#indeed there were two little shiny fish darting around

[ravens-rambling]

Just Keep Swimming, Just Keep Swimming

A/N: Some morreeee

Soulmate September! by @tsshipmonth2020

aanndddd

100 (G/T) prompts!!! - Rise

summary: Two partners have been looking for their last soulmate for years, and they finally found him in the least likely of places. 

WC: 1,645

ships: Romantic Roman x Patton x Janus

warnings: Scarring, Mention of wounds, People being treated like animals, Neglect

Tag List: @punsterterry @stormcrawler75 @frostedlover @mycatshuman @mutechild @panicattheeverywhere15 @overlord-winter @analogical-mess @saddestlittlebabe

~

“Roman… you really don’t have to get the fish for me, it’s okay. Let’s just go home, alright?”

“But you said you really wanted this fish! And so I’m gonna get it! Don’t worry, this next one I’m gonna win, just you wait!” He tossed another ring towards the gold center and he groaned when it hit close to the edge but completely went off course. “Dammit! This thing is ringed! I swear it is! But I don’t care, my boyfriend wants that fish and I’m gonna get it for him!” He slammed down another dollar. “More rings! Now!”

Patton had to chuckle softly at that, he always loved how headstrong Roman could be at the simplest of things. He definitely won’t be this determined about one game if he was Roman. And he knows that…once Roman is fired up nothing will stop him until he gets what he wants. So he knows they’re going to be here for a while.

Luckily, the very next ring he tossed managed to go around the middle golden pole and they both cheered. The carny behind the counter even looked surprised, and Patton knew that it was rigged for sure.

But once they finished cheering they were handed the small bag with the supposed fish inside. But the water was so murky that neither of them could see inside. However, they both were too happy to care right at this moment and they thanked the staff member before heading out. It was getting rather late anyways and they both have work tomorrow. They thought they could have a cute date to the carnival while they have half a day to waste. And they had a blast.

Once Roman started driving, however, Patton looked down at the bag and frowned. “Uh… Roman? Are waters for fish suppose to be this murky? I can’t see anything in there… Are you sure they didn’t just give us a bag full of old water?”

Roman paused and he snorted, “Well if they did then I’m gonna sue. I spent twenty dollars on that one game! It may not seem like much, but we could’ve gone to a store and bought a fish there for that much! Course, that game was obviously rigged so… who knows really.” He sighed but once he came to a stop he reached for the bag and looked underneath. “Oh, wait, I think I see a bit of a gold tail on the bottom here, you see that?” He pointed and Patton looked at the bottom too.

“Oh, yeah… I see it. Huh… then maybe he’s just shy. Well, once we get inside you look in the attic cause I know we had an old fish tank from a few years ago stored up there and I’ll get everything else ready? And I’ll look up what type of water a goldfish needs? Oh! And we gonna come up with a name for this little guy! Once we see him properly then we can name him!” Patton reached over to kiss Roman’s cheek. “Thank you for this, Ro-Ro. Your so amazing.”

“Mhm, sounds like a plan. And no problem, Patty. How could I say no to your adorable face?” Roman purred back and kissed him before the light went green and he started driving again.

What they didn’t realize is that their second soulmate timer on their wrist…just went to zero.

Once they got inside Roman went upstairs to look for the tank and Patton was already looking up about the filters and such for the goldfish. Luckily the filter they had before would work perfectly, so he started gathering everything up that he could and making space for the tank. After that, he went upstairs to help Roman search, and after quite some time of searching around, they did indeed found the tank. They brought it downstairs to clean it and the filter, then they poured water into it and waited for it to be filled up. And once it filled up they gently tilted the murky bag into the new freshwater. They saw a golden thing dart down into the water and hide behind one of the huge plastic grass they had. They didn’t see what it looked like, other than a dull golden tail…

“Aw… he’s just shy! Let’s leave him alone for the night to get used to his new home! And let’s go to bed, we have work in the morning.” Patton kissed Roman’s cheek and giggled as he rushed upstairs. Roman chuckled and followed right behind him.

That morning they had found that their second timer had gone down to zero last night, it must’ve been at the carnival. So their soulmate was with them at the carnival! But there were so many people there it would’ve been like trying to find a pin in a haystack! Patton had suggested going back to the carnival tonight, and they would be really crunching it in terms of time, but it won’t be impossible… so that was their plan tonight, and needless to say that they both were so excited. They’ve been looking for their last soulmate for years! And they had just passed their soulmate last night!

The moment they got off work they headed straight to the carnival and split up to search around. They’ll know if they have found their soulmate if their timer starts glowing faintly. But they searched for hours and…nothing…

Patton was the most bummed out, he really wanted to meet his last soulmate. And even Roman had to admit that he was…sad. Very sad.

Every day they went to the carnival to try and see if they could find their soulmate. And every day was…no luck. They were starting to think that their soulmate won’t be coming back to the carnival and they truly lost their only chance at finding them… to make matters worse the goldfish they had gotten hasn’t come out of its plastic grass for days! Ever since they bought him the little guy hasn’t even come out for food….they were starting to think that the little guy died.

So, all in all, it really wasn’t…a good few days for either of them. It felt like they both had the poorest luck known to man…

That was until one day came along that changed it all for the better.

Roman was cleaning up the house while Patton is at work, he figured he could straighten up some while he’s gone. He was cleaning up near the fish tank when he started hearing weak hurt whimpers of pain. It was so quiet and dull that he had to strain his ears to listen, but it was there. He looked around and looked under the table…nothing. It sounded like it was coming…from in the tank? What?

Slowly his pale brown eyes turned to face the tank, and what he saw there made his eyes widened and a loud gasp coming from his mouth.

Trapped under some decorative shiny rocks…was a golden tail. But it wasn’t any normal golden body of a fish. No, this little guy had the tail of a goldfish but…the body of a human! That’s…a merman! And a very stuck and hurt merman!

“Oh, dear! Oh dear, I’ll save you! Hang on!” Roman didn’t even think before he dipped his hand into the tank and gently lifted up the rocks, he tossed them aside out of the tank then he gently scooped up the tiny little golden merman and rose him towards his face. He was so tiny that he couldn’t even fit fully in the palm of his hand.

“Hello there… Woah… your so gorgeous…”

This merman had light brown curly hair that stuck to the sides of his face. And he was skinny… very… very skinny… Roman is certain he could see the little thing’s ribs! The poor thing had…a lot of scars too, the most noticeable one was the burnt scar covering half of his face, it went from his nose all the way down his neck and shoulder. That side’s eye was pale white, and it was clear to Roman that he was blind in that eye. The rest of his body was covered in burns and other tiny scars. And…he was so tiny…he must’ve been only a few inches tall!

And…another thing…the merman looked terrified while being in Roman’s hand. He was panting heavily and trying to scoot away from his face. So, Roman gently placed him back inside the tank.

“Woah, woah, I’m not doing anything to you, little guy. You have some cuts there but I don’t think you need any bandaging. But I’ll keep an eye on it anyways, it could get infected. You really are beautiful…”

Roman saw a faint glowing gold in the corner of his eye and blinked. What is… but when he looked down to see his wrist, his timer that went down to zero a few days ago, was glowing this dazzling gold color that is an awful lot like the scales of this merman…

“Oh…. Oh, my God…” Roman whispered and looked back at the small creature carefully. He looked at the other’s wrist, and if he squinted he could see…there’s a timer on his wrist too. And it was glowing red, he even had another timer below that one. And both of those timers were on zero! Even the creature looked shocked as well.

Roman couldn’t believe it! That’s why they couldn’t find their soulmate again in the carnival! That’s why it took them years to find their third! Cause it was a merman all along!

Frantically Roman dashed off to find a phone to call Patton, leaving a very confused and startled tiny merman in his sight. The multicolored eyes of the merman glanced down to his timer and swallowed.

“Maybe all humans aren’t so bad after all…”

#roman sanders #roman #patton sanders #patton #janus #janus sanders #idk what the ship is called so uuuhhhh yeah #roman x patton x janus #merman janus #sanders sides #sanders sides soulmate au #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fic #romantic roman x patton x janus #tsshipmonth2020 #my fics

[true-blue-megamind]

Daylight and Dark Ch. 3 - Ares

Photo by Joe Waranont

Some Yuletide silliness and... At last!  Enter the villain!

CHAPTER RATING: Teen; FULL FICTION RATING: Explicit.   WARNINGS FOR  ENTIRE WORK: violence, sex, language, references to prior domestic abuse, and rock n’ roll! CHAPTER WARNINGS: brief description of violence.

There is nothing NSFW in this chapter, but it is a bit long, so I am adding a Click Here to Keep Reading link.  You can also read the entire entire fiction HERE.

---------------------------

There were moments in life when Roxanne couldn't help but think about perspective: about how funny it was that a person could never clearly see the road to their destination until that destination had been reached. She'd felt that way one bitter winter morning, in her office, when she had suddenly realized that she was becoming one of those sentimental hack reporters she'd always hated. She'd felt that way on the long-ago windy spring afternoon when she had finally understood that she would never have feelings for Metro Man, and she'd felt it on the early summer day last year when she'd learned, to her own surprise, she was in love with his former nemesis. Roxanne had that same feeling tonight. Stepping out of the taxi Megamind had insisted on paying for she'd immediately been met by three brainbots, two of which immediately took charge of her small suitcase.  Greeting them with pats, she had walked the last block through the biting December chill with her unusual escort bowging at her heels.  The little cyborgs had darted away once their charge reached Megamind's invisible doorstep, probably to inform their master of her arrival. Now she stood alone and stared at a cross-stitched sampler, hung incongruously beside what appeared to be a solid wall, which read: "Lair Sweet Lair" in slightly crooked letters. What was he up to?

That September afternoon on the balcony, after the first night they'd made love, had been a turning point in Roxanne and Megamind's relationship. She had expected that, of course, but now that she had arrived at this still-mysterious milestone in her life, something in the back of her mind teased that it had been even more important than she'd realized. They had shared deep, personal sorrows, hidden from all other eyes, and an impenetrable glass wall had been removed. She realized, at this moment, that something undefinable had happened as well. Ever since that day, something had begun building between them, unnoticed and unspoken, creating a channel into which two spirits were poured and mingled. Try though she might, however, that something refused to slide into focus. It was both elating and terrifying, for Roxanne had not fully expected the cozy intensity that she and Megamind had found. How was it possible to feel so relaxed, so at home, around someone that being near him was like snuggling into a favorite sweater, while still feeling so powerfully and passionately attached to that same person that he made you antsy, strangely warm, and a little nervous? How was it even possible to feel simultaneously self-conscious and comfortable in the first place?

The oddity of those emotions was disconcerting enough, but worse still was the fact that Roxanne had realized that she no longer loved solitude, because solitude meant Megamind wasn't around.  True, she still enjoyed many of the same quiet hobbies— reading books, binging sci-fi movies, solving crossword puzzles—but now she was only happy if a certain blue alien was beside her, busily sketching design schematics for his latest invention, or pointing out in hilariously descriptive detail why a particular piece of film prop "space tech" wouldn't actually work at all.  She had always disdained those couples who seemed to be attached at the hip: the sort that showed up to every party together and skipped any function one of them couldn't attend. Now it seemed she was becoming half of one. Worst of all, she didn't mind. She liked it. She was sublimely happy with it.

What is wrong with me?

She and Megamind had fallen into an easy rhythm as serene and unquestioning as the deepest friendship, yet had retained all the fire and ardor of a new infatuation. A traitorous little voice in her head asked if this was the way people felt before they got married, moved to the suburbs, gained ten pounds, and started daydreaming about babies. She refused to listen, refused to even consider the possibility of leaving chic professionalism for matrimonial doom, but that same little voice reminded her that it wouldn't be so bad as long as it was with Megamind. Despite all her denials, Roxanne had to admit that something new had grown between herself and her favorite hero, inching up, bit by bit, undetected, until suddenly she noticed it was all around her. Small kindnesses, shared moments, camaraderie, and passion had all built into something beautiful, strange, and a little scary.

Which is what brought her to tonight and her current situation, as she stood shivering in the winter evening, looking at that foolish sampler and wondering why the sight of it set alarm bells ringing in her head. Megamind had invited her over, insisting that he had a Christmas gift that couldn't wait for Christmas, and she had not considered the oddity of the date until this moment.

Why now? Why tonight?

That was it. Roxanne's eyes widened with a realization that should have been obvious. Today was December 12th. Exactly eighteen years ago Margaret Ritchi, Roxanne's mother, had taken a turn too quickly, swerved on icy pavement, and ended her life. Although it wasn't unusual for Roxanne to visit her lover in the middle of the week, it was unlike Megamind to ask her over at a specific time, especially when she had just gotten back into town, tired after a business trip, which indicated that he probably had something planned. It would be exactly like him to researched old traffic incidents just so that he could invite her over to cheer her up on the anniversary of her mother's death.

The question was, was he just planning on distracting her from her memories, or did he have something more serious in mind?

"Miss Ritchi," Minion appeared through the hologram wall, less than two feet away from Roxanne. She had to crane her neck up to look into the fishy face set atop his six-foot-tall robotic body. "Miss Ritchi, if you please, could you come inside? He's been watching you on the monitor for ten minutes and he's starting to worry."

"Oh, I… Of course. I'm sorry Minion. I just—"

It was always odd watching a fish smile. "No apologies needed. Just come inside before you freeze."

He ushered her through with the wave of a metallic arm, and Roxanne stopped so suddenly that he nearly crashed into her as he followed.

"Oh, my…"

Garlands. The Evil Lair was strung with garlands of faux evergreen twigs, plastic holly, and red and gold ribbons. Multiple strings of colored lights, hung with no apparent order or plan in mind, blinked, chased, and sparkled in crisscrossing lines until the flashing dials and blinking buttons in the workroom looked like no more than additional decorations. In the middle of the yuletide chaos stood a massive Christmas tree, its top nearly lost in the shadows of the high ceiling. Brainbots hovered and buzzed around it, trimming it in a haphazard fashion that Roxanne suspected explained the random order of the rest of the decorations. Most of the items being hung on the tree were normal— glass balls, silvery snowflakes, diminutive, jolly Santas— but every now and again a brain bot added a shiny bit of wire or a large metal nut. Christmas carols were blaring from the nearby stereo.

"Roxanne! What do you think?" Megamind's happy voice startled her from her contemplation. He jumped down the last two industrial steps leading up to the second floor, his face glowing with good cheer and one arm sweeping out proudly to indicate the scene. Roxanne turned her eyes back to the seasonal décor and the happily buzzing robots. After the initial shock, it really wasn't so bad. In fact, it was almost cute, like the messy decorations of enthusiastic children.

"It's wonderful," she answered, turning back to her lover with a genuine smile.

He beamed at her. "I'm so glad you like it! And look," he added with a sly smile. "We've got rocket-toe!"

"Mistletoe, silly," Roxanne smiled, leaning up to give him a soft kiss.

"Rocket, missile, what does it matter? Missiles have rocket propulsion systems."

"Uh-huh," Roxanne's expression was all wry amusement.

"The early Soviet Vostok rockets were based on the R-7 ICBM," Megamind informed her. "So I can see no reason whatsoever why rocket-toe should be any less—"

"Megamind?"

"Hmmm?"

"It's still called Mistletoe."

"Potato, tomato, potato, cucumber," he answered with a teasing grin.

Roxanne laughed. "Cucumber? Really? Why cucumber?"

"Well, they both grow on vines. Yet tomatoes are technically fruits while cucumbers are vegetables."

Roxanne laughed. "I always thought that was kind of weird. I mean: why?"

"They're gourds."

"What?"

"Cucumbers. They're gourds."

"Megamind, I was talking about the tomatoes-are-fruits thing."

"Ah, well, botanically, they're ripened flower ovaries that contain seeds, and—"

"Sir—" interjected Minion.

"And this will really blow your mind: so are zucchinis!"

"Sir—"

"Think about it: cucumbers and zucchinis, so similar yet so different."

"Sir! Didn't you have something to show Miss Ritchi?"

"Oh! Of course!" his face lit up, and he grabbed Roxanne's hand. "Come up! You'll love this! Wait until you see the dining room!"

"Dining… But you don't have a—"

"We do now! Follow me!"

He pulled her bodily past the command room and back up the metal stairs, her surprise growing with every step. The conference room near the kitchen— which had never seemed to serve much purpose since any meetings involved only Megamind, Minion, and, during the last several months, Roxanne— had, indeed, been transformed into a cozy dining room. Another garland swagged across the doorway, and a dark wood table, set as if in expectation of a festive meal, displayed a centerpiece of holly and ribbons surrounding three crème-colored candles. Beside the industrial stairs leading to the third floor— their banisters also bedecked in Yuletide fashion— the plain bathroom that had once served the offices over the factory had been updated and expanded. It looked as if it belonged in a wealthy grandma's house— if Granny had decided to go Goth. A largely unused, cavernous storage space had been turned into a sitting room. It proudly boasted not only a black leather sofa, matching recliner, and built-in dark wood bookshelves stuffed with second-hand volumes, but also an old-fashioned pot-bellied stove that Roxanne was almost certain was against fire codes. In one corner, a more elegantly decorated Christmas tree— probably Minion's work— stood glittering with white lights and antique glass ornaments.

Even that wasn't the most shocking addition to the new living space, however.

"Megamind, there aren't any external walls here. How on earth did you put in windows?"

"Isn't it great?!" he threw himself into the chair, grabbed a remote control from a side pocket, and aimed it at the window. Instantly the view of Metro City Beach was replaced by a forested mountain range.

"It's absurdly simple, really: just a high-definition plasma monitor that I mounted behind framed glass and connected to video feeds that I've had set up in various locations! That conversation we had last autumn about your apartment windows gave me the idea. Look! If you don't like the view, you just change the scenery with a press of a button!"

He clicked the control a couple of more times, bringing up a snow-covered prairie, a quaint French village, and a tropical reef.

"Minion picked out the last one," he explained. "It also interfaces with the supercomputer, so you can use it for research, calls… Look, the frames retract for a better view!"  he demonstrated.  "Then you push this button, and... voila!" A holographic keyboard had appeared in midair above the remote.  Megamind set the device down, and, to Roxanne's astonishment, began typing.  A browser popped up on the "window," and he navigated to a video featuring winter scenery to the accompaniment of a Boston Pop's Christmas album.

"Megamind, that's really amazing," Roxanne managed. "All of this is, really... I mean, you've made it so—" she almost said "homey," but bit back the word and finished with: "comfortable."

"I'm glad to hear you say that!" There was something warm in his voice that both thrilled and frightened her. "Oh! Oh! Oh! But it gets even better!" He leaped up and tugged her out of the room. "Let me show you what we've done upstairs!"

The third floor, once comprised of large executive offices, was where Minion and Megamind slept. Roxanne had been there many times in the past weeks, though she was admittedly usually too preoccupied to give much attention to the décor.

Megamind's room had changed from a blacked-out bachelor pad to a stylishly Gothic bedchamber. The walls were a rich blue. A full suite of carved ebony furniture—bed, wardrobe, nightstand, and chest of drawers— had replaced the previous collection of mismatched thrift finds. The ornate four-poster sported a new satin coverlet set in hues of gray, black, and cobalt, and was piled with silky-looking ash-colored pillows that Roxanne suspected matched the sheets. An impressionist oil painting of a historic street at night— rendered almost entirely in blue shades and black shadows— and a large mirror both hung in antique silver frames. Two lamps and a small chandelier, all wrought iron, completed the picture. It belonged on the cover of Evil Lair and Garden. Or maybe as the set of a photoshoot for Bad Boys Weekly. That would be better. All it lacked was its sexy male occupant lounging on the covers. The thought made Roxanne shiver with delight.

Minion's room reminded her of a garden pool, all greens, browns, and teals.  Its bamboo furnishings and simple stone accents gave it a slightly Asian ambiance. The style was completely different from Megamind's Vampire Chic bedroom. Full of clean lines and abstract art, it looked more like a post-modern interior design catalog than a Goth culture magazine.

"He picked everything out himself," Megamind was saying. "You should have seen him, like a kid in a candy store! When I told him I wouldn't invade his privacy by bringing you to his room, he was utterly offended! He insisted that if I didn't show you he would never speak to me again. And that I could expect literally everything he cooked to be smothered in mayonnaise for at least a week!" The blue man made a show of shuddering in horror. Looking around, he added: "I should have let him redecorate years ago."

"I'm curious, why is there no bed?"

"Roxanne, he's a fish. He lives in a fishbowl."

The grin she gave him was three parts knowing and one part sly triumph. "And so he has a bedroom because….?"

Megamind blushed a little under his blue tint. "Well, I mean, you know..."

Cocking one arm to rest on her hip, Roxanne gently poked his chest with her other forefinger. "I always knew you were a big softy deep inside, even when you were a supervillain."

He spluttered. "That isn't… I am not… I was disgustingly horrifying! And..."

She laid a finger over his lips. "I always knew, and I love you for it." Smiling into his emerald eyes, she tilted her face up to give him a long, deep kiss. "Now, before you take me back to your new bedroom, tell me: what's that other door at the end of the hall?"

"That, well," He smiled and rubbed one ear, a nervous gesture she had come to adore. "That's my early Christmas present to you. Come have a look."

He took her hand gently this time, and when he pushed open the third door, Roxanne's mouth fell open.

"Ta-da!" he spun to face her, cloak billowing.  His tone was all bold showmanship as he swung his arms wide to encompass their surroundings, but Roxanne knew him well enough to recognize the uneasiness hidden behind the bravado.

She stared around wide-eyed at the vaguely familiar round room. Everything in it had been changed so completely that it took her a moment to recognize the place she had awoken during her final kidnapping. The industrial elevator and second floor had been removed. A spiral staircase now led to a cozy loft and catwalk lined with wooden bookcases. All of the equipment had been moved out, the domed walls and ceiling had been expertly plastered and painted, and, where there had once been a telescope with mechanical shutters, there were now two glass doors leading onto a private balcony overlooking Lake Michigan. It was… perfect. Wonderfully, frighteningly perfect. Her own style—too formal to be modern but too clean to be antique—her favorite colors—sage green, sky blue, and soft ivory with cheerful red accents.  The bookshelves—obviously custom-made to fit the curving walls—and few other pieces of furniture were warmly-stained oak that exactly matched the contents of her apartment.  There were several empty spaces where she was clearly intended to move in her things. Roxanne knew she should have been thrilled—all the work, care, and expense he'd put into this would be enough to make any one of those silly interns goofy with elation—but all she could feel was cold dread.

"I was thinking we could put your living room suite upstairs to make a reading nook! And look!" He grabbed another remote control from a bracket on the wall. "I've renovated the alligator pit!" With the push of a button, a round trap door—one the reporter remembered with something almost like fondness— opened, and a half-moon desk with a cushy office chair rose on a platform to click into place with the rest of the floor. "I've, ah, also included controls in a hidden wall panel. I know how you lose remotes." He paused expectantly. "So, what do you think?" His smile was starting to look a little forced around the edges.

"Wow, Megamind," she tried not to sound unhappy. His feelings could be so easily crushed, though he excelled at hiding it. "This is…unexpected..."

His face fell slightly, and she searched quickly for something more positive to say.

Deciding on gentle honesty, she added: "I mean, this is exactly the way I would have decorated it myself. I had no idea…"

"Really?" God, she hated the vulnerable hope in his eyes.

"It's beautiful. It is. And sweet. But…"

"But?" he urged uncertainly, nervously fiddling with one of the studs on his black leather gauntlet.

"It just… This… All of this… It's happening so fast." It sounded like a canned response even to her.

True to form, her blue-skinned lover tried to put on a brave face with humor. "Oh, come on, you already sleep here more than you do your own place. This would make everything easier."

"Megamind, this is serious. I'm not sure if I'm ready yet."

"If there's one thing I've learned from all my battles, it's that there are some things you'll never feel ready for, but if you really want it, you just have to jump in anyway."

"Okay, but this? We've never even discussed me moving in, and this is just one step away from being married, and… I just…" she sighed. "I love you. I do, but I've never lived with someone before, and I… I need a little time to think this over." she finished lamely. Seeing his unhappy face, she added: "I'm not necessarily saying no, just...not yet."

"But Roxanne—"

"This is a wonderful gesture, but it's so sudden. I just don't think I can."

"Of course you can. Please, Roxanne, Sweetheart, say yes. Stay here with me," his voice took on an almost pleading tone. "It doesn't have to feel like we're living together. That's why you have a separate bedroom. Whenever you need time to yourself, you know I'll always give it to you."

"Megamind, it's not—"

"This doesn't have to be any more than you want it to be."

"Megamind, please—"

"I'll never invade your privacy unless you want me to." He dropped his voice to a sultry purr. "And when I do, I'll invade it very, very well."

"That isn't what—"

"I promise I'll be the best roommate you've ever had. We share a bathroom," he indicated the door on the left-hand wall. "The plumbing was insufficient for two, but there is a double sink. And I can use the facilities downstairs if you need me to."

"That's really sweet, but it's not the issue. I'm not ready for this."

"Stay anyway."

"I can't"

He crossed his arms. "Can't, or won't?"

"Why are you being so pushy about this?! You never push! And now you're asking me to give up my apartment, change my life… Megamind, that's a huge decision!"

"You're right. I never push. I've never before asked you for anything unless it involved protecting this city. But you know what? I'm asking now. This is the only request I've ever made of you. So please, please do this for me."

"Damn it, Megamind, that is so unfair!" Hot tears stung Roxanne's eyes. "I can't! Not yet! I'm not ready! And it's really low of you to pull that never-asked-for-anything card!"

That hit a nerve. "I am NOT pulling a card, Roxanne! I'm being very, very honest!"

"I didn't mean… I just…"

"I'm offering you everything! My home! My privacy! A place in every aspect of my life! I am offering you—a reporter!—all my secrets! I'm offering my feelings, my time, my vulnerability! I'm pulling out my heart here, Roxanne, pulling it out and laying it at your feet! Don't pay me back by stomping on it!"

There was ringing silence for a moment.

"I'm sorry," Megamind said at last. "That was… It wasn't fair of me to say..." He drew in a deep breath. "I just really need you to stay here."

Roxanne swiped at her eyes in frustrated, jerky movements.

"I think I'd better go."

"No! Wait!" he grabbed her arm.

"Let go!" She demanded. He did and she stormed toward the door.

"Roxanne!" Megamind dodged around to block her path. "Roxanne, I'm sorry, but I can't let you leave yet.  Please listen to me! I know you're upset, but please let me explain!" He braced his back against the door as she tried to push past him. "This isn't just about me wanting you close! This is about your safety!"

"My… Oh, God, now you're starting with the helpless damsel crap?!" She tried to push past him again.  "Let me out!"

"I will, Roxanne, as soon as you hear what I have to tell you."

She glared at him.  "Let.  Me.  Out."

"Sweetheart, please..."

"Megamind, I mean it!" she yelled.  "You promised me!  You said no more real kidnappings!  You promised!  Let me out!"

The pain in his eyes was like a punch to Roxanne's heart, and that somehow made her temper burn even higher.

"You promised!" she said again, her voice rising nearly to a shriek.

"That's not what this is, Roxanne!  If you would just listen I wouldn't have to do this!  You think I like feeling like a monster?!"

"Then stop doing it!"

"I can't. Not when you're trying to run away rather than listen. Look, you're angry.  I don't pretend to know why, but I accept that you are," His voice was deliberately calm, emotion simmering underneath, but he held his ground, pressing his weight back harder when she scrabbled for the doorknob. She wanted to slap him. "But, Roxanne, I still need you to listen," Megamind lifted one hand like he meant to touch her cheek, but stopped himself, closing his fingers on thin air. "I know you can take care of yourself under normal circumstances, but things have changed. Something's happened, and now… Metrocity isn't safe for you anymore."

That stopped her in her tracks. "Megamind, what are you talking about?"

"I didn't want to bring this up until I could gather some more information." Fishing into his pocket, he pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. "I didn't want to worry you, not until I had a plan…"  He sighed. Reluctantly, Megamind handed over a folded letter.  His lover opened it to reveal oddly formal calligraphy.

My Dear Hesperos,

I have recently undertaken a business proposition in Metro City, which I understand is under your protection. In general, I applaud your intelligent planning and remarkable success in execution, but I wish you to understand that I cannot allow my operations to be jeopardized. Although your newfound love of justice and position as Defender of Metro City are both, to say the least, surprising, I shall not disparage your change in career. However, I believe that you also have seen enough of the world and society through the eyes of a villain to know that law and justice are, too often, completely disparate, and that sometimes an act of villainy is the only truly righteous course. Therefore I am sending this correspondence as both a professional courtesy and as an offer of peace.

Out of respect and remembered fondness for you, I desire to find a mutually beneficial compromise. It is therefore my hope that this communication will achieve two purposes. First, I wish to assure you that, as my plans currently stand, my activities within your city will neither be aimed against the populace at large nor intended to undermine the normal daily operations of the city itself. I will not, however, insult your intellect or my honor by claiming actions will be viewed, by the strictest interpretation of the law, as anything other than criminal. Nonetheless, be assured that it is my intention to complete my business quickly, discreetly, and without any more loss of life than is necessary. Second, I wish to cordially advise you not to attempt to dissuade me. I do not desire harm to come to you, or any dear to you, but I am a gentleman of business and must protect my interests. If you will consent to allow me to complete my task without interference, you will hardly notice my presence. However, if you take it upon yourself to trouble me, I am afraid I shall have to extract a dire price.

I would take no joy in harming a lovely young lady like Miss Ritchi, but accidents do happen, especially to those who oppose me.

Yours in Good Faith,

Ares Coeus

Roxanne felt slightly cold by the time she finished reading. To think that two minutes ago she'd been worried about whether Megamind wanted to become too serious!

But she hadn't become a star reporter by letting fear control her.  "Wow, okay.  So, this is... Not what I expected." She looked at him. "I'm sorry... I..."

"It's alright, Love.  And I understand. Believe me, it's thrown a wrench into my gears, too."

She nodded, forcing her mind to focus as panic tried once again to drown her natural spunk and curiosity.  "Ares? Like the god of war?" she managed a wry grin. "Really? That's a little dramatic."  Her attempt at a smile smile felt wrong, like it was stretched too tight.

Megamind didn't share her humor. "Yes, Sweetheart, like the Greek god of war."

Something about that name tugged at the depths of her mind. "I think... I think I remember hearing something about him now. Ares escaped Metro City Prison for the Criminally Insane when I was in the fourth grade. No one except you had ever done it before. No one except you has done it since. People were panicking. Some parents wouldn't let their kids go to school."  She paused.  "That was weird, now that I think about it.  They never did that when you escaped."

"I was not just the local supervillain but also a recognized super-genius.  My escaping was almost expected, even if they did everything they could to prevent it.  That was just another Tuesday.  But Ares' escape wasn't part of the show.  They couldn't tell themselves it was only because of my extreme brilliance and ingenuity; not when the escapee was another human.  That made it more... real."

Roxanne nodded and cleared her throat. "So… Hesperos. Is that you?"

"Yes. It was Ares' name for me. Hesperos Oldwin."

"Oldwin. That doesn't really fit the pattern. All the other names he chose sound Classical."

"You're right. It doesn't. Ares was obsessed with Greek myths, among other things—especially with both his namesake and with the story of the titan Cronos eating his own children, who were then reborn as gods—but the ancient Greeks didn't have a word for 'blue.'"

"Seriously?"

He made a brave attempt at a chuckle. "Clearly they didn't appreciate the finer things, at least where colors were concerned," His weak smile couldn't seem to hold onto his lips, and quickly fell away. He sighed. "Anyway, Ares gave me the name Hesperos Oldwin because it means Morning Star Blue Sky. The blue part is obvious—"

"Hmmm," she agreed

"And then, of course, my escape pod came from the stars and fell from the sky one morning."

"So he was, what? Your friend? Why is he threatening you?"

"I think I was the closest thing to a friend Ares ever had, but that wasn't very close. More like hero worship." At Roxanne's look, he grimaced slightly. "Remember, I was young and… less brilliant."

"But you liked him?"

"'Like' is too strong a word.  Ares was… strange, but he enjoyed my company when I was a boy because I was the only one who could keep up with his intellect, even beat him at chess, although I quickly learned that outsmarting him too much led him to abandon me for days on end.  He could be… disinterested, but more often he talked to me, sometimes for hours, when he wasn't locked in solitary confinement. I thought he was cool— smooth, sophisticated, well-spoken, smart, tough— and maybe I liked finding someone fairly close to my own age who didn't revile me for a change." He studied his black boots. "Maybe it made me feel special that I was the only other person he bothered naming."

Roxanne gently lifted his chin. "You were lonely.  I can't really blame you."

"I can."  Megamind sighed. "As I grew older I began to realize that some things about him were just… off. It wasn't until years afterward that I learned 'morning star' is also the meaning of the name Lucifer, as in the devil in most Abrahamic religions. By that time Ares was already gone, but I have the feeling the parallel wasn't an accident. The worst part is, I don't think he meant it as an insult."

"Okay, but how much of that is just a persona? You once said that the difference between a villain and a supervillain is presentation."

"Minion said that," he reminded her.

"It's still true."

"This is different."

"I don't mean he's necessarily a supervillain. You grew up in prison. You're better at analyzing criminal minds than any psychiatrist I've ever heard of. I've seen you figure people out so fast it's almost like mind-reading. I'm guessing Ares isn't his real name, so clearly he's putting on a show. How much is him and how much is just an act?"

"Oh, you don't understand!" Megamind threw up his hands and began pacing. "Ares does not play at evil insanity. He's the real deal! No one in that prison ever crossed him. Convicts, guards, even the warden feared him. Most people, even criminals, have limits… lines they won't cross, but Ares… He had no lines. He would be a perfectly nice and polite man until someone did something he didn't like—anything, a tone of voice, the wrong look—and then, in a flash, he could turn horrible and callous. He would get this cold smile on his face, and you knew sometime soon something truly terrible was going to happen to that person. And it never bothered him. Not even a little."

"You make him sound like a monster."

"He is."

Roxanne stood up and stopped his pacing with a hug. "No, Megamind. He's just a man."

With a sigh, Megamind gently pushed her away. "Roxanne," he looked her in the eye. "I was twelve when Ares was arrested. He was only a few years older than me, not quite a legal adult, but they sent him to a high-security facility for the criminally insane. Do you know why? When he found out his father was cheating on his mother, Ares murdered both the man and his mistress. And not in a crime of passion. He searched, learned, planned, and prepared. He found out about the spa resort his father often took his mistress to— an exclusive and very discreet place outside of town—"

Roxanne was starting to feel a little sick. "Oh my God… The Nelson Case. You knew that guy?"

"Yes. Ares' real name is Eric Nelson."

"I read about that trial for a paper when I was in college. Did he really kill them in the steam room?"

Megamind nodded. "He told me all about it. Bragged. The fake ID, the forged credentials, the Social Security System hack… And then he got a maintenance job at the spa resort. Even though he was rarely around guests, he was always in disguise, even changing his mannerisms and the way he walked… He learned how the steam system worked, created a bypass for the safety measures…." Megamind shuddered. "Roxanne, he literally steam broiled those people alive. And he watched. He stood there and he watched. His own father…" With a shake of his head, Megamind added: "He wasn't even sorry. Ares called himself a 'soldier of righteousness,' and insisted it was the legal system that was corrupt."

"How could he think that?"

"He's crazy. But he's also calculating, cold, and cruel. That makes him dangerous. When his twisted sense of honor and justice is incensed, he is capable of truly horrific things." Megamind sighed again. "After Ares escaped prison, he joined a paramilitary organization, but apparently his philosophies were too... extreme even for them. The last I heard, he was working as an assassin, but he only takes certain jobs that he feels are in line with his off-center views of right and wrong. He's so good at making his murders look like accidents that no one— not even in the criminal underworld— really knows what his kill count is. Even so, the sorts of 'accidents' he causes… Let's just say people don't hire Ares if they want the funeral to be open casket."

"Maybe he's not serious." Even to her, it sounded more like a plea than a suggestion. "What if he's just playing mind games with you?" Roxanne trailed off as she studied her lover's face.

"No. Ares isn't like other villains we've faced… like I was. This isn't something he does for fame, money, petty revenge, or for the simple reason that he's bored out of his skull and needs intellectual stimulation. He doesn't play games, or if he does, he plays for keeps."

It felt as if ice had replaced her spine. "And you really think he'll do it? That he'll find me?"

Green eyes met hers, and something in their depths made the ice expand to fill her stomach.

"Megamind?"

He glanced away again, like he couldn't bear to see her reaction. "Sweetheart, there were..." his throat bobbed.

"There were photographs enclosed with the letter," he answered quietly, as if lowering the tone of his words would somehow lessen their impact. "They were… One was of you standing just inside the glass doors of your balcony—"

"Oh my God." she breathed, moving to collapse into the desk chair.

"One was of you leaving the news station. The last was of you jogging in Hill Top Park." He finally met her gaze again. "Sweetheart… I'm sorry… He has already found you." He knelt beside her, turned the desk chair to face him, and took her hands in his, looking earnestly up at her. "I have to try to stop him. You know I do. I'm the good guy now. But I can't do that and watch your back at the same time. Not if we're apart. That's why I really, really need you to stay here."

Something in her vaguely understood that she should care about that, but it suddenly seemed as if her brain, overwhelmed with terror, had opted to turn itself off. Her heart, in contrast, was screaming and she felt like she might be physically ill. This, Roxanne decided distantly, must be what a panic attack felt like.

"What about… my job?"

"Telecommute."

Her laugh sounded bitter and wild in her own ears. "I'm an on-scene correspondent. I can't telecommute."

"Then take some time off," he offered gently. "We'll talk to the station, or have the officials contact them. This is little different from a witness protection program. And it's only temporary. They'll have to understand."

"And if they don't?"

"I'll make them."

Roxanne buried her face in her palms. She heard the tread of leather boots, the sighing swish of a cape, and deft hands began massaging her shoulders. Megamind's voice spoke gently behind her.

"Roxanne. Listen to me. It will be alright. Everything will be alright. We are going to get through this. He hasn't found this place, and I've made some alterations to ensure it stays that way."

"How do you know he hasn't found your hideout?" she asked between her fingers.  "You can't possibly know that."

"He hasn't.  Trust me.  His letter was sent to my fan mail post box. Ares likes keeping people off balance, making them feel he has the upper hand. If he had known where my Lair was, he would have found a way to deliver it directly here. He didn't, which means we're safe. I've been working on some enhancements for a while, but Minion and I have put in a lot of hours to finish them quickly. This entire building is now outfitted with a cloaking shield: a hard light hologram similar to what the holowatch produces. I took it down briefly when I saw you approach, and put it back up once you came in. Now all anyone will see is an empty, condemned building. No dome, no signs of life, nothing."

Turning the chair to face him, she suddenly threw her arms around Megamind and held him close.  He knelt to let her hide her face against his neck.  Like a child awakened from a bad dream, Roxanne buried herself in his warmth and breathed in the comfort of his scent.

"I really am sorry," her words were muffled by his skin. "I'm so very sorry."

He ran gentle hands up and down her arms.  "I am too."

"You shouldn't be."

"If you weren't with me, this never would have happened."

"No.  People assumed I dated Metro Man, and they would have assumed the same about us." 

"I should have realized sooner.  I should have done better."

"You're doing your best."

"We both are."

"I'm so sorry I yelled at you."

"You didn't know."

The moment of weakness passed, and Roxanne gathered herself, gluing pieces of broken confidence back together with spunky determination and brave humor.

"Yeah, well, you know, you could have told me this sooner and saved us the trouble of arguing," she jibed halfheartedly, her crooked smile appearing through tears.

His answering grin was weak, and a little sad. "I didn't want to have to tell you. Not now, not tonight. And I didn't want to ruin your holidays." His shoulders drooped slightly. "Tonight was supposed to be about cheering you up. I wanted to make you happy, not terrify the living daylights out of you."

"But I thought you liked terrifying me. Why else did you kidnap me all the time?"

"How else could I spend time with you? Besides, you were never truly scared of me. Annoyed, yes. Sometimes even angry, but never scared." He wrapped her in an embrace. "And I happen to think you're extremely sexy when you're angry."

That drew a tearful laugh from Roxanne. "Right, because, you know, that's one I've never heard before." Sighing, she looked back at her new bedroom. "Thank you for everything you've done, Megamind. If it's okay, I'll enlist the brainbots' help in moving my things tomorrow."

"I'll be glad to have them give you a hand, but we should do it late at night. That's when Ares… works. He'll be less likely to be watching your apartment."

They were silent for a moment.

"Well," Roxanne's voice held a tone of determined calm. "At least we have a plan."

He smiled. "We have a plan."

There was another pause.

"So..." casting around for something to say, Roxanne landed on: "how long has Ares been in Metro City, and what do we know so far?"

"Not much. I got the letter last Thursday, but Ares has been laying low.  I've had brainbots guarding you twenty-four-seven."

"I thought I saw more of them around than usual.  Wait," she looked around her room with new admiration. "You managed to get all of this pulled together in six days?  That's... Darling, that's beyond impressive! That's amazing!"

"Five days, six hours, and fifty-three minutes, to be precise," Megamind answered, standing up and managing another gray smile. "Incredibly Handsome Genius, remember? You'd be surprised what can be done with a little determination, a large budget, and thousands of tireless laborers."

"Large budget?"

"I have contracts with various companies for a cut of the profits from all Megamind merchandise sold, among other things."

"Seriously? That's not standard hero procedure, is it?"

"Being a good guy doesn't exactly pay well."

"Wayne never did that."

"Ha. Metro Man was adopted by a multi-billionaire. He has a trust fund big enough to support an entire third-world country, not to mention that all of his abilities are inborn. I, on the other hand, have supplies to buy, bills to pay, evil inventions to construct..."

"I thought they weren't evil any more?"

"Well, evil only to evildoers." His burgeoning grin faltered. "Roxanne, be honest, are you angry at me? For not telling you sooner? I know you always hated it when Metro Man treated you like a powerless victim, and I want you to know that isn't why I didn't tell you. I just wanted the brainbots to do a little reconnocense first. And, as I said, I wanted you to enjoy the holiday season before I threw this at you."

Drawing close to him, she cupped his cheek and looked sincerely into his face. "No. I'm not angry. Not now that I understand." She hugged him once more. "But from now on I need you to trust me enough to just tell me things. I can't be prepared if I don't know."

"It's a deal."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

She pulled away enough to look into his eyes. "I'm sorry I doubted you."

He kissed her cheek. "I suppose it's possible I could have handled it a little better."

She finally managed a real grin. "Maybe a little." She held her hands a foot apart. "Like this much."

"Oh, come on, not that much." He moved her arms closer until her palms were only a couple of inches apart. "Maybe that much."

"This much," she spread her hands even wider.

His mouth quirked. "Now you're just being unreasonable."

Despite everything, they both laughed, releasing the tension in the air.

"I'm glad I'm here," Roxanne said.

"Me too." He held her, kissed her brow. "You'll be happy here, Sweetheart. I'll do everything I can… I want this to be comfortable, and good… You like having your own space, and that's fine, but I want you to know that this is your home, too. Always."

She felt herself smile, although the expression lacked its usual confident strength. He wasn't wrong. Sometimes Roxanne felt she practically lived in his hideout already. Well, the past few weeks had been an exception. While the blue hero had dealt with a plot by the Doom Syndicate and the usual holiday season uptick in thefts, Roxanne had been forced to travel, first covering a rare blizzard in the Upper Penninsula, then a meeting of the newly formed Michigan State Disability Caucus in Lansing, and finally attempts by members of the state legislature to conceal certain business interest's tax frauds. She and her lover had only been able to steal occasional dates during her brief returns home, and he had spent one night in a Lansing hotel with her. Even when life wasn't so busy, however, the reporter and her lover rarely spent the night at her apartment anymore. Not since Ms. Farley, a sweet but nosy elderly woman who lived next door, had caught Roxanne out in the hall one evening and invited her over for what had turned out the be the most awkwardly embarrassing cup of tea in all history.

"Listen, Dear," the old lady had said amicably after a few minutes of small talk. "Between you, me, and the lamppost, I just want to tell you that I am really very happy you and our hero have such a healthy and loving relationship, but— I really hate to bring it up— but maybe three in the morning is a little late for… nocturnal activities? And… well… you might just ask him to be a little more circumspect about his language? It's only that Len Paszek mentioned that his little boy asked last week what all those funny words the Defender kept shouting meant…"

Megamind had blushed fuchsia when she'd told him, and admitted that one of his new friends on the police force had laughingly informed him they had received no fewer than three noise complaints from other tenants in Roxanne's building.

"He seemed to think I needed to be congratulated?" the blue man had said uncertainly. "He kept slapping my back and saying I must be doing something right?"

Roxanne had felt her own cheeks burning. "I… um… yeah, that's a… pretty normal human male bonding ritual…"

"Humans are strange," Megamind had informed her.

They'd spent almost every night at the Lair ever since.

"Sir, Code C and C," Minion's voice crackled from the vicinity of his master's left hand, disrupting Roxanne's thoughts.

"Code what?" Megamind asked into his wrist.

"Cookies and cocoa!" Minion explained. "Come and get it while it's—No no no! That is not a toy! Drop it! Drop it right now!"

A sound suspiciously like breaking china echoed through the watch's speaker.

Megamind and Roxanne looked at each other and laughed again. It felt good. "I suppose we had better go downstairs while the cookies are still edible," the blue hero said. "You don't mind, do you, Roxanne? It's just that— well, you know— Minion has planned out this entire evening, and it really means a lot to him…" he trailed off as Roxanne gave him his favorite knowing smile.

"Thank you and Minion both for planning tonight. Of course I want to be a part of it." She sighed, looking down one more time at the disturbing letter. "Let's just take a step back. We can deal with this tomorrow. Besides," she brightened slightly. "I wouldn't miss Minion's home baking for anything."

Megamind chuckled again. "Be sure to tell him that." With a dramatic flourish, he swept his cloak behind one shoulder and offered her his arm. "Now, Miss Ritchi," he purred in that tone that always melted her down to her toes. "If you'll come with me, please, I fully intend to spend the next several hours cuddling by the stove, if only I could find a beautiful, intelligent woman to cuddle with."

A small, very grown-up and professional part of Roxanne hated that Megamind always knew how to make her blush. The rest of her, however, adored it.

"I think I can oblige," she answered, linking her arm through his.

He returned her smile and led her downstairs.

#Megamind #Megamind movie #megamind fanfiction #megarox #Roxanne #Roxanne Ritchi #Minion #Lair #villain #Ares #mystery #humor #adventure #romance #fluff #steamy #Daylight and Dark #Megamind fanfic #Megamind fanfics #fanfic #fan fic #fan fiction #detective #hero #Megamind as a Hero #Defender #Metrocity #Metro City

[vagrantblvrd]

Destination Anywhere (1/1)

Summary: Experience has taught Ryan that being rousted out of bed in the middle of the night and into a car with its engine running is never a good thing.

Notes: Prompt fill for @demoncowedgar who asked for camping Battle Buddies. :D?

(Read on AO3)

Experience has taught Ryan that being rousted out of bed in the middle of the night and into a car with its engine running is never a good thing.

Never.

The fact that Jeremy has a shit-eating grin on his face as he’s rousting Ryan is the only thing that keeps Ryan from resisting.

Much, anyway.

“Jeremy, what the hell - “

Jeremy’s grin takes on a manic edge as he puts his body into it, shoulder against Ryan’s back as he shoves him out of their tiny apartment.

“It’s a surprise, Ryan!” he hisses, mindful of the late (early?) hour and their sleeping neighbors. “We’re going on an adventure so shut the fuck up and enjoy it!”

And then he plays dirty and jabs an elbow in Ryan’s kidney to buy enough time to lock up behind them as Ryan jerks away from him in annoyance.

“Son of a bitch!” he hisses, rubbing at his side as Jeremy shoots him a look that’s not sorry at all. “Jeremy!”

Jeremy eyes him, head cocked. Look on his face like he’s calculating the odds of taking Ryan in a fight right here, right now, and snorts. Expression clearing as he reaches up to smooth a wayward strand of hair behind Ryan’s ear.

Grins like the unrepentant asshole he is and darts in to peck Ryan on the cheek.

“Hey,” he says, stupidly soft and fond. “Trust me, okay? This will be great.”

(Famous last words.)

========

Jeremy makes up for trying to rupture Ryan’s kidney by shoving a bag of food from (one of) Ryan’s favorite fast food places in his hands once they’re in the car.

Has to be an asshole about it, though. Gives Ryan this pointed little look before it clicks in Ryan's head that he hasn't buckled in yet, and then he pulls the bag from...somewhere.

Ryan rolls his eyes as he opens the bag to poke through it as Jeremy puts the car into drive and pulls int traffic because Jeremy, suspicion rising as he realizes Jeremy got his favorites.

Buttering him up for something, or maybe he just thinks Ryan won’t be able to bitch with his mouth full, who the hell knows?

“Here,” Jeremy says, and hands Ryan a hot cup of coffee from the same fast food place. “Liquid candy bar just the way you like it.”

Alright, so he’s not doing a great job with this whole peace offering deal by being an ass, but this is Jeremy so…

“Okay, look,” Ryan says, balancing the bag of food on his lap as he takes the completely valid coffee, thank you very much. “I’m not the one who might as well be injecting energy drinks directly into my veins.”

He’s just.

Easing his way into this coffee business, nice and slow. If that means he adds a touch of creamer and sugar to it before he tosses it down hit gullet, that’s no one’s business but his own.

Jeremy scoffs, fingers tapping out a jaunty little rhythm on the steering wheel as they get caught at a red light -

“Wait,” Jeremy says, a few beats later, almost misses it when the light turns green, but that’s okay because the asshole behind them honks his horn to let them know. “Would that work?”

Oh, Jesus Christ.

“No,” Ryan says, putting as much emphasis on it as he can because no.

This is like the time Jeremy asked him if he could bulk up on protein via semen, which.

It had been a Thing at a time in Ryan’s life when that was a fraught conversation to have with Jeremy, because pining. (All the pining, and the others laughing at them while they placed bets on when he and Jeremy would “get their shit together and bone, fucking hell, it’s just embarrassing at this point,”.)

“Jeremy please. Do not do the thing. I’m begging you.”

Jeremy hums thoughtfully the way he does when he’s not listening, mind turning over some puzzle or another that won’t end well for anyone.

Ryan takes a sip of his coffee in something close to desperation because Jeremy will be the death of him one of these days.

========

They stop at a truckstop an hour out of Los Santos for gas and a bathroom break. It’s a touristy little place with lots of kitschy souvenirs for sale.

Ryan takes the opportunity to root around in the trunk for clues. He finds a pair of backpacks packed with clothes and toiletries for the two of them. Bags of food and a cooler. Other assorted camping gear, including a couple of fishing poles and bag from a sporting goods store with fishing tackle and bait inside.

“Huh,” he says, because he was expecting to find a body instead.

It’s been...way too damned long since Ryan’s been camping.

Camping-camping, not a survival training exercise or mission gone wrong when they were still with the agency. Not a heist SNAFU where he has to pull himself out of a river and hike through God knows how many miles of wilderness to get to the nearest road like last month.

Just.

Camping.

He’s told Jeremy about wanting to go again one day, like he used to when he was a dumb kid and things were simpler.

Take a few days off and find a quiet spot, sleep under the stars.

Roast marshmallows over a campfire, make s’mores.

The whole shebang.

Never thought he’d get the chance, the way their lives go, but -

The sound of Jeremy’s voice brings Ryan’s head up, sees him stopping to chat with a pair of college kids struggling with changing their tire.

Infectious laugh and a smile that lights up his face, and Ryan’s gone on the asshole the way the others are always ribbing him about because he feels this swell of affection for Jeremy. (Might be heartburn though, because breakfast sandwich, but he doesn’t think so.)

Ryan closes the trunk and slips back into the truckstop’s gift shop for that mug he saw while Jeremy’s busy playing good samaritan..

========

“You saw, huh?”

There’s a rueful grin tugging at Jeremy’s lips, sunglasses on in face of the bright sunlight coming though the windshield and this little blush spreading over his cheeks.

Ryan bites back a laugh and pops open one of Jeremy’s energy drinks before handing it over.

========

Several hours later they stop at a cabin overlooking a lake. Small, quaint little thing made out of wood logs and perfect for a postcard.

Quiet spot far enough away from neighboring cabins they won’t be disturbed and Ryan loves it.

He gets a lot of shit from the others for his love of shiny technology, gadgets and the whatnot. Gets called a city boy because they don’t know, but he misses this.

“There’s hiking trails all over the place,” Jeremy says, joining Ryan on the porch facing the lake. “Spots we can set up a tent if you’d rather do that than stay here. I just thought - “

Ryan glances down at Jeremy. Catches all his nervous tells no amount of training could ever beat out of him, and feels that swell of affection for him again. All-encompassing, because they’ve been through a lot together, the two of them, and Jeremy still gets like this.

Nervous, awkward, like he has no damn idea how much Ryan loves him and that’s the worst rime Ryan’s ever committed right there.

“Jeremy, shut up” Ryan says, smile tugging at his mouth at the way Jeremy’s mouth snaps shut, the look he sends Ryan.

Eyes narrowed, answering grin curving his mouth and some snappy little comeback on his lips Ryan steals away with a kiss.

========

So, the thing about camping memories and nostalgia leave out? (Smooth over, make sure you forget about in light of the good times just to fuck you over when you least expect it?)

How goddamned annoying it can be.

Bugs and insects, for starters. Squirrels being territorial little shits. Birds literally shitting on you.

The weather taking a turn, because Jeremy forgot to check the forecast with everything else he had to do to keep this jaunt a secret from Ryan.

Rain coming down hard enough he’s worried the tent might give up the ghost on them and leave then drenched and miserable because they couldn’t not use the damn thing at least once. (It already drowned their campfire, ruined the s’mores Ryan was looking forward to, why not this too?)

Also? Goddamned rocks.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Ryan mutters, shifting to get away from that pointy little rock digging into his shoulder blade.

They double and triple checked for shit like this when they found a promising camping spot for the night. Cleared out the rocks and other debris before setting up the tent and laying out their sleeping bags and still there are things trying to stab him to death.

Beside him Jeremy is suspiciously still, and Ryan reaches for the flashlight to snap it on.

Aims it at the cocoon that is Jeremy and his sputtered laughter as he glares at his stupid sleeping bag. (Dark purple with bright orange reflective stripes and Ryan doesn’t want to know how long he looked for the perfect sleeping bag, he really doesn’t.)

“You can just shut up,” Ryan mutters, little flare of rage when he searches for the stabby rock and can’t find it, even though he knows it’s there.

Like it’s some kind of damn stealth assassin waiting to attack again when lets his guard down.

Jeremy is laughing at him, quiet wheezy thing, and Ryan snarls because this isn’t funny.

“Ryan,” Jeremy wheezes, so damned amused. “Oh my God, Ryan.”

Ryan looks at Jeremy, who is mocking him in his hour of need.

Sees the helpless grin on his face and all this love and affection there for Ryan to see and he has to look away again because it’s...it’s a lot.

Always has been, and Ryan’s never sure he deserves it. (Jeremy could do so much better than him, is the thing and yet here they are.)

“Hey,” Jeremy says, soft, quiet. “Idiot, hey.”

Ryan snorts as he looks at the moron he fell in love with a long, long time ago. Always a sweet-talker, Jeremy.

“Come over here,” Jeremy says, tugging at Ryan’s sleeve. “There aren’t any rocks, I promise.”

That sounds like a lie and a trap, because Jeremy is the kind of person who endure discomfort just to make someone else suffer.

“Uh-huh,” Ryan says, but he goes anyway because he’s the kind of idiot who falls for it every time.

========

There are indeed rocks and other stabby bits, but there’s also Jeremy, so Ryan figures he breaks even on that one.

#jeremwood #ragehappy #battle buddies #demoncowedgar #prompt fills #Kings of Nowhere #vagrant fic

[slytherinknowitall]

Potion Fumes and Cauldron Leaks

Chapter 4: Inconceivable Choices

(Click here for chapter 3!)

(Click here to start from the beginning!)

Disclaimer: I don’t own the “Harry Potter” book series. The story of “Harry Potter” is the property of J. K. Rowling, it is not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only. 

Hermione woke up with a smile that Tuesday morning. It had been so nice to sleep in one of Hogwarts’ big, comfy beds again. After years of fighting against the forces of evil, the young witch finally felt somewhat at peace and was looking forward to being able to focus solely on her education for her final year of schooling.

Sitting up, she took a look around her new room. After being appointed as the new Head Girl, she’d been moved from Gryffindor Tower to a smaller private one, from which she could see the Great Lake. Instead of having to share a single room with several other girls, she now had her own suite composed of a cosy bedroom, a luxurious bathroom and a small but sufficient study.

Slipping out from underneath the warm covers of her bed, Hermione wrapped herself in a silky cream-coloured robe before grabbing her treasured Muggle watch from the nightstand; she’d gotten it as a birthday gift from her parents almost two years ago and it’d been her loyal companion ever since. A quick look at it told her that she had woken up almost an hour earlier than usual. Not wanting to go back to sleep, she decided to instead treat herself with a long, hot shower.

After washing her body and giving her messy curls a deep clean, the teenager then used her vine wood wand to swiftly dry both her hair and skin. Afterwards, she picked up a decently sized lime green toiletry bag with big purple dots on it and unzipped it to reveal an assortment of Muggle beauty products, which she’d collected during the summers spent at her parents’ home. Making use of the extra time, she fished out a thick, moisturising body butter with a slight peach smell and applied it to her entire body. Next, she moved on to makeup and applied brown mascara, a bit of light pink blush as well as some tinted lip balm to give her face a fresh look. Continuing with her hair, she struggled with taming the wild locks on her head but eventually managed to put them into a cute messy bun. After putting on her beloved uniform – of course, making sure to add her new shiny Head Girl badge – and even using a little magic to make it look absolutely impeccable, she applied some floral-scented perfume as the final step. Grabbing her well-loved school bag stuffed with all sorts of books as always, she then made her way to the first breakfast of her final year at Hogwarts.

“Morning, Hermione,” Ron munched just a few minutes later as he stuffed two pork sausages at once into his large mouth.

The girl smiled as she sat down next to her friends at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. While she had never been an admirer of Ronald Weasley’s table manners (or lack thereof), she was in too good of a mood today to attempt to correct him. Instead, she gave him a friendly pad on the shoulder before greeting everyone else as well. As she helped herself to some toast with scrambled eggs, Professor McGonagall was fulfilling her duties as Head of House by distributing the individual timetables to each Gryffindor student. Taking a small sip of pumpkin juice, Hermione took a look at hers and saw that it didn’t entail any surprises.

“Let’s see … Monday starts off with Charms and Potions, then History of Magic and DADA in the afternoon.” Her heart skipped a beat, however, when she noticed what her very first period of the year would be: She was scheduled to have an apprenticeship lesson with Professor Snape!

Her look darted to the outer end of the High Table and she instantly wished she’d much rather kept her head down. Because the Potions Master was staring at her with such intensity that his dark eyes seemed to bore right into her soul. His already thin lips were pressed together so tightly that they were barely even visible anymore and that gave Hermione an awfully painful lump in her throat. She had of course known that he wouldn’t be ecstatic about the prospect of working so closely with her when she’d first signed up for the apprenticeship programme at the beginning of the summer holidays – but she surely hadn’t expected to get such a look of complete and utter hatred from her teacher.

“Perhaps I should have gone with Professor Vector after all,” she thought anxiously. Just at that moment, Snape stood up and abruptly turned around to leave the Great Hall, his long black robes whirling around his slim figure almost ferociously.

“Unbelievable! It’s the first day of term and the snake is already in a bad mood,” said Harry before chewing off another piece of fried bacon.

“Did you really expect anything else from him? He is and will always be an old wanker,” Ginny responded, not noticing Hermione’s glare at her use of a curse word. “Anyway, what about your timetables? I’m starting off with a double lesson of Charms.”

“Harry and I both have a free period. Not bad for the first day!” her brother laughed.

The Muggle-born frowned. “Ron, you should really take your education more seriously. This is your final year, after all! You are aware of the fact that the N.E.W.T.s will be harder than any exam we’ve ever taken, aren’t you?” But the freckled boy only rolled his eyes before turning his attention back to his breakfast.

“I would also have a free period if it wasn’t for my apprenticeship,” Neville stuttered shyly. “I don’t mind that, though. I really enjoy taking care of the plants with Professor Sprout. What about you, Hermione? Did you also apply for an apprenticeship?”

Hermione gulped. She knew that her friends weren’t going to be exactly thrilled about the news of their most hated teacher being her new mentor. “Well, Neville, I will indeed train under someone. As it happens, I’m also starting next period,” she said, trying to avoid the inevitable.

“Did anybody here seriously even consider the possibility that she wouldn’t sign up for the programme? I mean, it’s practically made for her! I bet she would work with every single professor if she could,” giggled Ginny before turning to her friend who was like the big sister she’d never had. “So, which of them has the honour of tutoring you? It’s Babbling, isn’t it?”

“Ancient Runes is truly a very interesting subject; but no, I didn’t choose Professor Babbling to study under,” Hermione said seemingly nonchalantly as she focused her attention on the incoming morning owl post in an attempt to dodge her friend’s curious look.

“Who is it then? Burbage? Vector? Oh, don’t tell me you chose Binns!” The group of teenagers collectively erupted into laughter.

The brunette sighed. “No, it isn’t Professor Binns. As a matter of fact, I –“ She took a deep breath. “I have chosen to work with Professor Snape.”

“WHAT?!” Even though she’d expected his outcry, Hermione still flinched at Ron’s loud exclamation. Every single head in the Great Hall immediately turned to him. “You chose Snape? That greasy git?! Hermione, you can’t be serious!”

Harry also had a look of disbelieve on his face. “You do know that you will have to work with him for the entire school year, right? How could you do this to yourself? I know that you’re interested in Potions, but it’s still Snape!”

“Professor Snape is not only a highly intelligent man and excellent teacher –“ She purposefully ignored the revolted looks on her peers’ faces. “But he is also an extremely skilled Potions Master. In fact, he is one of the best in his field. Getting the chance to work with him is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity – one that I’m not going to miss out on just because of your dislike of him as a person.”

Her best friend shook her ginger head of hair in disbelief. “I know your thirst for knowledge is unquenchable, but I still think you shouldn’t have gone with the Dungeon Bat. You know as well as we do that he will treat you poorly just because he has the power to do so! Have you really learnt nothing in the six years you’ve had to endure his spleen?”

Hermione gave her a slight smile. “I appreciate your concern, Gin, but don’t worry! I know Professor Snape can be a bit of a handful at times, but I’m sure that everything will work out just fine. He can’t be that bad, can he?” While saying this, however, she still had the image of the dark wizard’s furious look in her mind.

(Click here for chapter 5!)

#fanfictionbyusignolo #fanfiction by usignolo #fanfiction by usignolo masterlist #Slytherin Know-It-All #slytherinknowitall #usignolo masterlist #masterlist #severus snape #severus snape x hermione granger #hermione granger #snermione #snanger #snamione #chapter 4 #PFACL #PFACL chapter 4 #potion fumes and cauldron leaks #harry potter #harry potter fandom #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #snape lives au #pro severus snape #snape community #romance #fluff #angst #hurt/comfort #secret crush #apprenticeship

[sanguinesorceress]

Marked for Death (Part 2)

[Part 1]

“Porter?! Another cask of Peaked Dalaran White, when you have a moment please!”

Porter.  It had supplanted his real name in people’s thoughts, but Oneth Sagestriker didn’t seem to mind the nickname at all.  Polite to a fault, the Kaldorei with boyish good looks and eyes as silver as a beam of moonlight always wore a smile despite the burden he carried on his broad shoulders.  “Coming right up!” he chirped, springing to his feet with the vigor of a Brewfest wolpertinger being chased by drunken buffoons to fulfil his coworker’s request.  Sure he had been offered a position as a bartender in the Ledgermain Lounge, but he declined for ‘personal reasons.’  Which his employer attributed to the rumour that his wife was sick and the change in his work schedule would conflict with visiting hours.  It was not entirely false, as there were other reasons for him to actively seek refuge in anonymity.  The busboy is but a thread in the Bartender’s tapestry.  It was the perfect cover for moonlighting as a hired assassin.

Waiting between two specially designated crates in the back stockroom was his next assignment, and Gods knew he needed the gold.  His current position didn’t exactly pay the best wages and the expenses for his wife’s treatment were piling up.  It wasn’t honest work, but it was a means to an end— or so he had hoped.  The recent diagnosis was handed down with the condemnation of a life-sentence unto an innocent soul.  Why did it have to be her?  If anything, he should have been the one to fall ill as a form of penance for his unconventional profession.

Closing time was just around the corner, and with the cask tapped and fitted in its proper place, Oneth excused himself from his shift.  Finding a moment of solitude, he peeked at the hidden piece of parchment that would direct him toward his next ‘target.’  Wiping his sweaty palms on his pants, the porter closed his eyes and took a deep breath to still the hammering in his chest before withdrawing, not one, but two papers stacked neatly together.  He recognized the first, it was from his usual employer, but the other was foreign in both penmanship and vellum.  Postponing the first in favour of the second, Oneth unfolded the note to read its contents:  

Despite what the doctors have convinced you to believe, your wife’s terminal condition is indeed reversible.  Meet me on the easternmost island in Stormheim and be sure to come alone.  Your every move henceforth is being monitored closely.  Breathe a word of this to anyone and she dies today.  I trust you will be discreet.

The other contained a name and a location written in code, so if the paper was discovered it would read as meaningless jargon to untrained eyes.  Oneth glanced up at the clock, his eyes darting from one number to the next as he calculated the time it would take to fulfill his given assignment as well as the impromptu directive.  If he left this instant, he would have enough time to complete both.

Off the coast of Morheim a long and narrow enclave hugs a large portion of the shoreline.  Comprised of mostly rocky terrain, the island is largely uninhabitable save for lichens, crustaceans, roosting birds, and a small colony of bilgefin murlocs who are to credit for its namesake of ‘Bilgefin Shore.’

Oneth arrived by nightfall on the back of his trusted nightsaber, Whisper, who was every bit as quiet as her name implied despite the hulking cat’s size.  When traveling through a murloc colony, it was best to bring a predatory feline with a healthy appetite for amphibious beasts, since these little monsters tended to move in swarms.  Blades drawn and ready to strike, he anticipated an unprovoked attack from the territorial fish-men wielding rudimentary spears as weapons.  It did not sound like much of a challenge until one found themselves to be overcome in an instant by a swarm of carnivorous halflings.  Razor sharp teeth, webbed digits, and bulging eyes offered a great advantage under water, but on land the only safety found was from gathering in overwhelming numbers.  Whisper’s experience took over, and with meals on flippers waddling all around her, she knew she would have her pick of the platter.  Already she was licking her chops and crouching low, her tail ticking like a metronome, waiting for the signal to pounce.

A rain of spears swiftly followed the aggressive battle cry of “Mrglmrglmrglll!!!” and one did not need to be fluent in Nerglish to know they had been spotted.

Whisper sprang into action, snatching a cerulean murloc with iridescent green stripes and snapping its neck in her powerful jaws.  In a single bound, the nightsaber had pinned five of them to the sand, where they met a violent end delivered mercilessly by sharpened teeth and deadly claws.  Oneth dismounted, and immediately jolted from the barrage of frigid water bolts hurled by one of the magic weilders.  Before he could retaliate, however, Whisper was on top of the violet murloc in an instant.  “Save some for me, will you?!” he teased as he sliced through rubbery flesh, inflicting them with a lethal dose of poison he had anointed his blades with earlier.

“Aaaaaughibbrgubugbugrguburgle!” came the cry of their chieftan, and it was followed in unison with a resounding “mlargh!” from the rest of the tribe.  It was unusual behavior for a territorial species, but it appeared as though the angry mob was now... retreating?

The murlocs’ diet consisted primarily of the crimson rockshell crabs co-habiting the area, whatever marine life they managed to spear, and the occasional traveler who wandered too close.  As a direct result of their lifestyle, the air surrounding a murloc dwelling was laden with the nauseating stench of rotting fish caracases.  Freshly added to this revolting bouquet was the odour of spilled blood from their fallen brethren, and in an attempt to diffuse some of the smell, Oneth pulled his mask over his nose.  Shiny bobbles strung into sun-catchers dangled everywhere around the shanty-town, which was the product of repurposed cargo that had washed ashore from passing Vrykul ships.

A chilling breeze blew in from the eastern shore, and with it came a low-rolling fog that chased away the worst of the fetid stench with an aseptic gust of salt sea air.  The sudden onset of this nearly impenetrable mist grounded the seagulls overhead, and had murlocs scrambling up the stilts of their grass roof huts in search of shelter.  Whether their behaviour was driven by instinct or experience, there was an unsettling change in their mannerisms that could only be described as sheer terror.  With a hand resting on the pommel of Whisper’s saddle, the assassin placed his absolute trust in her ability to lead him through the mist using her sharpened senses.

On the horizon, an ambiguous silhouette made manifest within the fog.  At first he believed it to be a ship in the distance, but as it neared the shadow gradually took on the form of a tall, feminine figure.  “Oneth Sagestriker,” she murmured while approaching the assassin, and her words echoed amidst the waves until they too collided with the inevitable shore, “I do hope the murlocs were not too troublesome.”  Her voice was a siren’s song, alluring, yet perilous to those who ventured too close to the water’s edge.

“I have come alone as you have requested.  Now tell me what I must do to spare my wife.”  Taller the silhouette grew, until the woman stood looming over him with the majesty of a Vrykul warrior, a race native to Stormheim whom are believed to be descended from giants.  “Who are you, and why have you called upon me?”  Was he, by some fortuitous chance, in the presence of a Val’kyr, a winged spirit capable of resurrecting the dead?

“I have been given many names,” crooned the mysterious woman, “but you may simply refer to me as the Tide Seer.”  Slowly, the mists parted to reveal a robust woman with seaweed in place of hair and scales shimmering across her verdant skin.  Barnacles clung to her dress, which appeared to be fashioned from the tattered sails of sunken ships.

“I know what you are,” Oneth growled, and the hair on Whisper’s back bristled in response to the contempt seething from her master’s lips as he spat the word, “Kvaldir.”  Not only did it explain the mist’s abrupt arrival, but the reaction it garnered from terrified murlocs as they scurried away from the danger it heralded.

“Tisk, tisk,” she chided while focusing a stare toward him as deep and mysterious as the ocean itself.  “We wouldn’t want your wife to fall into sudden cardiac arrest over a bit of prejudice, now would we?  Mind your manners, assassin, and sharpen your hearing instead of your blades.”  Although thought to be folklore, the Kvaldir were actually a ruthless and barbaric race of corrupt Vrykul who had taken to the seas as opposed to the land.  Primarily elusive humanoids, the only other location they could be found was on the blistering cold isles off the coast of Northrend.

Oneths’ moonlit eyes narrowed into waxing crescents as he countered with a pointed glare.  “Alright, sea witch, I’ll entertain you with an honest question. What makes you so confident you can cure my wife when she has already seen the best doctors gold can buy?”

“There is a way,” she hummed, “ although unconventional as it may seem, the outcome is guaranteed, I assure you.”  A slow smile crept across her pale blue lips as she watched his expression transform from malice to intrigue, “and for a man of your profession there should be no contest.  A life for a life.  Your dearly beloved will live a long and healthy lifespan free of illness, and all you have to do is add one more target to your roster.”  Could it really be that simple?

“How do you plan to accomplish that?”  By this point, his feline companion had nearly doubled in size.  Everything about this encounter rubbed her the wrong way, causing the fur on her body to stand fully erect and tingle with electricity.  

“It is a simple equation of give and take, really.  By trimming lifespan of one individual, it allows the opportunity to transfer the remainder to another.  As for the details, let us simply agree that I have my area of expertise just as you have yours.  Do we have a deal or not?”

Oneth gave pause as he weighed his options, studying every possible aspect and outcome of the business transaction.  “What sort of guarantee do I have that you will keep your word, Tide Seer?”  While he found her offer tempting, the assassin also had enough experience not to bargain blindly.

The creeping mist swirled to life, demonstrating its omnipresence by swallowing the entire coastal shore and the murloc village housed therein.  One by one, each of the aquatic monsters burbled and gasped like fish on dry land before flopping to the sand with a lifeless ‘thud’.  “The only guarantee I am willing to give… is the promise of carrying out my threats.”

A wave of dizziness swept over him and he leaned heavily on Whisper for support.  Unfortunately, the feline was also feeling a bit unsteady on her paws and she hissed, wide-eyed and panicked as her limbs betrayed her, forcing the nightsaber to fall on her belly.  A triumphant smirk pulled at the witch’s lips as she watched him choke on the fog; coughing like a man with a fish bone stuck in his throat, as he collapsed to his knees while clutching his neck.  Without so much as lifting a finger, she had asphyxiated nearly everything within her realm of influence. “Would you doubt my abilities at the cost of your own life?  Perhaps your beloved wife’s?  Or are you not motivated enough to save her?”  

“Alright!” he wheezed, “You have made your point!”  and with his yielding the mists slowly receded.  Oneth gulped down several breaths as though he had discovered the only break in a wall of ice trapping him beneath a frozen lake.  “Who do you want me to kill?”

“He who hails from the floating city, Magister Jadex.”

“A Kirin Tor magus?”  Every burning breath he took scraped like sandpaper against his ribs.  “What would a Kvaldir such as yourself hope to accomplish by killing someone like him?” he puzzled while massaging the center of his chest.

“The Violet peace keepers have overstepped their boundaries.  I intend to send a message for them to cease meddling in Vrykul affairs.  I do not care how you accomplish your task, only that you adhere to the following conditions.”  For each directive she named, the seer counted by peeling back one of her knobby fingers.  “First, he must suffer a slow and excruciating death, and the second is that you deliver a personal message.”

“What is the message you wish for me to convey?”

“One day I will return and he won't be around to see me rise again.”

“Very well,” he sighed reluctantly.  It wasn’t as though he had been given a choice in the matter.  “I shall do as you ask.”

“Take these pearls,” she directed, “place one in his home, and the other next to your wife.  When the elven magus dies, the disease will depart from her body and the remainder of his lifespan shall become hers.  You have precisely twelve hours to uphold your end of the bargain or I shall keep my promise and send her to an early grave.  The shifting sands begin their descent… starting now.”

Before he could protest or request more time to carry out such a daunting task, the Tide Seer dispersed with a splash of salt water and collapsed into a lifeless heap of seaweed on the shore.

Desperation was a cruel motivator, and Oneth understood he needed to make every second count as though it was his wife’s last.

( Image Source [1] [2] [3] [4] ) @hmratking @loveherdekay @lazraelbandtherion @safrona-shadowsun @puppet-master-jihye​

#Plot: Marked for Death #part two #stay tuned for more to come #sanguine sorceress #Conniving Bitch #i really enjoyed this #I hope you do too #sorceress literature