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silkling · 3 years

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This is part two of an ask box fic. For part one, click below.

Part 1

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Cody had been expecting to see Blades sitting in front of the TV when he and the others returned. He had not been expecting to see the large bot the team had rescued holding the copter while said copter made a sharp, painful sounding noise. When he, his siblings, and the other three bots had returned to the firehouse, they’d been chatting and teasing Heatwave about his increasing frustration with his difficulty at contacting Optimus. Then when they’d gotten down to the bunker, the three Cybertronians had abruptly stopped talking, before they’d looked concerned and panicked and rushed ahead. The humans had followed as quickly as they could, and the group arrived to see Blades in the large bot’s grasp, making that noise that Cody didn’t know the meaning behind.

The large bot noticed the, first, and a sharp, red gaze snapped to the group. “More younglings, little one? I suppose I should not be surprised, the Rescue Force did tend to match teams within the same age bracket.” he remarked.

Cody didn’t know what a “youngling” was by Cybertronian standards, but to human ears it sounded like the new bot was calling Sigma-17 kids. Or at the very least, younger than adults.

Heatwave clearly didn’t care about what the bot had to say. “You let Blades go!” he snarled, stepping forward and looking ready to tackle the larger bot.

Blades had startled and gone silent when the bigger flyer spoke, but at Heatwave’s words he jumped and pulled himself free, gathering his pedes under him and standing between his team and the larger bot. “Wait!” he protested. “He wasn’t hurting me. I was kinda…collapsing, and he kept me front falling.”

Cody frowned. “Why were you collapsing?”

“He told me something that Optimus should have told us a long time ago. Something very bad.”

“And what was that?” Kade snipped, eyes narrowed.

“I’d be curious to know too.” Dad’s voice came from behind them. Cody turned to see his father stepping out of the elevator. “But first, maybe we should sit down. Something tells me this news isn’t going to be pretty.”

“You are a clever human.” The stranger rumbled. “I believe that would indeed be best.”

Heatwave growled, but nodded stiffly. “This way.”

He led them to the lounge area, where everyone got settled and comfortable. The stranger sat on the floor, Blades and Boulder took the couch, and Dani and Graham sat beside their respective partners. Heatwave sat leaning against the couch, and Kade sat leaning against him. Chase pulled over a Cybertronian sized beanbag Graham and Boulder had made, and Dad squished in next to him. Cody, after a moment of consideration, stepped in and sat in front of the newcomer. The large bot shot him an arched brow, and the human just smiled and waved in response.

“So.” Heatwave grunted. “What’s this news?”

“We’re the last Rescue Bots.” Blades cut in, voice quiet.

Chase was frowning. “That is not entirely news. Optimus implied as much when we asked him about the rest of the Rescue Force. I assume the rest of the Rescue Teams were folded into the Autobot ranks when the War began.”

Boulder frowned. “That would make sense, though I have a hard time believing the others would just….abandon in the oaths of neutrality we all took.”

“They did not.” The stranger cut in. “When the War began, the Rescue Force remained neutral. They aided and rescued mechs from both factions. Megatron offered them the chance to join the Decepticons, and they refused. They wished to hold true to their oaths to serve and protect all who needed it. Megatron did not take kindly to the refusal. In order to make an example of them, and also to remove a faction that would aid his enemies, he destroyed the Rescue Force Headquarters and offlined every Rescue Team there. Survivors of the initial attack, as well as those who were simply not present, were subsequently hunted down and slaughtered.” he said bluntly.

There was dead silence in the bunker, with horror growing palpable in the air.

“Dreadwing.” Blades’s voice was weak. “Maybe that was a bit blunt.” He glanced at his teammates. “I think he’s right. I found a mention of the “end of the Rescue Force” in one of High Tide’s data pads. Plus…remember what Optimus said when he first saw us? “I was not aware Rescue Teams were still active.” That’s what he told us.”

Dreadwing. So that was the stranger’s name. Still, he was more worried about the bots. Boulder looked horrified and increasingly sick. Heatwave looked stunned and angry and grief-stricken all at once. Chase looked disbelieving. None of them seemed to be able to protest what they’d been told.

“Dreadwing, is it?” Dad’s voice rose in the silence. “You seem to know a lot about the topic.”

“Any Cybertronian who was alive at the time knows about the Fall of the Rescue Force. It was a great tragedy.”

“That’s why Optimus is so adamant about keeping us here.” Blades whispered. “He knew. He probably thought we’d be in danger if any other bot knew what we are.”

“You would be.” Dreadwing agreed. “If Lord Megatron were to discover your existence, he would send his forces to see you slain, even if it meant razing this island to the ground to do so. Perhaps he would even keep you alive long enough to force Optimus Prime and his team watch your destruction.” He stated, blunt and hard.

Everyone collectively flinched at that, looking sick and horrified at the prospect. Cody could relate. The way Dreadwing discussed such violence and such horrors…it was so casual. He didn’t know what to make of it. The Rescue Bots didn’t speak so bluntly about that sort of thing, but he knew that was due to lack of exposure to that level of violence. Optimus and High Tide were both also very…sanitized, in the way they spoke of the War. It wasn’t necessarily bad that Dreadwing didn’t care to censor himself, but Cody certainly wasn’t used to it. Just the idea of his friends being stolen away and killed to make a point made him sick.

Graham’s voice broke the silence. “Lord Megatron.” he sound, sounding strained. “You called him “Lord Megatron”. I can’t imagine any Autobot calling the leader of their enemy something like “lord”. Which means you’re not an Autobot. You’re a Decepticon.”

There was a second of silence, and then Heatwave surged forward and yanked Cody away from Dreadwing. As one, the Rescue Bots, baring Blades for some reason, lowered the windshields in their chests to let their partners climb in to safety. As for Blades…he just stood, carefully maneuvering Dani out of range of danger and stepping forward before anyone else could do anything. Cody, still dazed and now strapped into Heatwave’s passenger seat, could only watch in confusion.

“Everybody stop and calm down!” The copter snapped, his rotors rattling against his back. The other bots were still, and Dreadwing hadn’t moved from his seat on the floor.

The large bot shifted his gaze to Boulder, or rather, Boulder’s chest where Graham was tucked away. “You are correct.” he said, voice somber. “I am a Decepticon. Or rather, I was. It was Megatron himself who gave me the wound that nearly offlined me.” He paused. “I am afraid I am still teaching myself to shed the loyalty that once bound me to him. I spent many millennia calling him my Lord, and it is a habit that is very difficult to break.” He tilted his head. “Regardless, I assure you I have no desire to return to the Decepticons. I would be destroyed if I were to return.”

That seemed to calm the bots down, and Dani frowned from where Blades had stashed her. “You knew, didn’t you partner?”

Blades sighed. “I suspected.” he admitted. “I read in the data pads that Optimus left for us that after the fall of Vos, most Seekers joined the Deceptions. Dreadwing is a Seeker. I put the pieces together.”

Dreadwing bristled at the mention of “Vos”, though Cody didn’t know what that was. “Vos was destroyed and razed to the ground by Autobot forces, little flyer.” he rumbled. “Seekers did not join the Autobots when the War began because most of those who did were the same who had spent generations abusing and ostracizing any and all flight-frames.” he said bluntly. “It is why most flyers joined the Deceptions. They did not wish to be treated as lesser simply because of a different vehicle mode.”

Dani blinked. “Huh. So bigots exist on all planets, then.” she sighed. “The War…are you saying it started as a social revolution?”

“Just so.” Dreadwing nodded at her. “In the beginning, it was not Optimus Prime who led the Autobots. It was his predecessor, a mech called Sentinel. Sentinel was backed by the Senate. The same Senate that had created laws to force mechs to live only by the function of their frame types, and the same Senate that allowed flight-frames to be treated as filth. When Megatron rose up initially, it was to fight for justice and put an end to the caste system.”

This was news to all the humans. They’d heard about the War, of course, but hearing about how it started and why it had began put new context on things.

“The Senate refused to listen, and thus the War began. Megatron initially led as non-violently as possible, but then any who harbored even slight anti-Senate mentalities began to be culled by Autobot Enforcers. Flyers were confined to the ground by force when not in Vos, and in Vos they were not permitted to leave the city.” The Seeker continued. “What started as a fight for equality turned into Decepticons fighting for their right simply to live. And then the Senate was assassinated, and Sentinel destroyed, and Optimus Prime took his place. By then, it was too late for things to return to peace. Too many Decepticons feared they would be killed for the crime of wanting a better life and fighting for it, and too many Autobots were bitter and angry towards the chaos the Decepticon had wrought. And so, the War continued.” he sighed.

There was silence for a long moment, and the Rescue Bots finally returned to their previous positions, though they didn’t let the humans out just yet. Blades sat on the couch, and Dani shifted over to perch on his shoulder. Everyone present was silent for a moment, taking in what they had been told. This…changed things. Certainly, the Decepticons had done horrible things. The fact that they had slaughtered the Rescue Bots was a prime example. But to learn why they had risen and where they had come from…it put a lot into perspective.

“Blades.” Dani spoke up. “You’re a flyer. Did you run into any of that sort of thing Dreadwing was talking about, before your stasis nap?” she asked.

Blades sputtered. “Well, no.” he seemed embarrassed. “You know I wasn’t always a flyer. I was a ground-frame, on Cybertron. Sure, I’d heard about the anti-flyer and anti-Seeker stuff but I never experienced it. Dreadwing is telling the truth, though. Cybertron…didn’t have the best social system. I did know about the civil unrest, thought it hadn’t grown to a revolution quite yet the last time I was on Cybertron.” he said, sheepish.

Before one of the humans could ask for an elaboration, Dreadwing was straightening up. “Youngling. You mean to tell me you were able to shift from a ground-frame to a flight-frame by scanning a new vehicle mode?”

Blades paused. “Yes?”

Dreadwing was quiet, before uttering what Cody was very sure was a curse. “You do realize that is an extraordinarily rare ability? Even triple changers are more common than that.”

“Really?” Blades, and even all the other bots, seemed stunned by this revelation.

“Yes.” Dreadwing was frowning. “Most Cybertronian t-cogs will only allow for scanning and transformation into a vehicle mode that is compatible with your root mode. To be able to change from a grounder to a flyer by simply scanning a new vehicle mode…it speaks of a highly malleable and adaptable base frame type. The kind one expects from the tales of the Shifters of old.”

That made the Bots perk up, and Cody made a note to ask about that later. For now, he opted to stay quiet and let the Cybertronians figure this out. And it seemed his family had the same idea. Even Kade, for once.

“Are you saying I’m a Shifter?” Blades seemed frantic at the idea.

“No.” Dreadwing shook his head. “But perhaps you have coding descended from them.” He sighed. “Your ability, little one, is one I have only ever heard of on Cybertron. Many would be jealous of you. I know many flyers would not give up their flight for anything, but I know of many more who would have wanted your ability desperately in order to change to a ground-frame and escape the derision.”

Blades blinked, then looked down. “Oh.” he whispered.

Heatwave growled. “Look, it’s all well and good that we’ve figured this out, but now what? You were a Decepticon! You could hurt us or someone else on the island!”

Dreadwing looked unimpressed. “I have no intentions of doing any such thing, though I will leave if you prefer.”

“But won’t Megatron kill you?” Boulder asked.

“He will try. I will simply have to avoid him.”

“Then why not join the Autobots?” Chase asked.

The Seeker’s expression went dark. “No. While Optimus Prime is honorable, the Autobots have not always been such. I have lost too much to their regime to submit myself to the brand, even if it is different now.”

No one seemed to know what to say to that. After a long moment, the humans were finally let out of the cabs of their respective partners, and Cody saw an odd look in his Dad’s eye.

“Hoe about this, then.” Dad said. “We don’t feel right about sending you off where you might be killed. You don’t want to fight the Autobots, you don’t want to fight for the Decepticons. Am I right so far?”

Dreadwing simply bowed his head.

“Do you even want to fight in the War at all, anymore?”

Dreadwing paused. “The Decepticons committed a crime which I must put right. But other than that, no.” There was a pause. “Even with my end goal, it is not the Decepticons at large I wish to see defeated. It is only one mech among their ranks.”

Dad hummed slowly, then nodded. “I’m guessing you’re not ready to tell us the details, so I won’t even ask.” he said. “Here’s what I propose: you stay here on Griffin Rock. You don’t let yourself be seen by the humans here, we do have a cover to maintain after all. You can think and plan your next steps here. That lets us keep an eye on you, and keeps our minds at ease that you’re not out there running for your life from a tyrant. You just can’t destroy anything or hurt anyone or cause trouble.”

Cody was surprised by the offer, and clearly Dreadwing was too. What did his Dad see in this large bot that was making him take a chance like this? Cody wasn’t against it, but it was a little unusual.

Dreadwing seemed to think over the offer, before he nodded. “I will accept your terms.”

Dad relaxed, and before Kade could protest he waved his children along. “Now come on, everyone. It’s late and we humans need our rest.” he said. “Kade, not here. We can discuss this more later. Let’s go, everyone.”

Cody hopped off Heatwave’s knee, and followed his siblings and father to the lift. The last thing he saw before the doors closed was the Rescue Bots turning to their newest addition, and heard the start of a question before the doors shutting cut it off.

“So what else do you know that Optimus isn’t-“

——————————

Everything came to a head a week after Dreadwing had settled into the bunker. The Seeker had taken over one back corner of the large room, converting it into a small space for himself. None of the other bots or humans had raised a fuss at that. But Kade was getting increasingly agitated. It was clear that he didn’t understand why Blades and his team were so calm about letting a Decepticon live peacefully with them. Personally, the copter bot attributed that to the fact that the firefighter was human, so he probably didn’t understand the Cybertronian cultural or societal intricacies that had allowed the five bots to come to an understanding. That day, Kade had been particularly snarly. Even Boulder was starting to get put off by it.

They had gathered in the bunker. Blades was watching TV with Dreadwing and Chase, trying to explain the allure of his favorite show to the two bots. Boulder was painting, and Heatwave was on his little sparring platform. The humans had come down in time to see Dreadwing pinch one of Blade’s finials when the little copter bot’s rotors had straightened and extended, threatening to start spinning right there on his back due to his excitement. It had pulled Blades back to himself, and he’d sheepishly tucked his rotors back along his spinal strut while shooting the older mech an apologetic grin.

To a Cybertronian, such a gesture from an older mech to a youngling would not have raised any attention. The gentle tweak hadn’t even hurt his sensitive finials. But to a human, especially one who didn’t have or understand the context of Cybertronian culture, the gesture and lack of reaction from the bots could easily be misunderstood.

So really, Blades wasn’t surprised that Kade had finally snapped. As soon as he’d seen the interaction, he’d roared a demand to know what was going on, questioning how the bots could live with someone who had been part of the same team that had wiped out all the other Rescue Bots. That was when Chief Burns had sighed and suggested they all get settled in the lounge to talk again. They had, taking up the same positions as the previous time, though this time Boulder also dragged over a large beanbag for himself and Graham, while Dani perched on Blade’s shoulder and Dreadwing took the free spot on the couch. Which was where they were now.

“Alright.” Kade spat. “So I’m not getting something here, obviously. Why are you four so comfortable around him? He literally admitted that he used to be a Decepticon! The same guys that destroyed your Rescue Force!”

“But he wasn’t there.” Blades chimed in. “We talked when you went to bed that night. He joined the ‘Cons after the Autobots destroyed Vos, which happened after the fall of the Rescue Force.”

“And that changes anything?” Kade sputtered.

“It changes everything.” Heatwave grunted. “He wasn’t part of the group that destroyed the Rescue Force. And even though he joined them later, it wasn’t to inflict violence, it was in response to his home and people being destroyed. That may be hard to understand, based on what I know of your human culture, but for us Cybertronians that’s enough.”

Kade crossed his arms, scowling fiercely. “Fine. I guess I can accept that, even if I don’t get it. What I don’t get is why you’d defect.” he directed the last part at Dreadwing. “You hinted last time we talked that you served Megatron for thousands and thousands of years, and joined him because he was fighting for a just cause, one you believed in. What changed?”

Dreadwing frowned, staring hard at the human. “You are correct, Skyquake and I did originally join Megatron because we believed him to be honorable and just.” he tilted his head. “As the War progressed and left Cybertron, Megatron gradually became more…mad. However, we still followed him because we had sworn an oath of loyalty, and to break that oath would be dishonorable.” he rumbled. “And we did not fully agree with the Autobots either, even after Optimus Prime took command.”

“Hold on.” Graham cut in. “Skyquake?”

Dreadwing blinked, and something odd entered his gaze. Blades felt the flash of grief in his EM afield before it abruptly cut off. “Yes. Skyquake. He was my brother. We were split spark twins.”

“I thought you said you guys don’t have families like humans!” Kade said to Heatwave, eyes narrowed.

The fire truck scowled. “We don’t! Not usually! There’s only really one exception, and that’s so rare I didn’t think it mattered!”

“Two exceptions.” Blades intervened quickly. “There’s actually two exceptions, two ways for Cybertronians to have siblings.”

Looks were directed at him, and he squirmed under the attention. Slag, he hadn’t meant to say that. They’d want to know how he knew and that was something he wanted to keep to himself. It was his burden to bare.

Dreadwing sensed his discomfort, cutting in before the questions could start and drawing the attention back to himself. “Yes. The first exception is that of split spark twins.” He glanced at the humans. “We Cybertronians are not created like you organics. On Cybertron, our source of life is called the Well of All Sparks. It is where all sparks are created, and where all sparks return upon deactivation.”

“A spark is like��your soul, right? It’s what gives you guys life and makes you who you are.” Dani questioned.

Dreadwing dipped his helm towards her. “Indeed. When a new Cybertronian comes into be, their spark is created in the Well. It goes through several layers of the Well’s energy, the spark refining and becoming more defined as it progresses to the edge of the Well from the center. Often, the sparks will not maintain their form in this process, and their energy will dissipate and return to the Well.” Noting the human’s looks, he shook his head. “The spark has no life or sentience at that time, it is merely a small collection of energy. It is if the spark holds its form past the final layer of shaping that it gains sentience and life. At that point, the energy of the Well pulls resources from Cybertron itself to create a protoform, a physical body, around the spark. Then, the protoform is pushed from the Well, and thus a new Cybertronian is created.” the Seeker explained.

“That doesn’t explain how you guys can have siblings.” Graham pointed out.

Dreadwing dipped his head. “Twins like myself are a rarity. They occur when, just before a protoform is formed around the spark, a surge of energy from the Well causes the spark to split into two. When that happens, most sparks to not survive and dissipate. If they do survive, the Well forms two protoforms around the two halves. The two halves of the spark can function on their own, and are fully formed in their own right, but due to the fact they were one a singular spark those two halves are forever bound.” he explained it carefully.

“Two halves, one whole.” Graham said, eyes lighting up with understanding.

Dreadwing nodded. “Yes. That is how split spark twins are created. Due to the bond, twins are very close to one another. A spark bond is a precious thing, little human.” His optics went distant, and Blades’s own spark ached with painful remembrance. “Through a spark bond, you are always and forever aware of the one who you share the bond with. You know what they feel, how they think, you know them in every way that they in turn know you. You can talk and communicate using the bond, and it can never be detected or listened in on. Distance can dampen a bond, and the further one gets from those they are bonded to the more muted it becomes. At one point, the bond becomes too muted to talk in words, and you can share only base thoughts and emotions.” he rumbled. “But even so, the bond persists, and it allows you to know your bonded is still living.”

“And…this Skyquake. He’s your twin? Where is he?” Kade asked.

“Gone.” Dreadwing said, his EM field flaring with that sharp agony, and even the humans could hear the grief in his tone. “Offlined before I even arrived on Earth.”

“How did it happen?” Chief asked, voice somber.

Dreadwing stared at him for a long moment, and Blades could see the grief in the angle at which he held his wings, even if he had reigned in his EM field. “Centuries ago, Megatron stationed my brother here in stasis in order to guard over Deception energon deposits. I was aware of his mission, but I was sent to far off star systems to fight in the War.” he sighed. “Recently, Skyquake was awoken, and in an ensuing confrontation with the Autobots he was slain by Optimus Prime and his scout.”

Blades flinched, optics wide. Bumblebee had killed Dreadwing’s twin? He supposed he couldn’t really judge a situation in which he didn’t have all the information, but he still had a hard time imagining the friendly yellow bit he knew actually killing someone else.

“How did you survive?” he blurted out. Looks were directed to him again, confused, but Dreadwing understood.

“Distance.” he rumbled. “I was so far away at from my brother at the time of his death that the bond was too strained for me to even feel his strongest emotions. I could only barely tell he was still living, and even then only when I focused on the link between our shared spark.” His gaze went sad. “I felt his death. The surge of energy that came from the bond breaking did reach me, but by the time it did it had had to travel so great a distance that it had dulled too much to overwhelm and gutter out my own spark. All I felt was a very faint sting. It didn’t even hurt to feel him perish.” he said, and he sounded bitter at it.

Blades could understand. “I’m sorry.” he said honestly.

Dreadwing sighed. “He died an honorable death. For that much, I am grateful.”

Kade cleared his throat, frowning. “Okay.” he said carefully. “But that doesn’t explain why you left the ‘Cons. Shouldn’t you have more reason to stay with the, if the Autobots killed your twin?”

Dreadwing growled lowly here. “No.” he denied. “The Autobots gave my brother a good death, a death I know Skyquake would not have been ashamed of. For all I resent the Autobots from taking my brother from me, it is War, and I cannot find fault in them removing an enemy from the battlefield.” He turned a sharp look to Kade. “It was the Starscream, however, who is a Decepticon, who desecrated my brother’s rest by defiling his corpse and turning him into a Terrorcon.”

Blades inhaled sharply, rage clouding his processor. He seethed, his rotors clamping tight to his spinal strut, his optics going dark and angry, and his hands curling into fists. Dani was the only one to notice, and she didn’t want to draw attention to him just yet.

“Terrorcon? Cody asked.

“A zombie.” Boulder offered, looking sick. Actually, all the bots look sick. “Or the closest equivalent to it there is for Cybertronians.”

And now the humans all looked sick. “Oh.” Kade said. “That’s why you left.”

“Yes.” Dreadwing said darkly. “I learned the truth, and when I attempted to avenge my bother Megatron attempted to destroy me. It did not matter to him that Starscream had attempted to assassinate and betray him on countless occasions. He sought my death in order to protect a known traitor.” he growled. “Starscream turned my brother into something twisted and abhorrent. That is why I left.” he finished.

“I’m surprised you didn’t rip his spark out.” Blades hissed. Stunned gazes turned to the copter, and everyone was alarmed to see just how angry he looked. “I’d have tried to, in your place.”

The only one who wasn’t surprised was Dreadwing. “I did try, and I was almost killed for it. I will avenge Skyquake one day, little one. But for now, calm yourself.”

Blades actually snarled at that. His rotors rattled aggressively, the smaller ones in his pedes whirling to life with a loud buzzing, and his engine all but roared with fury. “Just the idea of someone doing that-!” he cut himself off, snarling again. Dreadwing was quick to pick Dani off the youngling’s shoulder and set her down.

“Blades.” he snapped. The others were too frozen in shock at the sight of the usually bubbly copter so aggressive.

“No!” Blades snapped. “If someone did that to ‘Aid, or Groove, or Streetwise, or Hot Spot, or any of them, I’d rip them apart myself!”

Dreadwing narrowed his optics, his processor working quickly. There was no reason for the youngling to get so upset at the idea of a spark sibling being so badly defiled, no reason for him to take it so personally. And those names…

“You are gestalt, aren’t you, little one?”

That was enough to snap Blades out of his angry haze, and his optics shot wide. Fear swamped his field, and his rotors abruptly silenced and clamped back against his spine while the rotors in his pedes cut off with a sharp grinding noise. “What?”

“Given your reaction, and those names you said….it is the only conclusion that makes sense.”

“Wait, Blades…you’re part of a gestalt?” Boulder asked, his own optics blown wide.

“That…would explain your reaction.” Chase offered hesitantly.

“Blades.” Heatwave prompted at the copter’s continued silence.

“Uh, hello? Clueless humans here!” Dani called. “Blades, put me back up. Also, what’s a gestalt?”

The youngling bent down, allowing his partner to climb her way back up to his shoulder before he sat up. He sagged, looking defeated,

“A gestalt is the other way Cybertronians can have siblings.” he said quietly. “It happens in the Well. Most of the time, the Well creates on spark at a time. Creating a living spark is a complex process, so it can’t afford to create too many at once. Every once in a while though, the Well has an excess of energy, undetectable to any technology. When that happens, it creates multiple sparks at once. If all those sparks survive to the edge of the Well, then the excess energy pulls them together into one large, massive spark. Many sparks, becoming one. They remain combined until the energy stabilizes, and then split into the original number again and that’s when the protoforms are created around the sparks.” He sighed. “When that happens, all the bots in that group are linked. They were created by the Well together, and they were merged together by the Well to bind their sparks. That’s a gestalt. Because of the spark merge that occurred in the Well, gestalt can actually merge themselves again outside of it. They can push together their sparks and processors and very beings to become a singular bot. Gestalt frames are even adapted to that they can physically combine, each member becoming a different body part, in order to form the body of a new, larger mech while their sparks combine to form the mech’s own spark. Many, becoming one.” Blades looked down. “My brothers and I are that. We can combine to form Defensor. I’m the arm.” he said weakly.

——————————

Part 3

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argylemnwrites · 3 years

Text

Facts, Fibs, and Futures

Pairing: Mal Volari x MC (Raina - f!human)

Book: Blades of Light and Shadow (Chapter 4)

Word Count: ~3300

Rating: PG-13 (innuendo)

Summary: A evening of games, cards, and fortune-telling gives Mal a better understanding of Raina.

Author’s Note: Wish I had time to do more for @bladesappreciationweek, but happy to have at least snuck this piece in under the wire for Day 7 - MC/wildcard. It’s a little bit about my MC, a little about the gang in their early days, and a little glimpse at some early Mal/MC flirtation.

“...And so I convinced the Contessa of Ditorilla that I was merely a figment of her imagination, conjured up by her deepest desires.”

Raina couldn’t help but snort as she caught the tail end of the undoubtedly false story Mal was spinning for Nia and Tyril as she walked towards them on the deck. She’d been staring at the horizon, trying to calm her stomach. She didn’t want to admit it and give Mal more of a reason to see her as naive, a kit with no experience, but the truth was that the rocking of Gerhard’s ship on the waves left her fairly nauseous. She hoped she would get used to the sensation soon, but in the meantime, she had to resort to attempting simple solutions. Hopefully, the hour she just spent by herself along the railing would be seen as her just wanting to take in the ocean. Not that that would make her seem any less like a damn kit.

“Based on Raina’s reaction, I am going to go with ‘fib’ on that tale.” Tyril’s voice floated through the air, drawing Raina out of her introspection.

“Come on, Kit. It’s bad enough that you are shockingly skilled at this, but now you have to ruin it for me when you aren’t even playing?” She stopped and glanced over at Mal, tipping back in his chair, one foot braced against the deck, the other resting on the edge of the table where he was sitting with Nia and Tyril. When they made eye contact, he winked at her before placing his hand on his chest in mock pain.

“Raina, you should join us!” Nia called out, twisting around in her chair to flash a bright smile.

“Yes, please do,” added Tyril. “This… ruffian has convinced us to play some sort of game where we have to determine whether a statement is the truth or a lie.”

“Yeah, Fib or Fact,” Raina said as she sat down in the free chair between Nia and Tyril, “but you aren’t really playing unless you are drinking.”

“See! Thank you! I told you guys this was a drinking game!” Mal cried out, gesturing across the table to Raina with a flourish.

Tyril shook his head briskly. “I do not understand the human fascination with needing to create banal games to drink.”

“I don’t know; I think it’s just a fun way to pass the time.” Raina glanced over to her left and gave Tyril a little shrug.

“But we know Elf Boy here would rather die than have fun.”

Tyril opened his mouth, but before he could respond, Nia cut in. “Please, we can’t be at each other’s throats constantly.”

Tyril glanced between Nia and Mal, the openingly-mocking grin plastered on Mal’s face clearly fueling the fire that Nia was trying to extinguish. After a few tense and silent seconds, he gave a terse little nod. “Fine, but if I have to listen to any more stories of his romantic... conquests, I make no promises.”

Nia let out a little sigh. “Good. Well, maybe we should pick a different game anyway, since Raina is always right at this one.”

“Is that so?”

Raina smiled and tilted her head to the side. “I’m very good at reading people. Particularly his Magnificence over there.” She gestured across the table towards Mal, who plastered a fake shocked expression on his face, eyebrows raised and eyes wide, as he mouthed “Me?” before grinning and shooting Raina a wink.

“They played quite a bit on our journey to Port Parnassus,” Nia added. “I think Mal only got her four or five times.”

“Well, nevermind then. Let’s keep playing,” Tyril said, leaning back slightly and crossing his arms, the corners of his lips quirking upwards as he glanced back at Mal.

“Nah, don’t want to offend your delicate sensibilities with my more scandalous accounts,” he responded, waggling his eyebrows.

“Does anyone know any other games we could play? I don’t know if I want to gamble again.” Nia said, clearly trying to move past any sniping between the two males of their little party.

“Awww, priestess. Didn’t enjoy your first taste of betting?”

Her cheeks flushed as she shook her head. “I don’t think it’s for me, Mal.”

"Just you wait. We'll bring out your wild side one of these days," Mal said, winking at Nia before giving her a very genuine looking smile. "Since cards are out, does anyone have any other ideas?"

Tyril didn't move to suggest anything, sitting still, his arms still locked across his armor. Nia kept glancing around the group, a hopeful gleam in her eyes that made it clear that she was counting on someone else to offer up an idea.

Raina found her mind drifting to Kade. He always knew how to entertain a group. He could tell stories, pull out random facts and tidbits of info. He just kept the conversation flowing.

"Maybe we can still use the cards," she said, tilting her head to the side. "My brother would sometimes use the deck to tell fortunes. I think I remember the basics."

"I can do you one better than that, Kit. I happen to be a fortune telling expert." Mal was grinning widely as he shuffled the deck while he stared her down.

"Really." Tyril's deadpan answer conveyed extreme skepticism.

"Yes, really. Are you doubting my skills?”

“As a rule, yes. But doubly so here, seeing as you lack any ability to channel the Light.”

“Don’t need your Light to do this, just pure intuition. So how about it, Elf Boy? Want a chance to glimpse into your future?”

Raina thought Tyril might unsheathe his blade right there, but after a moment he merely shook his head and pushed his chair back as he stood up rapidly. “I’ll pass. Goodnight, Nia. Raina. Vagrant.” And with that he was off, heading below deck without a glance back. Nia looked worried at his rapid departure, but Mal seemed utterly unfazed, leaning forward and letting the front legs of his chair fall to the deck as he spun to face Nia.

“What about you, priestess? Care to see what’s in store for you?”

“Oh! I think I would rather just watch, if you don’t mind.”

“I guess that leaves you, Kit. You up for it, or are you scared of what the cards might hold?”

Raina laughed, leaning across the table and grabbing the cards from his hand. “Oh, I definitely want to see this.”

Mal chuckled in response. “Alright, you’re going to need to pick out seven cards and-”

“Lay them out in a row in front of me; I know.”

“Wow, talk about pushy! You aren’t even giving me the chance to explain how this works to poor Nia.” Mal’s tone was light and carefree, making it clear he had no qualms about letting her get started.

“Seeing how much you love to hear your own voice, I just figured I would actually get to work while you talked her ear off,” Raina replied, throwing Mal a teasing smile as she shuffled the cards and placed one slightly to the left in front of her.

Nia giggled as Mal clutched his shirt and gasped in exaggerated shock. “Raina, you wound me.”

“Something tells me you’ll survive that devastating blow. Nia, have you ever seen this done before?”

She shook her head, watching as Raina placed cards down one by one in a row.

“It’s pretty simple, really,” Raina said, shuffling the deck again before selecting her next card. “I’m supposed to select seven cards that ‘speak to me’ and place them face down in front of me. The first two are said to represent elements of my past, the middle three my present, and the final two my future.”

“Does it work?”

“Of course! Don’t you trust me? Would I make something up?”

“Constantly,” said Nia, causing Raina and Mal to both burst out laughing.

“Slowly but surely, we’ll get you out of your Drakna shell, priestess. It’s inevitable,” said Mal before taking the remaining cards back from Raina. “You happy with your seven?”

“Just get started, Mal. Let’s see if you can back up your bragging with some action.”

“What type of action are you interested in, Kit? Cause I can do a lot-”

“-That’ll make Nia feel real uncomfortable. So how about we stick to the fortune telling for now.”

“For now? Oh, I can work with that,” he said with a wink before pointing to the card Raina had set further to the left. “Alright, first card here is the Base Card. It reflects your origins, your roots.” Mal flipped the card over, showing a village burning, humans crying in the streets, causing Raina’s breath to catch in her throat for just a second.

“The Destruction,” she finally said, trying to hide her shock.

“Yeah. Obviously not a very happy card. In this position, it usually means death and tragedy.”

It was a very fitting card for someone orphaned in a bandit massacre. Raina didn’t quite know how to process it. She didn’t put much stock in things like this. In fact, when she’d watched Kade do this before, he’d never had something so… perfect come up. He usually had to spin things with some very nebulous interpretations to make the cards even remotely work for the person in front of him. But Mal had stumbled into an accurate first card for this reading, and he knew nothing about that part of her past.

“Raina, is that-” Nia started, but she stopped abruptly. Raina glanced up from the card to see Mal shaking his head subtly. Given his reluctance to discuss his own history, it made sense that he could recognize a similar desire in her at this moment.

“Keep going.” Raina said after a few seconds of tense silence. Mal only paused for a second more before he kept going.

“Second card is the Core Card. It is still about your past, but it focuses more on the personal, the fundamentals of your personality more than your background.” He turned over the next card and started laughing as what could best be described as two elves in a very intimate embrace was revealed.

“The Passion. Tell me, Kit - you have a lot of heartbroken lovers pining for you back in Riverbend?”

Raina chuckled, glancing up and staring Mal straight in the eye. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Absolutely,” he said without missing a beat, causing Raina to laugh in earnest and Nia to cough into her Bristlegreen tea.

“Let’s just say I have no objections to your reading so far,” Raina said with a smirk. Mal joined in laughing at that, while Nia’s cheeks flushed very dark.

“I think I might turn in,” she said, placing one of her hands against her cheek, her bracelet catching the moonlight.

“Aww, sorry priestess. I promise this is the most scandalous card in the deck,” Mal said, giving Nia a contrite little nod.

Nia glanced between Mal and Raina before shaking her head. “No, it’s alright. I’m rather tired, and something tells me the innuendo will find a way to come back with you two.”

“Nia, we’re sorry.”

“Yeah, we can keep it clean… or at least mostly clean,” Mal added with a little shrug that was probably meant as an apology.

But Nia just shook her head. “It’s fine. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” She gave them both a gentle smile before standing up, waving as she made her way below deck to their shared quarters.

“And then there were two,” said Mal. “You want to keep going, or do-”

“Of course,” said Raina. “You promised me a glimpse at my future. I expect you to deliver.”

Mal grinned before shifting his hand towards the third card positioned in front of Raina. “This position is the Breaking Card. It’s supposed to represent the turning point that takes you from your past to your present.”

“Kade always said the Breaking Card represented the transition from childhood to adulthood when he did this.”

Mal shook his head. “Sometimes that’s the case, but it is more about growing up in the abstract, not literally aging.” He flipped over the card, revealing an unbalanced scale.

“The Unjust? What is that supposed to mean here?”

“It is usually interpreted to mean an imbalance and loss of stability, an upsetting of how life had been. Sometimes it refers to political upheaval or a change in power structure, but it can also be more personal, like a messy break up or the loss of the family business-”

“Or the entrapment of a brother in the Shadow Realm?”

He glanced up at her, wincing a little bit. “Uhh, yeah. That would apply here.” He moved as if to grab her hand, but apparently thought better of it, dropping his fingers to the table and tapping them restlessly a few times instead. “Do you want to stop, Raina?”

She shook her head. “This reading feels shockingly accurate. Who would I be to turn down a chance at knowing my future?”

He nodded, then moved to the middle card. “Alright, so the middle position is considered the Drive Card. It reflects the biggest event of your present.” The card he flipped over showed white light pouring from above colliding in the center with dark smoke from below. It was the Morality, the card that everyone who did readings like this interpreted as a conflict between good and evil forces.

“Well, that’s easy enough to interpret. Battle between light and dark has to represent our taking on the Shadow Court. Keep going.”

“Woah, I thought I was the one doing this reading, Kit.”

Raina smiled and shrugged. “I told you Kade liked to do this around the tavern. Besides, I’m far more interested in the outcome of the Drive Card,” she said, tapping next to the sixth card.

“Ahh, yes. The Reckoning Card. But first we need to see your Key Card to figure out what part of your present is going to be most important for your future. Shape your journey going forward.” He revealed the Twins, a male and female orc with nearly identical features.

“Well I knew the accuracy couldn’t last,” Raina said with a little laugh. “I know for a fact I don’t have a long lost twin waiting for me out there.”

Mal shook his head. “No one interprets this card so literally, Kit. It usually thought to indicate meeting someone with a… similar soul.” He paused before finishing that thought, almost as if trying to find a less emotional phrasing.

“I’m surprised your head didn’t explode from saying something so sentimental.”

“Hey, I don’t make the rules! I’m just the messenger.”

“Uh huh. So I’m going to meet someone very like me and they’re going to define the rest of my life?”

“Yeah, that’s a fair interpretation of this card in that position.”

“So, you’re saying I’m going to meet someone else with a drive for adventure and to see as much of the realm as possible and what? Go into business with them?”

Mal took a sip of his ale without breaking eye contact. “Possibly. The key card is usually read in a more passionate light than that, though.”

“Is this considered a romantic card then?” Raina found herself staring at Mal, unable to break his gaze.

“For humans, yes. The Key Card in general is often considered to be a romantic card. Or at least it usually gets interpreted that way.”

“So I’m going to fall for my fellow adventurer?”

He kept looking right at her as he said, “Well, that would be the most common way the Twins are read in this situation.”

Things suddenly felt tense and loaded, far more expectant than they had any right to be. Not wanting to dwell on the implications of that card, Raina looked to diffuse the moment. “Of course, given that my Core Card was the Lovers, it might just be that I flirt with this adventurer until the next best thing comes along.” Raina knew she was ignoring the fact that the Key Card was supposed to carry the reading from the present to the future, but she didn’t know how to process the depth of such a statement. Not now, when so much was left to do to defeat the Shadow Court and to save Kade. And certainly not when she was staring at the person she felt more similar to than anyone else she’d met in a long time.

Mal seemed to sense her desire to not address the realities and details of such a prediction, instead laughing at her joke. “Love ‘em and leave ‘em your style, too?”

She smirked as she gave him a coy little shrug. “No comment.”

“Fair enough. I want stories later though, Kit.”

Raina waved him off and shook her head. “Just finish my reading, Mal.”

“A valid subject change, I’ll grant you that. So, you already told me that you know that the Reckoning Card represents the eventual outcome of the Drive Card. Ready to see how things go on your mission of doom?”

She rolled her eyes, but nodded. With how attuned this whole reading had been, she found herself eager to see the next card, almost believing it might actually represent their future.

Mal pulled the card toward him, drawing out the reveal. “Huh,” was all he said before placing the card face up in front of her.

“The Double-Edged Sword?”

“Yeah.”

“Does that mean we defeat the Shadow Court?”

Mal shrugged. “This card usually reflects either a desired outcome at a high price, or a wish come true that causes a new set of problems.”

“So not exactly the greatest card for the Reckoning Card.”

“But not the worst either. It’s often portrayed as a mixed outcome. Most tellers would interpret this as reflecting success when it comes to the Shadow Court, but either after suffering some steep consequences or having to traipse through all three hells. That sort of thing."

“Well, I guess that’s better than outright defeat.”

“That’s the spirit! Surviving by the skin of your teeth is all you need, anyway! Easy success is overrated.”

“And highly unlikely?”

“Yeah, that too. You ready for your final card?”

“Hit me with it.”

“Alright, so the final position is the Unwinding Card. It’s supposed to represent the overall course of your life once you’ve fully moved out of the present.” Mal flipped the final card over, showing a golden, gleaming, cup, letting out a little whistle as he saw it.

“The Golden Chalice feels like a good card here.”

“It’s a great one, Kit. It represents comfort, pleasure, contentment. In this position, it’s basically saying your life will be filled with all you could want in the future.”

Raina nodded. “Well, at least it seems like no matter what the Shadow Court deals us, we come out of it alright. Unless you are just an awful fortune teller.”

Mal chuckled at that, sliding the seven cards back into his deck. “I make no promises for the accuracy of these predictions.”

“Where did you learn how to do this anyway?”

Raina noticed that he swallowed roughly as he tucked the cards back into his sack. “That’s a story for another time,” he said finally. “You ready to call it a night?”

She shook her head. “Not just yet."

"You want any company?"

Raina gave him a smile and nodded. “Sure, that would be nice.”

And so he moved over into the chair next to her, following her gaze as she looked up at the stars. The silence was comfortable and easy and for several moments, she just soaked in the night sky.

“So really, how many jilted lovers are we talking for you?” Mal’s teasing question pulled Raina out of her thoughts.

She laughed and shook her head. “Let it go, Mal. Some facts are just better left unmentioned.”

“Fair enough, Kit. Fair enough.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Perma: @walkerswhiskeygirl @octobereighth @kimmiedoo5 @mom2000aggie

Blades: @marshmallowsandfire

Mal x MC: @anotherbeingsworld

#bladesaw #mal volari #mal x mc #tyril starfury #nia ellarious #blades of light and shadow #blades fanfic #choices fanfiction

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liviusofpella · 3 years

Text

sun maiden

pairing: Tyril x human!MC (Selene)

word count: 1200+

warnings: generally none, but i guess it is the tiniest bit of angsty

a/n: i thought that i could try to fill in the two-day gap the team spent on sun maiden, waiting for the storm to pass soo... this is me trying. just a chill, sunny, short fic.

tags: @lxdy-starfury @tyrils-star

“We’ll make history,” Mal mumbled as he plopped down on the Sun Maiden’s floor, playing with his dagger. “We’ll be the first to die out of boredom.”

“I can’t even look at the cards any more,” Selene sighed, crossing her arms on her chest.

“I, for one, enjoy this little break from the adventures,” Threep said as he stretched on Nia’s lap, enjoying her scratches on his belly. “As well as the free access to fresh fish.”

“My opinion of nespers abates with your every word,” Tyril sighed.

Selene slumped down next to the mage and grinned, seeing him instantly tense up.

“I won’t bite if you touch me, you know,” she nudged him, chuckling. “In the bunk. The position you sleep in must be uncomfortable. Besides, I’m a much better cuddling candidate than your sword.”

Tyril blushed and averted his eyes, fixing them on the captain of the ship talking to his crew. She could see he was fighting a smile.

“You take up a lot of space.”

“That’s my sneaky way of making you hug me,” she winked and Mal whistled.

“Why didn’t you say you have such adventures on this wreck?” he commented, engaging the whole group in their conversation. “If you wanted to snuggle, you could just say so, kit,” he winked.

“I’m sorry, Mal, but I’m trying to figure this one out,” she chuckled, teasingly placing a hand on the elf’s thigh. Tyril gulped.

“Alright, I had this stashed for a sad, rainy day, but I think the time has come,” Mal sighed as he uncorked a bottle of ale and offered it to Selene when Nia declined.

“Saviour,” she groaned and emptied half of the bottle at once and then offered it to Tyril who also declined.

“We’re stuck with two prudes,” Mal teased, taking the bottle from Selene. “Even better for me.”

The conversation died down pretty quickly and the group was again engulfed by the sound of the sea.

Selene busied herself with not-so-subtle gazing at the stoic features of the mage’s face while Mal and Nia talked about some of his adventures. There was no denying that Tyril was handsome—beautiful even. She knew that elves are generally easy on the eyes but Tyril’s appearance kept leaving her speechless. His piercing gaze, full lips, those cheekbones, that sharp jaw line. That, the aura of mystery around him, and the fact that so far she’s been the only one to make him smile made her heart flutter whenever he spoke or laid eyes on her. Selene was thinking about the way his thick black hair glistened in the sun, how soft it must’ve feel and how much she wanted to run her hand through them, when the elf spoke, startling her.

“You’re staring.”

Embarrassed, she averted her gaze and bit her lip. Caught.

It physically pained her that she couldn’t touch him. So far, they’ve touched twice, accidentally. Selene hoped that he would touch her eventually as they shared a bunk, but he slept with his arms crossed on his chest, with the sword next to him.

His touch was electric. Addictive. Forbidden. She felt drawn to him. Whether it was his magical energy or the aura of mystery was yet to be discovered.

“I think I’m gonna hit the sheets early today,” Selene announced when a series of yawns escaped her lips, making Nia chuckle. She scratched Threep before getting up and took a last look at the orange sun mirrored in the water.

Despite the overwhelming tiredness, Selene couldn’t fall asleep. She kept tossing in the bed for a solid hour, growing more and more anxious as her mind began to travel down the locked path, bringing up the memories of her brother. Guilt was the feeling that dominated her mind since Kade was sucked into the Shadow Realm. Guilt and grief. Although she didn’t want to admit it, a part of her knew that she might never find him or that she would, but too late.

She felt like a burden to the group. Nia was about to ascend to the Priestess of Light, Mal knew how to fend for himself and could pull off almost anything, and Tyril would be completely fine without any of them. She was terrified, even more with every day as their journey grew more serious and dangerous. All she could offer was the rage and the determination to rescuing Kade that motivated her every day.

A lone hot tear spilled from her eye and she cursed, wiping it angrily. “Don’t be a baby,” she murmured, clenching her jaw.

Selene took a few deep calming breaths as she heard someone’s footsteps and turned to her side, facing the wall.

“What’s the matter, Selene?”

She cursed in her mind. Of course, it was Tyril.

“I’m good. Just can’t sleep.”

“I have eyes,” he continued and sat down on the edge of the thin mattress, his armour creaking quietly. “You might’ve fooled the rest, but I’ve been watching you and I can tell that something is bothering you since we boarded the ship.”

An angry sigh escaped her as she turned to face the elf, looking at her with a stoic, but a little concerned look on his face. She was angry because he figured her out just like that. And she was angry because she was tired.

There was no fooling him, she knew that. Selene appreciated the fact that he actually cared and was bothered enough to go and check on her. She knew all of that but she was just so sad that she couldn’t think straight.

“Do you really think we can save him?”

“I have hope,” he answered without hesitation. “I will do anything to help you find your brother, Selene. You have my word.”

After looking at him intently for a while, she slowly nodded and mumbled quiet thanks. However, she was still on the verge of tears and all she wanted at that moment was for someone to hug her tight and lie that everything will work out eventually.

“The truth is... I don’t want to set back our mission. I can’t help feeling like a burden to you. I don’t have anything to offer,” she chuckled sadly and sniffed. “Nia’s got magic, Mal is good at pretty much everything, and you’re an amazing warrior and a mage. How can I compete with that?”

Selene shook her head and wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry; it must be the booze talking.”

“What strikes me the most is that you don’t see your potential,” Tyril spoke up after a while when she composed herself. “You’re a quick thinker, passionate and stout-hearted. You find a way out of every situation and don’t give up when things don’t work out. And if you’re half as good a fighter, then you shouldn’t worry about being a burden,” he stated, looking straight into her glassy eyes. “It’s not a shame to feel scared, Selene. I would be concerned if you didn’t feel that way.”

Having weighted his words for a while, Selene nodded, a faint smile playing on her lips.

“Thanks, Tyril,” she touched his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “So what about the hugging?”

#blades of light and shadow #tyril x mc #bolas fic #yall this was sitting in my notes since december #choices tyril #tyril starfury

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btsqualityy · 4 years

Text

BTS Second Pregnancy Series #9: Guilt

29 weeks, or 7 and a half months, pregnant

Author’s Note: So, this part is a little longer than usual because it’s about the guilt that many parents face during a second pregnancy. The guilt can range from trying to figure out to how to give an adequate amount of time and attention to all of the kids, to not wanting to take anything away from the firstborns, and everything in between. I hope you guys enjoy this part!

Kim Seokjin

“Daddy! Daddy!” Kaiden shouted as Jin walked through the front door of the house, and Kaiden slid down from his spot on the couch next to you to run over to his daddy.

“Hey Chinny,” Jin chuckled, catching Kaiden in his arms and lifting him to squeeze him in a hug.

“Are you done with work today?” Kaiden asked excitedly. “Can you play with me now?”

“I can’t Chinny,” Jin told him. “I just came home to get something that I needed.”

“Oh. Can we play when you come home at dinner?” Kaiden wondered.

“I’m not gonna be home for dinner tonight Kade,” Jin said and you lifted an eyebrow at that. “I have to be at the studio with your uncles.”

“Oh, ok,” Kaiden murmured and you frowned lightly when you saw the pout on his face. Deciding to step into the situation, you stood up and walked over to them, setting your hand on Kaiden’s back.

“I’m sure Daddy will play with you when he can, right?” You said as you looked up at Jin, who nodded in agreement. “Here, come to Mommy,” you said as you held your arms out and Jin handed Kaiden over to you. Jin then sprinted off up the stairs towards your bedroom, and you squinted your eyes in confusion.

“Here, why don’t you stay here and watch your cartoons ok?” You told Kaiden as you walked back over to the couch and set him down. He nodded softly, watching wordlessly as you turned them on for him. After making sure that he was watching, you climbed up the stairs and walked down the hallway to your bedroom. Once you got to the doorway, you peeked inside to see Jin sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands.

“Jin?” You called and when he lifted his head, your heart felt like it was going to break at seeing the tears streaming down his face. You walked over to him, sitting down on the bed next to him and setting your hand on his back. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“I just feel like a terrible father,” he sniffled and you remained quiet as you let him continue. “I barely have time to play with my son as it is and now that we’re having another baby, all I can think about is how both Kaiden and them are probably gonna feel neglected because I’ll have to split the little bit of free time that I do get.”

“Jin, it’s understandable that you feel like this,” you told him. “But you’re an amazing father. Yeah ok, so Kade was sad when you told him that you had to get back to work but he also looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky. Don’t let this one bad day make you feel inadequate, because I promise you that you’re not.”

“You sure?” Jin wondered. “You sure that they both won’t grow up to hate my guts?” He asked and you giggled because you knew that he was feeling better since he was being over dramatic.

“I’m positive,” you nodded as you reached over to wipe his face for him.

“God, what would I do without you?” He wondered out loud and you smiled before he kissed you softly.

Min Yoongi

“Yoongs?” You whispered, reaching over and gently pushing his fringe off his forehead in hopes of waking him up.

“Y/N-ah, I’m sleeping,” he mumbled, tightening the arm that he had around your middle and pulling you closer into his side. “You should be too.”

“I need to talk to you though,” you said.

“Now? It can’t wait until in the morning?” He wondered.

“Well, it’s kind of been bothering me for a few days now,” you trailed off and Yoongi’s eyes popped open when he heard the shy tone in your voice. He moved his arm up so that it was underneath your head and he set his fingertips on your forehead, frowning slightly when he felt the frown lines there.

“What’s going through your head Min?” He asked you as he looked into your eyes.

“I’ve been feeling guilty,” you admitted and Yoongi furrowed his brows in confusion.

“For what?”

“For getting pregnant again,” you told him, making his eyes widen. “Lately, I’ve just been paying more attention to Kins and she has such a close bond with the both of us. I don’t want to lose that once Kamryn comes.”

“You won’t lose that Y/N-ah, you’re her mom,” Yoongi said.

“I know that rationally, but I can’t help but to think that Kins will feel like we’re just casting her to the wayside, you know? It’s always just been the three of us.”

“Oh baby,” he muttered, leaning over and pressing his lips to yours, kissing you gently for a few seconds before pulling away. “Kins loves you so much. Hell, even I’m chopped liver when it comes to her mommy. She won’t feel like we’re casting her to the side because we won’t let that happen, right?”

“Of course not,” you shook your head.

“You’re fucking amazing when it comes to taking care of me and Kins, and you have been since the day that I met you and since the day that Kins was born. I’m more than sure that you’ll be just as amazing with Kam.”

“You really think so?” You asked softly and Yoongi nodded with a smile.

“I know so. And even on the off chance that I’m wrong, I’ll be right here to help you. So try not to worry about it, yeah?” He said and you nodded before leaning over to kiss him.

“I love you Yoongs,” you whispered.

“I love you more baby. Now, get some sleep Min,” he smirked.

Kim Namjoon

“Mommy, can I have a lollipop?” Mason asked for, what felt like, the thousandth time in the span of 20 minutes.

“Mase, what did I say when you asked me the last time?” You asked him.

“You said no,” he replied.

“So the answer is still no,” you told him as you picked up the laundry basket before turning around and walking up the stairs. Mason, however, was right behind you, not one to give up easily.

“But why not?” He questioned as the two of you walked up the stairs.

“Because it’s too close to dinner and I don’t want you to ruin your appetite,” you explained to him as the two of you walked into your bedroom, where Namjoon was sitting on the bed.

“But it won’t! It’s tiny!” He exclaimed.

“Mason, the answer is no,” you told him as you set the basket on the bed and before rubbing your swollen bump softly.

“But Mommy!” He whined loudly with a stomp of his foot and you whipped around to face him, a scowl on your face,

“Mason Bailey, do not start whining,” You hissed and Namjoon’s eyes widened, because you rarely ever raised your voice at Mason so he decided to intervene.

“Mase, why don’t you go to your room for a little while ok?” Namjoon suggested as he got up from the bed and Mason looked up at him with a pout.

“Am I in trouble?” He murmured and you automatically began to feel bad for how you lost your cool when you saw the look on his face.

“I’ll come talk to you in a minute ok? Just go buddy,” Namjoon said and Mason nodded before turning and walking out of the room. Namjoon then turned to face you, confusion written all over his face. “Y/N, what was that?”

“I’m sorry,” you immediately said, tears starting to rush down your face and Namjoon automatically pulled you into his arms when he saw you crying.

“No Y/N-ah, don’t cry,” he muttered as he hugged you tightly.

“This pregnancy just has my hormones going crazy and he just kept asking after I already told him no multiple times and I just feel like shit because I can’t control it,” you hurriedly explained and Namjoon just shushed you, his heart aching at seeing how bad you felt.

“No, it’s ok jagi. You didn’t mean it and I’m sure he knows that,” Namjoon assured you.

“I’ve been so short tempered lately, and I don’t wanna make him feel bad for being himself just because I’m hormonal,” you sniffled.

“Explain it to him then,” Namjoon told you. “You know he’ll understand what you’re trying to tell him.”

“You think?”

“You know how smart he is,” Namjoon chuckled. “Try him.”

“You’re right,” you nodded, pulling away from the hug to take a deep breath to calm yourself down while Namjoon wiped your face free of tears. “Can you come with me while I go apologize to him?”

“Yeah, come on jagi,” he nodded, reaching down and grabbing your hand in his before leading you towards Mason’s bedroom.

Jung Hoseok

“Daddy, don’t leave,” Lennox and Berkeley both said after Hobi as he moved to stand up from the couch in the living where the three of them had been watching a movie.

“Kiddos, I’ll be right back,” Hobi chuckled. “I’m only going to get us some snacks.”

“We come too,” Berkeley said firmly.

“No, you can both stay here and keep watching the movie. I’ll be right back,” Hobi told them.

“Promise?” Lennox pouted and Hobi furrowed his brow in confusion.

“Of course Lenny. Why wouldn’t I come back?” Hobi wondered.

“You stay at BigHit a lot now,” Berkeley spoke up and Lennox nodded in agreement. Hobi sighed heavily before pulling setting his hands on top of both of their heads.

“Well, Daddy doesn’t have to go back to BigHit until tomorrow, ok? I’m all yours, I promise,” he told them and they both nodded in reply. Hobi then got up and walked into the kitchen, where you were indulging yourself in your latest pregnancy craving of pickles.

“Hey, what’s wrong with you Hobi?” You asked him, immediately noticing the frown on his face.

“Have the kids said anything to you about me having to work more lately?” He questioned and you frowned lightly, shaking your head.

“Not anymore than they usually do. Why?”

“Because I was about to come get us some snacks to eat while we watch the movie and I said that I’d be right back and Lennox said ‘Promise?’. And when I asked why he’d say that, Berk said it’s because I’ve been at BigHit a lot lately,” he explained to you and your eyes widened. You put the jar of pickles in your hands on the counter and wiped your hands before stepping over to Hobi, setting your hands on his cheeks.

“Talk to me,” you murmured and he nodded, taking a second to get his thoughts together.

“I guess hearing them say that just scares me. Apparently, I’m not giving them all of the attention that they want or need and all I can think of is how we have Hendrix coming now and how the hell am I gonna give three kids what they need when I can’t even manage with two?” He said.

“Hobi, you do give them what they need,” you told him. “It’s just that you’re their favorite person and they both love spending time with you. You go so above and beyond as their dad that they can’t help but to notice when you’re not here.”

“Really?” He asked wearily and you nodded with a soft smile, before leaning in and kissing his lips softly.

“Don’t you think for one second that you don’t give 110% to our kiddos every day, because you do,” you smiled. “And they love you so much for it and Hendrix will too.”

“Thank you Y/N-ah,” Hobi grinned, giving you another kiss.

Park Jimin

You were sat on the back porch of your and Jimin’s house, watching with a smile as Jimin and Noah ran around the backyard together. Since today was one of Jimin’s days off, Noah was insistent on taking full advantage of his dad’s free time and you were more than relieved to have the extra pair of hands around.

“Daddy, come back!” Noah shouted as Jimin walked up the steps of the porch, making him stop and turn around to face Noah.

“I’m just gonna take a little break mini me,” he told him. “Why don’t you go play in your sandbox for a while?” He suggested and Noah nodded before skipping off towards it. Jimin came over and sat down on the bench next to you, and you giggled at him when he sighed tiredly.

“God, where does he get all of that energy from?” Jimin wondered as he looked over at you. “I’m exhausted.”

“He’s been saving it for you,” you told him with a smirk. “He’s definitely not that hyper when it’s just me and him.”

“Oh, so he’s just torturing me then? Good to know,” Jimin nodded and you laughed at him before looking back out to Noah, who was playing with his toys in the sandbox. “He’s getting so big now huh?” Jimin said when he saw you looking at Noah.

“Yeah,” you nodded, sniffling softly and Jimin’s eyes widened when he saw tears welling up in your eyes.

“Jagi, why are you crying?” Jimin asked as he fully turned to face you, his hands coming up to hold your cheeks as he wiped your eyes.

“I just don’t want him to feel like he has to grow up since we’re having another baby,” you confessed. “One of my favorite things about Noah is how innocent he is and I don’t want to ruin that for him.”

“Us having another baby isn’t gonna ruin that for him jagi,” Jimin assured you. “He’ll still be our baby too.”

“I know but I don’t want him to think that he has to stop being his little soft self since he’s not the youngest in the family anymore,” you said.

“And that’s where we, as his parents, step in,” Jimin told you. “We know Noah the best so if we see him doing that, we can step in and explain to him that he can still be Noah, you know?”

“Yeah, you’re right,” you said, reaching up and wiping your eyes while Jimin moved his hands down and grabbed your hands in his.

“Trust me, mini me will be great,” he promised you. “His emotional intelligence is higher than the average three year old so he’ll be fine.”

“Thank you Jimin-ssi,” you smiled.

“No problem baby,” Jimin replied, leaning over and kissing you firmly.

Kim Taehyung

“Come on Spence,” you said as you helped her stand up in the bathtub. You grabbed her pink, fluffy bath towel and opened it up before wrapping it around her little body. You then lifted her up and out of the tub, helping her dry herself off.

“Are you gonna do my hair tonight Mommy?” Spencer asked and you smiled, nodding your head.

“Of course Spence,” you replied. “I think Daddy is in your room so why don’t you go ask him to help you put your pajamas on and then bring me your hair stuff when you’re done?”

“Ok!” She exclaimed and you patted her butt twice before she went rushing out of the bathroom and to her room. After letting the water out of the tub, you walked out of the bathroom and down the hall into you and Taehyung’s bedroom, collapsing onto the bed and laying on your back. You had taken a nap earlier in the day but this pregnancy definitely was tiring you out more than you remember that your pregnancy with Spencer had and you couldn’t help but to let your eyes flutter shut.

“Mommy?” You heard Spencer whisper and you opened your eyes, not even realizing that you had drifted off to sleep. “I have my stuff.”

“Oh, I’m sorry Spence, but Mommy is really tired,” you told her with a small yawn. “Do you think we could skip your hair routine, just for tonight?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Spencer muttered and you immediately began to feel bad after seeing the look on her face.

“I’ll do it in the morning before you go to school, alright? I promise,” you told her.

“Ok,” she nodded before turning around walking out of the room. You almost wanted to follow after her and tell her that you would do it, but your body just wouldn’t let you. That’s why you just continued to lay in bed, until Taehyung walked in a little while later.

“Hey, she off to bed?” You asked him.

“Yeah, she finally drifted off a few minutes ago,” he said as he climbed into the bed next to you. He then propped his head up on his hand as he used his other hand to lightly rub your bump. “She seemed a little sad that you didn’t do her hair tonight.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” you groaned. “I felt so bad but I just get tired so easily now.”

“That’s understandable Y/N-ah,” he told you. “You did give her her bath and everything.”

“I know but she knows that I’m more tired because of Elijah and I don’t want her to feel like her routines have to change just because of him,” you admitted.

“But they will change though,” he replied honestly. “We’re gonna have another newborn in the house now and it’ll take us a while to figure out to handle both of them together. We just have to make sure that we take the time to reassure Munchkin when it’s needed, that’s all.”

“And this is why you’re super dad,” you smiled, giggling when Taehyung leaned over and left a kiss on your nose.

“Well, I definitely couldn’t be super dad without you by my side,” he said with a small smile.

Jeon Jungkook

“Good night Angel,” Jungkook said as he tucked Ava into her bed while you watched from the doorway.

“Daddy, my light,” Ava whined and Jungkook nodded as he leaned over and switched on her nightlight.

“There’s your light so go to sleep now, ok?” Jungkook said and Ava nodded, a small giggle escaping her when Jungkook leaned down and kissed her forehead. “I love you Angel.”

“Love you Daddy,” she replied before looking over at you. “I love you too Mommy.”

“Love you too Ave,” you smiled as you walked over to her bed and leaned down to press a kiss to her cheek. “Sweet dreams.” You and Jungkook both watched as she closed her eyes before tip toeing out of her bedroom and heading down the hall to your shared bedroom.

“God, I’m so happy that she’s asleep,” Jungkook groaned as he flopped face first onto your bed and you couldn’t help but to laugh as you sat down next to him. “Is it just me or does she get sassier every day?”

“No, she definitely does,” you nodded.

“She’s taking after you,” he mumbled.

“You say that as if it’s a bad thing,” you laughed and he just shrugged. The two of you continued to sit there silently until Jungkook suddenly flipped over, his eyes wide in realization.

“How the hell are we gonna handle the two of them once Aria’s born?” He wondered and you raised your eyebrows at him.

“What do you mean?”

“Ave can be a lot to handle, even though most of it is harmless but she’s still a lot. How are we gonna handle her and a newborn? And what if Aria is a hard baby just like Ave was? We barely made it through Ave’s first year alive,” he rushed out and you set your hand on his lips, silencing him.

“Kook, you’re ranting and you’re working yourself up,” you told him. “Calm down.”

“I’m trying but I cant help but to think about things like that,” he muttered lamely.

“Kook, we’ll be fine,” you promised. “You’re right, we definitely struggled through Ave’s first year but we made it, didn’t we?”

“Yeah.”

“So we’ll be great with Aria too,” you smiled. “We have each other to lean on, and I’d say that you’re a pretty solid partner. Aren’t I?”

“Mm, I don’t know about all that,” he teased and you gasped playfully, smacking him in the shoulder afterwards. “I’m just kidding. You’re the only person that I would want to have help me deal with our bratty, sassy babies.”

“I feel like you’re shading me since you just said that Ava’s taking after me but I’m gonna ignore that,” you told him.

“I love you Y/N,” Jungkook said as he moved over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he laid his head in your lap.

“I love you more Kook,” you smiled, setting your hands in his hair and running your fingers through it.

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stardustspectre · 3 years

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I get closer and closer to admitting to myself how I feel with my gender. To letting myself express my gender identity the way I want and feel but I keep suppressing it cause it scares me. I don't feel valid as a nonbinary person or deserving of feeling comfortable with my identity. I've pretty much kept what I look like in real life totally separate from tumblr, but I came out as a trans guy when I was about 15 or 16 and was lowkey identifying as non-binary but even then suppressing it, and at 19 I started Testosterone, which I don't regret at all still. I had the deeper voice, facial hair, my hairline changed and people started perceiving me as a man at work and in public more and more. And it felt good, finally I was being seen the way I felt at the time. Right before my 3 years on T (which was last August, so in July) I don't know what happened exactly but it was like a switch was flipped. I was so sick and tired of putting on this front. After coming out as a trans guy I always made myself be the token educating trans person. Anytime I met someone, I would let them ask me anything without fear of judgement because so often I was the first trans person they'd met and I wanted to leave a good impression for the community. At some point it turned into a mask, it wasn't really me. I was playing what felt like this character and I didn't realize it until last summer, after that I was scared and confused. I mean, I had fought so hard to be taken seriously by my family and even had some of my family referring to me as a man and as Kade. I already knew none of my family believed or agreed with non-binary being a valid thing which made it scarier. So I had so many sleepless nights, struggling with my feelings. I also found out I was autistic around the same time, and I know autistic afab people struggle with femininity anyways and all so that just confuses it in my head more.

Tw// sexual assault

I was sexually abused by a couple people multiple times at a very young age. And I think when I came out as trans, instead of just being non-binary and being chill with whatever the sexual abuse messed it up. That it was a safety net for myself in a way.

Tw over

I believe that me identifying as a trans man was the best thing for my mental health to detach me from anything feminine which just held so much trauma and I believe I truly felt more masculine as a non-binary person for those 7 years, but I think now I've finally healed from the trauma and I've worked through my issues with femininity holding so much negativity in my head. Because now I'm feeling feminine a lot and seeing the beauty in that, and I love myself and that was so hard for me. But I'm still so scared to use she/they in my bios. I'm scared to correct my friends that have known me as he/him for years, because hearing he/him used to bring me joy and it doesn't anymore and anytime they do I get hit with this confusion and realization that they don't see me the way I see me and I remember I've been hiding it from them. I am not a woman, at all, but I am feminine leaning with my identity. I prefer they/them before anything, if something else simply must be used for whatever reason then she/her is fine but I don't like when my family refers to me that way because they do it out of disrespect and ignorance.

Like. I perceive myself as she/they and I feel power in that and feel warm and at home in it. But it's like, I know what I look like and I know what I sound like and I know I don't fit in that stereotypical box of she/theys and I'll always be seen as a man in public (honestly the only thing that changed with my 3 years on T was my voice. Not my face or body fat distribution or anything but I've always been tall and built like my dad) and I don't want to be seen that way.

Back in January I started wearing sports bras instead of binders, my binders had all broke and I was just going around with nothing and getting skin rashes so I ordered a few and after not wearing one for 7 years it was. Oddly nice. I didn't hate it, and since then I haven't worn a binder once and I've worn them everyday. I can even refer to them as sports bras and not cringe or flinch at the words and be uncomfortable. Maybe a few weeks ago someone did gender me as she/her which was interesting. I didn't expect it and it was the first time outside my friend group that it happened (the time in my friend group my friend Jasmine slipped and called me she because we were talking about a couple other friends that are women and she didn't mean to) but when she did it didn't hurt, it felt nice.

What's holding me back is my fear of how people will react. My best friends, the person I like, my brother. People I can trust. It scares me so much. I'm holding back all of myself and trying to swallow it down but it's so hard. Anytime I go on tiktok and see women or feminine non-binary people expressing themselves and not caring and wearing what they want I get hit with this sadness because I don't think I can ever just. Exist and wear whatever I want and do whatever and act silly and have fun because I worry about how I'll come off. There's the stereotypical non-binary she/theys you see and I don't fit it at all. And anyone who doesn't is absolutely valid and awesome, and if I saw someone that looked like me and was feeling how I did I wouldn't judge them or think less of them for how they look and sound but because it's me and I've been put down so much I do judge myself and pick myself apart so much.

What I want to tell my friends more than anything is that I'm not a man, I don't want he/him pronouns anymore. I want to stop holding myself back. I want to be myself finally. I'm so tired of watering myself down to the people I love. It shouldn't be this hard.

#long post #fore talks #ignore my ramblings #just needed a good rant #save #for myself

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storydays · 3 years

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Chapter 1: The Adventure Begins p1

The elven king, Xaius stands on the parapet of a great citadel overlooking a massive, smoldering battlefield. "Archers! Fire on my signal! Catapults! Hold for the next wave!" He turned to give an order, when a hideous creature, a gargoyle made of twisting shadow, swoops in toward him. Xaius reaches for his sword,as a blast of light catches the gargoyle in the side, blowing it into nothingness. The king turned to see his second-in-command, the battle mage Ellara, approaching with a gentle smile. "It looked like you needed a hand, my love" "I had it handled. What's your status?" Xaius asked.

"The Shadow forces are many, but they're weak. Our front lines are driving them back. " The elvlen woman smiled wearily. "I-I can't believe it..but we might actually win this th--" She gasped hearing a thunderous roar in the distance. "Gods above...it's the DreadLord! Those madmen actually summoned the DreadLord." Xaius gasped, but looked down to see Ellara's gentle but firm grip. "My love, what do we do?" She whispered. Xaius turned to her, eyes sparkling, his face hard and stoic. "We fight. We die. And we pray that some day, a hero will rise to avenge us..someday."

*Two thousand years later*

In a quaint little tavern in the town of Riverbend, a grinning pair of brothers downed their drinks, as the younger continued telling one of his favorite stories."So what happened next?" chuckled a 21 year old Ezra. His white hair had now grown down to his bottom but he kept it in a braid that hung around his shoulder, bangs brushed to the left side of his face, covering his birthmark, but allowed his gold eyes to peek out. He set down his mug of wine, and locked eyes with his brother across the table.

"The Dreadlord strode down the battlefield, boom,boom BOOM! And then--" His brother was cut off by the grumpy bartender. "We've been hearing this story for years, Kade. The Dreadlord attacked and destroyed the great elven empire." He stated, wiping down a nearby table. Kade scoffed. "Well, yeah, that's the short version....but you don't have the flair for storytelling that I do." Kade crossed his arms and pouted like a child, instead of the 16 year old he was.

Ezra leaned back in his seat, and looked around. They were sitting at their favorite table in the Dancing Pig Tavern, listening to his brother tell another story. 'It's crazy to think that 10 years ago, we were watching over Kade through his sickness...now he's here telling tall tales like those books he likes to read.' Kade and Ezra weren't only brothers, but they were also best friends. Kade was well known through Riverbend but not everyone was as easily amused as the elf was. Kade blended in well with the humans, with his short brown hair, bright green eyes, and freckles splashed across his face, while Ezra stuck out like a sore thumb.

Ezra tuned back into the conversation to hear: "I don't care how well you spin your tales! You still need to pay for your drink." The bartender gruffed at the smaller human. "Barkeep, you wound me." Kade huffed, his mood darkening slightly. Chuckling, Ezra paid his half of the tab and gave the younger a look. "Pay up, Kade. Mother taught us better than that." He stated seriously. "You too, Ezra? I swear, no one in this town appreciates the value of a good tale! Fine, I'll pay. But we're not coming back here!" Kade cried dramatically.

"Yes we are." Ezra and the bartender laughed louder when Kade added at the end, "Well, not tonight at least!" Ezra downed his wine and Kade finished his soda, before paying his side of the tab, and the two left the bar for the night. Ezra looked around their humble village before letting out a long sigh. "Another night in Riverbend. Same as any other." He mumbled gloomily. "That's not true. Some nights I manage to get us free drinks." Ezra barked a laugh before shoving his brother playfully, unable to stay gloomy around his brother.

"You know what I'm--" Ezra's sentence was cut off when he bumped into a tall human heading towards the outskirts of the village. "Hey, watch it!" "Ugh, sorry 'bout that." Ezra stepped back, eyeing the person in front of him. He was a rugged looking man with tanned skin,wavy shoulder length brown hair, glowering brown eyes, and he had a scar on his left eyebrow. He was wearing a cream long sleeved shirt, shoulder guards, wrist gauntlets, green cargo like pants, with a dagger on his left hip.

"Who're you?"Ezra asked, while the man retorted, " None of your business, that's who." Two people that the elf did recognize followed the handsome man. Town Constable Angus and his tough as nails apprentice Grenn. "This here's Mal Volari, from Whitetower." The elder man explained. "He's a world-famous adventurer!" Grenn grinned. "Wait, really?" Kade asked shocked. "Well..I wouldn't say world famous, more like continent-famous really." Mal snickered to himself.

"Well, it's nice to meet you." Ezra said, minding his manners. His poor mother would be rolling in her grave if he didn't at least pretend to be nice. "Yeah, great, nice to meet you too. Now if you don't mind, we've got some important business to get to..." Mal was interrupted by Kade, "Adventurer business? Around here?" "Mal's got a lead on a powerful ancient artifact in the elven ruins to the south! If we can get it, it'll sell for a fortune!" Grenn said excitedly. "Damn the Gods, Grenn, keep it down!" Hissed Angus, "You want everyone in this town to hear about it?" "No need to be so nasty about it." Ezra mumbled, noticing Mal's raised eyebrow at him.

"You mean...to the north, right? There's no ruins to the south." Kade corrected. Mal shoots Angus a glare and the man shrugs. "Y-Yes! To the north! That's what she meant!" He fumbled over his words. "Hang on...there's a powerful ancient relic somewhere around here? And you're going to get it?" Ezra spoke up, excitement coloring his voice. "I got a tip, okay? A good one. From someone willing to pay a whole lot of gold. Angus and Grenn here, they're going to help me claim it. Now if you don't mind..." Mal made to leave again when Ezra gasped the man's arm, and stated, "We'd like to come along." "E-Ezra!" Kade gaped.

"What? It's the chance of a lifetime." Gold eyes playfully sparkle at his brother's expression. Mal eyed the elf before letting out a weary sigh. "No can do. This is dangerous ancient crypt business. I can't have some rookie along bumbling things up." The human noted how the elf stiffened, and prepare himself for an argument.

"I'm not a rookie." glared Ezra. "Really? Ever pried a jewel from the hands of a cursed skeleton, knowing one wrong move would bring the whole room down on your head?" Mal challenged, making Ezra falter. "I mean, not technically.." He deflated. "Ever stabbed a snarling croctopus through the eye on the deck of a burning ship?" Mal continued. "I don't..know what that is." admitted Ezra. "How about this? You ever killed a man? You ever been in a real fight?" Ezra hesitated. ""Yes, I have to both of those." He said darkly, sending chills down everyone's back. "That's what I thought. I like your hustle, I really do. But I don't have time for some kit who's still wet behind the ears." " 'Kit?' " wondered the elf.

"It's a term for new adventurers..you know, like an apprentice?" Kade whispered." "See? You don't even know the terms. Which means you've got a long way ahead of you. Get out there, have some adventures of your own, learn some skills. Then come find me, we'll talk." Mal walked off towards the village gate, Angus laughing as he followed, Grenn sending her old friend a sad look. "Sorry, Ezra." "Well, that was a thing that happened." Kade laughed nervously at Ezra's silent fuming. "He's wrong. I could've done it. I'm the one who taught Grenn to be the adventurer she is today! Angus is an old drunk ass who can barely stay on his feet half the time! 'Learn some skills' I've got plenty of skills!"

The duo began walking again, when Kade asked aloud, "Like..what?" "Well Father taught us to fight bare hand, and I've learned some things about wielding a sword from my travels with Mother. I'm not useless." Ezra ran a finger over the silver ring on his left ring finger in habit. "That Mal guy really got under your skin, didn't he?" astonished the green eyed brother. "I don't know, I suppose I'm just jealous. I want to go on grand adventures and explore." He sighed dreamily. "And get fabulously rich." Kade grinned, Ezra matching him. "That too."

"Aw, don't be hard on Riverbend. This town's been good to us! Not every human village would take such care of a couple of kids like us." 'Or would allow an elf to stay without being treated horribly.' went unsaid between the two. "I know, Kade! And it'll always be my home. I just...want to experience something more. It's not like a great adventure is just going to drop into my lap." Ezra huffed, brushing his bangs to the side again. Green eyes watch his older brother for a moment before clapping his shoulder. "Well, don't worry, brother. We'll experience it all together. " Ezra chuckled softly. "I can always count on you, Kade."

"But for now, all we've got is Riverbend. So, where do you want to start tonight?" Ezra grinned, "Let's head to the night market." "Uh, did you miss the part about having little coin?" Kade raised a eyebrow. "And you think I'm going to let that stop me? Come now, brother, you know me better than that."

The brothers weaved their way through the bustling night market, listening to vendors call out what was for sale: Fruits, meats, silks from the capital, and fish from the shore. An elderly food vendor turned and shook her head at the boys with a warm smile. "Well, well. If it isn't my two favorite customers. Two copper pieces will get you the finest pears we have." "Watch this." Ezra mumbled to Kade, before confidently walking towards the vendor, with a sly grin.

"My dear vendor, we don't have any coin..but is coin what really matters in this world?" "Excuse me?" The vendor chuckled, used to the young man's antics. "Love...passion...a moment of intimacy. Why, what is coin compared to that? Surely a beauty like you can understand." The white haired elf purred, his voice smooth like silk, eyes aglow. The woman barked a laugh at Ezra. "You are an absolute rascal, you know that? Now take these and get out of here boys." Laughing, she handed him two fresh pears, as he winked his thanks.

Ezra bit into his as Kade stared at his back with wide eyes. "How? How did that possibly work?" He raced to catch up with Ezra. "What can I say? I'm the best flirt in Riverbend." His brother laughed before finally eating his pear, walking to the town square when he spoke up again.

"You see? Riverbend isn't so bad. They've taken good care of us." "You're right. I just wish--" "HELP! Please HELP!" A shout echoed through the air. The duo turned to see a young woman in priestess's robes ran into the town square, before grabbing into Ezra, gripping his arms to keep herself from falling,Ezra eyes her.

She had long red hair the fell down to her armpits in ringlets, some strands falling into her face, framing her light brown eyes. She was wearing light pink robes, with a silver and violet necklace on her neck. "You need to help me! Please!" She begged. "Whoa there, what's wrong?" Ezra asked. The woman straightened herself out, standing tall. But Ezra could see behind her disciplined posture, was a hint of fear.

"I am Nia Ellarious, a priestess of the Light. My mentor and I are on a pilgrimage...but we were attacked by an owlbear on the road! I managed to escape while he distracted the beast. But he needs help! Now!" "Have no fear, young priestess..we are brave adventures." "Really?" Kade snorted at his brother's antics. "Shh! Don't mess this up!" hissed Ezra as Nia smiled in relief. "Thank you so much! Please, hurry now. He's just down the road." She began rushing off as Ezra and Kade shared a hesitant look before running after the ginger, but not before Ezra grabbed his sword on the way, strapping it to his left hip.

"Let's go."

@imturaxamara @bladesappreciationweek #bladesAW

https://bladesappreciationweek.tumblr.com/

#blades of light and shadow #choices #mal valori #nia ellarious #bolas kade

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nuggets-and-french-fries · 4 years

Text

Taking Chances: Chapter Three.

Note: Hold onto your hats. This chapter’s ending is angsty.

Enjoy!

===

While Taron and Mikey were out of the house, Pickles had decided to take a nap but he had a hard time with it due to a pesky fly that kept buzzing in his ear. He tried to ignore it but the more that he did, the more it got on his nerves. So finally having enough of it, Pickles stretched and did a little pouncing practice.

By the time that he’d caught the fly, he had trashed the house with cat litter and if that wasn’t enough, Pickles had even tipped over his water and kibble as well. Being a kitten though, he wasn’t phased at all. He went and found himself a hiding spot and fell asleep.

Meanwhile, Taron had made the decision to go and do some grocery shopping after dropping his son off at nursery.

Taron took his time and picked out a few fun treats to put in Mikey’s lunches for school. Just as he reached for the Haribo Star mix, his phone rang. He quickly threw the bag in the shopping trolley before answering the call, completely unaware that there was someone behind him waiting for him to move.

“Hello.” He said as he looked over the items on his shopping list.

“Have I called at a bad time?” Tina asked from the other end.

“Not at all. I’m just doing the shopping.” He replied.

Tina smiled.

“Right, I’ll make this quick then. I was wondering if you and the kid wanted to come over tomorrow afternoon.” Tina questioned.

“Sounds good but please don’t go out of your way to make anything. Mikey doesn’t really eat after nursery as he’s usually tired from all the activity.” Taron explained.

“Ok. I promise that I won’t make anything extravagant. Just tea and biscuits.” Tina said and Taron hummed in response.

They talked for a few more minutes before Tina let her son go and continue his shopping.

On his way out of the sweet isle, he smiled at the woman that had been behind him but she seemed to ignore him, making Taron internally roll his eyes.

Back at the nursery school, Mikey was busy playing with the train set he always played with when a girl he’d never seen before walked up to him.

“Can I play too?” She asked shyly.

Mikey kept his eye on his toy but spoke anyway.

“You play with the green one. It’s bigger.” He said as he handed the girl the green train he’d just been playing with.

“Thank you.” She said as she sat down and started playing trains with him.

“You’re welcome.” Mikey replied as he reached for another train that wasn’t being used.

While they were playing, another girl walked up to them and started picking on the girl.

The little boy stopped what he was doing and looked up.

“You’re mean.” He said a-matter-of-factly.

“Yeah.” Jasmine agreed with her new friend.

Ivy snatched Jasmine’s train and started playing with it.

“Hey, give it back.” Jasmine whined as she tried to take it.

Ivy held the toy to her chest as tightly as she could so that Jasmine couldn’t grab it.

Jasmine started crying when Ivy refused to give her the train.

Mikey got angry and moved toward Ivy and snatched it back, handing it over to a tearful Jasmine.

“Hey.” Ivy whined as her lower lip wobbled.

“You took it first.” Mikey said.

Ivy glared at him and went for Jasmine again.

Mikey didn’t hesitate to push the girl away.

Ivy fell backwards and burst into tears after hitting the ground.

This alerted the teacher who immediately rushed over.

“What is going on here?” The teacher asked firmly.

“He pushed me.” Ivy said through her sobs.

“Michael, is that true?” The woman questioned, giving him a chance to own up to his actions.

“She snatched her train.” Mikey tried but the teacher wasn’t having it.

“That’s not nice at all. You can’t do that Michael. Come with me, Ivy you too.” She said as she took their hands and took them to the time out area, making sure to keep them separated.

Nicola had been wandering around the grocers trying to find her sister’s favorite fruit. Just as she found what she was looking for, the man from before moved in front of her, not realizing that she was there.

“Are you kidding me. What is wrong with you?” Nicola snapped, having little to no patience for people today.

You see, Nicola’s mother was a drug addict and married her awful step father. She had recently been granted full custody of her sister but with that came a whole bunch of issues that she hadn’t thought of until now.

One of the issues was the fact that she lived in Aberystwyth and her mother, step father and her sister lived in London. Her sister who had just turned 4 the day before, had been uprooted and was made to start a new school that morning. boy did Jasmine put up a fight that morning, instantly setting Nicola into a bad mood.

“Excuse me?” Taron asked, slightly taken aback.

“This is the second time that you’ve been in my way today and it’s really annoying.” She snapped again.

Taron rolled his eyes visibly this time and scoffed.

“On your bike, asshole.” She said as she flipped him off before storming past him, making sure to flip him the bird.

“Bitch.” Taron muttered.

By the time that he was done shopping, he had run into the woman two more times and they both muttered comments under their breaths as they passed one another in the isles.

Taron was in a rank mood when he got home and was not prepared for the mess that Pickles had so graciously left for him.

“Stupid cat.” He grumbled, kicking off his shoes and walking into the kitchen to put everything away.

Just as he went to put the crackers in the cupboard, Pickles pounced on Taron’s foot and bit him. The man jumped and dropped the cracker box on the ground.

Of course when he looked down at the little fur ball, Pickles was looking up at him with big eyes; making Taron’s anger subside somewhat.

“You are such a pest sometimes.” The Welshman spoke as he scooped Pickles up and kissed the top of his fuzzy orange head.

Pickles purred and cuddled into his owner’s neck.

Together Pickles and Taron put the rest of the groceries away before Taron got to work with cleaning the house.

While he was in Mikey’s room organizing his toys, Taron’s eyes landed on his wife’s favorite yellow hoodie.

Taron sighed angrily. He had told his son over and over that his mother’s belongings were not a toy and that he wasn’t allowed to touch them.

He took the hoodie in his hands and went back to his room and laid it on her side of the bed.

A few hours later Taron was waiting outside his son’s classroom ready to pick Mikey up. The father had a surprise when the teacher wanted to talk with him first before he and Mikey left.

The woman explained what had happened and Although Taron was proud of Mikey for standing up for Jasmine, he was thoroughly disappointed in him for pushing Ivy the way that he did.

He promised the Teacher that he’d talk to Mikey and make sure the little boy knew that what he did was inexcusable.

“Again, I’m truly sorry.” Taron said as he and Mrs.Graves stood up and walked to where Mikey was happily playing with some blocks.

“Thank you Mr. Egerton.” The woman replied.

“Bye.” Mikey said as he waved to his teacher.

“Goodbye Michael. You have a good night.” Mrs. Graves called.

Taron got his son situated in his booster seat before getting in himself.

Most of the car ride home was silent and Mikey couldn’t take it.

“Daddy, are you mad at me?” Mikey asked in a small voice.

Taron sighed.

“I’m not mad but I am disappointed in you.” The father admitted.

Mikey hung his head and tried not to cry.

“What made you think that it was ok to push someone, a girl no less?” Taron asked, keeping his eyes on the road.

Mikey decided to stay silent so as to not cry.

“Mikey mate, I’m talking to you.” Taron said with a bit more annoyance in his tone.

The little boy's chin started to wobble. He thought his father would be proud of him for standing up for someone.

“Michael Kade Egerton, answer me.” Taron snapped. That was the last straw.

Mikey burst into tears, not caring how loud his cries were. All he wanted was to go to his room and hug his mum’s hoodie because it still smelled like her and it made him feel like she was there with him.

Soon enough Taron pulled into the driveway and parked the vehicle.

“Mikey, look at me.” Taron said a lot softer this time.

Mikey ignored him and tried to undo his seat belt as fast as he could, wanting to get away from his father. Taron got out of the vehicle and went to unbuckle his son.

As soon as Taron unlocked and opened the front door, Mikey ran to his room and slammed the door.

The little boy frantically looked for the top he had taken but when he couldn’t find it, he laid on his bed and hid his face in his pillow and cried louder than he ever had. All he wanted was his mum.

Taron could hear Mikey’s cries amplify and knew that it was because he had taken the hoodie back.

He couldn’t take Mikey’s tears. Yes Mikey needed to be disciplined but Taron was supposed to be the fun parent and Kate was supposed to be the strict one. That’s what they had constantly joked about but then when Mikey was born, Taron suddenly found himself as a widower with a brand new baby.

The Welshman tried to keep his emotions at bay but when he walked past Mikey’s room, Taron heard his little boy call out for his mum and it broke him.

It was times like this that Taron felt lost and like he needed his wife.

He went to his own room and reached for the hoodie he’d previously laid on the bed and buried his face in it and breathed in her smell. His heart ached and his eyes stung as his own tears fell.

Strangled sobs filled the master room that were louder than Taron intended.

Eventually Mikey had stopped crying and listened to his father crying.

The young one slid off his bed and toddled carefully over to where Taron was leaning over the bed with his face hidden.

Mikey rested his head on Taron’s back and started crying again, feeling like he was the cause for his father’s tears.

“I’m sorry I made you hate me.” Mikey said as his small arms tried to wrap themselves around his dad’s back, trying to brave.

Taron put the hoodie down and gently moved his son into his strong arms.

“I don’t hate you. I could never hate you.” Taron replied through sniffles.

“I want mama.” Mikey admitted, unknowingly making Taron’s heart shatter.

===

Tag List: @sarahegerton96 @softeggsy @jobanan23 @hauntedflamingo @superthiccthighssavelives @cilldaracailin @holdmeclosertinytaron @hitmeonmytspot @aberystwythboy @stronglyobsessed @dogmom2014 @rocknrollmadden @fuseburner

#dad!taron #it'sjustpickles #taronegerton

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queenbirbs · 4 years

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find you in the night | Mal x MC

Pairing: Mal Volari x h!MC (Elwyn)

Word count: 2600+

Summary: A little conversation at sixty-three feet in the air. Or: Mal invites Elwyn to see the abandoned wonder of Westavia Woods. Title taken from Andrew Belle’s “In My Veins.”

“This is a lot less fun than you said it would be.”

“I dunno. I’ve got a pretty spectacular view from where I’m standing,” Mal counters from where he leans over the edge, no doubt getting an eyeful.

Though she can’t see the smirk on his face, given that she’s too busy climbing up the side of a castle, Elwyn knows it’s there. The handhold she chose gives way under her palm, tearing her attention away from the man above. She digs through the vines and finds another, her nails scratching at the stone in a way that sends a shiver up her spine – and not in a good way, either.

“A little help down here?” she calls up.

In the span of a second, Mal straddles the turret’s wall and waggles his fingers for her to take. Elwyn frowns up at him, even as her boots slip across the protruding stone blocks. “There’s no way that’s safe. Throw me a rope or something.”

“It’s perfectly safe!” he defends. His confidence dims when he eyes the distance between them again. “Safe-ish. C’mon, kit, we haven’t got all day. Sun’s gonna set before you manage to inch your way up here–”

“Fine. Give me your damn hand, then.” She huffs, grinning all the while – he answers in kind with his own as he leans down and grips her hand. His skin is warm from the sun-baked stones, his palm rough from spending a lifetime scaling such structures for treasure.

“That’s it,” he coaxes. “Up and over.”

She climbs the rest of the way up and throws a leg over the wall, drawing in a breath to calm her nerves. She sucks in another when she takes in their view.

“Oh, wow.”

“I know.”

The castle they sit atop, formerly owned by some pompous asshole (Mal’s words, not hers, though she tends to agree with his sentiments regarding the upper class), sprawls across several acres.

Or, at least, it once had. Now, some hundred or so years since its abandonment, much of it has fallen into disrepair. The gatehouse and several of the towers are nothing more than moss-coated rubble. Dense sheets of vines crawl their way up and over the remaining towers and keep. The courtyard is now an extension of the forest, trees and shrubs filling the neat square where people once bustled about.

What’s left of the castle towers high above Westavia Woods. The name is a bit of a misnomer, considering the massive spread of forest between Undermount and Whitetower. After leaving the elven city and winding down through the Salus Mountains (while battling a few trolls along the way), they’d stopped here to rest. Tyril had called the area Tel’ eath, which roughly translated to ‘the endless.’ Elwyn didn’t need him to expand on that one.

The view before them is an ocean of green, the forest stretching as far as the eye can see. Already low in the sky, the sun traces the line of the horizon a brilliant gold. Birds soar across the landscape, their forms thrown into sharp relief.

“I thought it’d be nice to get away.” Mal glances her way and lets out a sigh of content. “Glad to see I was right.”

“Like an adventure from our adventure?”

“Exactly.” He reaches down into his bag and produces a small bottle. The golden liquid inside almost shimmers in the waning sunlight. “Swiped this from the winery while you were grabbing the mangy cat-bat his own bottle.”

Popping out the cork with the tip of his dagger, Mal hands it off to her for the first sip. The taste is sweet, almost to the degree of too much, before the mellow hint of herbs emerges to soothe the dulcified liquid. If the Celestial icewine was sunshine-and-snow, the honey-wine is a gentle wind through a willow tree, or the first bite of autumn. Elwyn thinks of the field of meadowsweet on the eastern edge of Riverbend. How she would spend afternoons hidden in the dense thicket, her nose in a book of fantastical places like Cordonia, or La Huerta, or Lykos, or Brooklyn.

“I can see why Threep likes it,” she says, taking another sip before passing it back to Mal.

Rolling her shoulders to ease the muscles now sore from her ascent, she indulges in the scenery. From this height, she can easily spot camp, where the steady stream of smoke from their fire snakes up through the tree cover. Their friends’ voices are nothing more than a distant thrum, indecipherable on the wind.

“I’ve never climbed something so tall. There was an old fortress south of Riverbend that I went to the top of, but it was only three stories high. And the view was nothing like this.”

“All by yourself?” he teases, making a show of licking his lips clean of the wine. “And here I thought you hadn’t taken part in a single adventure until I came along.”

“It wasn’t much of an adventure. And I went with the town blacksmith.”

“Ah. What’s his name, then?”

“Her name is Simona.”

Mal hums a tone of interest, one eyebrow peaked. “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t ya?”

She levels a look of her own at him. “You did see me make out with that mermaid, didn’t you?”

“It’s not like I was ogling you two,” he points out with a scoff. “Not that you’ll ever hear me admit it again, but I was jealous.”

“Oh, I know. You’re not exactly subtle about it.”

“I’d try to hide it, but you seem to see right through me.” He’s grinning as he says it, but there’s a softness in his gaze that wasn’t there weeks ago.

It’s his only tell that she’s been able to spot. Maybe because he lets her, she considers, and the thought warms her, oddly enough.

Turning from her companion, Elwyn scans the farthest edge of the forest as best she can, looking for the age-old sign of civilization: right angles. Even far beyond her sight, she knows that the great city of Whitetower is still many, many miles away. The thought of visiting the capital city has her torn in two.

On one hand, it’s somewhere she’s always wanted to go, after seeing a painting of the sparkling, white castles rising high into the sky, the cobblestone streets below filled with the smudged outlines of its citizens. After living most of her life in a tiny, backwater town, she longed to experience a real, bustling city filled to the brim with people.

On the other hand, she knows that it’s the last stop on their adventure through Morella. Elwyn has no doubt that they’ll find the last shard; has no qualms about fighting the Shadow Court; has no objection to doing whatever it takes to get her brother back.

She can only hope that her friends make it out alive.

A quick tug on her braid brings her out of her woolgathering.

“Penny for your thoughts.”

“Wondering what awaits us in the city,” she answers, trying her best to hide the anxiety she feels.

Mal rolls his shoulders in a lazy shrug, exuding a carefree appearance. It’s a good act, she’ll give him that.

“Destruction, devastation… death. But that’s the usual for Whitetower.”

“I know you don’t want to return, but I’m glad you’re coming.”

“It’s not that,” he says with a shake of his head. “I’d always planned to go back, of course, what with my sister still living there. But that sort of visit would be a quick in-and-out, do a bit of business, and be off before anyone who cared to know even suspected.”

Squinting out at the horizon, he sighs before flashing her a wry grin. “I have a feeling we’ll be making quite the entrance for ourselves this time.”

She watches the grin fade away as his brown eyes search hers.

“I have few memories of my village,” she tells him, “but not all of them are good. And I’m not only talking about the night it was destroyed. So, I understand about wanting to leave the past where it lies.”

“I’d be lying if I hadn’t thought about it burning down to ash. Parts of it, at least,” he amends. “I don’t wish any harm on the citizens.”

“I’m guessing those parts would be the castle.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, something dark flashing in his eyes. “Just those.”

Before them, the sun has disappeared. It throws its last light out across the treetops, a vain attempt to keep its hold on the day. The night arrives like a deep, blue blanket thrown over the sky. High above them, stars twinkle into existence, materializing in droves. It’s as if someone has flicked a white paintbrush across the heavens. A cool wind rushes past; Elwyn shudders along with the vines.

She thinks of Kade and the realm he’s trapped in. Can he see the night sky from wherever he is? Can he keep himself sane by listing off the constellations, something that used to annoy the piss out of her growing up? Can he even still be alive?

She thinks of Kaya, frozen in death, her fear sculpted across her glass form, all alone at what seemed like the bottom of the world. Of all the terrible thoughts that bubble up, Elwyn thinks the worst might be her hands. How they were raised to shield herself from the attack, how that same instinct of survival runs deep in everything, no matter the species. Had she known what was coming? Or was there surprise hidden somewhere behind all that fear?

“Should we have… done something for Kaya?” she asks, hating how small her voice sounds.

“She was beyond our help.”

“I know that. But it still feels like we abandoned her. We left her down there.” Elwyn scrubs at her eyes, wishing she could banish away the immediate well of tears. “I keep thinking about the last time I saw Kade. He had that same expression. What if he thinks there’s no rescue coming? What if he does, though, and we can’t? What if–”

“Hey, hey,” Mal cuts off her worried rambling. He cups her face and drops a kiss to her forehead, and then another just under her eye. Something squeezes tight in her chest at the gesture. “You’ll worry yourself in circles like that.”

“I know,” she whispers, her hand covering his. “But I can’t–”

“Help it. I understand. And I wouldn’t lie to you, not about this. Kade… he–”

“May be lost forever,” Elwyn finishes for him.

He winces, but gives her a quick nod.

“I know that,” she tells him. “After all we’ve seen of what the Shadow Court can do, I can only run on blind faith at this point that I’ll get him back.”

“Hey, now. It’s not only faith. You’ve got the four of us.” He pauses and frowns. “Well, five if you count the cat, but he’s at most a glorified stomach with wings. But that doesn’t mean that we won’t fight like hell for your brother.”

His thumb sweeps across her cheek, steadying her. She turns her head and presses her lips to his palm, wishing she could express the gratitude she feels that they’ve all stuck beside her this long. Instead, she shifts to take another long look at the world as the night closes in on them.

“I feel like I could see Riverbend from here.”

“If it weren’t for the curve of the world, and if your eyes were as good as mine, you probably could.”

She gives his thigh a light smack.

“My eyes are just fine, thank you.”

“Very fine indeed,” he agrees, that familiar smirk of his firmly in place.

She realizes that she would like to wipe it right off. Sliding her hand down along his arm, she wraps it around his bicep and hauls him down for a kiss.

He’s quick on the uptake, his arms coming around to circle her waist and drag her closer. His tongue runs across her bottom lip, asking for entry; she acquiesces with a tilt of her head and deepens the kiss. The taste of him is a concoction of aged leather, a rain-soaked forest, and a spice she can’t seem to put a name to, something that seems to be uniquely Mal.

His touch dances across her back and up along her ribs, one hand around her waist to keep her steady while the other sinks into her hair. She hooks a leg up and around his hip, drawing him flush against her. Her move is met with a satisfied hum. Pleasure travels through her veins, slow and steady like treacle. It’s dizzying, the effect of him. If he asks, she’ll blame it on the dangerous, sixty-foot drop mere inches away, but they both know a lie when they hear one.

He breaks their kiss to trail his mouth down her neck and across her chest.

“If you wanted to get me all alone so you could have your way with me,” he pauses, his tongue tracing the lines of her collarbone in a way that makes her breath hitch, “you could’ve just said so.”

“I thought our resident rogue and self-proclaimed ‘king of stealth’ would enjoy my attempt at subtlety.”

He laughs, his beard tickling at the sensitive skin of her throat. Some deep, tucked-away part of her would like to hear the sound every day of her life.

“Elwyn, I’ve seen you flirt with every living thing we’ve come across. You wouldn’t know subtle if it was branded across your forehead.”

Dragging her hand down his front, she treats him to a hint of her nails, pleased when he sucks in a breath as she continues lower.

“The way I see it,” she murmurs, “why waste all that precious time and energy when I can be as brazen as I’d like and get there even faster?”

Sliding her touch back up his body, she fits two fingers under his chin and urges him to meet her for another kiss. Her toes curl inside her boots at the heady slide of his lips against hers.

“Would you like to know my next idea?” he asks, nipping a path along her jaw to below her ear.

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Once we can get away from our merry band of misfits for more than two minutes, I plan on taking you to bed.” He bites down at the soft skin below her ear, a breathy chuckle escaping him when she bites her lip on the end of a groan. “Once there, I plan on coaxing out all these lovely noises you’re keeping bottled up.”

Shivers dance up her spine, but in a good way this time.

“What a coincidence.” She grins up at him when he pulls back to return to her mouth. “Because that’s exactly what I plan on doing with you.”

He gazes down at her with something akin to wonder. “Great minds think alike, then.”

At the horizon, the sunlight empties out the last of its parting glass. The dark blue of twilight seeps across the canvas before them. “We should probably get going,” he sighs, the disappointment ringing through his words. “Especially if we want to eat something before Threep hoards it all for himself.”

Elwyn concedes his point and casts a wary glance down the side of the castle.

“Um, how are we going to get back down?”

“Like any normal person would. By the stairs.”

She would wipe the shit-eating grin off his face if she wasn’t worried she’d knock him straight off the turret.

“There are stairs? You told me the only way up was to climb!”

“The only interesting way up. C’mon, El, what’s life without a little adventure, hmm?”

“Don’t call me El.”

“I think it suits you, but all right, fine. How about Wynnie?”

“I will throw you from this castle, I swear.”

“Ah, but you’re laughing. Admit it, you like it.”

“You’re absurd.”

“You know what, you’re right. But it’s a shame you can’t come up with a nickname for me, what with my name being so short.”

“I’m sure I can find something that suits you.”

“Oh, surely you must know by now, Elwyn. It’s you – you suit me right down to the ground.”

AN: Me, ending a story with lines of dialogue instead of giving it a proper send-off? Truly unprecedented.

References: a line from Syfy’s Alice and the Roman goddess Salus that I named the mountains after.

Was I inspired to write this by the fact that Mal Volari is essentially the whatever-century-this-book-exists-in version of Nathan Drake? Yes, thanks. Was there ever any doubt I would love him the moment he opened his smart mouth? Nope!

Honey-wine is actually another name for mead, though there is a chance they could be different drinks depending on the region (thanks wikipedia). No matter what, though, I imagine the drink tastes a lot better in the Blades universe than my only taste of it at a pub in Pitlochry.

#mal x mc #mal volari #choices blades #blades of light and shadow #Kaila writes things #f: find you in the night

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lynaeclarke · 5 years

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An Excerpt from War of Thorns: The Loss of Home

Stories of Courage and Heartache.

An excerpt from the coming collection from Luke Kade.

There’s a fine line between a thief and a treasure hunter. A lot of it comes from it being about greed. I’m not a huge fan of either term though, I didn’t start because of greed, so I use the term retrieval expert instead. Yeah, I steal things sometimes. I’m good at getting into places and good at getting out of bad places. I go into the dark places where others are too afraid to go. I get things that don’t belong to people, but sometimes it is something some just lost. I mean, they might have had it stolen, and they might have stolen it from someone else, but it’s all just stuff in the end. People want it because it’s powerful or worth a lot of coin or something stupid. It pays me, and that’s all I care about. The rich always want what they can’t have and they’re usually too lazy to go after it for themselves. There are other people though, those who can’t afford to get their own things back, and that is why I call myself a retrieval expert and not a thief or treasure hunter. Or maybe in addition to those.

After a disaster, natural or by mortal hands, that things get lost or left behind. When people flee for their lives, possessions just aren’t the priority. More often than not, these people can’t return to their homes safely, there’s nothing to return to, or looters have beat them home. I know what it’s like to lose your home and leave everything behind. I understand when people ask me to get small things that don’t hold as much value, at least to a thief. Paintings of their family, an old heirloom passed down as far back as they could remember, a journal of all their great ideas yet to be shared with the world. You can’t replace this stuff, so I do my damndest to get find it. It’s these jobs that take a toll on me though.

I can fight for my life in some dungeon and not be bothered at all, but going into the ruins of someone’s home, their life… I get it. A lot of the time when I go, the home is abandoned or occupied. I can usually find what I’m looking for. In war, valuables found are stored or taken by one of the soldiers. It’s an easy case of breaking into a building or breaking an arm. There was this time when I found an enemy soldier, an orc, reading a journal I had been sent to retrieve. He would read a few pages, laugh, and keep going; the life contained inside just entertainment to him. He gave it up quite easily. Other times, it’s not as simple. The house is cleaned out. I’m left with the choice to return empty handed or spend weeks tracking, depending on how important the item is. Like I said, the pay isn’t great, but people are grateful. That’s how you make connections, and sometimes that’s more important.

Returning with nothing though, it sucks. It’s always a long shot if I can find something. These people know it, but seeing the disappointment, the sadness, sometimes anger. It feels worse than not failing to just steal something. The important things people lost, they might never get back. With Teldrassil, it felt like that, but times a hundred. After the tree burned, a friend asked me to try and find something for her parents. Those connections I had, they heard, and soon I had a dozen papers filled with lists and descriptions; directions to their homes and where valuables would be, if still there. The captain of my crew owed me a favor, and so he sailed us as close to the tree as we could manage without getting into the fighting that was still raging on. I told the crew if I wasn’t back in three days to leave without me, then I mounted my snowy gryphon, Snowbeak, and took off toward the still smoldering remains of the World Tree.

We hadn’t been anywhere near Dakrshore when it burned. All we knew was what had been told to us, the horror stories. I had my mask and my goggles and had to hope that would be enough. Flying up, the tree looked like a shadowy hand, a blackened trunk with ashen tendrils reaching into the sky. I had no way of knowing what the inside would look like, but if the exterior was any indication, I didn’t think it would be good. Chunks of burnt wood crashed down as I made my way between what remained of the branches. I could still feel the heat, sweating in my leathers. The air was still heavy with ash, acrid and overwhelming. I pulled my mask on as I descended into the ruined tree and reached down to do the same for Snowbeak with the special mask I’d made.

The land sparkled, most of it still smoldering in heaps of what had been trees, towns. Lives. If it wasn’t made from stone, it was gone. I could imagine where the brightest flames had been, there were piles of ash and wood left. It took a while to orient myself. Most of the landmarks on the map I had were gone. When I found what I hoped was my first stop, I knew there would be nothing to find. I left Snow in the path, where there hadn’t been enough to burn and made my way to the remnants. It was like walking in fresh snow, except for the clouds that circled my feet with every step.

The beams had fallen in, forming a haphazard pyramid. I stepped onto the foundation and rammed the beam on the bottom, letting it tumble and settle before digging through the ash. If there had been anything upstairs, it was all on one floor now, either burned or buried so deep it was ruined. Still, I sifted through, finding small bits of metal that had been part of furniture or a doorframe. I found the remains of a book, perhaps the one I was looking for, but most of the pages had been burned away. Regardless, I tucked into my haversack and returned to Snow.

Stop after stop, it was the same, hardly anything left. If I was lucky, I would find some jewelry. They were durable enough to survive but so small that it took hours of sifting to find them. I knew most of the things on the list weren’t going to be found. Even with my limited magic, the task dragged on. I came across one home that had been spared. There were signs that flames had tried, but they hadn’t taken, and the building remained. Inside, I found everything just as it had been left. It wasn’t on my list, but I took a few things anyway. Chances were, someone would ask for it, or it would be my payment for my work.

On the second day, as I was finishing, I heard the sounds of someone grunting. I had left Snow by a lake and was on my own. I crouched low and made for the sounds. I saw an old Kaldorei, doing his damndest to left a wooden beam from in a burnt out house. I straightened up and walked over, carefully, not trying to hide my approach though. Without a word, I bent down and helped lift the beam up. The elf looked up at me, his face covered in soot and sweat, then he went back to work and we threw the wood as far as we could in front of us. Underneath was a body, charred and unrecognizable, at least to me. It could have been his wife, daughter, son… I didn’t ask as he ever so gently pulled the body out. From my sack, I pulled out a long length of cloth and laid it out on the cobbles. The elf didn’t look at me, but placed the body down and folded it up.

He turned back and I followed him. In total, we pulled out four more bodies. We said nothing the entire time, and before I left, I gave him more cloth for burial shrouds. I’d brought plenty for that exact purpose. The last items on my list were bodies. I dreaded it and saved it for last. It wasn’t the traveling back with the corpses though, it was the loss. The hopelessness that came with it all. I’d been asked to only retrieve one body before in all my time, and here I was searching for half a dozen. It was nowhere near the same as going for belongings. It was more important though, and it needed to be done.

Just before the end of the third day, I readied Snow, tying the three bodies I had found behind the saddle, all wrapped carefully to avoid crumbling. In total, I’d only found a handful of things on a list of over a dozen. An old sword, soot covering the inscription at the hilt; A golden earring with the moon shining brightly in the center, missing its pair; a necklace that resembled a moonwell; the center of a painting of a family, the corners horribly burnt and the rest of the relations lost. We flew out carefully and made it back to the ship where it was tucked into an inlet.

I stored the corpses carefully in the cabin, then we made our way to the Eastern Kingdoms. Nearing the north side of the continent, another of the crew came up to me, a Forsaken by the name of Ed. He was a bigger man in life, built like a bear. Even undead, there was enough meat on him to show he had muscle. We never talked much, a Gilnean and Forsaken didn’t make good friends. We were pleasant enough as we could be though. Had to be on a ship. He went into the cabin where the dead were stored and gestured. I followed.

“I’ve a favor to ask of you.” We took a seat and told him I’d do what I could if it was in my power. He had something heavy weighing him down, and I’m not one to pry, but after a minute of silence, I pushed him. “I’m sorry about your people,” he started. “And theirs.” He waved a hand to the dead. “It should never have gone this way.” I wasn’t sure what to say. I didn’t hate him. Perhaps his people, but not him. He’d only been on the ship since Undercity fell. He always struck me as a good man.

“I grew up in Lordaeron you know. Born there, worked in the forge since I could lift a hammer. With my dad and brother, working away until I was nothing but bones.” He laughed at that, displaying his features. I have to admit, I laughed too. “We provided a lot of the arms and armour for the soldiers, those that kept us safe from all harm. We were proud of that. Felt like we were protecting the people too. We all looked out for one another. Then we all died.” He looked up at me then, and you know me, I’m not a touchy feely guy, but I put a hand on his shoulder. He smiled and went on.

“No one wanted us after that. We were monsters. I can’t say I blame them, at least not at first. Hell, most of us didn’t want what we had become. But after a while, we learned to live with it, so to speak. We contributed. Made ourselves useful. My family, we kept working, still trying to protect our people. We had our city back, as twisted as it was. If the outside world wouldn’t have us, we’d sit right where we were. We’d keep each other safe. Then we lost it all over again. That plague shit just dumped into our homes. We could stay in the homes we lived and died in, and she just took it all away. And where were we supposed to go? To that city with spikes? That’s not home. That’s not where I grew up.” He sighed, looking back to the corpses and what I had recovered.

“So, I need to ask, my father… he refused to leave. I understand if you can’t. Or won’t.” I knew what he was asking. He told a compelling story, so how could I refuse? The captain agreed and we docked to the west of the city. Ed came with me. There were still troops milling about the area. It wasn’t easy to hide the big man but we made it through. It didn’t matter though. The blight was everywhere still. I made it a few steps in before I collapsed. Even with a mask, I almost died. Would have if Ed hadn’t pulled me out.

I was angry for him, for all the Forsaken who hadn’t asked for this war. Their city had been taken from them, twice. There was no way to go back to even try to recover what was lost. I don’t know how long blight lasts, but… It doesn’t matter. It was taken from them, just like my home had, and the Kaldorei. Ed had joined us because he didn’t feel like he belonged in the orcish city. I can’t say I blamed him.

Back in Stormwind, with Ed and the other Horde crew stored below decks, I went ashore to return what I could. It was a long walk. I know people say possessions don’t matter, and they don’t, but these weren’t just things. They were memories, emotions. They were people's lives. They were the only things that might have been recovered after the land was taken. Now, really, who is the thief here?

(For anyone who wasn’t sure what this collection will be, this is the kind of things to expect. More to come the 25th!)

#War of Thorns #world of warcraft rp #Harvest Moon Publishing #wra rp #Wow Rp #rp writing

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idle-flower · 4 years

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Dear Yuletide Author - 2020

Thank you for your time and attention, and I hope your wishes are granted this holiday season!

Likes:

I prefer plot and angst and adventure to fluff, though a nice warm fluffy scene can make a good dessert at the end of the pain and suffering. I lean more to f/f and m/f than m/m. I enjoy forbidden relationships. I love exploring the 'what if' spinoffs of a small change in a canon. I swoon for lovers who take dramatic risks to protect their loved ones.

I also enjoy detailed description of clothing/furniture/jewelry/pretty things in general. Not just heaping up brand names, but sensory detail.

Dislikes:

Please avoid sweeping tropey AUs like 'what if noir' or 'what if everyone was in high school'. I'm REALLY picky about comedy so it's probably not a good idea to go for wacky funny stuff. No excited rambling about pregnancy or babies. (Older kids are okay.) While I am okay with pretty dark stuff, please don't gorily torture characters to death on screen. If people gotta die, limit the details! I am generally not keen on crossovers. I dislike PWP unless it is exceedingly hot smut (see below).

Smut:

I don't require it, but I do read a good bit of filthy porn.

Kinks I find interesting: mild bdsm, pain mixed with pleasure, dubcon, sibling or cousin incest, strap-ons, futanari and other magical appendages, teasing, teenagers, drugs/magic with interesting effects, people making terrible decisions due to being emotionally overwrought or really really horny

SMUTTY DO NOT WANTS:

rape or painful sex that one party is not enjoying at all, inserting anything edible (licking off boobs is okay), aggressive face-fucking, choking, degradation, scat/watersports, bukkake, parental incest, anyone younger than teen, emphasis on 'virgin blood' (some writers make it a huge deal with tearing pain and fountains of blood, please don't).

Wayward Children

Jill Wolcott

Down Among The Sticks And Bones is my absolute favorite of this series. I love both Jack and Jill, but everybody loves Jack. Let's talk about Jill. Let's talk about a hungry girl who wanted things, fiercely, who wanted to be pretty and special and loved, and who was left behind by a sister who chose to save herself and never look back. A girl who was deliberately cut off from friendship by the father-master who made himself her only source of love.

What if Jack and Jill maintained more contact during those formative years in the Moors, meeting in secret and trying (and probably failing) to rekindle their bond and to convince each other to appreciate their choices? What if Jill softened, and her certainty faltered?

What if both Jack and Jill had grown up without disruption in the Moors, becoming a vampire and a mad scientist, in balance and at odds? How would they interact and conflict as adults?

What happened with Jill and her friends, the ones she played with around the fountain before the Master killed them? Who were they? What did she think happened to them, and how did she react? Did they ALL die, or just enough to scare the other villagers into shunning Jill? How did she deal with the rejection?

What if she'd chosen some other method of being ruthless? Captured Alexis and locked her in the dungeons to be a plaything? Or some other village child, kept in secret, to be her pet and her 'friend'? Or perhaps captured people and brought them to her 'father' as offerings for his appetite, to prove herself?

What were days like, living with her Master? (And yes that could get kinky or creepy)

What went through her mind during EHAD? What triggered her to start her plan? Did she consider that she was behaving more like a mad scientist than a vampire princess? What did she think about Jack? Did she plan to kill Jack eventually? If Jack had abandoned Jill at the school and opened her door home alone, might Jill have succeeded in creating a key and come seeking vengeance?

Disregarding Come Tumbling Down, what else might have happened to Jill after her resurrection? If the Master rejected her, might she have gone in search of even darker powers? Do rules normally govern the fate of failed apprentices? (After all, Mary's still alive despite rejecting the Master, but apparently bound to serve him.)

Basically I'm open to a TON of ideas here but I want to stick with stories from the first two books and leave out what happened later. Bring on the angst. Let Jill suffer in tragedies of her own making, but give her sympathy as well. Maybe she’s redeemed! ... Maybe not.

VIOLENCE: I'm okay with murder and blood and torture in this canon, just try to make it more poetic than gross. You can imply she broke someone's fingers with snaps and screams, but I don't need descriptions of what somebody's kidneys look like.

TRAGEDY: You can cut my heart out on this one if you want to. Any character can die, including Jill. I don’t require either a happy or a sad ending, but I might enjoy the tension of having no idea which way it’s going to turn out.

IF YOU WANT TO WRITE SMUT: Jill/Jack, Jill/Master, Jill/Mary, Jill/Some random villager, these are all fine. Jill/Alexis is better as a horror element than as a smut one, I don't want to read sex if one party isn't at least reluctantly enjoying it.

DNW: Jill/Kade.

Poison Ivy (1992 film)

Sylvie Cooper, Ivy

I was struggling through the confusions of puberty, Ivy was hot, this film left an impression on me. In a way it's perfect as it is, and trying to build any sort of happy ending for Ivy feels out of place, but on the other hand there's a lot of loose ends left after the story.

Throughout the film, there's a lot the audience never knows about Ivy, including her legal name. Did Coop know it? (Maybe, probably.) Did her father? (Quite possibly not). How do they handle all the legal responsibilities of her death? Were Ivy's stories about the aunt she was staying with true? How do they break the news? How does her funeral go?

What do Sylvie and her father have to say to each other about Ivy after the truth comes out? Does he admit everything that he did? How does he handle the guilt? How do they rebuild their relationship?

What is school like, afterwards? What rumors escape? How does Coop handle them?

Or - what if Ivy survives the fall? Seriously injured, possibly paralysed, but alive? How do they deal with her, once the truth comes out? Do they cover up her crimes? Do they keep her in their home? What happens to their relationships?

For AUs, what would have happened if Ivy had met Coop when they were several years younger, so she couldn't get her hooks into Darryl as easily? What if they met at summer camp and Ivy was just as messed-up and needy but the situations were different? What if the movie plot is actually a fantasy younger-Ivy spins about her future to her fascinated-and-appalled friend, who then has a chance to react to it?

IF YOU WANT TO WRITE SMUT: I'm fine with Sylvie/Ivy, I'm okay with Darryl/Ivy but I would rather he not be the focus of the story (Sylvie catching them having sex has possibilities, or Ivy thinking about Sylvie while seducing Darryl)

DNW: Anyone other than Ivy to die, Ivy to marry Darryl

Xanth - Piers Anthony

Jenny Elf, Gwendolyn Goblin

I have an ulterior motive, I badly want to insert some gayness into Xanth after the author has tried so hard to make it impossible, even allegedly threatening magical straightjackets to cure homosexuality. And it is difficult to think of a good f/f pairing because female characters in Xanth are almost completely obsessed with flashing their panties and attracting men. Almost the only good female friendship actually on-page (as opposed to a vague comment that Ivy and Nada used to hang out) is Jenny/Gwenny, who are best friends.

The events of The Color Of Her Panties even provide some possible groundwork to build on. They've been raised together in the care of centaurs who have different views on morality/sexuality than humans do. They're forced to think about sex and be inducted into the Adult Conspiracy together. Gwenny's new contacts mean that she starts seeing other people's sexual fantasies (and Jenny does too, for a while). They're bound to have some good girly gossip on the subject at some point, talking about what all these weirdoes are into and trying to figure out what the appeal is! Or some simple "ugh boys are gross, especially goblin boys" that leads to pushing them closer together. (Well, Che is quite different from the goblin boys, and I'm not totally opposed to including him, but my ulterior motive makes me more interested in Jenny/Gwenny as a couple than all of them as an OT3.)

Straightforward romance: Gwenny relies on Jenny to cheer her up and help her relax from her duties. Romance blossoms! Simple.

Silly fluff: Gwenny and Jenny visit the Pantry, try on tons of lingerie together, have a ridiculous slumber party and pillow fight, end up snogging... maybe they even accidentally found Dolph and Electra's honeymoon chamber.

For a slightly more dramatic plot, Gwenny's bound to feel like she has to marry and have a child because goblins have hereditary rulership. She also knows all the good and bad sides of that - she would never have come to power without those rules, but those rules also made her bastard half-brother a threat when he would have been a terrible leader. And she knows that true family is what you choose, not just an accident of birth. Will she decide that she has to have a husband? Will she decide that she cannot have a husband, who might threaten her power, but must give birth to a child for the succession? (And hey, magic can be involved, she can TOTALLY find a way to summon the stork with Jenny somehow) Or what about adoption?

If you smut it, I don't care if they're still as young as they were in TCOHP (but no younger). I'm also fine with them being older. I would rather not do any temporary sex-change because that defeats my ulterior motive, but weird uses for Xanth-style magic stuff could be entertaining.

If the real-world implications of Jenny Elf bother you, I'll settle for Ivy/Nada, but that's going to need a lot more imagination to get a satisfying story out of it. How does their friendship develop between Isle of View and Man from Mundania, other than gossipping about their respective brothers? Do they have any adventures? How does Ivy cope with Nada's occasional self-destructive tendencies? How does Electra fit into their group?

DNW: Tragic endings, any references to canon post The Color Of Her Panties

My Little Pony Megan, Wind Whistler

Wind Whistler needs more love. I will be perfectly content with any fantasy adventure story featuring the G1 / MLP&Friends characters facing dramatic fantasy peril and saving the day with some help from Wind Whistler's brains. I loved Tambelon and Midnight Castle and The End Of Flutter Valley and all sorts of mystical threats, so throw some big old magical doom at me. I don't really want any permanent harm to come to anyone, it feels out of tone for a show adventure, but you can tie Megan up and have her suspended over certain death and rescued at the last minute by Wind Whistler swooping in or whatever.

Please avoid any references to Friendship is Magic locations/characters/etc, I actually haven't watched it and will just be confused.

Now, if you want to cater to my weird midnight thoughts...

Megan and Wind Whistler were close. Very close. And ponies having crushes on human-shaped people was canon. And Wind Whistler is not always good at dealing with her heart. Imagine the angst potential of these two developing feelings for each other. How do they cope? Do they maintain a romantic friendship while supporting each other in other relationships? Do they remain together, chastely bonded, all their lives? What if Wind Whistler found a way to take human form? How would she cope with giving up her wings for Megan? (Could be a bit of a Little Mermaid plotline there).

Given the in-cartoon existence of Mama and Baby versions of the same pony, and no Papa pony ever, suggesting you can have identical offspring with no father needed, do ponies actually reproduce through some sort of magical stork/cabbage-patch scenario? And if so, could weird pony hybrids start showing up if the ponies socialise too much with other creatures?

SMUT: Only if Wind Whistler takes on human form, and only as a small element of the story, that's really not what I'm here for with this request. (But being able to take on human form only once and having only one night together would hit my taste for angst.)

DNW: Sex involving ponies, canon-atypical violence/injuries/death.

#yuletide letter #yuletide 2020

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gehayi · 6 years

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Fandom Snowflake Challenge--Day 3

Day 3 In your own space, post recs for at least three fanworks that you did not create. For this, I thought I would rec all the stories that I have bookmarked that I thought need more love. All of them are complete (no WIPs, though I do wish some would continue). I made notes on some when I bookmarked them, so where those occur, they're included.

Also, this is LONG. You have been warned.

14th CENTURY CE RPF Hallowmas, Or Shortest Of Day by skazka Isabella, future girl-queen of England, receives a visit from a predecessor. Commentary: Melancholy and sweet, with wee Isabella as an adorable seven-year-old who's very much at sea and Anne of Bohemia as the gentlest and kindest of ghosts. It's A Terrible Reign by angevin2 A dying John of Gaunt, with the aid of his long-dead brother, walks the road not taken. Commentary: Wickedly deflates the "It's a Wonderful Life" premise simply by having John of Gaunt be himself--confident, convinced that what he wants is surely for the best, and blunt enough to point out that most of the awful stuff that could have happened DID happen anyway. Also, Gaunt and the Black Prince are both believable and hysterical as brothers. Jesu dulcis memoria by angevin2 Master Ladislaus's only regret is that his greatest masterpiece--the Wilton Diptych--is one born of grief. Commentary: Brief, sorrowful and stunningly beautiful. I had a lump in my throat when I finished reading it. Remembrance of a Weeping Queen by angevin2 Anne of Bohemia contemplates her purpose in life. Commentary: It’s not easy dealing with public crises while coping with private grief. If you like royal ladies who make a difference in their world and who smile sweetly and gently despite heartbreak, this is for you. *** A STUDY IN EMERALD - NEIL GAIMAN: R'Iyeh Is Not An Empty House by Trobadora It all began because of the woman. *** ARTHURIAN MYTHOLOGY Wheels Within Wheels by Philipa_Moss “Have you heard?” Linet asked. “She’s back.” *** AUSTIN & MURRY-O'KEEFE FAMILIES - MADELEINE L'ENGLE Galois Theory by primeideal Five times everything fell into place. That Unexpected Fateful Hour, Once Again at Hand by ElegantPi Charles Wallace is assigned two new classmates and a task, just before his winter holiday. Wordless by CG (NYCScribbler) Three times Calvin O'Keefe hasn't known what to say. *** BENJAMIN JANUARY MYSTERIES - BARBARA HAMBLY Escargots by Nary Rose was not one to offer platitudes for a man she hadn't known, to a man who hadn't cared about him. "What killed him?" she asked instead, for she couldn't think of any reason why Shaw would be telling her about this if it had been a natural death. "Poison's our best guess." He paused, as if considering how to most gently say what was coming next. "He took his final meal at the Hotel Iberville last night. So as you might imagine, I got a pressin' need to speak with your nephew, Gabriel Corbier." Commentary: This story belongs to the women, and deservedly so. Rose January/Janvier is brilliant and shrewd and a fantastic scientific detective in 1830s New Orleans, while her sister-in-law Olympe Corbier solves half the mystery by deducing what posion was used. It's sharp, smoothly written and as thoroughly researched as any of the books. Honestly, you could drop this into Barbara Hambly's Good Man Friday (the book in which Benjamin January goes off to Washington DC, a trip which Rose mentions in passing) and it would fit in seamlessly. I'm honestly not sure that the person who wrote this for me isn't Barbara Hambly. If you love historical mysteries, stories featuring characters of color, or both, then read this story. Five moments in the life of Augustus Mayerling by sevenofspade Becoming Augustus Mayerling is a process. Commentary: The details of how Augustus Mayerling became Augustus Mayerling. Detailed, sharp and utterly right. Headcanon accepted. Magnificat in New Orleans by Taabe On the eve of Benjamin and Rose Vitrac January's first Christmas in their new home, at the end of a Reveillón, Ben and Hannibal have a run-in with a less peaceful holiday tradition, and they and Rose take a in young stranger in more need of help than even they realize. Commentary: Dazzlingly beautiful, brilliantly researched, and powerful enough to make your heart ache. A magnificent Magnificat. *** BISCLAVRET - MARIE DE FRANCE J'ai Vu le Loup by Gileonnen The hunt collapses the distance between man and beast. Commentary: A canonical medieval gay werewolf. I love it. *** CADFAEL CHRONICLES - ELLIS PETERS A Flourish of Gold by thelittlestbird When a murder disrupts the peace conference that might end the Anarchy, Brother Cadfael must solve one last mystery. Fortunately, he has some very competent people to help him. *** CANTERBURY TALES - GEOFFREY CHAUCER Mordre, She Wroot by sistermagpie At least one pilgrim will not make it to Canterbury. *** CHRONICLES OF NARNIA - C.S.LEWIS Clipsie the Mariner by Transposable_Element The episode of the Dufflepuds and the Magician's book, from the point of view of the Chief's daughter, Clipsie. Dark and Deep by the_rck Tumnus delivers Lucy to the White Witch, and Aslan never comes. All four children end up in Jadis's hands, and she decides to see what she can mold them into. *** CROSSOVERS Chronicles of Narnia/Harry Potter And Bide the Danger by MiraMira Susan Pevensie: former Unspeakable, legendary beauty, possible Dark witch. A young Amelia Bones, eager to make her mark on MLE, has just been assigned to track her down. But the further Amelia proceeds with her investigation, the more questions she uncovers - especially once she meets Susan herself. Dark Tower/The Stand On the Plains of the Crimson King by magistera Eight years after Randall Flagg was defeated, life goes on in the much-reduced circumstances of post-Trips America. But when Fran and Stu's son begins to have disturbing (and all-too-familiar) dreams, it's a sign of change to come. Commentary: This ties together the stories of The Stand and The Dark Tower, blending the worlds and explaining why Flagg saw Fran Goldsmith's baby as so much of a threat. The tone and the characterization are spot-on, and there's one action scene early on that chilled me. And despite all the supernatural occurrences, which are handled beautifully, this world is solidly grounded. It feels real. Honest to God, if I didn't know better, I'd think that Stephen King fanficced himself. Doctor Who/Mrs. Pollifax - Dorothy Gilman Mrs. Pollifax and the Christmas Party by Emiline “Since you mention it, there was something else,” she admitted. “I’d like you both to come to my Christmas party this year.” With gate-crashing by the unstoppable Jack Harkness. Doctor Who/Wicked Voice - Vernon Lee The Sapphire of Rassilon by zopyrus All Grace Holloway wanted was an ordinary night at the San Francisco Opera. But when the Doctor shows up unexpectedly (again), Grace finds herself travelling back to 18th-century Venice—with a stop along the way to pick up the forgotten Victorian author, Vernon Lee. Murdered composers, lesbian drama, opera singers, and more! Commentary: A gorgeous crossover with the Eighth Doctor and a canon called A Wicked Voice, set mostly in Venice of the 1700s and 1800s. It's a gorgeous story--vivid and colorful, and capable of making you see the Venice of both time periods. This is a story to get lost it. Read it. You'll be glad that you did. Dresden Files - Jim Butcher/Tale of the Five Series - Diane Duane Fire Working by melannen Herewiss goes through a Door that is probably not the Door into Starlight, and meets a man who uses the Fire. Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare/Midsummer Night's Dream - Shakespeare/Peter Pan - J. M. Barrie Perhaps. Perhaps. Perhaps. by fresne Perhaps, the story went this way. Perhaps, it went that way. Perhaps. *** DRESDEN FILES - JIM BUTCHER Johnny's Little Secret by shiplizard A mafia errand boy worries about his junior partner. Slash implied, friendship explicit. Rated Teen for language. *** EAGLES ARE TURNING PEOPLE INTO HORSES: THE MOVIE (2009) Eagles are Turning People Into Horses: The Movie: II: The Horses That Used To Be People But Were Turned Into Horses By Eagles Strike Back: The Revengening by KiaraSayre "This is real life, Brian. There's no ignoring the fact that eagles are turning people into horses. We just have to learn to live with it." Commentary: Glorious crackfic. Every line made me smile, grin or laugh. Quintessentially Yuletide. *** ELIZABETHAN AND JACOBEAN THEATRE & LITERATURE RPF Sad Stories of the Death of Kings by angevin It's 1593, and Kit Marlowe is trying out a new genre. Commentary: If you're intimidated by the canon's title, don't be. Kit Marlowe and Will Shakespeare are playwrights and rivals, each criticizing each other's work while writing plays that are strongly influenced by the same. Marlowe is gloriously OTT, as he was in real life, and Shakespeare is the ultimate fanboy who can't quite tell if his idol is flirting or not. This made me smile. A lot. *** EVERY HEART A DOORWAY - SEANAN McGUIRE The Mirror Cracked From Side to Side by Amazing_E_Ko Nancy has left her old life behind, but when Jack comes tumbling through a portal bearing news of an apocalypse, her sister speaking prophecy from beyond death, Nancy is pulled back into the world of living, breathing things. With the help of Kade and Christopher they must unravel the mystery of the disappearing worlds, and uncover the truth behind all their journeys. Post-canon. Commentary: Absolute magic. I am not entirely certain that the writer isn't really Seanan McGuire. And I am so very grateful that I found this story. *** FAIRY TALES AND FOLKLORE Der Rattenfänger von Hameln | The Pied Piper of Hamelin (Fairy Tale) If I Miss You Call the Tune by lalalalalawhy It is 100 light years since our children left. Commentary: A fairy tale retelling in space. Heartwrenching and so, so good. Sneedronningen | The Snow Queen - Hans Christian Andersen The Enchanted Hawk by Alona In which the robber girl encounters a dysfunctional royal family and makes the most of it. Commentary: The robber girl--no longer so little--is beautifully sly, cunning and practical, defying conventions both in her world and in ours. She doesn't assume that enchanted animals are necessarily truthful, she takes the time to scout out a situation, and she knows what she wants and goes after it cheerfully and unashamedly. I'd love to read more about her and her adventures. *** FALLEN LONDON (FORMERLY ECHO BAZAAR) Fortune, Fate, Freedom by escritoireazul Are we the sum of our choices, or are we our fate? Commentary: A Choose Your Own Adventure tale about the Cheesemonger, the finest of all spies. Hard To Find by Kastaka As if the Comtessa would let a little thing like social ostracism stand in her way. Commentary: When this was first published, it was the first Echo Bazaar fic I'd ever seen, and it continues the story of the subject character--the Missing Comtessa--smashingly, not to mention capturing the atmosphere of the twisted world of Fallen London so well. If you know the game of Echo Bazaar, you'll love it. If you don't know the game, you'll STILL love it, plus the story may inspire interest in the game. Either way, you win! or leave it by anstaar A tough shares their story. *** FIREFLY Can’t Take The Sky by Glinda Serenity does not understand grief; Serenity understands grief all too well. Inundation by lilacsigil When knowledge is power, it's important to keep knowledge controlled. Shepherd Book is here to help. *** GREEK AND ROMAN MYTHOLOGY Medusa's Tale by Area51Fugitive Ah. You've come. I knew you would. Commentary: The very best retelling of the Medusa myth I've ever read, and the only one that ever made me cry. *** HARRY POTTER - J.K. ROWLING Poseidon's Prisoner by esteoflorien Young Cassiopeia Black sets off in search of her brother - and receives assistance from an unlikely person, making her reconsider the way she previously viewed her world. *** HIGHLANDER: THE SERIES Mnemosyne by Medie Wounds of the flesh heal easily for Immortals, the ones of the soul, less so. Commentary: A sympathetic and angry Cassandra, after the Horsemen Arc. *** HIS DARK MATERIALS - PHILIP PULLMAN Valleys of the Shadows by finch (afinch) This is not a happy story. This is the story of three girls who find themselves in the middle of a new African war. There are witches' revolts, daring escapes, the killing of the bears, echoes of freedom, the lack of mercy of the pirates, chains stronger than any steel, and three deaths, one by one by one. This is not a happy story, there are no happy endings, no miracles, no subtle knife, and no angels. This is the story of three girls, a slave, an unwilling pawn, and a refugee. This is story of three girls and three dæmons. *** INVISIBLE LIBRARY: FANWORKS BASED ON IMAGINARY WORKS MENTIONED IN FICTION Miserable Les, Les Misérables - All Media Types, Discworld - Terry Pratchett Truth! Justice! Freedom! Reasonably-priced love! And a black coffee! by greenet Wherein everybody is protesting, drinking a whole lot of coffee, and falling in and out of love. Nina Lightfingers learns to appreciate the elegance of a lady’s fan wielded with murderous intent, Petiterre is over-caffeinated, Evgeni is banned from reading self-help books, and Brusher is over-protective. Among other things. Commentary: If Terry Pratchett had written an in-universe musical about the events of Night Watch, it would have been this story. That is to say, it would have been perfect. P.S. Miserable Les is mentioned as a possible opera in Maskerade. *** JOHN LEWIS CHRISTMAS ADVERTS Please, please, please... by AdaptationDecay Lewis knows exactly what he wants for Christmas. Commentary: This is a stealth crossover, but I'm not going to mention what it's crossed with. That would spoil the impact of the reveal. *** MARY POPPINS (1964) Pictures in the Pavement and Magic in the Rain by El Staplador (elstaplador) Time moves on, and when the wind changes, things happen. Usually Mary Poppins is there, somewhere. *** NCIS No Such Thing by circ_bamboo There's no such thing as zombies. (Or: People should have realized that, sooner or later, pouring the liquefied remnants of corpses in the municipal water supply was going to lead to zombies.) Commentary: Absolutely the best and the funniest zombie story I've ever read! The NCIS team is spot-on as a bad situation snowballs gloriously. Also, I will never think of cedar shavings, sodium intake or tiki torches the same way again! P.S. Here are more sources about resomation: http://www.bbc.com/news/science-environment-14114555 https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alkaline_hydrolysis_(body_disposal) https://funeralbooker.com/blog/everything-need-know-resomation/ *** ONCE UPON A TIME (TV) Staying Found by misscam “I will always find you,” they say. And they did. Now they just have to get used to having been found again, together again, a relationship again, all the little things again. [Snow/Charming + minor Emma, Henry, Belle] *** PETER PAN - J.M. BARRIE The Art of Becoming by LostWendy1 “Every child is affected thus the first time he is treated unfairly. All he thinks he has a right to when he comes to you to be yours is fairness. After you have been unfair to him he will love you again, but will never afterwards be the same boy. No one ever gets over the first unfairness; no one except Peter. He often met it, but he always forgot it. I suppose that was the real difference between him and all the rest.” (Peter Pan, Barrie) Commentary: The story of Mr. Darling--and the origins of Captain Hook. *** PRINCELESS There's No Such Thing As Elegators by psocoptera Sparky, Adrienne, and Bedelia have an encounter in the grasslands. Commentary: You don't often hear stories from the dragon's point of view. *** REBECCA - DAPHNE DU MAURIER A Thousand Words, Or Simply Three by Skogkatt Danny, faced with a new mistress of vastly inferior rank, ruminates on the past. *** RUBYQUEST Rubyquest II: The Island by AdaptationDecay In your inventory, you have two walkie-talkies and an empty champagne bottle. Time to save the world... *** SHAKESPEARE King Lear - Shakespeare 'Tis Strange by lorata Lear Enterprises' CEO prepares to divide his company's controlling shares between his daughters and their subsidiaries. Edmund, non-powered and disaffected son in a superhero family, plots to turn villain. Regan and Goneril abandon their father to the zombies after he endangers their safehouses one too many times. Gloucester scours open space for the former commander of the star system, set adrift in a malfunctioning lifepod. Cordelia and her dragon prepare to take on her sisters with the help of the French aerial dragon corps. Some stories aren't just universal, they're multiversal. The tale of King Lear, from eleven different worlds. When She Was Bad by lorata LEAR: Then let them anatomize Regan. See what breeds about her heart. Is there any cause in nature that makes these hard hearts? Act 3, Scene 6 SERVANT: If she live long, And in the end meet the old course of death, Women will all turn monsters. Act 3, Scene 7 Even the sweetest pup will bite if handled roughly, and Regan is no innocent. The making of a girl who embraced her demons and turned them to her purpose. Richard II - Shakespeare A Signet On Thine Arm by skazka Kisse he me with the cos of his mouth. For thi tetis ben betere than wyn, and yyuen odour with beste oynementis. Richard and Anne make out in the bath. Privilege by angevin2 Richard kissed a girl and he liked it. And then things got really complicated. Six Variations on Loyalty by angevin2 The King's party (for it is, in fact, still the King's party) has not even left Flint Castle for London before Henry of Hereford, now styling himself Henry of Lancaster, begins trying to seduce Edward of Aumerle. Thy Rebuke Hath Broken His Heart by Aris Merquoni (ArisTGD) Soulbonds between men and women are the most romantic form of marriage in the known world. Soulbonds between men and men make bards and poets salivate with the prospect of terrible, epic tragedy. Richard and Henry think that bards and poets are assholes. Romeo and Juliet - Shakespeare Starling by loathlylady Rosaline in the hot sun. *** STORIES BASED ON ARTWORKS La fiancée hésitante | The Hesitant Betrothed - Auguste Toulmouche Les Femmes Acharnées by Violsva Blanche has a plan, Céleste has a plan - really, everyone has a plan. Commentary: An excellent story of marriage, murder and female friendship. *** SWAN LAKE (BALLET) Juno's Swans by La Reine Noire (lareinenoire) And wheresoever we went, like Juno's swans, / Still we went coupled and inseparable. *** THE GOBLIN EMPEROR - KATHERINE ADDISON Passage by bigsunglasses Released from his role as Prince by the birth of a son to the Emperor and Empress, Idra is allowed to attend university. But he can't escape his past so easily, or perhaps at all, particularly not when he meets someone who walks under a similar shadow ... Three years post-canon. *** THE SANDMAN The First Conversation with Death by evilhippo What happens when someone is no longer an aspect of the Endless? (An imagined epilogue to The Wake.) *** THOMAS OF WOODSTOCK (PLAY) like brambles to the cedars by angevin2 Queen Anne isn't used to English customs. It doesn't help that her husband and his uncles can't agree on what they are. Commentary: This is the story of a gentle young woman adjusting to life far from home and adjusting to political currents she doesn’t quite understand. If you like sweet and feminine Sansa Stark singing songs or sewing expertly, you’ll love this. *** THURSDAY'S CHILDREN - RUMER GODDEN A Bitter God to Follow by Bakcheia In which everybody is in love with ballet dancer Yuri Koszorz, including Yuri. Commentary: A story of seductive charm and self-absorption. Yuri is a likable young man, even as he heedlessly captivates everyone around him, not caring whether anyone gets hurt. *** WATERSHIP DOWN - RICHARD ADAMS The Story of Hrayatha and the Rabbit Who Left No Tracks by Luzula Pipkin listens to a story. Post-canon. *** WENDY TRILOGY - S.J. TUCKER (SONG CYCLE) Always keep your head by LeaperSonata So Wendy'd got herself a crew of ruthless men and brave and they'd terrorize the Lost Boys each and every Saturday. One day Wendy says to Peter, "I'd like more girls on my crew." So Peter goes a-hunting Lost Girls and brings back Green-eyed Sue. Commentary: You don't have to know S.J. Tucker's songs--specifically, the Wendy Trilogy--to understand this story about the time when Wendy Darling became a pirate called Red-Handed Jill. This story is about Green-Eyed Sue, Jill's first mate, but more than that, it's about finding the place where you belong. Most of all, it's about identity and love and being honest with yourself. Highly recommended. Journey's End by eris_kyrall (kereia) The decision to go back home had not come easily to Wendy Darling, and the hardest part of it was saying goodbye. Commentary: This story deals with Wendy's departure from Neverland, but it treats her decision to leave as right and natural, as if Wendy were a potted plant that had outgrown its container. At the same time, it shows that those who didn't follow Wendy home were also right. Also, I love the female friendship in this story. Bittersweet.

#snowflake challenge 2018 #fic recs #long post

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elfnerdherder · 7 years

Text

The Unquiet Grave

You can read Chapter 7 on Ao3 Here

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Chapter 7: Where Hearts Go to Quiet

He sits by the river, fishing pole in one hand and a flask in the other. As he fishes, he finds himself revisiting the same scene over and over and over again in his head, and it’s enough of an imposition that he is more than lucky that he brought two flasks instead of one –god almighty, why hadn’t he brought the entire fifth to the river? Why had he left so much behind?

Alana was going to be so upset with him when she finally got him to answer the phone.

In truth, he could have handled his departure from the hospital far better than he did. He didn’t have to stand so fast he toppled his chair over, and he certainly hadn’t meant to barrel from the room so quickly he knocked a nurse into Hannibal. At least Hannibal had been able to catch her before she fell into a surprised and concerned Alana. The water hadn’t been saved, though, but he’s certain no one gave a second thought to the water dropping and splattering everywhere. No matter the protests tossed his way, furious heels on tile close behind him, he found himself all but running from the hospital, hailing the first taxi by stepping directly in front of it so that it had no choice but to stop for him.

All in all, a rather dramatic getaway. If he was in control of himself, he’d have left with far better finesse, enough that no one asked questions, enough that when he returned to work he wouldn’t have to deal with Jack.

He takes another pull from the flask, contemplating the fact that he wasn’t in control of himself then, and he certainly isn’t in control now. He hopes no one tells Jack.

When the fish tugs on the line, he hauls it up with slow, careful turns of the reel, setting the flask down to give it his full attention. Sometimes, when nights are too quiet and dreams are too far, he finds himself thinking of his childhood, of the way he’d cried when his father once killed a fish in front of him. He doesn’t have many memories of his childhood, seeing as how his empathy was an early discovery. The memories he has locked away within the stream of consciousness in his mind sometimes blur the way old photos do, discolored and lacking details. Other times, though, they slide along the water with sharp clarity, so much so that it startles him with how each color fights against the other for attention, clear and bold and so utterly painful with the way he can only see the whole thing if he stands far enough away from it.

His father hit the fish on a rock, and nerves kept it moving for many minutes after. He threw up later, thinking about it, the scales in the sunlight and the eyes that didn’t close. He was glad he hadn’t touched the fish, otherwise he’d have felt its death –luck, he told himself, after he knew what it was to be an empath, to feel the world within your skin. It was luck that day that kept him from feeling the sensation of death at only four-years-old.

Now, he hauls the fish up with gloved hands and unhooks it, holding its curving and twisting body firmly before he sets it back down into the water and allows it to swim away. He sets the fishing pole aside and takes another swig from his flask, feeling the alcohol burn all the way down to warm his stomach.

Will Graham has a problem.

By law, empaths have to report to the EA. Each and every empath in the United States are registered, trained to handle their gift so that they can be useful members of society. In the eyes of the law, Will is committing a felony by not reporting Abigail, but anytime he considers picking up the phone, a dose of fear rushes through his veins and makes him freeze, so much so that he is more than sure he’s having a low-grade anxiety attack.

He can’t report Abigail. He has to keep them safe.

Safe from who, though? Her father is dead. Will Graham shot him.

It was a brilliant plan on Hobbs’ part, if Will is being particularly honest with himself. As he catches and releases several more fish, muscles loosening their taut hold the more he drinks, he admits to himself that Agent Hobbs was clever, hiding his daughter from the FBI and the EA. She was his treasure, the line of empathy following through his blood to hers, and he protected it by using himself as a shield and complying wholeheartedly with the FBI. Until he began killing those other girls, no one suspected that he would lie to the FBI. No one suspected he would use his daughter to hunt innocent people.

Will knows now, though. By keeping quiet he is, in his own right, an accomplice.

He can’t turn on her, though. As he packs his things away hours later and heads back to his house to make supper, he makes another admission to himself, one that acknowledges how cleverly she turned his gifts on himself. He’d never seen a Seer use their power as a weapon quite like that, using their eyes and their skin to make him see –each time he thinks of her, there is a small part of him that thinks of himself. In her moment of fear, she made him touch her skin and become part of her whole, a world in which if he turned on her, he turned on himself, too. A world in which if she died, he died, too.

Hobbs, despite dying in the end, still somehow won. As long as Abigail remains a secret, there is a singular victory that he can be awarded, that he trained his daughter to be a hunter rather than a tool to be discarded when the FBI lost interest. Will can respect that, even as he fears just what it means for him should they ever find out.

He’s hungover the next morning as he goes to his small office at the FBI, and it sits perched on the tip of his tongue, sour. Every time he exhales, his tongue curls at the taste of day old whiskey. He sips scalding coffee to chase it away, and he fires up his computer to check e-mails. Director Purnell is supposed to reach out to him about Dolarhyde’s work, so that he can plan the next step to hunt down Dolarhyde.

“Alana called Jack,” Beverly says by way of greeting. She hovers near the door, waiting for an invitation to come in.

Will grunts, typing his password. It wasn’t until later that he’d realized his glasses had fallen in his haste to escape the hospital, and he laments it now, missing the barrier between his eyes and the world. As the desktop boots up, he leans back in his chair and sighs.

“How angry is he?”

“Not any angrier than usual.” She snorted at her own private joke. “He’s in a meeting, but he wants to talk to you afterwards.”

“What kind of trouble am I in?” he asks, looking over to her.

She finds his question odd, and he notes her wrinkled nose and head tilt as she adjusts herself. “None. He just wants more information about Hobbs.”

None. She’s not lying –even without his gifts, he’d know that. Beverly Katz is an honest person, from her quirky sense of self to her sharp observations at a crime scene. For a neurotypical, he’s comfortable around her –as comfortable as he can be around people for extended periods of time.

She’s waiting for him to explain why he thinks he’s in trouble. He doesn’t want that conversation with anyone, though, so when the desktop finally loads, he clicks impatiently on the e-mail icon, taking a long gulp from his coffee cup.

“Not a day for conversations?” she questions. Where others would wander away, disquieted by him, Beverly holds her ground. Will sighs and sets his coffee cup down.

“I’m hungover,” he says curtly. Beverly’s grin is wide, her amusement palpable against his skin.

“That kind of night?”

“The Hobbs girl woke up,” he explains. At her nod, he continues irritably, “And hospitals are no good for me.”

“Drinking alone?”

“Is that a question?”

She nods in agreement and ducks her head. “Not like you’d want the company, but drinking alone is a sign of alcoholism.”

Her concern isn’t just kindness. Alcoholism is a big no-no in the EBAU for empaths, right alongside rules against serial killing and keeping empaths a secret. Will nods in agreement and scratches his stubble, casting her an appreciative look.

“I’ll call someone next time,” he promises.

“It’s not alcoholism if it’s social,” she quips. At Will’s wry, waxen grin, she continues, “I just wanted to get back to you on Dolarhyde. They looked into the background of the victims, but nothing really jumps out. Mr. Perkins worked with pharmaceuticals, and his wife took care of the house and finances.”

“Pharmaceuticals?”

“Yeah, he does a lot of work with psychiatrists, too. A lot of research facilities, testing, and distributing of anti-psychotics.” She flips through a folder and sets a sheet on top, eyeing it. “I’ll get copies of the file for you to look over. Maybe Dolarhyde got some bad medicine and lashed out?”

“Was he on any medication at the time?” Will asks. The thought feels like a thread he wishes to tug at and turn over in his hands.

“I’ll double check his file, but I don’t recall seeing anything. I mean, like I said before, Dolarhyde was a pretty calm guy. I wouldn’t have expected him to go rogue.”

“It’s not always easy to pinpoint a potential RA,” Will says. It’s not so much to comfort her than it is to comfort himself.

“Hobbs was almost obvious. They just didn’t expect him to…” Her voice trails off, and she clears her throat.

“Kill eight girls, his wife, and attempt to kill his daughter?” Will supplies when she doesn’t finish.

“They don’t always kill,” she adds with a shrug.

“Dolarhyde does.”

“Well, we set you on the case and you always find them.” She smiles to reassure him. “So far, you’ve always found them.”

Pleased, having said what she wanted, she sees herself out and closes the door for him so that he doesn’t have to get up.

More than a little relieved that whatever Alana said to Jack, it’s not damning, he opens one of the unread messages once he sees the subject line.

To: Agent Will Graham, EBAU, E-3

From: Director Kade Purnell, EI

Subject: Francis Dolarhyde

Director Crawford informed me of your interest in the RA, Francis Dolarhyde, and his investigations before the regrettable circumstances that occurred. It is my regret to inform you that his work was classified with a clearance A-1 level necessary in order to access the files. Clearance that you do not have, Agent Graham. I will not give leave for you to obtain it.

I can assure you that the lack of knowledge of his work before becoming classed as an RA will not impede your current investigation regarding him. Continue to track his whereabouts so that he may receive the necessary treatment of an E-2 RA.

-Kade Purnell, Direct. EI

Will reads the e-mail once. As he glares at the page, it’s not necessary to read a second time because the words feel imprinted on his eyes, ingrained in his skin.

I will not give leave for you to obtain it?

He finishes reading and responding to other e-mails less volatile than that one, and he forces himself to finish his coffee before he goes to find Jack, steps pressing down harshly on the thin carpet of the EBAU halls.

He strolls into his office without knocking, and Jack is surprised as he holds a phone to his ear. His gaze cuts sharp lines along Will’s person, and whenever the speaker on the other line goes quiet, he lets out a quiet hum of affirmation. Will resists the urge to pace before him.

“I’ll see what I can do.” A pause as he listens. “Yes, that’s fine…and I’m sorry, Agent Harris, but I’m going to have to call you back.”

He hangs up, and Will wastes no time with posturing. “Director Purnell won’t give me the clearance.”

“It’s clearly information you don’t need to know to do your job, Will,” Jack replies wearily. He’s been waiting for Will to come to him, and Will can see it in the way he rolls his shoulders back to prepare for a lengthy discussion.

“Whatever it was that he was investigating, that is what set him off,” Will fires back. “If I know what it is, what made him feel so betrayed, I can see where he’d go next, what he’d do!”

“Whatever it is, it’s sensitive information that she’s not willing to share.” A pause. “Or she can’t share.”

“It’s bull shit, Jack! I need to know what he was working on!”

“That’s not your call!” Jack snaps in return. Whatever hesitations that Will had been able to pick at before are gone, and Jack’s steel spine somehow manages to stiffen even more. “You’re an E-3, but that doesn’t give you special privileges!”

That stops Will, and he stares at Jack, hands gripping his hips so hard he hopes the skin bruises, turns the color of old banana peels. The anger he so easily displayed, so easily shared isn’t so much dissipating as it’s curling in on itself, breaking down something more usable because clearly showing it isn’t fixing the problem. If anything, it’s making Jack rise to the challenge.

“…I didn’t realize you though that I was granted special privileges,” he replies instead, coldly.

“Will-”

“What kind of privileges do you think I’m granted, Jack?” he asks, gritting his teeth. He’s aware that it’s more of a snarl than a smile, but he tries. “What sort of benefits do you think that I, as an empath, get to enjoy that you don’t?”

“Don’t,” Jack warns him, and Will snorts.

“Come on, Jack,” he chides. “Last I checked, you didn’t have to register with the FBI when you were a child for being born a certain way. You didn’t have to register Bella when you started dating her.”

“I don’t get to skip out on work because of a little stress either,” Jack returns with equal grittiness.

Was that how Alana worded it? Will stalks closer and leans over the desk so that he can get close to Jack, get close enough to make him nervous. He doesn’t look into his eyes, though. Jack is a man hounded by memories he can’t escape, and they’re so far into the front of his mind that Will finds himself falling into the same one every time he looks at him. It’s Jack’s only defense against empaths, and it’s a damn good one.

What he can see, though, is the conversations that must have occurred in this very room without him, mentions of his psyche and his behaviors. Kade Purnell sitting with a sharp pencil skirt and a well-fitted blazer on one side of the desk, calmly putting Jack in his place as she denies him his request.

When Will thinks that, though, he stops. He looks along the desk, inhales a certain sort of dreadful comradery. He can imagine the relief, the ability to place the blame off of himself and onto someone else. A sort of relief that smells like cough medicine and stale trail mix, and Will glides his gloved hands along the surface of the desk –if anything, to remind Jack that all he has to do to take off his gloves to feel the truth in the whorls and curves of the wood.

No, Will may not want to look in his eyes to read his thoughts, but he can dream up the realities that happened when he wasn’t in the room. His gifts give him that.

“I’ll keep looking for him,” he says at last, and his eyes fasten to Jack’s hands sitting curled to fists at his desk. “I’ll do my job, even if you’re inclined to hobble me to do it.”

“Thank you,” Jack says, not sounding at all thankful. “That’s all we ask you to do here, Will.”

“Abigail Hobbs is innocent, too,” he tosses in, heading towards the door. “I’m sure Dr. Bloom told you, but as your certified lie detector test, I can promise you the same. Traumatized, scared, and indignant that we’d even ask, but honest.”

And maybe it’s because he knows Jack is lying to him, but he doesn’t feel all that guilty about lying in return. Whatever Agent Dolarhyde was investigating before he snapped, it must have been serious –enough for Kade Purnell to e-mail Will to shut him up. Enough for Jack Crawford to lie to him. Enough for Dolarhyde to lose some part of himself while looking in the mirrors stuck to the eyes of another.

Will would keep Abigail safe. He’d keep himself safe. He’d find another way to find Francis Dolarhyde, too.

As he’s walking to his car to go and see Reba McClane, something in the air sets him off. He isn’t sure if it’s the smell on the wind, or if it’s the way the back of his shirt presses too tight to his skin, but he pauses by his car door, tensing. There are many things about an empath that biologically are used to connect to people, this he knows. It has been his struggle since he was able to recall the way his father’s simple hug made his skin feel as though it were ripping in two.

There are other things, though, things still being studied within labs and universities, among talk show hosts and scientists about empaths. As much as they struggle to connect, to broach that space between them and another, there is another aspect to their abilities, something that grants them an immense sense of knowing things that no one else could possibly know, things that make it impossible to connect because who wants to spend their time around a person that knows about any number of unknowable things?

For example, things like the feeling of being watched.

He looks about himself discreetly, but nothing immediately stands out. His keys fumble with the lock, and he slowly opens his car door, swallowing so hard it almost hurts, his heartbeat stuttering before beginning again. He’d heard neurotypicals call it paranoia, the way the hair on the back of their neck would stand up. He’d also read contradictory accounts from survivors of serial killers whose ‘paranoia’ saved their life when it came down to brass tacks.

Being an E-3 empath, he was privy to enough tangible emotion floating along the breeze to know that it wasn’t paranoia. He was most certainly being watched.

It wasn’t by another empath, though. If it was, he wouldn’t necessarily be able to sense it. Empaths trained to observe and investigate knew how to dampen their person, soften their existence within the world so that another empath couldn’t see. Much like Abigail Hobbs could draw barriers that held even Will back, any other trained empath could do something similar.

A neurotypical, then.

As he drives away, he thinks of Dolarhyde’s words to Reba, shared within the walls of the place he most liked to work, out of the gaze of the FBI:

Is there someone like me watching someone like me?

Unable to shake the feeling of being watched, he doesn’t go to Reba. He respects her desire for the FBI to be unaware of her relationship, and he doesn’t want eyes where they don’t belong. Instead, he finds himself sitting outside of the coffee shop he went to with Dr. Lecter, and he peruses the articles he’s posted once more, a decimated bagel in one hand and Beverly’s tablet in the other.

Evolution of Social Exclusion through Empaths.

Hannibal Lecter talks about empaths a lot for someone that isn’t an empath. He speaks as though they are their own species of person, all the while with the tone of someone that views them as equals in every way. As Will rereads his latest work in the journals, he picks at the bagel rather than eats it, and it’s only when his phone rings that he’s startled from such prolific words.

“Graham.”

“Agent Graham, it’s Dr. Lecter. I hope I’m not bothering you.”

He wasn’t. Will wonders at that, that he shouldn’t be bothered by an unprompted phone call, and he sets the tablet down to better focus. He keeps the article up, though.

“I’m taking a long lunch,” he says. “Isn’t that what was recommended?”

“A long and early lunch, yes,” Lecter agrees. “Far be it from me to disturb a healthy eating habit, but when you left yesterday, you forgot your glasses at the hospital. I thought to return them to you.”

Will notices that he doesn’t mention the how and the method in which he left, and he’s eternally grateful for that. He’s not sure if he wants to discuss it –is it safe to tell Lecter about Abigail? Fingertips hover over the top of the article, tapping the screen so it doesn’t go black.

“Thank you.”

“Do you have a free moment today?”

His phone buzzes with a message from Beverly, and he glances at the notification before setting the phone back beside his ear. “I should. Dr. Lecter, in your article regarding the social exclusion of empaths, you mention a forced distance made unconsciously by both empaths and neurotypicals.”

“You’ve read my work?” He sounds pleased, although Will can’t be entirely sure. His voice is always mildly pleasant in some manner.

“Yes.” A beat. “Some,” he amends. All.

“Early theories supposed empaths first broached that line diving one person from another due to a need to connect. It evolved into the gifts we see today, but first it was a connection.”

“That connection was ultimately rejected by society, though.”

“Mankind, as the apex predator, doesn’t enjoy feeling that there are some among them that are far more gifted,” Hannibal agrees. Will throws away the destroyed remains of his bagel and tucks the tablet under his arm, heading back to his car. If Beverly is texting him, he’s needed somewhere.

“And in response, out of fear of that persecution, empaths created invisible barriers between themselves and everyone else, despite the initial needs for connection that supposedly gave them their gifts in the first place,” Will adds on.

“An ironic reaction, but yes.” There is a pause as he seems to try gathering his thoughts around Will’s questions. “Should I ask about yesterday?”

“Should you?”

“I’d like to.”

Silence once more. Will chews on the inside of his mouth and climbs into the car, shutting the door behind himself. On impulse, he locks it because despite removing himself from an uncomfortable scene, he most certainly still feels like he’s being watched. Just down the row, an SUV is parked under some shade, and he puts on sunglasses so that he can scrutinize it subtly.

“I was unprepared,” he says at last. An understatement. “I didn’t handle it very well.”

Another text buzzes against his ear, and he glances to it. When another one comes in, he puts Lecter on speakerphone so that he can read them, idly buckling his seatbelt.

“What happened?”

Where are you?

We need you back here in thirty.

We got a call in Louisiana. It’s Dolarhyde.

“Dr. Lecter, I’m going to have to call you back,” Will says distractedly, and he starts the car. His skin hums from the last message, comes to life at the way the text curls around the RA’s name. It’s Dolarhyde. It’s Dolarhyde.

“Is everything alright?”

“Dolarhyde –the RA –is in Lousinana. I’ve got to go.”

“I can return your glasses at another time, then,” he says lightly, and Will nods distractedly, taking him off speakerphone so that he has both hands on the wheel as he peels out of the parking lot.

“If you can be at HQ soon, I can get them there,” he says, and as he turns away from the coffee shop, he glances in the rearview mirror in time to see the SUV also pull away and head in his direction.

“I can do that, Agent Graham.”

“Bye.” As an afterthought, he tosses in, “Thank you, Dr. Lecter.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Lecter replies.

A special thanks to @hanfangrahamk, @matildaparacosm, Starlit-Catastrophe, Andrea, and Duhaunt6 for being so supportive and becoming a patron! You guys are the best :)

#LiaS scribbles #Hannibal au #hannibal fanfic #hannigram #slowburn hannigram #empath au #seers feelers dreamers #someone help will graham #the fbi is a pain

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