

As if reading my thoughts, Jane shakes her head. “Not that part. I’ve seen you all green and smokey, and I know you can’t feel it. I mean the other stuff. How did you know it was you? What did you have to do to become the Oracle? That kind of thing.” I relax a little. Jane’s asked me all sorts of weird questions about Greek mythology and the gods recently. She calls it “research for her book,” but sometimes I think she’s just nosy. It’s cute.

Jane shrugs and looks off into the distance. If you tilt your head a little you can kind of see the stables from here. We have fifteen more minutes to get there, according to my watch. I decide to take it easy. “Delphi is this weird ethereal spirit,” Jane continues, “but there’s also just everyday, Oracle you, who likes paint and denim and bagels.” At that, I laugh. “I actually don’t like bagels that much. I’m just late to breakfast so often that they’re usually the only things available.”

Jane pouts at me and plays with the bracelet tied around my wrist--the one she gave me. “You know what I mean! You know all this weird shit about me because my siblings don’t shut up at lunch, and I know stuff about you, like the denim thing, which I still think is funny by the way. But you’re also the freaking Oracle! Your dormant self lies waiting!” I laugh at her, and she rolls her eyes, but I see the corner of her mouth tilting up. “Rachel, that’s very cool!”

I give in. “Honestly, there’s not much to say, that’s why I don’t talk about it.” I pause. “Well no, it’s that a lot of the stuff beyond the obvious is actually sort of creepy and weird, and not in a good way. There’s stuff I try not to think about, is what I mean.”

The edge of her yellow bandana sticks up as Jane tilts her head at me. “That makes sense. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

I shake my head. “No, it feels okay right now.” I mean it. Now that I’ve gotten into the swing of it, I do want to talk about it. Still, a small sigh escapes me. “I like being the Oracle, because that’s what brought me to a place where I feel like I belong and I have people who love me. It’s nice to know that I’m fulfilling my purpose in life.”

Jane pulls her knees up to her chest. “But?”

“But I also get lonely.” It comes out in a rush. “There are other oracles, but I didn’t know about any of them until the Apollo thing happened, and even then, they’re all supernatural beings--I know, I know, but not in the way I am. It’s not the same. Also, there are all these weird rules. Like I have to stay an unmarried virgin my whole life.”

“That’s fucked,” Jane says softly.

“I know! Chiron won’t even tell me why, just that it’s ‘the rules’” I let out an annoyed huff. “And, like, it’s not even that the idea itself bothers me. That’s pretty much what I was planning to do with my life anyway.”

“Same.”

“But it’s the principle of the thing!” I flick a strand of hair out of my face, offhandedly noticing that the tip of my pinky finger is slightly green. I ignore it. It’s not important. “Just because I don’t want to have sex or get married doesn’t mean it’s a fair rule to impose on me! Besides, why is it always the women in these things whose identities are tied up in who they do or don’t fuck? Last I checked, Grover didn’t have to sign an ‘I shalt not fornicate’ contract when he became Lord of the Wild!”

“Exactly!” Jane raises her hands and shouts up to the sky. “Don’t you fuckers realize we’re more than that?”

“The Hunters of Artemis, too!” I’m a jack-in-the-box, and something’s winding me up. “Thalia and Reyna send me letters all the time, and they seem really happy! Which is great!” I pause to emphasize the greatness of their happiness. My pinky is completely green, now. “But, they also had to make a stupid ‘ode of chastity,’ like I did!”

“Are you kidding me?” Jane’s hair flips as she turns to me. “I thought Artemis was one of the good ones!”

My voice lowers to a husky rumble, and I stare into the distance towards you, the reader. “In a broken system, there are no good ones. Abolish the police.” I clear my throat and my voice turns back to normal. “Sorry, zoned out for a second.” My green pinky has begun to vibrate.

“Happens to the best of us,” Jane’s voice is light and nonchalant. “And yeah, I know. Pretty much all of the gods have skeletons sitting on their shoulders, but it just seems out of character for her. I thought all of Artemis’s groups were supposed to be safe havens, not oppressive structures in their own right.”

I frown. “Yeah you’re right, that is weird. I’d never thought of it much beyond the gods having weird rules, but I wonder if something bigger is at play. The gods might be fucked up in the way that regular people are, and are undoubtedly responsible for all sorts of crap. But then there's more personal things, like the ‘chastity vows’ the Hunters and I had to take, and the fact that Nico was initially outed by Eros, and the weird unexplained eye condition that Piper had during some of her quests that made her eyes a bunch of bright, Eurocentric colors, rather than their natural brown. All sorts of other stuff, too.”

“Wow!” Jane says, sitting up straight on the grass. Her hand moves from where it was resting in her lap to cover her heart. “It’s almost like a bunch of genuinely good and inspiring material, such as including prominent queer people and characters of color in fun children’s fantasy, as well as having an immortal group of warrior women who support each other and are free from the gaze of men, was taken into the hands of a cis white man armed with unchecked misogyny and a fair amount of white Twitter feminism, both of which really showed when he tried to create an inclusive and empowering book series for children! Like yeah, it had its moments, and definitely some good characters, but overall, a lack of meaningful research in certain areas really made it fall flat!” Once again, I stare through the bindings of URLs and internet coding, now joined by Jane as we lock eyes with you, the reader. This time, we hold eye contact for nearly a minute, giving you time to read and process the long tangent spat out by this fanfic’s author, who, if we’re being honest, has gone just a tad off the rails right now. Finally, Jane and I look away from you, and resume our roles as fictional characters, still shaking off that strange cloud that comes with staring into the soul of those who give you life.

“Ugh, what’s going on with me today?” Jane groans at the same time I mutter, “What’s Twitter?” We turn to each other, blinking in the sunlight, then grin. This is normal. We’re fine. Jane looks up at the sky again. “I wonder if the gods are watching us. Maybe we should make them think we suck so they’ll leave you alone.”

I laugh as she sticks her tongue out, grinning wickedly at a nearby cloud. “Better yet, make them think we’re too powerful to be messed with,” I say. Jane sees me watching her and opens her mouth, sucking the cloud in between her teeth. The sky seems bluer in the space where it had been, and Jane’s eyes glitter with mirth as she swallows. “Mmm, tastes like sugar.” I giggle, feeling a small shiver on the top of my head. When I peer up, I see another cloud has floated over to me. I open my own mouth, and take it in, just as Jane did hers. “Sugar, yes. But there’s a touch of blood, too,” I say. Jane nods sagely. “What were we talking about?”

“The inherent misogyny in much of Greek mythology and the world of Camp Half-Blood in general.”

Jane nods again. “Right. A very important topic. It makes it weird when I’m writing sometimes. You know, cause I want to bring in Circe and Zeus and Apollo and all these fascinating characters, but there’s just so much bad stuff tied up with them that comes up when I research.” She looks down at our feet, which are standing in the midst of a strawberry patch. We seem to have been walking, crushing sweet summer strawberries as we go, which is odd because I don’t remember getting up. “You know Rachel, I’m feeling a bit strange.”

I look at her, and see an odd blankness in her warm brown eyes. “Now that you mention it, Jane, so am I.”

“My thoughts and words are my own,” Jane says, “But there’s something up with my body. I can’t really feel it.”

“I agree, I’ve honestly gone a bit numb.” I try to glance down at my fingers, wondering idly if they’ve gotten any more green, but find that my neck won’t bend.

Jane’s eyebrows furrow. “Yet, at the same time, I feel as though I could do anything. Grow another grass blade. Grow a flower. Grow a tree. Bend the world to my will if I wanted to.”

“Or is it the world bending me to its will.” I grin at my own philosophical point, but find that the smile won’t go away. Pretty fucking inconvenient, since the next thing I was going to bring up was part of the whole serious misogyny conversation. I decide to go for it anyway. “And I’m not the only one with weird rules!” Jane nods, as if this is a perfectly normal segway, and the only extraneous thought that floats through my mind as we find ourselves walking down a hill is how unfair it is that she still has control over her neck and I don’t. “Remember when I told you about the Hunters of Artemis?”

“Oh yeah! Your friends Reyna and Thalia, right?”

“Yeah, them! They send me letters sometimes, and seem really happy, which is great.” I pause, meaning to add emphasis, when I’m hit with a great sensation of deja-vu. “Wait a second, we already talked about this, didn’t we?” I try to remember, but something in my mind is rapidly melting. I cannot find it. I cannot find anything.

“Jane?” My voice quivers, and I squeeze my eyes shut. Oh gods, please let this be a dream. For a moment, I try to convince myself that it’s the Oracle of Delphi taking over, just like she did the other day and generally does a couple times a year. But I know that I’m lying. This is not what that feels like. “Jane, where are you?” I can barely move my mouth to say the words. I can feel nothing but the frozen fear of paralysis, of lost control. When I open my eyes, this other thing in my body has brought me to the edge of the forest. “Jane? Jane?” She could be right beside me, unable to speak, and I wouldn’t know because I can’t turn my head, can’t move my eyes, can barely even hear right now.

It’s okay, something says.

“Jane?” It’s not her voice. It’s no one’s voice.

It’s okay. You’re home.

With every cut the wooden oars made through the choppy ocean water, Sabrina knew she was getting closer. She could feel it in her bones, in her brain, a little voice that whispered in her ear. It had been three hours. Her body was worn down, energy levels dipping dangerously low, when she felt something scrape the bottom of her boat.

A rock.

Frantically, she peered through the fog that had begun to surround her boat a mile ago. The island. Had she finally made it?

As if answering her call, a peel of thunder rang out, and Sabrina’s boat began to fill with rain that pounded down from the sky. The storm from her dream. She rowed even faster, then, fear sparking a renewed strength in her tired muscles.

Just as Sabrina was about to reach the shore, a massive wave crashed over her, and her boat capsized. She came back up, sputtering, holding her sopping wet bag above her head. Another wave swept against Sabrina’s face, and she found herself spitting out a mouthful of saltwater. Finally, she washed up on the shore, heaving breaths raking through her lungs.

Sabrina blinked, pushing herself up onto her elbows. It was real. She was here.

She had made it.

FROM THE POV OF ROSALIND PENDERWICK

It’s been a pleasant day so far. Breakfast with my siblings and some of the Demeter cabin (though Jane did seem a bit absent-minded). Miranda, Florien, and Rio convinced me to practice some plant magic with them for a couple hours and I built up to growing a small sunflower. Lunch (again with Jane seeming distracted, though Rachel ate with us this time, which appeared to help). Then, Skye and Jeffrey disappeared with some of the older campers (supposedly for a regular game of soccer, but the unsettling gleam in their eyes had me doubting that was all there was too it), Jane and Rachel went to take a walk in the strawberry fields, and Batty and I were left to prepare for a pegasus riding lesson. If it had been up to Batty, the latter could have easily taken up the entire afternoon, but changing into durable pants and finding a bandana can only take so long.

After a somewhat restless hour, during which I grew three peonies and Batty rhapsodized about the stable of unicorns that another demigod camp apparently has, Batty and I arrive at the stable. We’re ten minutes early, and she’s been talking a mile a minute the whole time, not stopping from before. I swear I now know as much about pegasuses as she does. According to Rachel, the teacher today is Percy, her friend, who’s very responsible “when he puts his mind to it.” I wasn’t sure how to tell her that’s actually not very comforting, but Batty looked so excited and I figured there will be plenty of other people there, so. Why not. She’s been spending so much time there anyway.

Needless to say, I very much regret my decision now.

The stables are modest, made of wood and painted green, and I’ve been there several times by now. There’s a long line of stalls visible when we first walk in, but Batty skips straight to the far end, where a massive pegasus the color of a carrot pokes its head over the door and nuzzles Batty’s hair. She looks up at me with a smile that could melt anyone’s heart, and pats the horse on the nose. “Rosy, this is Queen Lotus Flower. Percy said we have a impenetrable bond.”

I look at the two of them with a questioning gaze. How can they both have the exact same puppy-dog eyes? I swear to god. The gods. All of them. “Batty, sweetheart. That horse is like ten feet tall.”

She nods enthusiastically. “I know, she’s so much taller than any other horse I’ve seen. Percy says she has the biggest wingspan of any horse at camp.”

I nod, slowly, wondering why my sister picked the biggest pegasus to fall in love with. At that moment, Percy pushes the door open. “Hey Batty! Ready for your lesson?” Batty leaves her post by Queen Lotus Flower to wrap her arms around my waist and nod. I look Percy over. He’s a few inches taller than me, with brown skin and curly hair. A beaded camp necklace, orange tshirt, and jeans. Weird arm tattoo aside, he’s one of the most normal-looking people at camp. I’ve only met him a couple times before, but, my nerves over Batty flying around on massive horses aside, I do trust him. Rachel seems to have a good taste in friends. Also, Batty likes him, and she’s still shy around a good number of Skye and Jane’s friends back in Cameron.

For the next few minutes, I watch as Percy instructs Batty on buckling Queen Lotus Flower’s giant saddle and looping the bridle over her nose. Not wavering a bit from the “lesson” aspect of all this, he steps back to let her show what she’s already learned from hanging around the stables so often, only stooping in to guide her when she gets confused. As the minutes tick by, more people show up for the lesson: three other students, and a good sized crowd of people who just like watching the pegasuses. By then, I’m seated on the grass outside the stables, soaking in the blistering sun and watching as Percy (seated atop a wiry black pegasus who Batty pointed out as Blackjack) darts around the large dusty enclosure, making final preparations for the lesson.

Skye and Jeffrey show up then, and sit on either side of me. I want to ask them where Jane and Rachel are, but they’re talking non-stop about a game they just played in the woods with some of the other campers, only switching the subject when Percy and Blackjack return and they begin discussing whether or not it should be scientifically possible for a horse to fly.

Just as Batty and Queen Lotus Flower begin a gentle trot around the enclosure, I feel a tap on my shoulder, and hear the familiar sound of Tommy’s chuckle. “She’s got a weird knack for that,” he says. I nod, grinning.

It’s been good with us. We’ve had breakfast together a few times, even played a game of basketball one afternoon. Our conversations aren’t the same as they used to be, and there’s a sense of newness that feels cold and strange every so often. But it’s good. It feels right. At least for now, this feels like where we’re supposed to be.

As Percy starts demonstrating how to take flight, I look around again. Jane and Rachel still aren’t here. They promised to come. (“For moral support!” Jane had said. “Wouldn’t miss it,” Rachel had added with a smile). I try to push it out of my head. This lesson is a big deal. Batty’s going to be flying.

She leans forward on Queen Lotus Flower’s neck.

They begin to run, moving together like a single being.

Just as they burst into the air, Batty’s euphoric smile lighting up the sky, Katie grabs my shoulders from behind. I shush her so I can lean forward and watch Batty silhouetted against the pegasus’s wide orange wings.

“Rosalind. Rosalind, guys. ” Something about the panic in Katie’s voice makes me turn around. Her usually tied back hair is loose and her clothes rumpled, giving the impression that she was dragged out of bed for this. (Some part of my brain distantly remembers her saying she was going to take a nap). Skye and Jeffrey turn around, too.

“What, what’s happening?” I reach out my hands, trying to calm her as she collapses into a squat, breathing heavily.

“Billie… found me in the cabin… had been looking for you guys… been running all over the camp… lucky I remembered about the riding lesson…”

Jeffrey leans over and puts his hands on her shoulders. She stares down at the dirt while her breathing levels.

“Katie, what are you saying? Why were you and Billie looking for us?”

She looks up, and I see that her forehead is drawn into well-worn creases of worry. “Jane and Rachel have gone into the woods.”

Something was wrong. Sabrina crouched on the wet sand, straining to see through the heavy rain. In her dream there had definitely been someone else on the island. She remembered the hunched figure, the sound of sobs leaking through the rain.

But she’d circled the shore at least twice by now, and there was nobody to be found. “Am I late or something?” she wondered aloud. Somehow, she’d gotten that dream It felt like it had been sent to her. Why did it show a person when there was no one?

Sabrina sighed and began to traipse inland, tucking a knife in her pocket. It wasn’t a big island, and she might as well find some shelter aside from her boat, which was now overturned somewhere on the beach. Circe lived here, didn’t she? There must be some sort of roof, especially if this kind of weather was standard.

Or maybe this was just a random island and there was no Aeaea and Sabrina’s dream had just been the unhinged work of her unconscious mind.

There was a small grassy hill set aside from the sand, which Sabrina crawled up with the determination of a dying warrior. Something was pushing her back. An invisible force, a last crumb of survival instinct, plain old fatigue, she wasn’t sure. But something wanted her out of here, and it pushed back harder and harder as she climbed.

She let out a cry of frustration, clawing at the ground, at the air, at whatever this goddamn thing was, and found a renewed burst of strength that pulled her to the top of the hill. Once there, the force that pushed back ebbed a little, like it was giving up. Sabrina let herself relax, and simply took in the view for a moment.

The hill she lay on top of gave way to a deep valley, sprawling and green. In one corner, there was a cluster of trees that looked healthy and comfortable, despite being on a random Greek island in the middle of the ocean. A modest garden lay next to it, somehow appearing unaffected by the rain, and a narrow river wound around the whole scene.

There was also a house.

Sabrina wasn’t sure what she might have expected from the lair of an infamous Greek enchantress, but it wasn’t this.

She hauled herself up on the hill and started down, rushing through the rain onto a wide wooden porch. There was a large stone vat of something dark and crumbly, with a heavy looking staff of sorts leaning against it. The door to the house was short, and Sabrina heard it scrape on the floor when she pushed it open.

The scene awaiting her was surprisingly cozy when she stepped inside. There was a fire in the hearth and rows upon rows of little viles arranged on a set of shelves beside it. A broom leaned against the wall. Sabrina looked around, noting the way that the rain didn’t make any sound as it thrashed against the roof and window, and the almost drug-like stupor that threatened to take over her brain, whispering that everything was fine, she was safe, nothing bad could happen to her.

Sabrina had encountered hypnosis before, and it only ever made her more jittery.

There was an open hatch in the floor with stairs that lead into darkness. She followed them down, feeling the air grow cooler with every step. Sabrina was quiet, taking tiny steps on her toes, and wincing when one of the stairs creaked. She didn’t know what was down there, and she didn’t want to find out the hard way. But there were no arrows flying up from the space below, no sounds of footsteps or slashes of swords.

Sabrina stepped onto a dirt floor and let herself exhale, shuffling along until her toe hit something hard. Only seasoned reflexes made her reach for the knife in her pocket instead of crying out in fear. She knelt down and squinted in the darkness, trying to see what she’d hit.

A leg.

She frowned, shaking it until she heard a low growl. “Stop that.” She stopped.

“Who are you?” Sabrina leaned closer. If they hadn’t killed her yet she was probably safe.

Instead of answering, they reached out a hand. Sabrina could see a gold ring on the thumb that glinted in a little sliver of light that had crept down from the room above. “Pull me up,” the figure said. “I’ve been paralyzed by the witch.”

Helping the stranger sit turned out to be no simple feat. They were tall and muscular, wearing a cape and a heavy metal chest plate. “The witch?” she questioned, propping them up against one of the cellar’s dirt walls. Her eyes were beginning to adust to the dark, and she could just make out their sharp chin sticking out as their head lolled back.

The figure made a noise. “The witch, the sorceress, the woman. Whatever you want to call her. I figure she sent you down too?” They snorted. “Good luck. I told Zeus not to sent mortals, but does he ever listen? You’re gonna die.”

Sabrina tried to piece together what she could from all this. The witch must be Circe, unless she’d wound up on an entirely different island. And if Circe was going around paralyzing people, then something must be going on. She must be hiding something. As for the person in front of her, Sabrina wasn’t sure who they were. By the way they talked about Zeus, and casually said “mortals,” she’d guess some sort of god? As if that narrowed it down. She’d have to be careful.

“Why did she paralyze you?”

Another weird gutteral noise. “She didn’t like my offer. It’s not the first time this has happened.”

She was growing impatient. Why’d he have to be so vague? “What?”

“Yeah, I don’t know why he always sends me. I don’t think he trusts me. He’d rather me stay her paralysed in the basement of a witch than come back home.”

Sabrina let out an exasperated sigh. This wasn’t working and she needed answers. A whole coast of people with mythology-shaped holes in their memories awaited her. “You’re going to need to be a little more specific. I don’t think we’re on the same page.”

The figure sounded confused. “What do you mean? Don’t you know who I am?”

She leaned forward and inspected them in the darkness. “No. No I don’t.”

They slid their eyes down to her face. “I am the god Apollo. I came here for Circe and she did this to me.”

“What? Why?”

The stairs creaked behind Sabrina and she felt a long nail drag up her back. “I just want to be left alone,” said a voice as deep and powerful as the smell of red wine. “You don’t mind, do you?” Before Sabrina could grab her knife and turn around, before she could even scream, strong arms had surrounded her shoulders and a hand was clamping a damp cloth over her nose and mouth. Shock made her breath in, sharply, and she smelled the sweetness of sleeping drugs.

A heartbeat, a brief struggle, and Sabrina Starr was gone.

#cruel summer fic #cameron writes #the penderwicks #penderwicks #camp half blood #camp half-blood #rachel elizabeth dare #jane penderwick #rosalind penderwick

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nikibogwater · 4 years

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A Shot in the Dark: Chapter 3 (Author’s Commentary)

(Read the fic here)

General Notes:

The final chapter! I don’t have too many general notes for this one (though the passage-specific notes below the cut stretch on for miles--there was just a lot going on in this chapter lol). But I will say that this is my favorite chapter of the three. It’s what the previous two have been building up to, and it really is the “heart” of the story, so to speak. That, and I finally got to make Glitter Wings Nari canon to The Immortal Bonds! (picture below the cut) I genuinely teared up a little bit while writing a couple of these scenes. I don’t know if that means they are very good, or that I was just absolutely exhausted after cranking out the first two chapters, but maybe you can be the judge. Friendly reminder to go listen to the song “Protector” by City Wolf if you are so inclined. It was a huge part of what inspired this story, and now that all three parts are published, I feel like it perfectly captures the theme and feel of A Shot in the Dark as a whole.

Passage-Specific Notes:

“...Please, Nari, I would not be doing my duty as Douxie’s...as your friend if I let you run thoughtlessly into this kind of danger.”

Another small line of dialogue that means a lot to me. I didn’t see Archie as making the instant connection with Nari that Douxie did. I think it took him a while to see her as anything more than “Douxie’s Ward.” He was always kind to her and took care of her, but I think it took him until now to realize that he had grown to really love her as part of the family. So the fact that he corrects himself here reflects that realization. I think under normal circumstances, the moment Archie finds out Douxie is in trouble/hurting, he would dive headfirst into hell without a second thought in order to help his boy. But because Nari is now also under his protection--and more importantly, now that she also has a special place in his heart--Archie has to force himself to slow down and come up with a plan that will keep BOTH of his kids safe.

The phone rang once--twice--six times. Then it went to voicemail.

Nari lowered it with a look of pure dejection as Claire’s pre-recorded voice cheerfully told them to leave their message after the beep.

I felt like calling Claire for backup was the most sensible thing they could do in this situation--but I also needed Nari and Archie to take on Project Rescue Douxie by themselves, in order to reinforce the family bond these three have. The moment when they all reunite at the end wouldn’t have had the emotional impact I was angling for if there had been others present. So I had to pull a tiny plot contrivance and make Claire unavailable. I didn’t feel the need to explain why she doesn’t answer her phone (people miss calls all the time) but my personal theory was that she was taking a nice relaxing shower and couldn’t pick up the phone. (look, I need SOMEBODY in this story to be having a nice time lol).

“By Ambrosia’s Gleam...” Archie breathed. A pair of dazzlingly beautiful wings reflected every light of the city back at him as Nari folded and unfolded them experimentally. They were unlike anything the cat had ever seen in his long life, vibrantly colored with rich shades of green and gold, glittering like morning dew, yet delicate as a newly budding flower.

Anybody remember last week, when I said the Most Self-Indulgent part was yet to come? This was it lol. I don’t remember when I started imagining Nari with sparkly butterfly wings, but back in early October, I drew this:

and I have been absolutely enamored with the idea ever since (but also it was a convenient way to get them to the warehouse without having to go through the ordeal of walking/taking a taxi/busting out the flying boat). So yeah. Nari’s Glitter Wings are canon to The Immortal Bonds series now. I have spoken.

He had no idea how long he had been enduring Rivan’s torture. It may have only been a few minutes, or it may have been a few years. Hell, he was getting to the point where it felt like this excruciating ache in his bones had been there his whole life. He tried not to sob as Rivan slowly pulled his magic back to himself, the agony abating for just a short moment of sweet relief. Douxie sucked in gulps of air, desperate to replenish the oxygen that had been ripped from his lungs by his own screaming.

First time really writing whump, so that was...something (I was exhausted after just the one paragraph lol). I tried to keep it as vague as I could because I don’t want anybody coming to my fic expressly for a graphic torture scene and nothing else (I don’t do the hurt-no-comfort thing, and I don’t want anybody to use my fics as such). But putting Douxie through a bit of hell does make the ending SO much sweeter. And if he hadn’t been experiencing pain, Archie and Nari probably would have taken longer to decide to come to his rescue. But there is still a part of me that detests every letter of that paragraph.

The small dragon let out a roar of fury and leapt at Rivan, his form twisting and expanding into that of an enormous black panther. The two crashed together in a flurry of red sparks and tearing claws.

Archie turning into a black panther and going to town on Rivan is also a bit of self-indulgence. I just really love big cats, and black panthers especially are beautiful, mysterious, and powerful creatures that just SCREAM Magic and Otherworldliness to me. (also I really want to draw Panther!Archie now).

He slammed against the concrete with a yowl of pain that tore Douxie’s heart into a thousand pieces, and dropped to the floor, where he lay quivering and heaving.

That line right up there 👆 is the most heart-wrenchingly painful thing I have ever forced myself to write. 😥

Nari grabbed Douxie by the shoulders and pulled him upright. One of her hands reached around him and pressed against his heart, and he felt her aura slam into his. Instinctively, his soul opened, and he let her magic pour into him, filling his veins with the warmth of a hundred suns, wrapping around and tangling with his own magic so tightly that he could barely tell whose was whose. Nari’s voice filled his head, drowning out every sound in his ears, every thought in his mind. My magic is yours. Use it. He threw both of his hands out and felt power unlike anything he had ever known surge into his palms and explode out of his fingertips.

So this ties into a headcanon of mine that, while Nari’s magic isn’t well-suited to direct combat, she is able to augment Douxie’s powers. But this scene is also probably the culmination of every relationship-building moment I have ever written for these two. I established in A Moment to Breathe that to let someone interact with your aura in this way--to basically channel their magic directly into you--requires a great deal of trust. Douxie let Nari heal him in that story, but that was after she had asked permission to pour her magic into him. Here, she doesn’t have time to ask--she just has to go for it, and Douxie’s trust and familiarity with her is so intense at this point, that his response is to immediately surrender completely to her power. Not only that, he is so familiar with her magic, that he is able to use it himself--he combines it with his own power and casts a spell that Nari is likely unable to use herself. I intended this moment to be a representation of the way family relationships can shape and empower you. You carry elements of the people you love with you wherever you go; their influence, their stories, their love for you--it all helps shape you into the person you are. And these things are often so deeply intertwined with your own personality, that it becomes impossible to fully separate them.

They had risked everything--the fate of the world, even--to save him. He should have scolded them. But instead, Douxie suddenly found himself overwhelmed with the ridiculous urge to cry.

This was the reason I wrote Douxie in Distress--and also one of the reasons I wrote A Shot in the Dark at all. I wanted him to experience being stripped of everything that made him powerful--useful-- and then witness his family risking literally everything for him. Not for his powers, not for what he can do for them, but because they love him. This poor, sweet boy gives and gives and gives, and the world has done nothing but take from him, and I have said “ENOUGH.” I wanted the serotonin of seeing him realize that he is valued and cherished for himself, and BY THUNDER I WAS GOING TO GET IT EVEN IF I HAD TO WRITE 9000+ WORDS FOR IT.

She pulled back a moment later, roughly drying her face on her sleeve, and untied the black hoodie around her waist. She draped it around Douxie’s shoulders with her magic, and he sighed contentedly as the warm fabric settled around him. He slipped his arms into the sleeves and closed the garment around himself gratefully, giving Nari a tired, heartfelt smile.

I didn’t realize it when I initially drafted the story, but Douxie’s hoodie is actually a really nice visual representation of how he and Nari pass the role of caretaker/protector back and forth. Douxie is wearing it for the first half of the story, when he is acting as Nari’s guardian/brother. Shortly after he lends it to her though, he’s captured by Rivan, and Nari takes on the role of protector in turn. But yeah, originally it was just “Them trading the hoodie back and forth is pointlessly cute and I wanna do it.” (Poor Archie has to be the Adult 100% of the time. He doesn’t get a break).

Most of Douxie’s mornings began with the harsh, clattering sound of his phone vibrating and whistling next to his ear. But that Sunday morning began with a deliciously warm silence. Douxie’s eyes blinked open slowly, finding sunlight lazily shining through the windows. He was lying on his side, with Archie’s soft, familiar body tucked against his chest. A gentle warmth against his back told Douxie that Nari was curled up beside him, wrapped in her own little cocoon of blankets, her back against his. The ache in his bones was gone. He was nestled safely in the warmth and love of his small family, the world outside and all that occurred within it nothing more than a distant echo.

Wrapping his arms around Archie and pressing his back more firmly against Nari’s, Douxie closed his eyes and went back to sleep.

This final scene wasn’t actually in my original outline--originally, the story ended with the three of them beginning the long trek home together. But I felt that the story needed just a little extra time to savor in the happy ending. And so, it came full circle--ending just like it began, with the dawning of a new morning. I noticed that I spend a lot of time in this story comparing the mornings of different characters/days. I think that might have been a subconscious expression of my belief that every morning is the beginning of a new opportunity--to strengthen bonds, to do good in the world, to just live for another day. Douxie’s Saturday morning started off a little rougher than he wanted--he woke up early and had to rush around to get ready for a long day out on the town. And wouldn’t you know it, his Saturday ended pretty badly too (though I think he’s probably just grateful he got to go home in one piece haha). This Sunday morning plays out in the exact opposite way. It’s quiet, peaceful, unhurried, and full of hope. Douxie’s been through hell and back, but he survived long enough to see another beginning. And I think that’s the beautiful cycle that all human life follows. There’s pain in life, darkness and hopelessness, but if you can hold on, strengthened by the love of the people you hold dear, you will always find a new beginning waiting for you on the other side of the valley.

...And that’s it. Thank you to everyone for reading my work. Seeing everyone who enjoyed it, hearing from you guys in the comments, knowing that I was able to give someone a good story--it really does mean the world to me. So again, thanks for joining me, and I hope our paths cross again soon. 🤗✨

#fanfiction #author's commentary #the magical siblings #and their therapy cat #a shot in the dark #thanks for reading <3

14 notes · View notes

bow-woahh · 5 years

Text

Spop Fic recs (Catradora)

(finally)

Hello Catradora trash can's today I finally give you what I've been promising for MONTHS - a fanfic rec list. Because, if you didn't already know, I read A LOT of Catradora fanfic, probably too much and although I'm definitely not the best judge of...anything, I really wanted to make this post, so here it is, weeks late.

(it's a long one though)

I’ve written my full opinions n shit on like the first 10 multi chapters and one shots because there’s a lot lol, and some I remember better than others (tbf I've re read all of them at this point), but yeahhh. For the others, I’ll describe it in less detail and a bit more jokily lol.

I'm sorry I haven't just linked all the fics bit I just want this to be out of my drafts loll, and I can assure you most of these are pretty easy to find, I apologise for the laziness though haha

Also I’ve tried to find the all the authors tumblr or other social media, but I couldn’t for all of them which sucks, so if you happen to be the author and I left you out, please comment :)

Anyway, Y'ALL NEED TO GET ON MY LEVEL SOOO WITHOUT FURTHER ADO HERE YOU GO:

(here's a key first)

Key:

(o) = ongoing

(f) = finished

[G]=General

[T] =Teen and up Audiences

[M]=Mature

[E]=Explicit

Multi-chapters:

1. Upper West Side by ceruleanstorm (o) 100,000+ words

@princessofgayskull

[Modern AU] [T]

This fic is so amazing!! It goes so deep into their psychology and past and damn is it hilarious at time. Also, I love the premise of it - Catra is a Uber driver and Adora ends up as her passenger. It's a fairly slowburn as it goes deep into the two girls' lives and really gives time for the relationship to develop naturally and that is honestly really appreciated because it makes the good moments between the two even better and more rewarding if I'm honest. A lot of angst though. All the other characters we know and love are also written amazingly in it too, and are made equally important. All in all, I love this fic and everything about it!

As of writing it has fairly infrequent updates, but each chapter is 10-20k+ words and has 9/12 chapters so...there’s a lot.

2. For my Sake by doublepasse (f) 100,000+ words

@doublepasse-writes

[Canon Compliant][E]

The story and world building is just - WOAH. This one is quite the slowburn but boy is it worth it. It's set a couple months to a year after season one, where Catra finally captures Adora but the tables turn very quickly when capturing her nearly results in her death, which Catra (unsurprisingly) didn’t want. The story has some BIG plot twists and is definitely one of the best canon universe Catradora fics I’ve ever read and the ending was very satisfying, but also open ended, BECAUSE there’s a part 2 coming and I couldn’t be more excited!

(Also, there is one chapter with nsfw content in it, but it has a sfw version)

3. Skinny Love by Maychup (o) 89,000+ words

@maychup

[Canon Compliant][M]

Another amazing fic that takes place in the canon universe that has such great world building, and is very plot heavy. It takes place days after the S1 finale and goes from there basically. The premise of it is similar to many fics and one shots you’ve probably read - sleeping with the enemy. From the first chapter it seemed like it could have easily been a five chapter easy redemption fic but nooooooo, it goes a lot LOT deeper. I feel like this fic did such a great job on character development, Catra’s specifically, she grows so much throughout the fic. She is also such a mother to all her Horde pals in this and I love that haha.

At the time of writing, it’s still ongoing, and boy am I excited to see where it goes. It’s also super angsty and has a fair-ish amount of smut so be warned!

4. The Heiress and The thief by Fuhadeza (f) 58,000+ words

@fuhadeza

[Regency AU][M]

As it says in the fic summary, it is literally the She-Ra regency AU I never knew I wanted likeeee, it’s so good! Premise - Adora is taken by Lady Brightmoon, leaving her boarding school, and her best friend behind, Catra, and everything is fine until her old friend face resurfaces. This one had me screaming at times (most of them did, but this especially). It was a really enjoyable read and I honestly loved the way the author dealt with love and the way Adora dealt with her feelings and just ahhh- read it.

5. Faded with feelings by yesimgay (f) 24,000+ words

[Roomates AU][T]

This fic. I read this a WHILEEE ago but to this day this is one of my favourite fan-fics ever like it’s hilarious, and fluffy and unproblematic and sometimes you need that tbh. Everything you need to know is established in the first chapter but the way it is done feels so natural, as if it’s just Adora‘s or Catra’s thoughts and I love it. Also the premise is GREAT - Catra has ADHD and smokes weed to help with it, and Adora accidentally takes an edible, which is when shenanigans start to ensue.

6. Dream of Me by DBsean (f) 18,000+ words

[Canon Universe][T]

Although it is on the shorter side with only five chapters, this was another fic that was so so good in quality and premise. For whatever reason, Catra and Adora start sharing dreams, enabling them to share moments together that they (unfortunately) can't have in real life, due to them being on opposite sides of the war, and in turn - enemies. The angst in this fic literally KILLED ME, and the characters dialogue is so good as well! I also recommend you check out some of the authors other fics, they're all great!

7. we've been making shades of purple out of red and blue by darklady21(o) 19,000+ words

[Roomates AU][M]

Another Roomates AU, bUT instead of being best friends, the two barely know each other, or interact at all...GREAT RIGHT?!? Honestly though, I think the author did a great job in making it not seem too rushed, especially in the setup and establishing how although they know each other, they DONT know each other, so the first couple chapters are basically that stage where they are learning more about each other and leaving stupid post it notes around the house, and it just feels so natural and great! Updates aren’t super regular, but there’s already nine chapters (as of writing) so definitely check it out, as well as their other works too!

8. Razorback by Starr_Reborn(o) 22,000+ words

[Canon Divergence AU][M]

Apparently, the author wrote this with the intent of it being fluffy. From the title you can tell that is NOT the case. At all. This one HURTS. This is very very angsty, and also has some themes of rape in it, so if that kinda thing triggers you I might wanna skip out on this one. It is a really good fic though and stands out from a lot of the others because of the way it is written. Chapters aren’t usually longer that 1000 words and the writing style is quite disjointed at times, and it a lot of the time a stream of consciousness. At times it can even be a little confusing or hard to follow, but I find it makes it even more interesting, and also means it will probably be a fic I come back to once completed. It is genuinely so unpredictable, I have no clue where it’s going, but I really love it for that!

9. Sunflower by TechnoSkittles (f) 6000+ words

@technoskittles

[High School AU][G]

Oh, BOY. Oh boyyy. This fic - it's 8 chapters and only 6000 words yet the story is just- Ahhh READ IT. It's so good! And like the author in general is so amazing at writing like check out all their works (especially their latest one shot omg I loved it). Anyway, read this, it's not too long, it's cute and also genuinely surprising, the ending was not something I saw coming AT ALL, so YEAH!

10. I like me better when I'm with you by lesbians_harold(f) 22,000+ words

@lesbians-harold

[High School AU][T]

Just a nice, fun, fluffy high school, friends to lovers AU. Catra moves to Adora’s school senior year and the twos friendship is quickly rekindled, after a rocky start albeit. Adora is a big ol’ jock and Catra draws which is a headcanon I LOVE. It’s written so well, and the characters are also written well too! It is a lil angsty at times, but not to worry - but it does pay off, I assure you.

11. I thought we were best friends by vanilla107 (o) 45,000+ words

@vanilla107

[University AU][T]

Breakups. Lots of breakups, and angst. This one will mend your heart then hurt you. BE SCARED. But go read it. I mean it. It's good!

12. Dirty Dancing by LilLegalLoli94 (o) 9000+ words

@lillegalloli94

[Dancing AU][M]

Basically lots of (sexual) tension after years of not seeing each other because Adora moved to Brightmoon Dance Academy. It's good. Real good.

13. Back to Black by eveynull (f) 6000+ words

[Canon Universe][T]

(Post War) Gays go and visit their past, staring angst, and featuring your favourite co-star - fluff!

14. how things are supposed to be by maggiesbombshell (o) 11,000+ words

@yeunslegacy

[High School AU][M]

A jolly slowburn that will hurt your soul because (internalised) homophobia and gay.

15. Some things you don't see coming by Trashibesensei (o) 20,000+ words

[High School AU][T]

Adora being a big ol' jock, and Catra being a big ol' gay. I’m not even gonna explain it, you have to find that out yourself.

16. A quarter after three by Maychup (o) 11,000+ words

@maychup

[Youtuber AU][M]

Adora's gay panic settles in when she bumps into her childhood bestie, Catra, live streaming in the streets of LA. My favourite part of this fic has to be the YouTube comments she gets. This one will make you laugh. And go AWWW CUTE.

17. A Song to My Heart by DemiRebel (f) 8000+ words

[Neighbors AU][G]

The cute girl next door keeps singing loud, and it sounds BELLE, so what else would you do other than creepily listen?? 10/10 for premise.

18. Occupied by Nny11 4000+ words

@nny11writes

[Modern AU][T]

The most hilarious soulmate AU I've read tbh. One word - bathrooms.

19. Whispering Dreams by dragonesdepapel (f) 7400+ words

[Canon Universe][T]

Adora finds a wounded and sick gay so obviously, she helps her out, much to her protesting. This fic will honestly make you go through the five stages of grief. Big ol' oof.

20. Why you SHOULD bring in your untrained cat to the rebellion by locuas (f) 6800+ words

[Canon Divergence AU][G]

This fic is a literal joke. But it will probably be the best crack you will ever read, so. READ IT.

ALSO HERES A LIL SELF PWOMO OF MY MULTI CHAP:

What drove her insane, 13,000+ words (f)

One shots:

1. hang tight (all you) by TechnoSkittles 9000+ words

@technoskittles

[High School AU][T]

This is a fic that will break your heart and mend it. It's about Adora coming to terms with her sexuality throughout high school in a pretty unsupportive environment, added onto the fact she has a crush on her best friend. It's paced so well, nothing feels rushed and although it's only 9000 words, it manages to flesh out characters that aren't even in the show, and it obviously does a great job with the topic at hand - sexuality and homophobia. Like it honestly touched my heart, reading it I genuinely wanted to cry. I loved everything about it, from the moment it started to the last line. It's just written in a way that is probably relatable to so many people who are or have struggled with coming to terms with themselves, and shows how for some it's really not an easy thing. It's also written beautifully, and I PROMISE you won't regret reading this! Definitely check out some more of their works too, they're all great reads!

2. you're my favorite song (and it's stuck in my head) by artemiswords 16,000+ words

@artemisbye

[High School AU][T]

A belle valentine's day fan fic which I just,, ahhhhh this is some of the best 16k words I've ever read, it's so nice and fluffy! Premise - Catra has to take the bus to school, and ends up sitting next to this cute girl on the bus, Adora, and listening to TayTay (Swift), sharing earphones with this complete stranger. Obviously, Catra develops a crush, but she is sure Adora is straight. It's written so well, and is such an enjoyable read, with so many great moments and dialogue. Music is a very prevalent theme (which you can tell from the name tbh) in it, and the amount of song references in it also make it feel so fleshed out in a way, like their both just teenagers with somewhat questionable music taste. Just all the exchanges they have are great, especially the ones over text and social media, there were so many funny moments too. DEFO, recommend if you wanna read something nice and lighthearted!

3. The Interlude That Never Ends by FMLClexa 2000+ words

Twitter: catrxs

[Historical AU] [M]

Angst. Quite angsty. But also fairly fluffy, it has a good balance. And the writing style is just so - it gets your heart wrenching despite being fairly short, and is also very poetic, and I don't know about you, but I love things like that! The fic is a historical/soulmates AU where they are bound to fall in love, no matter the period they're reincarnated in. It's one of the most creative fic ideas I've ever read, and the concept is executed so well, which makes it even better. And it's, so so damn sweet ahh, read it read it READ IT!

4. is there a knife in your bed or are you just happy to see me? by ceruleanstorm 6000+ words

@princessofgayskull

[Canon Universe][T]

This fic was everythinggg, it is so cute, like it’s basically 6k words of fluff! Also, if you didn’t already notice, the title (and the fic) heavily references the fact Adora keeps a knife under her bed (I DIED when that happened in s2). Set post war, Catra sneaks away from her post to visit an overworked and stressed Adora in Bright Moon and cuteness ensues. I honestly just love everything about this fic, we need more fluffy and funny fics like this! The dynamic the two have in this is perfect and the dialogue and general writing style of it is great! And Adora’s internal dialogue in this honest to god had me dead. Needless to say this is one of my fav Canon Universe one shots.

5.Girl’s Become Lovers (Who Turn Into Mothers) by A_Zap 2000+ words

@azapofinspiration

[Canon Universe][G]

This has to be one of the cutest, well written, fic I’ve read! Catra brings home the only survivors from a tragedy her and Scorpia stumbled upon, but one thing Adora doesn’t expect is for them to be children. The,, emotions in this are so raw and powerful. Even though they obviously have these new little people in their life though, their problems don’t just go away, they still have their own issues, and have to deal with them while looking after these kids. In general they handle mental health so well, and Shadow Weavers lasting effect on Catra SHOWS and it shows hard. Honestly, it made me want to cry at some parts and the ending was EVERYTHING, so reAd IT.

6. baby, i'm a house on fire (and i wanna keep burning) by wittchers 7000+

@huremsultan

[Medival AU]

A really fun fic to read, with a very original premise: after the Horde defeats the kingdom Bright Moon, Hordak is crowned, Queen Angella was killed, and Princess Glimmer is missing, which leaves Lady Adora forced into an arranged marriage with Lord Catra, to keep her people happy. Obviously, being an arranged marriage, with her enemy, she ain’t too happy about it, nor is Catra. But they have to put up with it, and each other. Honestly, like the development of their relationships is sooo good, and there is the perfect balance e of angst and fluff (if you can call it that?) so don’t worry it won’t kill you! Like ahh, the emotions in this - so well described with so little words. And the ending is great, in general it’s great!

7. Adora Casts: Zone of Truth by Hemogobbler 2000+ words

@hemogobbler69

[Canon Universe][T]

Literally just 2000 words of utter cuteness and hilarious dialogue haha. Premise - Catra has just defected recently, and is still warming up to Adora, is still slightly shut off from her. So, to try remedy this, she gets a truth serum from Madame Razz, and slips it into their food, leading to them talking honestly about their feelings for the first time in a while. I just love it so much because I feel like this is genuinely something Adora would do, and also something I’d probably do in her situation - Catra opening up is a rare occurrence! Also, as I said, their are some really funny, laugh out loud moments, which out of context are so weird, yet somehow manage to make a lot of sense. Anyway, if you just had a bad day, I think this fic would definitely lift your spirits.

8. bloom by kimah 4000+ words

Twitter: whitehotmoons

[Modern AU][G]

A post break up fan fic where Catra's therapist suggests Catra write down her feelings, which leads her to write the things she hates about Adora, and their interactions they've had since their break up. The way it's written is so... angsty but like, not? I'm bad at this. Literally, reading this I really felt Catra's pain, and I just wanted to give her a hug at times. Adora too. The small details the author outs into the characters makes the characters all that more realisitic too, and I love it! Seriously though, the angst, will, get, you.

9. I do adore by thankskelley 6000+ words

Twitter: cosmicsporks

[Modern AU][G]

A Catradora fake dating AU. Is there anything more you need in life? Catra and Adora are are roomates, and one day, Adora bursts in, saying she finally came out to her parents, and also that her parent had assumed they are dating... leading her to ask if Catra could pretend to be her girlfriend for while. What could possibly go wrong? Hmm?? I've always loved the whole fake dating premise (to all the boyss) and with characters like Adora and Catra, (especially Catra like she is a TEASE) I always thought it'd be great. Who doesn't love oblivious gays? Their dynamic in this is also great, especially all the flirting and teasing. BUT, of course, it also a bit angsty too. I can promise you you'll love it!

10. Chocolate and Roses vs. Heartache by Trashibesensei 9000+ words

[High School AU][T]

Another high school AU...I know I have a problem leave me alone. This time, if you couldn’t tell by the title, there’s some heartache involved, because: this Valentines Day, Adora doesn’t spend it with her best friend (now ex bestie) Catra. Even despite her popularity that she now has due to being the star player of Bright Moon’s soccer team, she can’t shake of how much she yearns for her old friend. Somehow, even with all the angst, it is still sO fucking FUNNY, the way Mermista was written was great, and she had some of THE best lines. But yeah, it’s so pure and just - Catra needs a hug, Adora needs a hug, they need to hug EACH other tbh! It had a very nice and hopeful message, and also kinda surprised me with the end.

11. someone you like by caela 5000+ words

[High School AU][T]

As a gen z, or x, or whatever the fuck I am, I always appreciate a fic where the characters say stupid shit over Instagram to their crushes which results it getting a date to prom. Although I can assure you that would never happen to me. But this So FUCKING cute and funny so READ.

12. this is what it's like when we collide (this is how you bring me back to life) by azul (7daysoftorture) 5000+ words

@bluelipgloss

[Canon Universe][G]

This galaxy brain fic is amazing and that’s ThE TEA. Catra gets a wish stone from Hordak and we all knowww, WHO she (subconsciously) craves - Adora, which obviously leads to hell breaking loose, because, disaster gays. Anyway read this it’s great and made me feel forget about the cruel world we live in.

13. Five Times Catra was a Cat and One Time the Cat was Catra by sunscreams 2400+ words

@catradoramma

[Canon Universe][T]

A BELLE, well written 5 + 1 which is just pure fluff (some hurt/comfort too) and Catra being Catra (so a loveable pain in the ass) after joining Adora in Bright Moon.

14. Vital Signs by SereneKarma 2000+ words

@serene-karma

[Modern AU][G]

Like a dumbass Catra breaks her leg and gets put in hospital, but hey - it’s okay as long as she’s got a cute nurse to look after her! It’s pretty funny just based on the concept alone so read ThIs BiSh.

15. You put the cracks into my moral code by Littleamethystc 3000+ words

@littleamethystc

[Gang AU][T]

Catra is a hotshot mafia member, Glimmer and Bow are the PoPo, and Adora is underestimated as HELL. It’s also pretty funny, like the whole concept is just perfect, so check it out!

16. The Best Gift I Could Ever Ask For by blueninjasharpshooter 1500+ words

[Modern AU][G]

Just a short n sweet fic of Adora celebrating her birthday which she forgot, and also Adora has a pocket knife in her boot, which is so accurate lmaooo. As well as having the most accurate character portrayals, AWWWWwwwww, was my reaction to the end of this fic, so read it to find out wHY.

17. but i still don’t wish death on ‘em (i just reflect on ‘em) by ayushi_writes 1500+ words

@ayushipop

[Canon Universe][G]

(Post S1) A year after the battle of Bright Moon, Adora and Catra are standing on a cliff, and Catra finally has a chance to end it all. But WilL she?!?! Let’s just say, Catradora are the queens of promises.

18. Whiskey and Eggnog by briony8969 3500+ words

@briony8969

[Modern Christmas AU][G]

A cute Christmas fic where a nervous Adora goes home for the first time in months with her new friends from college, scared of what they’ll think but more scared of a certain SOMEONE she hasn’t spoken to in months. So basically: sexual tension gAlore.

19. She's a Regular by BaronVonChop 1500+ words

@baronvonchop

[Coffee Shop AU][G]

Adora is gay. Catra is gay. Catra works at a coffee shop (badly), and Adora goes to said coffee shop soo much, that it gets on her friends nerves, coz she very obviously likes to flirt with a Catra. It’s funny too. That’s it. That’s the fic and I love it.

20. Hand in Hand, We Make Our Way to The End by thethirdphiladelphiavireo 6500+ words

[Canon Universe - Soulmate AU][T]

Catra and Adora figure out they are soulmates after years of not knowing what it meant, but OBVIOUSLY, cannot communicate like mature humans, because - same.

21. How Do You Tell A Girl You Really Like Her Eyes? by Gay_Panic 1000+ words

[Canon Universe][T]

(Pre Canon)Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, a very gay, very wholesome, very nice first kiss fic. They are very gay for each other in this one, they don’t even care if KYLE catches them kissing.

22. Tender Moments by yesimgay 1500+ words

[Canon Universe][G]

(Post-war) Catra still feels guilty about everything she did to Adora in the past, so instead of sleeping at the foot of the bed as usual , she decides to sleep next to Adora...So there’s fluff, lots of fluff, and it is very tender.

23. Perfectly intertwined by dragonesdepapel 2000+ words

[Canon Universe][G]

On Catra’s first official day in Bright Moon, Adora drags her to a festival and they do cute things and it’s cute, and you should defo read it.

24. a girl without freckles is like a sky without stars by dear_universe 900+ words

@catralovesgirls

[Canon Universe][G]

More bed sharing because I CANNOT help myself, I love fics like these! Catra can’t sleep without Adora on her first night at the rebellion, so, she knocks on Adora’s door and things go from there.

25. Something to remember you by by DBsean 3000+ words

[Canon Universe][G]

Adora sneaks back into the fright zone in attempt to retrieve something, when Catra catches her. It’s cute af. Despite the circumstances.

26. Skiffs & Ships by mysteryinc 900+ words

[Canon Universe][G]

(Pre-show) Just two gals being pals who missed each other a fuck ton while on separate missions. It’s pretty cute.

27. Starstruck by InvisiblePinkToast 2500+ words

@invisible-pink-toast

[Canon Universe][G]

(Pre-show) A lil bit of angst, and nightmares, and a little bit of fluff, Stargazing and bed sharing - what more could you need?

28. a truth so loud you can't ignore by adverbialstarlight 2500+ words

@adverbialstarlight

[High School AU][T]

Catra ignores the growing feelings she has for her best friend, until the truth is so loud she can’t ignore it (see what I did there?) But for real tho this fic really gave me angst that hurt my soul then fluff that healed it, so we StAN.

29. Horde kids are just Like That by gerti 1500+ words

[Canon Universe][T]

(Canon Divergence) What would happen if when Adora defected the Horde, her and Catra where still girlfriends? Read this to find out because it’s FUCKING hilarious lmaoooo, like it’s so absurd but somehow still makes perfect sense.

30. The First Step by oldmountainsoul 2900+ words

[Canon Universe][T]

(Post S1) Apologies which end in getting shoved out off trees are now exclusively for the Catradora fandom only.

31. (You’re My) Haven by giraffewrites 400+ words

@giraffewrites

[Canon Universe - Pre Canon][G]

(Pre-Canon) Adora only kisses Catra when she thinks she’s asleep, but my girl Catra ain’t playing no more so one night she just goes in for the KILL, Aka, cute dorks just being cute dorks.

32. Beyond the Screen by SereneKarma 5000+ words

@serene-karma

[Youtuber AU][G]

If you can't tell I really like YouTuber AU's. Catra being the angsty gal she is starts a YouTube channel to rant about her old best friend who practically vanished when she was 15, and her viewers (who definitely have no life) end up finding her.

33. come on, sugar, don't you leave early by thesqian 1500+ words

Twitter: @crnkgmeplys

[Modern AU][G]

Two gays at a gay wedding, who clearly have some shit going on, but it’s okay because gay weddings always bring gays together. I said gay a lot in that sentence. Read the fic, it’s short n sweet and cute, so you can’t go wrong!

34. but we could never stay away (from each other) by adorassword 1500+ words

[Canon Universe][T]

Catra and Adora have a nice, not so nice chit chat on Adora’s balcony late at night, - these two need LOVE, and I needed a hug after reading this coz damn. Damn.

35. bad ideas by ranpoandpoe 1000+ words

[University AU][T]

How we all wish thinking about your crush at 2am would go. That’s the only context I’m giving, so READ IT.

Also, here are some of my fav one shots I’ve written:

Two Sides Of The Same Coin 1000+ words

[Gang AU][T]

If I was perfect 2500+ words

[Modern AU][T]

And check out my Catradora week series, however my fav is:

damn you, unrequited love 7000+ words

[Modern/Sixth Form AU][T]

Here are some more series packed with fics that I’ve really enjoyed too!

Catradora Oneshots by clicheusername5678 @hey-adora

Catradora Tumblr Prompts BY sunscreams @catradoramma

if I grind my teeth at night, would you hear it? By poetroe

in the bottom of a coffee cup + pieces by inkwelled (their stuff is great)

Twitter: adorascatrq

Anyway, I hope you guys appreciate this, it took quite a while lol. I had a lot of fun making it, and I hope you check out some of the fics on the list (maybe all if you're a crazy mf)

Until next time (:

#micah n spop #spop #she-ra #she ra and the princesses of power #catradora #fic recs #micahs fic recs #micahs recs #adora #catra #spop catra #spop adora #fan fics #she ra netflix #i ship

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nixmatize · 5 years

Text

Making room for someone new (chapter 4)

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Halfway there! I’m having way too much fun writing this for @marigami-week, so do expect to see more from me even after this week is over...

“Marinette. The akuma can wait a few minutes. We need to talk.”

Marinette could feel what little blood was left in her face quickly draining out. Even though she thought Kagami was very trustworthy, and had even been planning on making her a permanent miraculous holder alongside herself and Chat Noir, she didn’t want her identity revealed to anyone until after Hawkmoth was safely locked behind bars.

And this weekend, she had screwed up so many times – fighting with Tikki, leaving the earrings behind, failing to stop M. Clerc from getting akumatized, almost being caught by the akuma’s powers until Kagami jumped in to protect her – she didn’t know how anyone though she would be a worth guardian. She had made so, so many dumb errors.

“Kagami, I swear I can explain -”

“Marinette. Thank you.”

Her frantic attempts at somehow getting out of admitting to being Ladybug were cut off by the raw sincerity in Kagami’s voice. Kagami’s whole demeanor was soft, with smiling eyes and an upward tilt to her mouth. Marinette found herself breathless in the face of such warmth from someone she had once assumed to be so cold.

“I didn’t have friends before you,” Kagami continued, “not really. The closest I had was Adrien, and we were more pushed together by out families and extracurriculars rather than any choice. When you solved the friendship puzzles with me, when we went to orange juice together, when you continued making the effort to be my friend even though no one was making you and your friends were even trying to convince you that you would be better off without me, you showed me what true friendship was.”

Kagami tilted her face off to one side slightly, one of the few times Marinette had seen her allow herself to be honest with her feelings. Marinette’s felt a warm buzz of feeling rise in her at the sight of Kagami being willing to show vulnerability around her – being trusted with the weaknesses of such a strong person was one of the greatest honors she had ever received.

“And knowing that you’re Ladybug,” Kagami continued, “knowing that you’re the one who trusted me to fight alongside you on our very first day of real friendship-”

She swallowed, and lifted her eyes back to Marinette’s. “Knowing that you put that trust in me is the best gift I’ve ever been given. So thank you, Marinette.”

This time, Kagami was the one to initiate the hug, awkwardly drawing Marinette closer.

When Marinette reciprocated, pulling Kagami even tighter and resting her face against Kagami’s shoulder, Kagami practically melted against her.

Although she was still unsure how to go from here, given her mistakes and the unprecedented fact that someone else knew she was Ladybug, Marinette couldn’t help but be comforted by Kagami’s words. There was no going back to how it had been before, so maybe Marinette needed to focus on how to make the best out of the present moment – and if her mistakes had finally allowed her and Kagami to become close friends, it wouldn’t be too difficult to find that silver lining.

After savoring the embrace for one last moment, Marinette pulled away, hands falling to hold Kagami’s between them. She could feel herself tearing up slightly. “Thank you, Kagami. You didn’t know how much I needed to hear that.”

Although she felt like her words were inadequate in the face of Kagami’s heartfelt admission, it brought a small smile to the other girl’s face. However, it was still clear that Kagami was carrying some other weight, because Marinette watched as the tension seeped back into her shoulders.

“I would… understand,” Kagami began haltingly, “if you did not want to be friends after today, though. I sincerely apologize for intruding on your secret and using your miraculous without your consent.”

“Kagami, no. Of course we’ll still be friends. I would have been taken down from the akuma for sure if you hadn’t swooped in.”

Tikki floated up into the conversation, startling Kagami who had all but forgotten about her presence.

“And you only used the miraculous once I gave permission, and passed the earrings back to the true holder as soon as possible,” Tikki piped in. “That’s a lot more than most people would do, when given the chance to use one of the two most powerful magical artifacts in this part of the world!”

Kagami warmed at the praise.

“Much as I’d love to stay and continue talking,” Marinette said reluctantly, “I really should meet up with Chat to take down that akuma.”

Kagami winced at his name. “He might… not be too happy right now. When he tried to hold me back from chasing after you, I may have slammed him in the chest to daze him for long enough to get away.”

Although some part of Marinette was upset at the thought of her partner hurt in any way, she couldn’t help but breat out into laughter. Chat Noir could be so arrogant and prideful, and the thought of him trying to hold Kagami back from her goal and being taken out in one hit was unfairly funny to her. Kagami was on a different level entirely; her kitty never even stood a chance against a serious, focused fighter.

Reluctantly, Marinette squeezed Kagami’s hands one last time before releasing them. “Tikki, spots on.” The familiar wave of makic bubbled over the surface of her skin, spilling raw strength into every corner of her being. Ladybug opened her eyes to an awestruck Kagami, gaze wide and mouth slightly ajar in wonder. Giddling, Ladybug lifted her hand to Kagami’s jaw and lightly pushed her mouth closed.

Acting entirely on instinct, Ladybug leaned in to press a light kiss to her friend’s cheek. “See you after the battle’s over, Kagami,” she said before jumping off.

As soon as she was a couple buildings away and far out of sight, Ladybug sat against a chimney to give herself a moment to process. Even though she had done nothing improper between friends, her face was a furious red.

Hopefully Kagami didn’t think she was weird! Well, from just generally being around her (and the past day) Kagami was probably aware that she was a Walking Disaster, but that kiss was a bit far even for her. She was usually much more respectful of her more reserved friends’ personal space. This one lapse didn’t mean anything, she was just so happy to have Kagami on her side as a confidante and partner that she got swept up in the moment. Obviously she knew that Kagami didn’t want her intruding into her personal space like that.

(Little did she know that just a few blocks away, Kagami had one hand pressed to a rosy cheek, grinning like a lunatic. For the first time in a long time, Kagami showed absolutely no regard for who may see her broadcasting her emotions so clearly; she stumbled out of the alley and back toward the bakery with palpable glee radiating off of her.)

Ladybug knew that there were so many things she would need to sort out – apologizing for her overstep, deciding what Kagami’s new knowledge would mean for choosing her as a permanent hero, apologizing to Tikki for their earlier argument – but for now, she had a job to do, and she needed to focus.

Flipping her compact open revealed that Chat Noir was north of her location. Hopefully he was at the site of the akuma trying to take it down, so that they could work together and end the battle as soon as possible. She wanted a moment to sit down and sort through her thoughts.

She swung gracefully through the streets in the direction her yo-yo had pinpointed Chat Noir.

When she got there, it wasn’t the controlled battle scene she had hoped for, but rather complete chaos. The akuma itself was smashing up the mayor’s hotel, punching through one window at a time and eviscerating each room as much as possible. His mind-controlled minions fanned out over the area, breaking everything they could reach.

Nearby, a ruffled Chat Noir crouched on a rooftop behind a big sign, looking like he was just trying to make himself small and avoid the akuma’s notice.

Ladybug swung in next to her partner, watching as he turned to her, relief and adoration blooming across his face as he took in the sight of his regular partner. “Bugaboo! You finally came!” He flashed a flirty smile, “The sound of you landing next to me is always mew-sic to my ears,” wiggling his kitty ears for emphasis.

Exasperated, she crouched next to him, looking out to survey the villain for weaknesses or any objects that could be housing the butterfly. “What’s the deal with this villain?” she asked her partner.

To her annoyance, Chat just shrugged.

“Then what have you been doing since he started rampaging?”

Chat’s cat ears twitched back, laying close to his skull. “I got attacked by a fake ladybug akuma when I was coming in to try to fight this guy! And then she disappears to who-knows-where after kidnapping a friend of mine, I’m left alone with The Destructinator 9000!”

Ladybug just huffed. “I could understand being reluctant to fight on your own, Chat, but we’re heroes. You should have tried to stall him or prevent some of his victims. Now that he’s built up such a large group, it’ll be harder to get to his object.”

Chat just shrugged, before slinging an arm of her shoulders. “You and me, Bug, we got this. Let’s go with our usual: I use my devilishly good looks and stunning charisma to distract the akuma, then you sweep in to snatch the butterfly when he least expects it.”

He winks at her, then dashes off the top of the building toward the akuma, shouting for its attention. “Chat-!” she starts, affronted, before realizing that it was a lost cause. The akuma and all of his nearby minions were closing in on Chat, making it harder and harder for him to escape as the crush of enemies cut off his possible escape routed one by one.

Alarmed, Ladybug called for her lucky charm.

“A grappling hook?” she asked, staring down at the object in confusion.

Her eyes scanned the street quickly before the puzzle started to make sense.

At that moment, she turned her head just in time to witness Chat get hit by one of the akuma’s tosses, his eyes going blank and white as he was turned into just another mindless acolyte of the akuma.

She was so fed up with this; he hadn’t even needed to go out into the fray yet, since the akuma hadn’t spotted them, and would be much more usefull helping with her plan than using the cat miraculous to destroy as much of the area as possible.

He was usually a good friend, he knew how to make situations seem lighter, and his heart was in the right place, but sometimes working with Chat Noir was more detrimental to her abilities as a hero than helpful. Once he matured a little bit and learned how to stop flirting and focus on the mission, he could really be a great partner – but for now, he was just reminding her why she wanted to get a third permanent miraculous holder in the first place. Having someone focused and dedicated on their side would make them much more formidable.

Sighing to herself, Ladybug got to work.

First she had to get as many of the brainwashed followers out of the way, which wasn’t too difficult. All of them wanted to chase her down and take her miraculous, but the akuma itself was much slower than its minions, so it wasn’t too difficult to lure then far enough away.

Next was shooting the grappling hook across the street, fairly close to the ground but not too close. Once she wrapped the gun part around a nearby lightpost, she had a solid line set in place.

She stepped out so that the rope was between her and the akuma. Normally she would have a bit more fun with the dramatics – there was definitely a good quip in her somewhere, if she had the brainpower to think of it at the moment – but with her partner under Hawkmoth’s control and only two minutes left on her timer, she wasn’t really in the right headspace for “fun.”

When the akuma ran at her, his foot caught on the wire as planned, and a well-placed loop of yo-yo string around his shoulders pulled to make sure he crashed to the ground as hard as possible.

Just as Ladybug had suspected, the akuma was hiding in one of the bits of shattered pottery. Once most of his armor cracked under the force of his fall, a small black butterfly lifted over the disaster that the street had become. Ladybug shot her yo-yo out quickly to purify the butterfly, zipping as far away from the scene as possible as the reporters started to flood in.

Ladybug released her healing swarm of ladybugs, and then droppedinto an alley a safe enough distance away just as the transformation released back over her.

Marinette stood there to catch her breath for a moment, feeling high-strung after flying solo through such a high-stakes situation.

When she looked back up, her kwami was frowning at her thoughtfully. Somehow Marinette had almost managed to forget their last argument, but as soon as she made eye contact with Tikki, apologies started spilling out of her: “Tikki I am so sorry for fighting with you, obviously you have more experience and I should have listened better, and anyway I shouldn’t have gotten angry enough to actually sever our bond-”

Tikki put one of her little paws up, floating gently in front of her. “No Marinette, you don’t need to apologize.” Her antannae drooped despondently. “I guess I haven’t payed enough attention recently. I hadn’t seen how much these fights drain you, and today – Chat noir dashing off like that… I had hoped he would be the perfect yin to your yang, but I can see that he still has a lot of growing to do to fit that role.”

“And Kagami makes you happy, Marinette. I don’t want you to let that slip by.”

Marinette found herself nodding along, because she did work well with Kagami, and while Chat was a great friend, she saw herself working better as partners with Kagami right now. She was intense, but that made her great at what she did, because she focused and tried and faught without giving up. She could come off as a little cold, but Marinette had seen enough of her inner kindness to know that she was a great person, if a bit slower to open up than most.

And Kagami was loyal. She never fell for Lila’s lies like the rest of Marinette’s friends, and she had brought the ladybug miraculous back to Marinette without hesitation when she could have taken it to use for herself. Marinette knew what the rush of power felt like when using a miraculous. The fact that Kagami had turned her back on it so readily and without prompting for Marinette’s sake only raised her opinion of the other girl.

And even more than that, Kagami now knew Marinette was the one who could hand out the dragon, but instead of trying to use her new knowledge to wield Longg again, she seemed content to wait and trust Marinette’s judgment.

She was lost in thought for a long moment before her brain processed another possible meaning to Tikki’s words.

“Kagami makes me happy as a friend,” she emphasized to her kwami, face heating hup despite her best efforts.

Tikki just smiled innocently up at her.

“What! I have a crush on Adrien!”

Tikki let out a small giggle that sounded like chiming bells, smiling at her chosen. “I won’t tell you how to feel, Marinette. But your Adrien-wall has been taken down piece by piece, and you talk about Kagami a lot more than would be expected of someone who has hung out with her only infrequently.” Cheeky smile widening, Tikki added, “and that kiss on the cheek seemed a bit more than friendly to me, judging by how much you two were blushing after.”

Sobering slightly, Tikki looked at her chosen with wide blue eyes. “Just think about it, Marinette. Don’t let something good pass you by just because you’re too afraid to act.”

Marinette’s head spun with this new possibility. Though she had never really thought about it consciously before, she could see in retrospect that some part of her was always drawn to Kagami. There were as many pictures of her on Marinette’s wall now as there were from Adrien, and Marinette had been hanging out with Kagami whenever possible for a while now.

She blushed even more furiously, thinking back – right before the friendship game, she had been ranting to Tikki about how unfairly cute Kagami was.

Marinette wouldn’t decide on anything now. If she chose to pursue Kagami, she would never make her feel second-best: Marinette would only go after Kagami once she was sure that she could place the other girl first like she deserved.

Ad that may not be as hard as it once would have, she mused. After all, she had barely thought about Adrien the past couple of days except in passing, while she had thought of Kagami much more than anyone else.

Lost in the daze of her own thoughts, Marinette was startled by the chime of her phone.

K: I am very sorry not to be at the bakery when you get back, but after the attack was so close by, Mother wants me home as soon as possible.

K: I look forward to seeing you soon, though; this weekend was very fun and I would appreciate your company again, if you wanted to hang out again soon

Marinette smiled dopily down at her phone, thinking of the little disgruntled wrinkle that would formed between Kagami’s brows as she wrote those words.

M: No worries! See you soon :) <3

Her face was red after sending the text, but something about it just felt right. The only upside of not seeing Kagami was that it would give her a few days to really think over everything that had happened, and be certain of her own choice.

By the next time she saw Kagami, Marinette promised herself, she would make a decision; whether to stubbornly hold fast to the old crush on Adrien (that had been fading in the face of his oblivious friendliness and inaction with Lila, she now realized) or… to move onto someone that made her really, really happy just to be around for the first time in a while.

This choice had sneaked up on her, but now that she was really seeing it for the first time, Marinette couldn’t help but smile to herself on the way home.

From her hiding spot, Tikki smiled to herself as well. Even when things didn’t go as planned, these things had a way of working themselves out. Though some part of her was sad for Adrien because Chat was further than ever from wooing his ladybug, most of her was excited to see Marinette just unabashedly happy again after all the drama at school. Tikki needed to remember that Marinette was young and just starting to find herself; learning what (and who) made her happy was more important right now that sticking to Tikki’s own idealized version of reality.

She nibbled on the bits of cookie in Marinette’s pocket, just happy to watch this all play out.

#marigami #kagaminette #kagami tsuguri #marinette dupain cheng #miraculous ladybug #making room for someone new #ml #mlb #MADwriting

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hutchhitched · 4 years

Text

Nano 2019 Recap

Soooooo…. Nano! I did it! I’ve been meaning to post a final stats type of thing, but I got distracted by family and a fourteen hour car drive/ride and the last week of the semester. Here’s what I was hoping to accomplish and what actually happened:

Final word tally: 50,006 words

Maybe This Summer (Story 1 for @fandomtrumpshate):

11/1—20,122 words

11/30—25,610 words

12/31—deadline of 50,000 words, edited, and submitted to @ldyglfr62

I didn’t get nearly as far as I wanted to on this one (I was hoping for 35,000 words), but I’m not necessarily worried about it and ended up working on some other things I wasn’t as motivated to do. I have a strong sense of how the story will go. I just need time to concentrate on it, which I’ll have now that the semester is (almost) over.

Three Months (Story 2 for @fandomtrumpshate):

11/1—0 words

11/30—13,006 words

12/31—deadline to edit and submit to @iwishicouldread247

I was worried about this one. I’ll admit it. I had a prompt, but I wasn’t feeling motivated to dive into it. Once I started, though, this one seemed to flow pretty easily, and I’m happy with the way it turned out. Planning to edit and send to a beta this weekend.

Too Familiar, Part 8

11/1—488 words

11/30—6518 words

12/11—(self-imposed) deadline to edit and post

This story has been deeply personal and the bane of my existence for a long time. It was only ever supposed to be a one-shot for @promptsinpanem, but the response to it was so intense for a HEA, I felt I needed to expand it and defend my original vision. In other words, Everlark ends up together, but the HEA isn’t as easy as I felt some readers expected. Then I extended it for @loveinpanem’s A Candle for the Caribbean charity event, and then I ended up extending it again because it didn’t seem quite finished—mostly because I couldn’t get my fingers to type what was in my brain. Nano changed that. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel, and the story will be finished in January 2020. Finally. (Ironically, I reconnected with the guy who Peeta is based on this past month, and it’s fascinating to see what eight years of radio silence has done to our friendship.)

Too Familiar, Part 9

11/1—0 words

11/30—3535 words

Halfway(ish) through this chapter, and I’m trying to figure out if this is going to be the last chapter, or if I’m extending it to one more. If I extend it, I know what the topic of the chapter is, so it should move fairly quickly after completing Maybe This Summer. Since the epilogue is already written, I’m down to about 3000 or 9000 words for this story (depending on whether or not I add Part 10.

Float Your Boat (Honeymoon!Everlark/Niagara Falls!Everlark)

11/1—0 words

11/19—4709 words, edited, and posted

This one was fun and not one I had on my radar at the beginning of the month. Thanks to @everybirdfellsilent for passing this prompt along to me through the grapevine (@merry-katniss).

Hold It (Prompt 57 for @everlarkficexchange April 2019)

11/1—803 words

11/30—1728 words

12/9—(self-imposed) deadline to edit and post

I’d been stuck on this one for a long while. It was supposed to be done for last April’s @everlarkficexchange. I ended up writing four other stories and just could not motivate myself to get that one done. It’s finished now, and I’ve breathed a sigh of relief.

Feed the Beast (Prompt 18 for @talesofpanem)

11/1—0 words

11/11—1877 words, edited, and submitted

Yup, I gave myself another WIP. Because I’m like that. Sigh… It’ll be a story I tackle after the beginning of the year.

Plenty Horny (Prompt 20 for @talesofpanem)

11/1—0 words

11/25—533 words, edited and submitted

This was just pure fun and fluff.

End of Love, Chapter 18 (for @thevintagejoshiferseries)

11/1—1209 words

11/30—3112 words

12/8—(self-imposed) deadline to edit and post

This story has been looming over my head even longer than Too Familiar. The idea for it was born during the Catching Fire press tour, and I sat on it for a couple of years before I even started posting. And then… Lord, I don’t even know why my brain just shut down. Admittedly, Joshifer readers are few and far between now, but I always intended to finish (whether it actually gets read or not). It’s a passion project, and I finally have it in a manageable spot. This story will either be 21 or 22 chapters (depending on how Chapter 20 develops).

End of Love, Chapter 19 (for @thevintagejoshiferseries)

11/1—0 words

11/30—3366 words

12/15—(self-imposed) deadline to edit and post

Knocking out two of these stories and getting to the major plot twist was huge during Nano. The next chapter or two will be the denouement I’ve been working toward for (literally) years. Massive relief to get this one off my chest.

The Game (The Spot, Part 2) (for @talesofpanem)

11/1—0 words

11/30—710 words

12/1—edited and submitted for makeup week

I’ll admit, I’d forgotten I’d started this WIP with The Spot. I was looking for something quick to write, and this one popped up as “unfinished.” It’s got another part or two or three, which I’ll be writing (at least some of) this weekend.

The Everlark Carols (for @everlarkchristmasgifts)

11/1—0 words/parts

11/20—3 parts completed, 1 part in progress

I had fully intended to write Playlist: Home for Advent this year, but I just wasn’t feeling it. I wanted something lighter, and a sequel to Blue seemed like the perfect thing. I’ll be posting the story every other day along with the prompts, so keep an eye out for fluffy mcflufferson Hawthorne Hellions and their Aunt Katniss and Uncle Peeta.

Overall, I wrote a few other things that weren’t really stories but were deadlines I needed to meet. I’m beyond excited I met this goal, and I’m feeling more interested in reading and writing again. I had a wonderful summer, but it was draining and mentally and physically exhausting. This semester has been rough personally with two friends passing and various other smaller bumps in the road. Finding creative energy has been a challenge, so Nano was both rewarding and inspiring. Looking forward to finishing some WIPs this year and moving onto others that have been sadly neglected. Here’s to you Code Name: Mockingjay, Sole Beneficiary, District 14, Always Rivals, and Influenza (for you, @xerxia31). You’re on my radar.

#nano #nanowrimo #maybe this summer #three months #too familiar #float your boat #hold it #feed the beast #plenty horn #end of love #the game #the everlark carols #playlist: home #code name: mockingjay #sole beneficiary #district 14 #always rivals #influenza

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pikapeppa · 5 years

Text

Fenris/f!Hawke and the Inquisition: Good Intentions

Chapter 31 of Lovers In A Dangerous Time (i.e. Fenris the Inquisitor) is up on AO3!

The crew heads to frosty Emprise du Lion this week, and I asked my darling @lethendralis-paints do a BEAUTIFUL little painting of FenRynne staying warm, so I simply had to post the art and the chapter together!

Read on AO3 instead; ~9000 words.

Hawke shivered and rubbed her arms. “You know, I think I’ve been spoiled by Skyhold. It’s all lovely and warm there with the elven magic and all. It’s made me go soft.”

Fenris glanced at her as they picked their way through the destroyed village on the way to Suledin Keep. She did look exceptionally cold.

“Would you care for my cloak?” he said.

She batted her eyelashes at him. “So chivalrous, you are,” she purred. “But no. I’ll just keep complaining. This way I’ll distract everyone else from how cold they are.”

Varric chuckled. “Thanks, Hawke. That’s really helpful.”

“That’s me,” she chirped. “Always being as useful as possible.” She elbowed Dorian, who was trudging through the snow beside her. “How are you holding up, northern boy? Maybe you need Fenris’s cloak.”

“I would, if his cloak wasn’t such a marvelously mundane shade of murky green,” Dorian said. He shot Fenris a mocking pout. “What happened to your black one? It suited you far better. It would have suited me far better.”

Fenris didn’t bother to look at him. “This one is warmer. I prefer to choose my clothes for—”

“— function over form and so on, I know. More’s the pity.” Dorian shot him a sly look. “You know, if you had something tailored, it could be both attractive and functional…”

Fenris shot him a flat look. “Dorian. I don’t need tailoring. In fact, nobody needs tailoring.”

Dorian laughed. “Tell that to Josephine the next time you have to go to an Orlesian function.”

Fenris gave Hawke a long-suffering look. “I thought this conversation about clothing and tailors would end with the wedding.”

“Apparently not,” she said cheerfully. “For what it’s worth, I think you look handsome in everything.”

Her smile was wide and wicked, and Fenris shot her a forbidding look. He knew exactly what she was about to say next. “Don’t,” he warned.

Heedless of his warning, she sidled up to him leaned in close to his ear. “I also think you look even more handsome in nothing at all,” she murmured.

He huffed and shook his head. “You are shameless.”

“Of course I am,” she said. She twined her fingers with his. “Lucky for me that skin-to-skin contact is the best way to stay warm.”

Fenris shot her a chiding look. Her voice was quiet, but to her left, Dorian was smirking. “Later, Hawke,” he muttered.

She chuckled. “I hope that’s a promise,” she whispered. She released him and strolled over to Blackwall instead. “Blackwall, are you all right? You’ve been terribly quiet since we raided the quarry.”

He gave her a small smile. “I’m just fine.”

She looped her hand through his elbow. “Come now, I don’t buy that. You look like someone stole your favourite puppy.”

He sighed. “I suppose I’ve just been thinking—”

“You? Thinking?” Dorian said archly. “Quick, someone send a raven to Skyhold so Maryden can write a ballad in honour of the occasion.”

Blackwall shot Dorian a venomous look, and Fenris and Varric exchanged a quick glance. Blackwall and Dorian had been sniping at each other on and off the whole time they’d been in Emprise du Lion. Fenris was growing rather weary of it, but he was biting his tongue, especially after Varric had pointed out — to Fenris’s chagrin — that he and Anders had carried on far worse during their seven years in Kirkwall.

Hawke, on the other hand, had spent the trip trying to smooth things over with flirting and jokes. She seemed to have reached the end of her rope today, however. “All right, all right, you’re both manly men with giant weapons and beautiful facial hair,” she snapped. “Now please shut up.” She turned pointedly to Blackwall again. “Thinking about what?”

“About the Templars, I suppose,” he said. “And the Grey Wardens. They were all just trying to do the right thing, and Corypheus used their morals against them.”

She grimaced. “I know. It’s a rather shit deal, isn’t it?” She patted his arm comfortingly. “We’ll stop Coryfish, though. He’ll get his comeuppance sooner than later.”

He shook his head sadly. “You make it sound easy. But how many more people will die before Corypheus does? How many more good people will be corrupted before we stop him?” He sighed. “It’s not right. To want to do good, to be good, and have that turned against you.”

They were all quiet for a moment. Then Varric chuckled. “Damn, hero. You’ve been having a real existential crisis over there, haven’t you?”

Hawke shot him a quick grin, then turned back to Blackwall. “You’re right. It sucks to try and do the right thing and have it blow up in your face. But what else can you do?” She shrugged. “You’ve got to trust your gut, right? Keep on moving forward. What other choice is there?”

“But how do you know you can trust your gut?” Blackwall asked. “Warden-Commander Clarel’s intentions were righteous. Her desire to protect was so great it led her astray. How do you know if your intentions are guiding you down the right path?” He looked askance at Fenris. “You’ve brought us this far. Everything you’ve done has led us to victory. How did you know that everything would go well?”

Fenris wearily rubbed his hair through his hood. He knew it shouldn’t surprise him that people thought he actually had a plan for taking Corypheus down, or that he was always in control of everything that happened. This was the way of so-called ‘heroes’, after all; most people never saw the uncertainty and the terrible choices and the sheer dumb fortune — or lack thereof — that conspired to result in any given outcome. It had been the same with Hawke back in Kirkwall; she won one duel with the Arishok, a terrible duel in which she’d almost died, and suddenly she had the reputation of being the only person who could keep the entire city safe.

A reputation that had nearly gotten her killed.

He looked at Blackwall. “I didn’t know that everything would go well,” he said bluntly. In his opinion, everything hadn’t gone well since the Inquisition had begun; they’d lost people at Haven, and they had lost many soldiers at Adamant, and he had left Carver behind in the Fade. “No one can know for certain that their course of action is right. It is as Hawke said; you must trust your instincts. And the instincts of the people you trust,” he added, with a glance at Hawke. “And you must move forward.”

A memory of Carver’s determined face flashed across his mind. He breathed through the guilt, then looked at Blackwall again. “There is no point sitting stagnant in the regrets of what might have been if you’d made another choice. There is only forward,” he said.

Blackwall’s expression was attentive but melancholy, and Fenris felt another little writhing of guilt in his gut. He’d ultimately told Stroud and the Wardens to remain at Weisshaupt until Corypheus was eliminated, and he knew Blackwall wasn’t pleased about the decision. Fenris had initially considered telling only the Warden mages to remain at Weisshaupt, but Hawke had immediately argued the idea, saying it was barely a step away from imprisoning them in a Circle and that it would send a terrible message about mages in general to the rest of Thedas. So Fenris had reluctantly agreed to isolate all the Wardens to Weisshaupt until further notice.

It was a decision that Fenris was still not entirely comfortable with, particularly given the darkspawn presence that Harding had reported in the Storm Coast. But Fenris didn’t feel informed enough about the Warden’s secretive ways to be entirely comfortable with their joining the Inquisition, so this seemed the more prudent option for now.

Hawke squeezed Blackwall’s arm. “Come on, Blackwall, you don’t need to worry. You’re one of the good ones. If you weren’t, Fenris would kick you out of Skyhold in a heartbeat.”

Blackwall heaved a heavy sigh, then nodded. “I hope so, my lady.” He winced and pulled a copper out his pocket, then handed it to her. “Sorry, Hawke.”

She smiled and pocketed the coin. “No harm done.”

Fenris looked at them in surprise. “What was that for?”

“Blackwall is giving me a copper every time he calls me ‘my lady’,” she said.

Fenris raised an eyebrow. “Dare I ask why?”

She rolled her eyes. “Because I’m not a fucking lady, obviously.” She smiled cheekily at Blackwall. “We’re breaking a bad habit one copper at a time.”

“I dunno, Hawke,” Varric said. “You did get the Amell name restored, so I think technically—”

She groaned. “That was in Kirkwall. We’re not in Kirkwall anymore.”

“Yeah,” Varric said. “That’s true.”

She shot him a guilty look, then slung an arm around his neck. “Don’t you get mopey on me now. When Corytits is dead, maybe we can all go back to Kirkwall for a bit.”

He looked at her and Fenris in surprise. “You’d come back to Kirkwall? Seriously?”

Hawke and Fenris exchanged a nonplussed look. They’d somehow never discussed settling in Kirkwall when this war was over. In truth, Fenris had a hard time imagining them returning to a life in Kirkwall after everything that had happened there.

“I… don’t know. Maybe?” Hawke said. She pulled a face at Fenris.

He shrugged. “Perhaps. For a visit, at least.”

“Mm. Yeah, a visit would be nice,” Varric said. He rubbed his nose.

Hawke’s face crumpled, and she hugged Varric more tightly around the neck. “Oh, Varric, stop it,” she begged. “You’re going to make me cry.”

He cleared his throat and patted her arm. “Ah, come on, Hawke, don’t do that. Your tears will freeze on your face.”

She gave a shaky little laugh and kissed the top of his head, and Fenris watched them with an ache behind his sternum. He felt rather stupid now for not realizing that Varric had probably missed them — especially Hawke — during their two years in hiding. Hawke wasn’t the only one who considered their Kirkwall group to be family, after all.

Varric looked up and met his eye, and Fenris grimaced and shrugged helplessly, uncertain what to say. They continued their trek toward Suledin Keep in an increasingly awkward silence.

Thankfully — or perhaps not so thankfully — Dorian broke the silence. “I’m sorry, but is no one going to protest the fact that Hawke is essentially robbing Blackwall of his coin?”

Blackwall raised his eyebrows. “Since when do you care about me getting robbed?”

“Since it means you have less coin for personal hygiene products, of course,” Dorian said disdainfully. He shot Hawke a pleading look. “At least use some of that coin to buy him some soap. Consider this a heartfelt plea.”

Blackwall grunted. “You know, some of us have better things to do than spend hours preening in front of the mirror like pompous prats.”

“That’s true,” Dorian said. “Like rolling around in the stables with the other hairy beasts. That is what you’ve been doing, yes? That’s certainly what it smells like.”

Blackwall scowled, but Hawke turned to Dorian before Blackwall could reply. “I didn’t hear you complaining about bodily smells when you were talking to Bull the other day.”

For a split second, Dorian’s eyes went wide — tellingly wide. Then he flicked some snow from his collar. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Hawke cackled and skipped over to him. “You know exactly what I mean. And if you didn’t want anyone to know about you and Bull, maybe you shouldn’t have been talking about it so loudly right in the middle of the courtyard.”

“Wait,” Blackwall said. He stared at Dorian. “You and Bull are canoodling?”

Dorian wrinkled his nose. “Canoodling? Oh, my. I didn’t realize you were a prissy octogenarian. Shall we buy you a cane during the next trip to Val Royeaux?”

Blackwall grunted, but Varric grinned. “I don’t hear a denial there, Sparkler.”

Hawke snickered and elbowed Dorian. “Me neither.”

“Vishante kaffas,” Dorian muttered. He shot them a resentful look. “For such a large castle, there’s certainly no privacy to be had at Skyhold.”

Hawke tutted and linked her arm with Dorian’s. “Oh come now, Dorian, we gossip about everyone. Why should you be exempt?”

“My dear Hawke, we gossip in private,” Dorian retorted. “If we’re talking publicly about everyone’s sex lives, let’s talk about yours and Fenris’s.”

“No,” Fenris said loudly.

Hawke tutted again. “Fine, fine. You’ll dish in private, then? Later?” She gazed imploringly at Dorian.

He rolled his eyes. “You really are an intractable pervert. I don’t know how Fenris copes with you.” He gave her a mocking look. “Should I draw diagrams for you? Would that be sufficiently entertaining?”

“Ooh, yes,” she said with relish. “I’ve been looking for some good reading material. I’ve run out of Randy Dowagers to read.”

“If you’re looking for something smutty, you can always ask Cassandra,” Varric said. “Maybe she’ll lend you the chapters I wrote her if you ask her really nicely.”

Hawke whipped around to look at him with wide eyes. “You wrote smut? Already? Aren’t you only about three chapters in?”

“Five, actually,” Varric said. “I found some time before we left Skyhold.”

Hawke whistled and released Dorian’s arm. “Good on you. All right, you’ve got my attention. Tell me more.”

Varric and Hawke sank into a discussion of Varric’s writing, and Dorian breathed a soft sigh of relief. He and Fenris walked side-by-side in silence for some time.

“Is it serious?” Fenris said quietly.

Dorian groaned. “Oh, not you too. You’re as bad as your wife.”

Fenris shrugged. “Fair enough.” He said nothing more.

A minute later, Dorian spoke again, very quietly. “I don’t know what it is. It’s only happened twice.” There was a brief, pregnant pause. “All right, fine, three times.”

Fenris nodded an acknowledgment. “Are you happy when you’re together?”

Dorian shot Fenris an odd look, almost as though Fenris was trying to trick him. Then he scoffed. “I can just imagine the stories everyone will tell. The evil Vint magister and the big boorish qunari taking over Thedas one sordid sexcapade at a time. The rumours will be worse than the ones they were making up about you and me.”

It didn’t escape Fenris’s notice that Dorian hadn’t answered his question. “They don’t know you. Ignorant tongues speak nothing of value,” he told Dorian. “You know that.” He thought of Hawke and the way she’d always defiantly faced down anyone who disdained her for mating with a knife-ear.

“Ah, Fenris. So innocent about the weight of a good rumour,” Dorian said playfully. “Or a bad rumour, I should say. I do enjoy your naiveté in this, it’s one of your most endearing traits.”

Fenris narrowed his eyes. “Do not mistake my words for naiveté. I know whose opinion matters and whose doesn’t. Do you?”

Dorian raised an eyebrow, then looked away. They walked in silence for another minute. Then Dorian shrugged and smirked. “Maybe I am happy. Or maybe I’m entirely mad. Happiness and madness can be so difficult to distinguish, can’t they? They’re both accompanied by such a lovely little state of euphoria.”

He was deflecting, exactly as Hawke did when she was disturbed by something. Fenris glanced at him, then reluctantly switched to Tevene. “It is difficult,” he said. “Liking someone that you thought you should hate on principle.”

Dorian raised his eyebrows at the language change, then chuckled. “Charming though these overtures may be, you don’t have to butter me up. We’re already friends.”

Fenris gave him a serious look. Finally, at long last, Dorian’s shit-eating smile slowly faded.

“You don’t think this is just a foolish lark, then?” he said. “Dorian Pavus going off and pulling another shameless act of debauchery?”

Fenris gazed at him in exasperation. “When have I ever accused you of debauchery? Arrogance, perhaps. Being smug, perhaps. Having overly coiffed hair—”

“I knew you liked something about me,” Dorian quipped.

Fenris ignored him. “Do you think it’s a foolish lark?”

“I don’t know,” Dorian snapped. He took a deep breath and started twisting one of his gold rings around his finger. “I… I don’t know. Maybe it’s not a lark. I haven’t… been with anyone since leaving home.”

Fenris shrugged. “For that reason alone, perhaps it is a good thing. A way to break from the chains that Tevinter society placed on you.”

They walked quietly for another minute. Then Fenris spoke again, this time in the common tongue. “I hope you can trust him. He is still a qunari spy.”

“Fasta vass. I knew you didn’t approve,” Dorian complained.

Fenris frowned. “That is not what I said. And why do you care if I approve?”

Dorian stared at him in exasperation. “Do you even listen to a word out of your own perfectly pouty mouth?” He put on a mocking baritone voice. “‘Rely on the instincts of the people you trust. Know whose opinion matters.’ And then you go and ask why I care what you think.” He snorted and continued to fight his way through the knee-deep snow.

Fenris doggedly strode through the snow beside him. “You want my opinion.”

“And finally the Inquisitor catches on,” Dorian said waspishly.

Fenris bit back his irritation. “My opinion is this. You should trust your own instincts. I am not your father,” he said severely. “I am not going to place judgement on whom you lie with. Just be careful.”

Dorian pressed his lips together and didn’t speak. After a moment of tense silence, he sighed. “Thank you. I… I appreciate your concern. Truly.”

Fenris shrugged and didn’t look at him. “Thank me by not drawing diagrams for Hawke. I do not want to see them tacked on the wall of our bedroom.”

Dorian grinned at him. “And why would she tack them on the wall of your bedroom, pray tell? Inspiration, perhaps?” He gasped playfully. “Are we about to gossip about your sex life after all?”

Fenris snorted in disgust. “I regret saying anything.” He turned on his heel and started to return to Hawke and Varric.

“We’ll pick up this discussion later, then!” Dorian called after him. “Perhaps over tea and those little frilly cakes that Solas is so partial to.”

Fenris ignored him. A moment later, however, the distinctive sounds of clashing swords reached his ears, followed by the distinctive roar of a rage demon.

He whipped around to look. Suledin Keep was less than a hundred paces away, and a lone blond figure was valiantly fighting two red Templars and a handful of demons.

“Shit,” Hawke said.

“That’s the chevalier guy,” Varric said. “Michel.”

“Let’s move,” Fenris snapped, and they bolted toward the entry to the Keep.

A few minutes later, the red Templars were dead and the demons were scattered to the wind, and Fenris and their party were catching their breath along with the lone chevalier.

“Herald,” he said. He bowed quickly to Fenris. “Your efforts at the quarry have not gone unnoticed. The demon Imshael sent a pack of shades to Sahrnia. I must go back and defend the villagers. Please, destroy Imshael before he escapes.” Without waiting for a response, Michel sheathed his sword and bolted away – but not before doing a quizzical double-take at Blackwall.

Hawke raised an eyebrow at Michel’s departing back, then turned to Blackwall. “That was odd. Do you know him?”

“No,” Blackwall said brusquely. He nodded toward the Keep. “Let’s stop this demon.”

Fenris nodded agreement, and they began to make their way carefully through Suledin Keep. The fortress was enormous and the potential threat of enemy numbers was great, so they moved as silently as they could through the snow and stuck to corners and shadows to retain the element of surprise.

The steady trickle of Templars they encountered were easy enough to ambush. But when they reached the cages containing the red lyrium-infested corpses of giants, they all took pause.

“Maker’s balls,” Hawke breathed. She peered into the cage. “Poor bastards.”

“Poor them?” Dorian said archly. “Poor us, I say, if these mad Templars managed to tweak their red lyrium recipe properly.” He grimaced as he studied the grisly corpses.

Varric, meanwhile, was standing some distance away from the cages. “Careful, Hawke,” he said tensely. “Don’t get too close to that stuff.”

“It’s all right, Varric,” she said soothingly. “We all have our charms from Dagna. We’re safe.”

“Not entirely safe,” Fenris reminded her. “It is still as toxic as regular lyrium.” He walked over to her and gently took her arm. “Come. Varric is right. We should move on.”

They moved away from the cages and through another snow-encrusted arch, and Dorian wilted in dismay. “Kaffas. Of course.”

Thirty paces away, a giant was stomping around and blocking the path ahead. Red crystals were sprouting from its shoulders and back, and there were three red Templars standing guard around it.

They crowded back against the wall out of sight. “Fuck,” Hawke muttered. “How did they tame it? I thought giants were really wild.”

“It’s a good question,” Dorian whispered. “You would think the red lyrium would render it wilder than usual.”

Fenris shook his head. “Red lyrium sickens them. That’s what all the notes we found have said. Sicken them slightly to make them more compliant, while also making them stronger…”

Blackwall furrowed his brow. “That makes no sense.”

“Since when does any of this shit make sense?” Varric muttered.

Fenris huffed in agreement. He could only hope the Inquisition’s mages would have more information on lyrium when they next returned to Skyhold. “In any case, we must move on.” He looked around at their little group. “We all know what to do.”

They murmured assent, and Fenris quickly squeezed Hawke’s hand before leading her quietly toward the giant by skirting the sides of the castle walls. Once they were all in position, Fenris nodded to Hawke and Dorian.

Two rings of flame erupted around the Templars and the giant, and the frozen air was rent with the sounds of anguished screams and angered roaring. The warm tingle of Hawke’s barrier settled over Fenris’s shoulders, and he bolted toward the Templars while Blackwall ran at the giant with a battle cry.

The red Templars were dispatched without too much fuss; their combat style was relatively predictable, especially after studying their strategies while decimating their operations in the quarry, and it was a simple enough matter for Fenris and Varric to kill the Templars without further magical help.

The giant, however, was another matter. After several long, gruelling minutes of combat, its flesh was crackling with burns and wet with blood from Fenris and Blackwall’s strikes, but it was still roaring and flailing its long arms as though it had hardly been harmed.

“Damn, it’s strong,” Varric panted. He loaded three more bolts into his crossbow and scowled up at the enormous creature. “What are we supposed to do?”

“Let’s hamstring it,” Blackwall shouted. “Get it on its knees, then bash its sorry head.”

“Try it,” Fenris yelled. It was as good a plan as any; sheer brute force was clearly not working.

Unfortunately, before they could enact the plan, the giant grabbed an enormous boulder and lifted it overhead, then turned toward Hawke and Blackwall with a roar.

Fenris’s stomach lurched in horror, and he bolted toward them. But just before the boulder came smashing down, Hawke thrust her hand toward the giant and clenched her fist.

The giant froze, entrapped in a cage of blazing white light. “Got you,” she hissed through clenched teeth. “Dorian, hamstring the fucking thing.”

Dorian swung his staff in a lashing motion, and a bladelike projectile of ice slashed through the backs of the giant’s thighs straight to the bone.

Hawke lowered her hand, breaking the cage of light, and the giant fell to its knees with a shriek of agony. With a roar of battle rage, Fenris slammed his blade into the beast’s skull.

He and Blackwall hacked at the giant’s head and neck until it finally fell facefirst into the snow with a thundering crash. For a moment, they stood in shocked silence catching their breath and staring at the giant’s bleeding body.

Fenris trudged over to Hawke’s side, then unstrapped a bottle of lyrium solution from her belt and removed the cap. He silently handed her the bottle, and she took it with a nod and drank it down.

She wiped her mouth and placed the empty bottle back on her belt, then smiled at him. “That was fun. Let’s never do that again, shall we?”

He managed a half-smile as he studied her face. Her lips were turning blue and her normally-golden skin was bleached from the cold, but she looked strong enough despite using her most mana-sapping spell.

He forced himself to breathe normally. “And you said we never go anywhere fun,” he drawled.

“I believe that was me,” Dorian put in. “And it’s true. You never bring me anywhere fun.” He adopted a mocking voice. “‘Oh, the coldest place in all of Thedas, where red lyrium crystals compete for territory with human-sized pillars of ice. You know who would adore such a place? Dorian.’” He disdainfully rearranged his dishevelled hair.

Fenris cast him an exasperated look as he helped Hawke to step over the giant’s body. “Do you want to come on these trips or not? It would not be difficult to leave you behind.”

“Wouldn’t that be a relief,” Blackwall said acidly.

Dorian shot them an affronted look. “What, and deprive you of my scintillating insights and intelligent badinage? Perish the thought.”

Varric chuckled weakly and patted Fenris’s elbow. “Come on, let’s get this party moving. This fortress doesn’t seem like it’s gonna clear itself, unfortunately.”

And so it was a weary party that continued the foray through the keep. They moved more cautiously than before, wary of conserving their energy and mana; Fenris was quite sure the showdown with the demon would be a significant trial, based on what Michel had told them back at Sahrnia when they’d first arrived in Emprise du Lion a few days ago.

Unfortunately, the path through the enormous keep only became more populated with enemies, including one more giant and a number of large demons. By the time they had nearly reached the top of the tower, all of them were bloodied — albeit healed thanks to Hawke — and Hawke was down to her last lyrium potion.

She blew out an angry breath and glared at the faintly steaming piles of ichor that had been a rage demon just a few minutes ago. “All right, I’ve had enough of this. Let’s kill this fucking Imshael thing already so I can find a hot bath.”

She was shivering, and Fenris wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or exhaustion. He unclipped his cloak and draped it around her shoulders.

She shook her head and tried to brush him off. “No, I don’t need it—”

“It hinders my movement,” Fenris said. It was only a small lie; it did hinder him a bit, but that hardly mattered when he was able to skate along the edge of the Fade with his lyrium tattoos. “Keep it for me.”

She frowned at him, then blew out a sharp breath. “All right. Fine. Let’s go, shall we?”

Fenris quashed a jolt of worry in his gut. If she was giving in so quickly, she must be more tired than she looked.

They moved toward the door, and Fenris surreptitiously took her hand. “Stay far back,” he murmured to her. “Be cautious, Hawke.”

“I know, I know,” she said. She squeezed his hand in turn. “No running in headfirst, I promise. I’ve got your back.”

He nodded and bit his tongue to stop himself from nagging her any further. Then Dorian appeared at her other side.

“My gift to you,” he said, and he offered her a bottle of lyrium.

She frowned and pushed it back at him. “Dorian, come off of it. You need that.”

“You’ve been doing all the healing, if you didn’t notice,” Dorian said. “Take the bottle, please. It’s not very tasty, I know, but I can guarantee the next one I give you will be full of brandy.”

She rolled her eyes and took the small bottle from him. “Well, when you put it that way, how can I refuse?”

Fenris met Dorian’s eyes and nodded his thanks, and Dorian smiled faintly at him before stepping forward and pushing open the enormous double doors to the tower.

The moment they stepped through the doors, a smug, smooth voice addressed them. “Ah, the hero arrives. Wearing the marks of the ancient warriors, no less. But is it hero, or murderer? It’s so hard to tell.”

The speaker was a man: a rather nondescript, middle-aged man wearing a fine black coat and fine black shoes with tidy silver buckles.

Fenris narrowed his eyes. Imshael may have taken the form of a man, but his taunts reminded Fenris all too clearly of the Nightmare.

“Demon,” he spat.

Imshael’s pleasant smile hardened. “Choice spirit,” he corrected.

Hawke snorted. “Spirit, demon… either way, you’re a complete asshole.” She pulled her staff from her back.

Imshael held up a finger. “Wait, wait!” he said. He looked at Fenris. “These are your friends? They’re very violent. It’s worrying.” He folded his hands behind his back. “True to my name, I will show you that you have a choice. It doesn’t always have to end in blood.”

“Not always, no,” Fenris said. “In this case, yes.” He unsheathed his greatsword.

Imshael’s smile twisted into a snarl. “Fine,” he said. “If you won’t be smart, be afraid.” He suddenly burst into a huge and hideous rage demon.

Hawke’s barrier fell over Fenris’s shoulders, and it was more comforting than any cloak. Three of Varric’s bolts struck the demon’s face in quick succession, and then Fenris and Blackwall were hacking at the demon’s body with all their strength.

As promised, Hawke stood back and maintained a steady barrier over all of them while they attacked the demon. Dorian coated the creature with ice, rendering it brittle for their sword and arrow strikes, and the poison from Varric’s arrows withered the demon’s lava-liked flesh.

Just when Fenris was sure that Imshael was beaten, he let out an unpleasant cackle of a laugh, then transformed into the largest demon of pride that they’d ever seen.

“Maker’s balls,” Blackwall swore. Then he and Fenris dodged away from the lashing of Imshael’s lightning-laced whips.

The fight continued for an improbably long time. Imshael continued taunting them and changing forms, and each form he took seemed to lose some portion of the damage they’d inflicted.

The demon backhanded Blackwall across the face, sending him sprawling to the ground, then laughed again. “Where’s that Michel, hmm? Afraid of another disastrous blunder, so he sends you to do his dirty work? A clever choice, that. Maybe I underestimated him… hah. I do amuse myself sometimes.” Imshael chuckled unpleasantly, then snarled as Fenris cleaved straight through his left leg.

“Vishante kaffas,” Fenris spat. “I’ll paint these stones with your vile blood, demon.”

“Choice. Spirit,” Imshael hissed. “Allow me offer you another one.” He phased across the ichor-and-ice-spattered ground, then grabbed Hawke by the throat and hauled her off her feet.

“Hawke!” Varric shouted.

“Release her!” Fenris roared. Hawke was gripping Imshael’s scaly arm for support, and Fenris’s heart was beating a panicked staccato in his ears.

“Gladly,” Imshael said. “If you give me the anchor on your hand.”

Imshael knew how to remove the mark? For an instant, the shock rendered Fenris breathless.

He took a step toward Hawke, then stopped when Imshael squeezed Hawke’s throat more tightly. “Ah-ah-ah. You have to make a choice. Either you give me the anchor, or she dies.”

Hawke was staring at him with wide eyes. Her face was going red, and her kicking was growing weaker.

“Fine,” Fenris blurted. “The anchor is yours. It is a curse. I never wanted it.”

Dorian and Blackwall exclaimed in surprise, and Imshael’s monstrous face twisted into a grin. “And the hero throws aside his purpose!” he crowed. “How disappointing. For your friends there, I mean.” He held out one grotesquely clawed hand. “Now let’s have a look at that pretty palm of yours.”

Fenris approached the demon, his eyes fixed on Hawke’s reddening face.

“Wait a minute,” Dorian protested. “Imshael, let’s — let’s talk about this. What other options—”

“Too late, Tevinter princeling,” Imshael said. “The grand Inquisitor has made his choice.”

Fenris ignored them. When he was within reach of the demon, he held out his crackling left hand.

Imshael chuckled — an evil, guttural sound. Just as Imshael was about to touch his hand, Fenris nodded surreptitiously to Hawke.

She twisted her fist in a wrenching motion. A blazing cage of white light appeared around the demon, making him scream with rage, and Hawke fell to a heap on the ground.

Her right hand was outstretched to maintain the cage. She looked up at Fenris with bloodshot eyes. “Do it,” she rasped.

Without another moment’s hesitation, Fenris flung his snapping left palm at the cage of light, and an enormous burst of pure rift magic exploded from his palm and bloomed violently inside of the cage, encapsulating the demon completely.

A horrendous, furious scream of pain and fury emanated from the cage. Fenris gritted his teeth and held the cloud of magic in place until the screaming died away, then clenched his fist shut and released his breath.

The demon was destroyed, nothing more than a breath of ash that was swiftly dissipating into the frigid wind. Fenris fell to his knees beside Hawke, who was hunched on the icy ground.

Blackwall, Dorian and Varric ran over to join them, but Fenris ignored them. “Hawke,” he said. He rubbed her arms, then cupped her cold cheek in his trembling palm. “Rynne, look at me.”

She lifted her face and smiled at him. She looked absolutely exhausted. “Hey, handsome. Are you a choice spirit? Because you take my breath away.” She laughed feebly, then broke into a hacking cough.

Fenris pulled her into his arms and buried his face against her ear. “You are an idiot,” he whispered.

She took a slow, rasping breath. “Only for you, Fenris,” she said. “Only for you.”

He swallowed hard and tucked his cloak more securely around her body. Varric patted his shoulder. “That was some fast thinking, you guys. Nice work.”

“You knew they were going to do that?” Blackwall asked Varric in surprise.

Varric shrugged. “Ah, I saw them staring at each other. They’ve got that sappy married couple’s mind-reading thing going on.”

Fenris didn’t respond. Varric wasn’t completely wrong; Hawke’s gaze had darted to the snapping magic building in his left hand, so he’d figured out what she was thinking. But in that split second, that terrifying instant when Imshael had tightened his monstrous fingers around her throat…

Fenris would have given Imshael the anchor to free Hawke from his grasp. He would have done it.

He pressed his face to her hair and inhaled her sandalwood scent. Then Varric patted his shoulder again. “Come on, we should get her somewhere warm. A tent and a few blankets at least.”

Fenris nodded. “We’ll set up camp here,” he said. He glanced around at the blood-and-ichor-stained paving stones. “Not right here,” he corrected, “but somewhere close by. I don’t want to move her too far.”

“I’m fine, honestly,” Hawke said. She tried to push herself out of Fenris’s embrace. “I can walk. We can go back to the nearest Inquisition camp.”

Her voice was hoarse and weak. Fenris tightened his arms around her. “No,” he said. “We remain here until the morning.” He looked at Blackwall, who had a livid bruise swelling across his right cheek. “Find an Inquisition runner; let them know that Suledin Keep is ours. Have them send a healer.”

Hawke tutted. “Come on, Fenris, I don’t need a healer—”

“Right away,” Blackwall said, and he marched away in the direction of the keep’s entrance. Varric and Dorian, meanwhile, had gone off to find a spot to set up for the night, leaving Fenris and Hawke alone.

He carefully arranged the fur-lined hood of his cloak over her hair, and she gave him an exasperated look. “You don’t need to coddle me. Just give me some elfroot and I’ll be grand.”

“You are close to being overextended,” Fenris scolded. “Don’t take me for a fool. I know the signs by now. I will not take any chances with your life.” He pulled a bottle of lyrium potion from her pouch belt and handed it to her, then brushed her spiky bangs out of her eyes.

She reached up and took his hand. “Hey,” she said. “I’m fine. I’ve rubbed elbows with death way more closely than this—”

“Don’t,” he snapped. “Don’t talk like that.”

She raised her eyebrows, then feebly shifted in his arms so she was sitting up in his lap. “What’s going on? What’s the matter?”

He took two deep, slow breaths before answering her. “I… I was ready to give the mark to the demon,” he admitted. “I was ready to trade the mark for your life.”

She gazed at him in silence for a moment. Then she stroked his neck with her cold fingers. “You didn’t, though. It didn’t come to that.”

“But I would have,” he said. He ran a hand through his hair. “I — the Inquisition — Hawke, I did not even consider it. It was the last thing on my mind—”

She cupped his cheek in her palm. “You think I would have done differently?” she said. “Fenris, I… Maker fucking knows I would do the same for you.”

He swallowed hard. “What does that say about us?”

“What do you mean?” she said. Then she grinned. “Wait. Don’t tell me Blackwall’s existential crisis is rubbing off on you.”

He scoffed and rubbed his hair again. “Perhaps. He… they… there is no plan,” he said very quietly. “Even Varric thought that was planned. How we defeated Imshael. That was not planned.”

“No, it wasn’t,” she said. “But it was a little bit awesome, right? I mean, come on. We tricked a really powerful demon. Sorry, ‘choice spirit’.” She snickered mockingly, then shrugged. “Maybe we really can read each other’s minds.”

Fenris gave her a chiding look. “I am being serious. They think… I am not what they think,” he said. “The Inquisitor should be someone who is committed to the Inquisition. Someone like Cassandra.”

Hawke shrugged. “I disagree,” she said. “It should be someone like you who has a life outside of the Inquisition. Someone who knows what it’s like to not be in the Inquisition and remembers what we’re even doing all this shitty fighting for.” She made a little face. “Can you imagine having no life beyond the Inquisition? It would be pretty fucking sad, I think.”

He idly ran his thumb over her knuckles. Perhaps she was right. Perhaps he was just trying to find an excuse to shunt this responsibility off on someone else.

Perhaps he just needed some rest.

He sighed. “Come on, Hawke, let’s get you into a bedroll.” He carefully scooped her up and rose to his feet.

She tutted, but draped her arms around his neck nevertheless. “You know, I really can walk, but you’re so dreamy that I’m not going to complain.”

He huffed. “That would make it a first for this trip.”

She chuckled hoarsely. Then Varric called out to them. “Hey, you guys probably want to come over here.”

Fenris frowned slightly, then carried Hawke over to the most north-facing balcony of the keep where Varric and Dorian were standing over a half-dead red Templar.

Fenris raised his eyebrows and gently set Hawke on her feet. “Why have we not put him out of his misery?” he asked.

Varric jerked his head at the Templar. “Just listen.”

The red Templar was muttering to himself. “A garden needs a gardener. Nurturing, gentle hands, directing the change,” he said hazily. “Not too fast, not too slow. Just right. Has to be just right.”

Hawke frowned. “He sounds like that note we found in the cellar here.”

“A red lyrium gardener: how very macabre.” Dorian’s face was serious despite his flippant words. He looked at Fenris with a frown. “It makes sense, however. The red Templars we encountered here were far more cognizant than the first ones we encountered in Haven. Whatever the demon was doing here to slow the mental decay, it was working.” He eyed the dying red Templar with a mixture of pity and distaste. “Fortunate we stopped that Imshael fellow before they refined their technique any further.”

Varric grunted. “Yeah. Every bit of red lyrium we get rid of is a good thing.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Hawke said. She gestured at the red Templar, who was still muttering to himself. “Are we going to end this poor sod’s suffering, then?”

“Yes,” Fenris said. He removed a short knife from his belt, then knelt and quickly slashed the Templar’s throat. A moment later, the man released a sigh of relief as he died.

They stood silently for a moment. Then Fenris placed a hand at the centre of Hawke’s back. “Come. Let’s rest. We should be set out for Skyhold in the morning.”

They returned to the spot that Dorian had magically cleared for their tents, and Dorian lit a fire with a wave of his hand while Varric and Fenris set up their tents. Hawke sat by the fire and began unpacking some simple camping rations.

“So let me get this straight,” she said as she handed Dorian a piece of oat bread. “Dwarves mine regular lyrium from the deep roads, but red lyrium just… grows bloody everywhere on everyone and everything?”

“Red lyrium came from the Deep Roads too, though,” Varric said. “I mean, who knows who made the idol, but we got it from the Deep Roads.” He sighed.

Hawke frowned sympathetically at him. “The idol can’t have been the only piece of red lyrium,” she reasoned. “It’s not where Corypheus got his stock from, because the idol’s still in Kirkwall with creepy statue Meredith, right? He must have gotten his red lyrium from somewhere else. Before he started farming it, at least.”

Fenris knew why she was saying this to Varric: Varric felt guilty about the role that red lyrium was playing in their current troubles, even though Bartrand had been the one to spearhead their journey to the Deep Roads all those years ago, not to mention who had brought the idol into Kirkwall in the first place.

Varric wryly raised one eyebrow. “That’s not exactly comforting. To think there’s a vein of red lyrium somewhere that Corypheus is mining?”

Dorian stroked his mustache slowly. “Why grow it if they can mine it, though?”

“Growing is way more efficient,” Varric said darkly. “I mean, think about it. Who’d want to go mining in the Deep Roads when you can just harvest it from people’s bodies?”

Hawke and Dorian grimaced. “Such a charming thought,” Dorian said. “I may vomit.”

Fenris and Varric joined them at the fire, and Fenris handed Hawke a vial of elfroot potion. “It puzzles me that red lyrium can grow in the first place,” he said. “It’s a mineral that must be mined. How is it possible that it grows?”

Hawke sipped her elfroot. “That’s true,” she said slowly. “Minerals crystallize. So maybe it’s just a form of… exaggerated crystallization?” She grimaced doubtfully.

Varric and Fenris shrugged. Then Dorian spoke up. “Well, we keep saying people are infected with red lyrium. Maybe that’s really what it is: an infection. A parasite.”

“A parasitic mineral?” Hawke said.

Varric sighed. “As if shit wasn’t weird enough already.”

Fenris twisted his lips ruefully. He had to agree with Varric. It was hard enough trying to fathom the nature of regular lyrium without the red kind making matters more complicated.

He stared moodily at the white lines on his palm. For years he’d thought himself cursed by the tattoos that twisted and twined around his limbs. He’d become a bit more comfortable with the lyrium marks over the past few years, but with all these disturbing new questions, combined with what Solas had said about his erstwhile magic being held captive in the lyrium lines that marred his skin…

He glared at the livid white lines on his palm. Then Hawke gently placed a piece of oat bread in his open hand.

He looked up at her, and she smiled. “Eat,” she said softly. “I’m not the only one who’s tired after all that fighting.”

He closed his fingers over the bread and nodded. She handed some bread to Varric too, then took a bite of her own bread. “I don’t know about you fellows, but I could eat an entire pot of stew right about now.”

“Mm,” Varric agreed through a mouthful of bread. “Don’t remind me. I’d even eat the stew they made at the Hanged Man as long as it was hot.”

Fenris snorted. “You’re fooling no one with that remark. We know you enjoyed the Hanged Man’s mystery stew.” He took a small bite of his bread.

“‘Tolerating until your taste buds go numb’ isn’t the same as ‘enjoying’,” Varric drawled. “Either way, I’d eat it.”

“I have to agree,” Dorian said. “Anything as long as it was hot. Kaffas, I would even drink mulled wine right now.”

Varric raised his eyebrows. “You don’t like mulled wine? I thought you Tevinters loved your wine.”

“Oh, do we ever,” Dorian said with relish. “Hence why those with discerning tastes—”

“Privileged tastes,” Fenris put in.

“–don’t drink mulled wine,” Dorian finished while blithely ignoring him. “I can’t quite fathom the logic behind mulled wine. ‘Ah yes, let’s take every bottle of wine in a ten-metre radius and dump it in a pot with a box of random spices. How delicious!’” He shuddered dramatically. “It’s truly one of the most ghastly discoveries I’ve made in the south.”

Fenris scoffed and took another bite of bread. Dorian raised his eyebrows. “Oh, don’t even try and pretend you enjoy mulled wine.”

Fenris swallowed his bread. “No,” he admitted. “But that doesn’t mean–”

Dorian laughed loudly. “Ah, be careful, my friend. Your true colours are showing.”

Fenris huffed. “I don’t like it, but I would still drink it.”

“So would I,” Dorian said archly. “That’s the point. Desperate times, desperate drinks.” He raised an eyebrow. “Speaking of which, did none of us bring any alcohol? How terribly remiss.”

Hawke pointed accusingly at him. “You promised me a bottle of brandy. I intend to collect on that promise.”

“Yes, all right,” Dorian said patiently. “The moment we return to Skyhold, I will positively drown you in brandy.”

Hawke grinned, and Fenris shook his head in dismay. “Don’t encourage her.”

“I’m tempted to encourage her just to watch her run you ragged,” Dorian teased.

Hawke and Varric chuckled, and Fenris ruefully shook his head, and for a time they sat by the fire simply chatting and eating their bread. Hawke leaned companionably into Fenris’s arm, then eventually rested her cheek against his shoulder. When she fell quiet, listening and laughing instead of making her usual cheeky remarks, Fenris patted her knee.

“Come,” he said. “Let’s get some sleep.”

She nodded, and they bade Varric and Dorian a good night and walked over to their tent.

Hawke crouched and peered into the tent, then grimaced. “Ugh, it’s so fucking cold. Hang on out here for a moment.” She crawled into the tent and tucked the flap shut. A second later, a dim orange glow filtered through the cracks in the tent flap.

Fenris waited patiently as she shuffled around in the tent. A few minutes later, she called out in a muffled voice. “All right, come in. Quickly!”

He knelt and crawled into the tent. The inside of the tent was tangibly warmer than outside thanks to a tiny glowing fireball hovering near the top of the tent. Hawke was already bundled in their bedding, tucked in so securely he could barely see her face.

A burst of fondness filled his chest. He began pulling off his armour. “You’re certain this flame doesn’t draw too much energy?”

“It’s fine,” she said. “I’ll put it out once you get in here with me.”

Her tone was playful, and Fenris noted with relief that her voice only sounded mildly raspy now — thanks to the elfroot, no doubt. He stripped down to his fur-lined leggings and thermal shirt, then slipped under the covers.

Predictably, she was naked aside from her smallclothes, and she pressed herself against his chest the moment he slid beneath the bedding. “Hey,” she complained. “You promised me skin-to-skin.”

“I didn’t, in fact,” he replied. “You were the one–” He broke off and grabbed her hands as she tried to slip them beneath his shirt, then relaxed when he realized he hands weren’t freezing.

She laughed softly and curled her arm around his waist. “I wouldn’t stick my cold hands inside your shirt. I’m not that much of a bitch.”

“You stuck your frozen fingers inside my collar the first day we got here,” he reminded her.

She laughed again. “Shit. I guess I am a bitch then.” She snuggled as close to him as possible and tucked her head beneath his chin. “Please get naked with me. I’m still cold.”

He scoffed as she tucked one knee between his legs. “You never stop, do you?”

She shook her head. “Never,” she said. “There’s no such thing as being too close to you.”

A thread of tenderness squeezed his heart. Carefully so as not to disturb her too much, he pulled his shirt off, then shuffled his leggings off with some difficulty.

Hawke helped him with the leggings, then chivvied him into lying on his back and draped herself across his body. “Better,” she whispered.

He smiled and idly ran his hand along her arm. “Yes, it is.”

She hummed happily in response. Less than a minute later, her breathing evened out into the slow and easy cadence of sleep, and the tiny fireball at the top of the tent winked out of existence.

Fenris let out a long sigh. The inside of the tent was dark aside from the dim glow of the fire where Varric, Dorian, and a returned Blackwall were sitting, and the indistinct murmuring of their voices was oddly soothing. Despite the intensity of their activity today, however, Fenris didn’t really feel tired.

He ran his palm in a careful path from Hawke’s bare shoulder to her wrist and back, and he thought about Blackwall’s words from earlier today: how the intention to protect had led Clarel astray. It was easy enough to judge Clarel after seeing the horrific blood magic rituals she’d perpetrated, but what Fenris had almost done today…

To save Hawke’s life, he’d nearly made a deal with a demon. It was something he would never have imagined himself doing, but seeing Hawke so terribly threatened had driven everything else from his mind.

Being willing to deal with demons in order to save Hawke’s life… what did that say about him? Hawke seemed to think it didn’t matter, since he hadn’t made a deal in the end. But intentions were important. Consequences were important, of course, but intentions were important too. Perhaps this meant he was no better than Merrill, with her pride demon and her cursed eluvian.

Perhaps this meant he was no better than Anders.

He mentally recoiled from the thought the moment it crossed his mind. It is not the same, he thought. He wasn’t seeking knowledge or power like Merrill or Anders.

But his motivation — to save one person at the expense of everything else — was still ultimately selfish.

Hawke shifted on his body. “This arm rubbing is nice and all, but you’re keeping me awake,” she mumbled.

“Ah,” he said. He relaxed his fingers. He hadn’t realized he was rubbing her arm quite that firmly. “I’m sorry.”

She pulled away from him slightly. “Are you all right?”

“Yes. I’m well,” he murmured. He forced his hands to stay still on her body.

After a quiet moment, she spoke again. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He nibbled the inside of his cheek. “Later, perhaps,” he said. “Get some rest.”

“All right, if you’re sure.” She nestled her cheek against his chest once more, then yawned. “I love you.”

He swallowed hard. Hawke frequently told him she loved him, but tonight it brought a lump to his throat.

“I love you,” he whispered.

She hummed contentedly, and a minute later she was asleep again.

Fenris closed his eyes and began to practice the same meditative breathing that he’d reminded Cullen to try. But even as he felt the muscles in his shoulders and his jaw loosening and relaxing, he continued to worry about intentions and consequences, and about himself and Hawke.

He and Hawke refused to be apart, and they had never hidden their willingness to protect each other at all cost. But for the first time, Fenris couldn’t help but worry how high that cost might be.

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lwtq-undertale · 5 years

Note

Hey, so I just wanted to ask how the fic has been going, its been awhile since ur last actual update of this fic? Not counting prompts and other LWTQ lore, art, extra stuff, etc., which all are cool by the way, and I hope u keep doing that kinda stuff when u can, to keep this blog more active. I was just wondering when the main Fanfic will update, no rush though, I know ur Fanfic takes awhile, esp. with the art and how u format the fanfic with the visuals & stuff. I love ur stuff. :)

Hey, you’re absolutely right, and I’m sorry I wasn’t able to keep up with the weekly updates I wanted to post each week on AO3. Thing is, on the day of my birthday the license for my drawing software expired, and I haven’t been able to draw anything since then -- which took quite a toll on how the weekly updates went. That small event in itself isn’t much (I’ll definitely buy it once and for all whenever I find the time to), but... I guess it kind of was the first trigger for what came next, and for why I stopped working on LWtQ as often as I used to.

It’s a mix of multiple smaller things going all at the same time, honestly. Studies being hard, winter coming and health issues coming along with it, IRL stuff, and in the meantime, whenever I had enough energy left not to procrastinate, I’ve simply been working on a completely different project.

I still love LWtQ and I definitely intend on finishing it, if only because of the meta and the plot. But the thing is that the completely different project I currently have in mind... It’d be something else. It’d be a 100% original story, and a pretty big one at that -- yes, even bigger than LWtQ. I’m not gonna take any position on that “Are original stories better than fanfiction?” debate because I absolutely don’t think there’s any type better than the other -- I 100% believe that LWtQ’s strength and purpose is to be a fanfic and it just wouldn’t work if it were an original work, so I’m absolutely proud of the fact that it’s a fanfic and not a thing on its own. But... It’s just that working on an original project, one in which everything from the characters to the worldbuilding has been 100% created by you only... It just doesn’t give the same feeling as using a world somebody else created, even if you twist it to your content and give it a bit of your own personality. It just feels more... rewarding? Meaningful? It just feels like I’m accomplishing something that nobody else could do -- a feeling I was already having with my fanfics to some extent, except that this time the power of that feeling is over 9000. The fact that I have a small Discord server with my closest friends where everybody is head over heels about that project and that some of them are already planning to help me complete it doesn’t really help deterring me. We’re starting to make an actual team of people motivated to make this silly VN/animated comic project work, even if it’ll take years before the first episode gets out.

Anyway. I’m NOT giving up on LWtQ -- or if I were to do that, I’d ask somebody else to write the next chapters, I’d give them all of my notes, and you’d better believe that I’d beta the heck out of their work and probably rewrite 80% of it anyway, because I’m just that attached to making that story as cool and complete as I could possibly make it with my current capabilities. I know of its potential, and I wouldn’t want that potential to be lost and forgotten for anything in the world.

It’s just... gonna take a bit of time :x I usually get my “fanfics” motivation back around January, at the beginning of Spring at the latest. I guess we’ll see if this year works the same way the previous ones have.

That being said... I’m really grateful for your comment and your concern, because it really means a lot, even if it doesn’t seem like it. And... I’m sorry. Chapter 13 was about 7500 words in the last time I checked, back in October... and it should be between 60 and 80% done plot-wise. I really hope I’ll be able to finish it sooner rather than later, but I can’t make any promises.

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queencocoakimmie · 5 years

Text

At the End of the World (Michael Langdon) Part Three

Michael Langdon x Female Reader

Word Count: +9000

Warnings: Plot heavy, Angst, death, smut, gore, violent. +18 & up

A/N: This is the finale. The final chapter of the Michael and Ava story. I’m so glad that you’ve all enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. You never know, there might be a one-shot in store for both of them in the future.

“Here at the end of the world, we are all equal in life as we are in death. Except for me. Because I can never die. My name is Ava Deschamps and I am the Queen of the Dead.”

Before the Apocalypse

“Well, well, well, I was wondering when you’d finally come back to visit.” The Countess’s voice rang out across the lobby of the Hotel Cortez. I watched as she turned in the bar stool to face me. My beautiful Countess, she is a vision in white, dripping with diamonds from head to toe. How many nights had I spent here with her in her penthouse, just the two of us? Wrapped in each other’s arms, feeding off of some poor, stupid fool.

“I just had to come and see you, mon couer, I’ve missed you,” I say slyly. She narrows her eyes at me before she resolves to listen. “Ava, I know you better than anyone, you’ve come here with a purpose. What do you want?” She sharply turns her back to me, beckoning Liz Taylor to pour her another drink.

“You think too little of me, Elizabeth,” I purr as I walk up behind her. “I’ve come to see you because I still love you, my sweet.” Her back stiffens and she throws a glance over her shoulder at me, “Lies. You’ve been with that witch all of this time, and not once did you think of me. I’ll ask you again, what do you want?”

Sighing, I sit down beside her and shake my head, “My darling, I need your help,” she sets her drink down and considers me for a moment. “Elizabeth,” I reach out and lay my hand on top of hers, “I need you.”

Her lips curved into a vicious smile, “Ava, lover, you’ll always need me. Come let us retire to my penthouse so that we may speak privately.” I waved a tepid wave at Liz and followed The Countess to the elevator.

When the doors closed, she shoved me against the wall, jerked my head to the side and bared my neck. Licking that sensitive area just below my ear lobe, she inhaled me, “You smell different, you smell more powerful.” I grinned, “Of course I do. Witch blood does wonders for the body, you should know that.” She ran the nail of her chainmail glove along my jugular vein, “I could kill you right now and no one would miss you,” she says tersely.

I flick my wrist and send her flying to the opposite wall, her eyes bulging in surprise, the glow of the light shining against the woodgrain behind her. “Tsk, tsk, tsk, mon amour, that’s not true at all,” I say as glide over to her and grab her throat. “You’d miss me entirely too much if I died. Too bad I can’t.” She moans under the pressure of my hand squeezing her neck roughly as my other hand palms her ass.

She opens her red lips to meet mine when the elevator door abruptly opens. I leave her standing there alone, breathless. I make my way to the living area and wait for her on the canapé. “You’re still such a fucking tease, Ava,” she pouts. I grin at her, flashing my sharp teeth, “I know, ma chérie. First, help me with what I need, and then…” I wave my hand in a flourish, “then we catch up.”

Walking over to the bar, she takes off her white sequined cape and throws it onto the floor. Her shoulders bare and her pale skin exposed under that slinky dress, she’s everything that I remember. She knows what she does to me and she calls ME the tease. “I know why you’re here,” the blood pouring into her glass is deafening in this quiet room.

My hunger not only for her but for her blood begins to roil in my belly. “The underworld is talking. They’re talking about the boy. You know of this, yes?” I nod my head and beg her to continue. She eyes me suspiciously, “Well, they’re all saying that he’s about to come to power soon. He’s with that group of Satanists, ran by the incessant Anton LaVey,” she rolls her eyes, “The boy has grown stronger and soon after he performs the Black Mass, within a few years’ time, it’ll be time to for the end of days.” She surveys her surroundings and closes her eyes, “When the bombs drop, my love, the Hotel will be destroyed along with everything else. Nothing will keep me tethered here.”

She picks up her skirt hem and sits beside me, baring her long pale legs to me. “What will you do, my pet? What will the all-powerful Ava Deschamps do when the end of the world comes?” I cock my head to the side and consider her words, “Countess, you know more than you’re telling me, don’t you? Why do you keep such things from me?” Her eyebrows knit together in confusion, “Ava, it seems that maybe it is you that know more than I.”

My impatience is growing, “Enough of the niceties, Elizabeth. Tell me what you’ve heard.” She leans into the canapé and exhales, “Tell me, did you love her?” I shoot her a strained look. “Did you? Did you love the Witch Supreme Cor-?” My lips tighten in a straight line and I cut her off before she can say her name, “I didn’t come here to talk about Cordelia.” She nods her head, “Your non-answer tells me that you did. That’s why you stayed away from me for so long.”

I glare at her, my anger beginning to boil over. “It’s fine Ava, really,” she swishes her hand in the air, “I’m not upset. I know that you still care for me deeply. Besides, her being the Supreme was perhaps a calculated decision on your part. Even if you believe it to have been true love. You never do anything without an exact purpose.” She stares at me directly, then her eyes lit up with realization, “if you stayed with her that long and drank from her…” she contemplates her next words carefully before changing the subject completely, “It is out of the affection that I still feel for you that I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

She trails her fingertips down my lips, “Beautiful, remarkable Ava. The strongest of us all. Even when I was alive, I was never as impressive as you.” I grab her hand tightly, “Elizabeth, stop this.” She acknowledges my disapproval and yanks her hand away, “I assume you knew that your dear old Dad made a deal with the devil, right?” I look away from her searing gaze, “Well the word is that he’s planning something else. Something far more sinister. The deal for you to be the Antichrist’s glorified bodyguard is not all that your father wants.”

“But something tells me you already know that don’t you?” she asks. I smile at her plainly, “My father wants me to keep Michael safe until we get to The Sanctuary and then I am to kill him and drain him dry, effectively absorbing his essence.” Shock colors her face, “But why?”

“To bring him back. When I become powerful enough, I will be able to resurrect him.”

She gasps, “What? What about your mother?” I shake my head, “I don’t know. I don’t think she factors into his plans. In truth, I suspect that he will kill me. Or at least try. I don’t want to think my own father is capable of such a thing, I don’t know for sure. That is why I have come to you. I need to know that what I am about to do is the right thing.” She runs her fingers through my hair and then caresses my cheek, “He doesn’t know that you were with her, does he?” I shake my head. “Then he doesn’t know how much magic you hold in your body right now.”

“My darling, even with all of that running through your veins, you need to be stronger than that to take him on.” She looks away from me, wrapping her arms around her legs, “If I know you, I know that you don’t want to kill your father or the boy, even if that’s what he’s asked of you.”

“Michael is just a child, he still has so much humanity in him. That must be preserved, Elizabeth. He must be saved.” She releases her arms and scoots in closer to me. She’s so close that I can feel her breath on my skin, “You always did have a soft spot for them. The normals.” I stare deeply into her eyes, with so many emotions swirling around inside of me, I finally tell her what I’ve come for, “I need to do an evil thing, mon couer. If I am to save Michael and go against my father, I need more power.”

“But I have none, Ava. The only ones capable of such a thing are…” She stares at me in horror, “Your family.” She discards her chainmail glove and grabs my face with both hands, “You will die. There are too many of them. Ava, they are the worst of us. The monsters that people tell stories about to frighten wayward children. If you go to France, you will die.”

“You cannot hope to defeat all of them.” I wipe away her tear and kiss her soft red lips. Memories of nights shared so long ago come flooding back to me. I wish I could stay here with her. I wish that I could bring my Cordelia here and we could all be together. But is a dream, a fantasy and I have no time for such things. “You didn’t come here for my permission or advice. You came here to say goodbye,” she whispers.

She abruptly lifts herself off of the canapé and takes my hand. “You hunger, my love, I can feel it. Let me take care of you.” With her other hand she unpins her bun and releases a cascade white blonde hair down her back. “If this is to be the last time we see each other, let’s make it worthwhile.” I follow her to the double doors leading to the bedroom and she slides them open. In the middle of the bed is a naked young man, arms and legs tied to each bedpost. When he sees her, his eyes widen in fear and tears stream down his face. His loud screams for help muffled behind the gag placed firmly in his mouth.

Her eyes flash to me and a malevolent smirk spreads across her face. I return her smile with a toothy grin, the sharp pain in my gums from my fangs elongating, make my stomach rumble.

“Dinner is served and then we shall have dessert.”

*******************************************************************************************

Michael

Much time has passed since we came here to The Sanctuary. With no guidance from my Father, life has gone on and has flourished here on the island. My new world is thriving under my rule. With my love, Ava by my side, I feel as though we are unstoppable, capable of anything that may hinder my creation.

Although lately, it seems, that she has become distant. At times unfocused, I wonder if her love for me is fading. Though she has constantly denied it, I still feel that there is a change and I daresay, it frightens me. Me. The Antichrist is frightened? Pathetic.

I received communication from The Cooperative informing me that it is time for Phase 3 to come to fruition. I am to produce an heir. My bloodline must live on. We have ways of harvesting genetic material, yes, but a woman’s womb is still needed for the process. Someone else’s womb will carry my child. Not my beloved Ava. She, being a vampire, cannot produce or carry a child. It saddens me to no end, and I must tell her this news. But I haven’t yet found the right words.

My fingers type away furiously on the laptop when my concentration is broken by shouting from the courtyard. “Sir, please, please come quick,” my assistant bursts into the room.

I dash outside to see Ava, holding a man up by his throat. Her fangs bared, the gleam in her eyes is alarming. The crowd that has gathered is yelling for her to kill the man. “What’s going on here? What has happened?”

Her eyes transfixed on the man, she yells back at me, “I caught him in the middle of trying to assault this young woman, he needs to be punished. Justice needs to be served.” She points at a girl, no more than 18 years old cowering on the ground. A woman holding her, trying desperately to cover her nearly naked body. Her clothes torn to shreds with pieces discarded onto the ground. I look at the girl, “Is this true?” She tearfully nods, “Yes, Master Langdon, he attacked me. Tried to take advantage of me,” she sobs. An older woman from the back screams, “Mercy, mercy for my son, please.”

“Mercy?” Ava spits, “A monster such as this deserves no such thing as mercy.” The woman pushes her way to the front of the group, “Master Langdon, you knew what type of man he was when you brought him here. You knew he was sick and yet you said that he was perfect for your new world.” Ava drops the man onto the ground, and glowers at me, “Michael, is this true?”

I don’t answer her, instead, I twist my hand and the man begins to scream out in pain, clawing pieces of skin and tendon out of his neck. “Hear me now. This man is condemned to immediate death. No mercy, or no court will convene to proclaim guilt or innocence. If you commit an atrocity of this kind, you will die by my hand.”

The man’s bellowing cries reverberate through the courtyard. People turn away from the gore before them as his skin begins to peel away off of the bone, it’s like boiling acid has been poured onto his body. He writhes on the ground, gasping for air, his death is a slow and painful one. I tilt my head to the right and immediately the life goes out in his eyes.

“Please, not my boy,” the woman screams out. She runs to him and Ava grabs her arms, nearly twisting them off. “You are the true monster here,” she jabs a finger into Ava’s chest. “An animal who gorges blood. You are the one who doesn’t deserve to live,” she yells and spits in Ava’s face.

With a flick of my hand, her neck twists around in an unnatural way. Her tongue falls slack to the side of her mouth, her eyes instantly vacant. What’s left of the crowd turns and runs away, horrified by my display. Ava stands there alone, holding the body of the dead woman in her arms. Her eyes widened in shock, “Why did you kill her?”

“She insulted you. No one gets to insult you and live, besides she was complicit in her son’s actions.” Her green eyes lock onto mine and I see disappointment flash behind them. She lays the woman down on the ground beside the body of the young man without uttering another word.

She leaves me there in the courtyard with my assistant, Timothy. “Sir, what do you want me to do about the bodies?” he asks. I glance back at him, “What you normally do.” He summons a group of people to clean up, but before they touch the bodies, I hold my hand up to them, “Wait.”

A few moments later, the souls of the two dead arise. They stand there in front of me, gawking, unsure of what’s happening. “What did you to us? Why am I like this?” the woman shrieks.

I break into a wide smile and close my fist tightly. They begin to burn from the inside out, their screams echoing all around us until they are nothing but ash. Now they won’t exist here or on any plane. A laugh escapes my lips.

I turn to see Ava standing there in the entryway, watching me. Her eyes narrowing, and then she turns her back and walks away. Her black hair swishing in her wake. A sick feeling in the pit of my stomach begins to grow. I fear that in the midst of all of this, I might be losing her.

Later that night, I decide to stay in my office. I know she is out hunting and needs time to clear her thoughts. Surely, she will come around and see my thinking about these things. I can sense her anger and turmoil. But I don't want to push her, she knows that if she wants to talk with me, she can. Still, I feel there is something else at play here. Something that I don’t know and I don’t like not knowing.

One thing that I’ve come to find about her is that she favors humans above all things. A creature like her, shouldn’t have such reverence for us…them. But she does and seems to think that I can be saved. I’m in no need of saving, though. I am my father’s son, after all.

She has this notion that since my mother was human, I will have some of her traits imbued in me. A residual humanity, if you will. For me, my mother was merely just a vessel for my reproduction and growth. She did not raise me, nor did she love me. Yet, Ava sees something in me that I no longer see in myself and I don’t know why.

I sit back in my chair and my thoughts travel back to the “Murder House” where I was born. The rejection of the people who were supposed to be my family still makes my blood boil. Reliving the damage causes my anger to rise deep in my chest. I try to block out the memories of their faces. They were human and to me, they were the worst kind, and Ava thinks I should emulate them?

They thought I was a monster. Much like how she sees herself. She told me once that she had done unspeakable things long ago and that she wishes she could take it all back. When I asked her about it, she simply shut herself down and refused to answer. I sense whatever it was, was so horrible that she had not yet forgiven herself for it. I don’t know if she ever will.

I see how she looks at me when she thinks I’m not looking. She sees the human that she wishes she could be. She sees the better parts of me. Until her, I thought I had no “better parts”. Ever since I was a child, I’ve been turned away, rejected and used for my gifts. Even now as I sit here, I’m only here at my father’s behest, still being used by him to carry out his plans.

A soft knock at the door snaps me out of my thoughts. “Michael? May I come in?” her beautiful voice carries through the heavy wooden door. “Of course,” I say. I drop everything for her, the work from The Cooperative, my duties, my own Father comes second place to her.

It’s amazing that a Vampire, a supernatural being, can teach me so much about the human existence. I believe that she is more mortal than I could ever be. She is so much more than a creature of the night. I would give my whole life for her.

“My love, I wish to speak with you about something,” she says walking towards me. “I thought, perhaps, you could take a moment from your work, to…chat.” I turn in my chair to face her as she comes around the desk and stands directly in front of me. Slipping her knee in between my thighs, she separates them roughly and leans forward, breasts brushing against my face. “Today was unfortunate, but in the end, I know it was necessary.”

Her lips glide down the side of my neck. Tangling her hand in my hair, she says, “You are the leader here. Our King,” Jerking my head back, she licks my earlobe, “You are my King, yes?” her voice low and breathy against the shell of my ear. I reach out and smack her ass and she jumps up from the shock of it. I flash her a sly grin and smack her again, “Yes, I am your King, and that makes you my Queen.”

She nods her head, “and as your Queen, I’m meant to serve you, yes?” I turn my head to meet my lips with hers, “Yes.”

“Well, what would you have me do, my King?” her hand trails down my chest to my growing bulge. Palming it, she repeats herself, “My King, what would you have me do?” My eyes roll back into my head as I lean back into my chair. She starts working me through my pants and renders me utterly speechless.

“Would you want me to...” I feel the zipper slide down and then feel her cold hand free my cock from its confines. “Ah, no underwear, I see you remembered,” she grinned.

I push my hips up so she can slide my pants down, my cock already throbbing once the chill of the air hits washes over it. She eyes it hungrily, her mouth watering for me. Before she can say another word, I grab my dick and shove it in between her parted lips. Gripping the back of her head, by her silky black hair, I push her face down onto my pulsating member. It hits the back of her throat with such force, she gags immediately. The sloshing sounds of her wet mouth sucking me off, send goosebumps up and down my body.

She rakes her sharp nails down my thighs, leaving trails of blood in their wake. Bobbing her head up and down on my cock, she eyes the dripping blood voraciously. She lowers her head yet again, filling her mouth completely, up to the hilt. I gasp as she deepthroats, “Fuuuuck, Ava. You see what you do to me?” She releases the suction of her mouth with an obscene pop and a long thin rivulet of spit connects her bottom lip to my dick.

She uses this saliva to pump my shaft up and down, eyes locked onto the blood streaming from my thighs. She looks up at me pleading, her green eyes blazing with lust and hunger. “Yes, Ava, go on. I know you want it.”

She laps it up, her lips ruined from sucking me off and smeared with my red fluid. “You taste so sweet, mon roi. I can never get enough.” Her mouth locking onto my thigh, drawing in my essence, her skin becomes heated from the influx of my blood.

The feeling of her hand jerking me off and her lips sucking the blood from my thigh, is like no other feeling in the world. It is what I could only imagine Heaven would be like. Heaven. My mind trails off, and a voice screams in the back of my head, “Stop her before she drains you dry. Stop her, you must.”

I grab the back of her head and yank her off my thigh. Her eyes ravenous, blood dripping from her bruised lips, “What is it, mon amour, did I hurt you?” Breathless, I shake my head slowly, my head spinning and my mind becoming fuzzy, “No, I’m…I’m fine. Please don’t stop.”

Eyes locked onto mine, her mouth replaces her hand, and she licks a straight line up my shaft. My dick is covered in saliva and blood and I feel the burn in my abdomen, I won’t last long. “Ava, I’m going to cum, please, please don’t stop.”

She smiles, and her fangs are dripping with my blood, it is a vision I will keep locked away in my memories. “I love it when you say please, Michael.” She takes me deeper into her mouth, pumping me up and down, my head slams back onto the headrest of my chair. “Fuuuckk,” I scream. My body convulses as I release into her wet mouth. She wipes her chin with the back of her hand, filthy from a mixture of both my blood and my cum. It’s a terrifyingly erotic sight.

She lifts herself up from between my legs and smooths down her velvet jacket. “Come, come with me to our place. There is something I have to tell you.” Still lost in a haze, I groggily hoist myself up and zip my pants. Not caring that my essence has stained the inside of my thighs.

“Why can’t we talk here? No one will bother us.” I point out. She shakes her head, “What I must tell you is very important and,” she pauses, “very difficult for me to share.” There is something behind her eyes, something that looks like shame.

One would think that I would be able to read her mind and mine her for information, but she is such a powerful being that her mind is closed off to me. She is capable of cloaking her thoughts. My father told me once that there are no creatures like her anymore, she is one of a kind. When he spoke of her, it almost seemed like he was enchanted by her. It made me jealous, in a way, but also proud, that this woman was mine and that she loved only me.

I followed behind her down the corridor and a terrible thought struck me. What if all of this is a ruse? That voice of doubt, in the back of my head, had been screaming at me since I first laid eyes on her, warning me to stay away. Human nature I could understand but something like her I wasn’t completely prepared for.

She sat on the couch with a serious look on her face. “Ava, what’s wrong?” She beckoned for me to sit down beside her and when I did, she took my hands in hers. The chill from her touch contrasting with the heat roaring from the fireplace. “There are some things that I have kept from you, Mon amour. If we are to be bound for all eternity, I must be completely honest with you. About everything.”

We had talked a long time ago about bonding ourselves to one another. A kind of Unholy Wedding. It would bind us together until the end of time. She explained to me then that it was too soon for us to talk of such fairytales, but maybe something had changed her mind.

I implore her to continue. “Michael, I need to tell you something but I’m afraid of how you will take it. I’m afraid of what you will do.”

I scoff at her, “Ava, I could never hurt you.” She smiles a sad smile, “Oh I know that, “I’m more afraid of your reaction. You wear your heart on your sleeve. Even being the Antichrist, your humanity rules your every emotion.” I roll my eyes growing more and more frustrated by the second. “Don’t drag this out, Ava. Tell me what’s wrong. Is it that you don’t love me? You don’t want me anymore?”

She reaches out and touches my face, “You are my only love. The one I want to spend the rest of my life with. But you need to know the ugly truth about me first.”

“After this, you might change your mind about me altogether,” she whispers. She pulls away from me and for the first time since I’ve known her, she looks unsure, almost fragile. She takes a deep breath and then begins.

“It all started when my father paid yours a visit and offered him a deal. A deal to keep you safe until you reached The Sanctuary.” I stared at her in confusion, wanting to interrupt her with questions, but she kept going. “My father promised that I would secure your future behind the scenes. Wipe out your enemies, anyone standing in your way. I would ensure that your plans were completed and carried out by those loyal to you.”

I held up my hand, “So you mean, my own Father didn’t trust that I could do it on my own?” She shook her hand, “Apparently he felt you weren’t strong enough.”

I stand up and begin to pace back and forth, “How long have you known this?” Staring into her hands, her voice trembles, For a very long time. We all knew you were coming, and I was given strict instructions to be ready.”

Anger running hot through my body, I yell, “What the fuck does your father get from making you my guardian?” She bites her lower lip, “What you have to understand is that my father has been the Devil’s favorite creature since he was born into this world. Being the direct descendant of the first of us all, Judas Iscariot seemed like a trophy to Him. If my father were to ask Him for anything, it would be given, without question. In this case, he asked for a daughter. A daughter he would later use as a bargaining chip.”

Still pacing back and forth I ask her for more clarity. She stands and walks over to the bar and pours herself a drink. The thick viscous red substance flows into the crystal glass like a waterfall. Taking a sip, she continues, “Vampyres are not supposed to be able to have children. As a matter of fact, the last pure blood birth was my mother, over 200 years ago. Our kind are cursed, you know. But because the He loved my father so much, He promised him a daughter of his own flesh and blood, with some attributes of the Devil himself.”

“What?” I say, incredulously, “My ability to walk in the daylight and transmute, those come from your father, Michael.”

I feel so angry and lost. All my life I was led to believe that I and I alone would bring about the end of days. Now I find out that, in fact, my father had a backup plan, just in case I was too weak to carry it out. “So, our union, our relationship was all built on a lie, it was built by design?”

“No. I had always known you to be beautiful and cunning but when I met you face-to-face, I knew that you were more. Underneath your ruthlessness, you were capable of compassion and love. You weren’t at all what I was led to believe.”

She walks over to me and takes my hand, her green eyes boring into mine, I try to break away from her, but I can’t, “Michael, I fell in love with you, not for who I thought you were or who you could be but what for who you are.”

She reaches up on her tiptoes to kiss me. Slow at first and then hungrily. I push her away, my emotions erratic and fraught. “How can I believe anything you’ve said?” I turn my face away from her, not wanting to see the suffering in her eyes. “Have I ever lied to you before?” she asks.

I walk to the front door, contemplating leaving her there. I’m so angry but I’m not sure who to be angrier at. Myself for being a fool? Her for being a pawn? Or my Father for using me, yet again. I choose to be angry at her, and I know it’s not fair, but I know my Father. He’s never tried to be any different than what he is. There is no love there, only a cold calculation on his part. But her, I believed her to be the better part of me. The human part, if that makes any sense. She held all of this back from me, for what purpose, to keep me in the dark? To make a fool of me?

“I understand your rage, Michael, but there is more I need to say to you. I have to leave now, only for a little bit, but I’ll be back. I just have one more task to complete.” I roll my eyes again, seething with fury, I spit out, “Fine, go. Cordelia said you always leave whenever things get too bad.”

“I don’t deserve that, Michael. You don’t have to be cruel.” Her hands reach out to touch me again, but I flinch, “Oh, but I do have to be cruel, Ava. I’m the fucking Antichrist. I’ve spent too long trying to be something that I’m not. But I’m every bit of a monster people think I am. Every bit of the monster you are.”

She exhales an exasperated breath, and tears fill her eyes, “Is that what you think you are? Is that what you think I am?” I stand there and watch she wipes away her tears. I open my mouth to respond, but she raises her hand to stop me. “I’ve written you a letter, explaining why I’ve chosen to leave and what I am going to do. Everything I have done, has been for you. It’s always been for you.” In the blink of an eye, she was gone, left without a trace.

I scream out of anguish and outrage, “How could she have done this to me? Why has she done this?” Spit flying out of my mouth, my hair whipping wild over my head. The room swirls in a tornado of books and furniture. Pieces of sculptures careened off of the floor and paintings have torn off the walls. All I can hear is her voice telling me she loves me, and that she would die for me. She would die for me.

She…would…die…for…me

Realization hits me like a ton of bricks. Wait, where did she say she was going? I rush to the bedroom and rip open the drawer to her dressing table. Located neatly next to her silver hairbrush is an envelope with my name on. My stomach drops and fear takes over. I lift it up gently as though it were some precious thing and I smell the faint familiar scent of roses, her scent. I open the letter cautiously and carefully not wanting to disturb her precise creases.

My Dearest Michael,

I’m writing to you, to tell you that I have one last duty to perform. My father bargained away my life, so that I may in turn save his. The deal between our fathers was made to keep you in power until your reign began at The Sanctuary. But Etienne, had other plans. He explained to me that once you were safe behind Sanctuary walls, I was to drain you dry, stripping you of your powers, your life, and your soul.

With your vitality flowing through my veins, I would be able to venture into Hell and bring him back. He would rule The Sanctuary in your stead. I can only assume that action would seal my own fate. I would be nothing more to him than discarded trash. Used and thrown away, like many before me, I know that he would eventually take my power and kill me.

But as always, I too have a strategy. Years before the Apocalypse, I did a terrible thing in preparation for the inevitable. After years of blood-taking from Cordelia, I had Supreme witch blood enhancing my gifts, but if I was to one day fight my own father, I would need more. I went to Paris and found my mother’s ancient family, The Moreau Clan. They were the worst evil of our kind. They killed and raped without impunity, because they were superior in every way. I came to them, wanting help at first, but ultimately, things ended badly. They believed in fulfilling their bloodlust to any end. Women and children were favorite targets for them. Me, having held humans in high regard my whole life, I tried to seek out some type of peace with them. But there was none, they were devoid of all humanity.

One night, coming back from a particularly vicious hunt, sated from innocent blood, I took them down, one by one, until there was no one left. I burned the entire coven to the ground afterwards. My eyes blackened with the power of their blood, I merely blinked my eyes, and they were gone. I live with the guilt of their deaths every day. I should not have gone to such extremes. I went there knowing how it end, which makes me no better than them. I am no better than my father.

I then came to find you. I was the reason Anton LaVey sought you out at the Murder House. I was there when you took your first Black Mass. I have been there through it all. Horrified at how you had been treated the entirety of your life, I vowed to stay beside you no matter what the cost. I’ve protected you from every danger and every enemy. I protect you still. First out of duty, but now…out of love.

What I must do now, I do for our freedom and our future. I’m going into Hell to find my father. I will end him once and for all. If I do not come back, please know that I will always love and believe in you.

Yours Forever,

Ava

My heart broken into two, I’m beside myself with grief. Disheveled and crushed, I have tried to contact my Father for 3 days since, but he won’t answer me. Even the gates of Hell are locked to me. I have no way in and I fear my Ava is lost. What have I done? What can I do?

*******************************************************************************************

Ava

The Gates of Hell are not at all like Rodin sculpture, with Dante sitting in the tympana gazing into Hell. His depiction of the first ring of the Inferno, thrown into chaos at the entrance of the doorway is completely different than what’s before me now. Upon entry into this place, I’m struck by the vast ocean of black water flowing all around me. I see sea creatures breaking through the waves off into the distance. The sky is dark and foul smelling and decrepit bodies are casting themselves at my feet on the shore, trying to pull me with them. The beach is black as coal, littered with decaying body parts of the dead and other creatures.

As I walk further along, I see a small entrance guarded by an old man. He is gray and hunched over, his face covered in a long grayish beard. “Coin for the boatman?” he sticks out his knobby hand towards me. I shake my head, “I have none. I have no need,” displaying my empty hands.

“Then your soul shall not pass.” His voice croaks out. I laugh at his cold indignation, “I have no soul, dear Charon.” He peers up at me, and his grayish blue eyes look me up and down, suspiciously. He shudders and beckons me to his small boat, “Do you wish to see The Master?” I shake my head, “He already knows I’m here. No, take me to Etienne Deschamps, instead. Take me to my father.”

I disembark at a house that looks just like my home in California. I push open the door and am transported down a long winding hallway. As I walk further into it, I notice that I’m being followed by a blinding white light. I glance over my shoulder at it, and it burns my eyes. I turn back and continue my path down the corridor. I can hear screams of pain from behind the doors on either side of me. People crying out for mercy. Guttural howls of monsters chasing their prey echo off of the paneled walls. I will be glad to be rid of this place.

When I come to my father’s resting place, in the catacombs beneath my house, I’m suddenly hesitant to go on. His voice carries through the dark chamber, “Ma fille, to do what I owe the pleasure of your visit?” He appears in front of me and he is just how I remember him. Decked out in his finest 18th century French couture, he looked like something out of an Anne Rice novel, his beauty rivaling that of Lestat himself.

I walk in slowly, wondering to myself, could my father really capable of killing me? Am I capable of killing him? Against the wall, on a small loveseat, I see a someone draped over it, and my eyes flash to his. He wipes the corners of his mouth with his handkerchief, “I was hungry, my sweet, and this little one here was just what I needed.” Upon further inspection of the person, I see that it was the body of a teenaged girl. She’d been beaten and drained of all of her blood. Her eyes frozen wide in shock, I walk over to her and close them, saying the silent prayer that my nounou (nanny), Miriam used to say over me at night.

“Since when did you become so religious? Did you forget that we are soulless devils, and are in no need of spirituality?” he scoffs. “Mon père, just because we consume them, doesn’t mean we shouldn’t respect them,” I reply.

His lip curls in disgust, “You’ve spent too much time in the presence of them. But nevertheless, I’m glad you’ve come. We have much to discuss. Namely the demise of l'Antéchrist.”

Still staring at the young girl’s body, I feel my anger building, “Where is ma mère? I haven’t spoken to her in ages.” I make my way to the other canapé and take a seat. He tucks his handkerchief back into his waistcoat and pulls out his pocket watch, eyeing the time he sighs, “Ma petit, we have no time for this and your silly questions.” He narrows his eyes then it dawns on him why I’ve come. A sinister grin spreads across his wicked face. “Did you really think that you could walk into Hell with your new bag of tricks to do harm to me?” I rise from my seat and begin to back away, “What do you mean? I have no bag of tricks.”

He takes a step closer to me, “You should ask your dear maman, what happens when you cross me.” Shaking my head I ask, “What did you do to her? What did you to my mother?” I cry. He takes another step closer, his fangs growing in the process, “Oh she didn’t like my plan. The one where you kill Michael and then I kill you. My child, your grand purpose all along was to bring me back. Your mother simply didn’t see things the way I did.”

“But…but you sacrificed yourselves for me.” I cry out. He cracks his neck and takes a deep breath, “No, sweet girl, she was already dying. You had been draining her powers since your inception. She was fading and I had no real intention of saving her. I did need her blood, though. You know as well as I do, that her clan WAS the most powerful in the world.”

“What do you mean? How could I know?” I ask, knowing full well what I had done. He stares me down with his bright green eyes, “The whole underworld felt the shake and rumble of the deaths of that coven. You wiped them out all at once. Your own kind. Your own kin.” He smiled with what looked like pride. “That takes a special kind of evil to massacre your own family, don’t you think? Stupid girl, I knew exactly what you were up to. Your hopes to stop me, has since caused you all of this guilt and despair.” He says mockingly, “You should know by now, that there’s no defeating me. Now be a good girl and go back up and do as you’re told. Drain that boy dry. It’s time for me to take my rightful place.”

“Don’t be absurd,” I spit, “I could never kill Michael. As for the Moreau’s, they were kidnapping and murdering children, should I have let them continue doing so?” He shrugs, “What do you care? That was their nature. Do you think you can change the nature of a lion, because you don’t want it to feed on gazelles?”

“No, père, but lions are not like us. We are capable of thinking and feeling empathy. We do not have to give in to our basic instincts. Just because we can doesn’t mean we should.” His reaches out to me and grabs my arms, his long nails piercing into the backs of them, “You sound like a child. This sentiment you have for humans is sickening. I thought once I had your servant girl killed, you would rid your fascination of them.”

“What?” I ask, “What servant girl?” He let go of me and turns his back, “The one you grew up with. The girl you tried to save in that dark alley all those years ago.” I shake the cobwebs out of my head, trying to understand, “Evangeline? You had something to do with her death?”

“Ha,” he chuckles, “Something to do with it? I caused it. I led her to that alley that night, leading her to believe that you were there to meet her. I really thought once she was dead, you’d end this obsession.”

My body goes numb and my blood turns to ice. I place my hand on the wall to get my bearings, “How could you? I…I loved her. She was my best friend.”

He shrugs again, “Best friend? We are predators, we have no best friends.” He whips around lightning fast and grabs me by my neck. He begins to squeeze and hatred flashes before his eyes, his nails digging into the side of my throat, “My daughter, so feckless and weak.” He slaps me with his other hand and laughs when he sees my blood gushing out of my mouth, “I should just kill you know and save myself the trouble. I deserve to sit on that throne. Not you or that tortured little boy.”

In an instant, his fangs pierce my neck and I feel the sharp pain of it surge through my body, paralyzing me with his venom. He laughs against my throat, squeezing it until I’m gasping for air.

I summon all of my strength and break free from his hold. I send him flying backwards against the opposite wall. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “You stupid little bitch, you really think you can stop me?” He flies towards me and turns his fingers into claws. Swiping at me, his eyes are filled with hate and he curses at me, “You’re pathetic like that girl. Weak like your mother. Oh, you should have seen Gabrielle’s face when I drained her of her blood. Her sad little eyes, begging for me to stop,” he cackles as we circle each other. “Your mother loved me so much, Ava. But I felt nothing for her. She was a means to an end, ma petite, just like you.”

He lunges for me and throws me to the ground, the back of my head hitting the concrete with a loud smack. Standing over me, his eyes are wild, and when he snaps his fingers, a fire begins to blaze all around us. He grabs my hair and starts to drag my limp body across the floor, laughing all the while. “You don’t deserve an easy death, little one. You deserve to be taught a lesson, just like your mother.”

“But what is that you deserve, father?” I close my eyes and remember Cordelia’s lesson on Concillium. I take a deep breath and close my mind. I lift my left hand and utter the phrases she taught me. He drops his hand from my hair and begins to groan, pain shooting through his skull. I’m flooding his mind with the memories of all the people that have died by his hand. Every face of horror and fear, every cry of mercy. His face contorts from it, screaming at me to stop.

I see his knife that he always keeps on his waist. As a source of pride, he once told me that it was the very blade that pierced Jesus’ side when he died on the cross. I twist my fingers, and it appears in my hand. I bring it to his throat and hiss when he tries to grab for me. Clutching his head, he screams, “You stupid cunt, where did you learn this magic?”

“From a friend,” I growl before kissing his cheek and watch as it burns into his flesh. “I have been loyal to you my entire life,” I say as I slash at his throat, “I have done everything you have ever asked of me,” another slash, “I have listened and believed your lies over and over and this is how you repay me? You kill my best friend and my mother?” He drops to the ground, writhing from the pain, blood gushing out his neck, “You forget that the Devil has also blessed me gifts. Well, this is my gift for him. The death of a traitor.” I slice his throat one final time and the blade glides through the sinews of his neck so easily, effectively separating his head from his body.

The smell of the room burning breaks my concentration. The heat is searing, and the walls are peeling from its intensity. A voice low and gravelly begins to speak to me in a language that has been dead for centuries. HE is talking to me. I hear his words in my mind, so deep and concise, I feel that I am dreaming. He asks me what I want most in the world and I don’t even have to think about my answer. I tell him at once and he seems pleased.

I feel the fire getting closer to me, crawling towards my feet, but somehow, I do not feel afraid. His voice is lacing in between my thoughts, slithering through my every memory. He saw visions of Michael and me, alone in our private quarters debating the works of Byron. He saw me kill Mallory back at the Outpost, in what seems like ages gone by. He came to rest at the memory of the Moreau Clan Massacre. He understood why I did it and saw that I had my choice long ago.

My skin started to boil from the fire, yet I did not scream or cry out. If I was to die now, I would do so knowing that Michael would be saved. He would be free. I closed my eyes and readied myself for the end. The ceiling crashed around me and the room filled with noxious smoke. Then everything went dark.

*******************************************************************************************

Michael

When she came back to me, I knew that the worst was over. She was tired and scarred from her trauma but I knew that she would be ok. She explained everything to me that happened, in great detail. How she fought against her father and took his life. She told me how mine spoke to her and told her about things that were to come, gave her a secret yet to be revealed.

She laid in my arms that night, different. Power surging through her cold body, shaking badly from the nightmares. I wrapped her up in my arms and coaxed her back to sleep. I could sense a change was happening inside of her. A feeling that would never go away. She was turning into something, unlike any other creature I had ever known. And she was mine.

We made our vows in the unholy chapel inside of the conservatory a few months later. Vows that would bind us for all eternity. That night after we made love, she allowed me to take her blood for the first time. She pierced her thigh and guided me down to drink from her. The sweetness and heat of it trickled down my throat and I felt renewed. My sight was sharper, my hearing improved, she had enhanced all of my abilities. Her blood was like drinking liquid magic. Because of her, I would never age, and would never die. Because of her, we would be together for all time.

We’ve spoken many times about that night, she keeps reliving it over and over again. I wish there was a way I could have helped in, I wish there is a way that I can help her now. But watching her grow stronger over time, gives me a sense of peace, knowing that she will be alright.

The waking up in the middle of the night because of her night terrors are now replaced with the small cries of our baby girl, Gabrielle Evangeline. Ava’s pregnancy came as a shock to us both, seeing as how she’s not supposed to be able to have children. But the joy that came with seeing her swell, knowing that my child was growing inside her, softened my heart. I would never treat her the way I was treated. I would give her every bit of love and respect I carried in my heart. She would never know rejection. She would never be unloved. She would always have me. After everything we both had gone through, I still felt like things were too good to be true.

As I watch over Gabby now, I’m proud of how strong and smart she is becoming. A cross between both Ava and me, she is the best of us. I can only hope it stays that way.

Still, I remember Ava telling me that my father granted hers a request for a daughter, one who was supremely powerful. I wonder if Ava requested of Him the same thing, though I dare not ask her. The Devil does not give gifts out of the kindness of his heart. He is not a generous being. Everything that he does comes at a price.

For now, I’ll watch over my two girls, whom I am obsessively in love with, and keep them safe from all dangers, dangers like my Father. What could possibly stand in our way? Who could possibly stop us?

Part One Part Two

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