#like the top row is canon as far as i’m concerned

[hypershocked]

battlebots alignment charts are good for the soul

#some of these i’m less confident on #but some are definitely spot on #like the top row is canon as far as i’m concerned #battlebots #ana talks bots #deep six #minotaur #blip #tombstone #sawblaze #rusty #ripperoni #hypershock #huge

[knowlesian]

moths and muppets: aka, consider the humble metaphor.

i’ve been thinking a lot about the true power of a good metaphor, thanks to that damned silk moth, and it made me start chewing on my very favorite metaphor of all: the grand unifying call to muppet theory.

i truly love the stuff we’ve all come up with as a fandom in this vein, especially the meta about how everybody comes from their own canon. i’m going to talk more about why that’s so perfect after i knock out the practical and thus easier to line up and argue half of this and get down to my favorite part: full tilt feels.

hell, i’ve had my own fun joking about izzy being confused sepsis and linear time don’t exist anymore and i will continue to have said fun, as fun is a fucking vital element of fandom engagement too, but here's the thing: those are metaphors and jokes, not practical realities. izzy himself seems unaware of any difference in either one of those things.

to break it down by stating the obvious: metaphors aren’t the literal thing happening. they can’t be, by their very definition. they function on Vibes alone and pull themes into the mix too when they’re feeling flirty, or it sort of breaks into less-coherent pieces the more you find the ways in which it does not function literally and perfectly.

the sunrise is a painter, spreading fire across the sky: poke that metaphor with a stick, watch it crumble as logic fails to apply.

by that token there are no prior or different canons, in terms of the characters genuinely changing genres or switching worlds. they only actually exist in this canon, because... well, this is the only canon this version of these characters literally have ever existed in. we can have fun theorizing about backstories and the relationships in existence until the day izzy and co stumbled over the revenge and crashed through our metaphor wall until the cows come home, and i myself will be there with bells on. but for practical terms, the show remains the only show that exists outside the realm of metaphor.  

they show us this general coherence, even in the text itself: fang and ed and ivan and izzy aren’t actually transformed by suddenly entering a muppet movie. and more to the point for now, in terms of practical skills and general expectations of the laws of physics, as far as we know they can all do what they could do before we started following their lives. no less, no more.

ivan still has advice about and dibs on gold teeth while stripping corpses, fang steers the ship and kicks ass and has great cheekbones. it’s just now, the context in which they are being received (and isn’t received a great way to say consumed? come on in, received says. we’ll have cake) is entirely different.

the duel is a case study in how this works: we know ed has a side full of old wounds from being stabbed in exactly the way stede survived being stabbed. they made sure to show us that surviving this is not at all unprecedented in ed’s pre-stede world, and that ed just shook off his latest light case of stabbing earlier in the episode. 

so textually, izzy is baffled he lost a sword fight by unconventional means (as well as stunned by the subtextual introduction to the idea of topping from the bottom/bottoming from the top? their metaphor dick measuring/fucking will never stop amazing me) and that it was stede he lost to, not worse at dueling or actually bothered or even confused by a sudden lack of blood poisoning. and he’s not shocked ed rowed into the middle of the ocean at the narratively perfect time in the finale; he never once questions or seems disturbed by the outsized ways our rules of reality don’t matter here.

he bitches hilariously to jackie that stede sucks and likes ed’s hair too much and that he really could have beaten him if it wasn’t for those meddling kids, mark his words, but he never says: the rules of my basic reality were quite literally different yesterday. i am concerned i have tripped and fallen and now time doesn’t work. 

instead, over and over again he says through his words and the way he responds to being taken off-guard: people keep acting in ways i don’t anticipate and i reeeeeally don't like it. additionally, i refuse even once to just to roll with it and see where that goes. his constant i don’t know what the fuck is GOING ON AROUND HERE ANYMORE response to the events of canon is primarily an emotional one.

(there’s a story beat here where izzy is essentially experiencing metaphor culture shock and he can’t or won’t metaphor codeswitch his way out of it that i find very fun and cool; we could all be izzy, in the real world, simply by being shoved into a cultural context we are unfamiliar with and immediately made deeply uncomfortable by.) 

for example: he’s very bothered by dicks (and open expressing of emotion other than ‘fuck this and also maybe i will kill you’ flavored emotions) and what people are now doing with them, right in front of his salad.

in a tangent about the realities of sailing that i swear will matter here if you stick with me through it, because it relates to my argument: even his choice to make lucius scrape barnacles at sea, the best example of izzy wanting a specific ship chore performed (other than his demand to stede about munitions so they can fight the spanish) is more about humiliation than real world sailing requirements. in the real world, unless you plan to have somebody throw on diving gear to do it, ships are usually docked before this task is undertaken. 

so izzy’s going about having lucius do this chore in a way that was not going to accomplish much. that is: if what he actually wanted was significantly fewer barnacles, for practical ship reasons. if what he wanted was to prove his power and authority and fuck with lucius in ways he can technically justify in-world, then what he did makes perfect sense.

and to be very clear: in the real world, izzy asking lucius to scrape barnacles while at sea (and without some sort of vague protection for his hands, especially given the effect of the waves on steadiness!) at all would require careening the ship, and doing so in a way that would have put all their lives in active danger. there’s even a period-typical (ish) name for the technique needed when attempting to do this at sea: the parliamentary heel. it was famously dangerous, and only to be done in red alert emergency situations where a dry dock or a beach couldn’t be reached in time. 

and here’s the thing— i don’t think the show is taking that realistic approach, or that we are meant to take away izzy could have gotten them all killed, not even a little bit. 

and i’m certainly not arguing he’s incompetent, either. ed wouldn’t have brought him on in the first place if izzy was actively bad at the 101s of How To Be a Cranky Lil Boat Guy, and i doubt even ed’s fondness or his position as first mate would have saved him for years from a quick shove over the side if he was actively detrimental to the pirating process in any way but being the middle manager we all fucking hate and refuse to do our absolute best for unless we have to, because our shit is on the line. 

it’s just that apparently, in ofmd’s world of candied melon silk moths where lucius is more peeved than genuinely worried for his hands, either a bunch of barnacles exist above the ship’s waterline for... Reasons, or the waterline randomly changes without a significant change in weight by jettisoning cargo. (and it would have to change a greatly unrealistic lot for this to happen, a difference not remotely explained by four people being off the ship.)

so don’t ask how any of this works real rules of ship gravity-wise or it stops working, ofmd says. izzy is very annoyed lucius won’t quit doing masculinity wrong, and he’s being petty about it and targeting him for a non-essential job he won’t be particularly good at that could be done later in a more sensible setting. that’s the beat the story is most interested in, so it just does not care if barnacles and their removal don’t work like that in our real world.

ofmd plays fast and loose with the rules of everything from time to scurvy to distance between places and what rowboats and the arms attached to the human rowing said boat are capable of. there is a need to accept that the rules of our own reality are just guidelines on this show, or a viewer will end up deeply frustrated when none of it quite lines up as it should. ofmd’s metric is ‘what’s coolest and/or best for the story’, and they’re really not concerned if anybody doesn’t want to fuck with that need to suspend disbelief; they demand you go with them or perish. literally none of this works in a canon concerned with applying the rules of reality stringently.

i point all this out because there’s an urge floating around to fill in a lot izzy never displays to us, insist he is the only one working and/or keeping the ship afloat, we just don’t see any of it now because they changed canons: but in that case, it comes back to why aren’t fang and ed and ivan stripped of skills or traits in the same way? and if it’s just izzy, why the uneven staggering? he’s still a skilled fighter and a good pirate. 

we just know despite those facts, fang and ivan didn’t like or respect him much pre-canon, given the stories about the time he was left in charge and the utter lack of fear that he’ll be pissed off at them. ed’s still scary to them, and fang still snaps to at even the idea he’s back aboard; as far as i can tell, unless we argue that izzy’s skills and relationships are different now but he simultaneously still knows his shit when it comes to battle and swordplay (pun intended) we should conclude skills are still at the same baseline for everybody. otherwise the show made some weird and specific choices to suddenly make izzy unevenly and unfairly disadvantaged in ways that aren’t about his emotional hangups, and arguing that carries a good handful of equally weird and troubling implications.

which brings me to the emotional kicker on the logic end, because if izzy’s right to act like such an asshole, and we just can’t see the necessity anymore by the virtue of canon change— or in some ways if he was ever right and doing so was 100% ever actually necessary— then by that same logic, ed was right to demand fang kill his dog. they were in a different canon! a canon where dogs needed to be killed! even if we could just LET OTHER PEOPLE GIVE THEM A NICE HOME, E D. we can’t change our rules on this kind of thing by character, if we’re calling it logic and not metaphor, and we all seem to agree there isn’t any world where that was called for.

ed gets fang a new dog endgame or i BURN DOWN THE HBO OFFICES. FUCKING... RENEW IT!!! anyway.

everybody’s emotional literacy and ability to be open is absolutely changing, and the reception they are given by stede and the crew of the revenge clearly isn’t what they’re used to, but in terms of ‘can they do the literal practical stuff they used to do and are the laws of gravity in-world the same’, they’ve all still got it.

to poke holes in my own favorite framework more, chauncey and nigel (and even mary!) are from stede’s canon, and should thus be muppets, right? the metaphor breaks down again there, as metaphors themselves are wont to do when you stretch them too far. none of them quite work within the literal muppet read. then there’s the king: is he from ed’s canon or stede’s? both? everyone’s???? what would that even look like or mean? he seems pretty muppet-y in vibes while remaining anti-muppet in allegiance/narrative positioning, but that’s a stretch once more and only works for him. and how about spanish jackie and geraldo? they’re from izzy and ed’s world and olu and jim’s. so: muppet or not? once you try to make a metaphor a literal plot detail and make it fit everything, it falls apart faster and faster.

(not to mention: geraldo is from jim’s world twice over, given what we find out from spanish jackie. he was there the day their family died, but he’s also part of the current action in a way that bears almost no resemblance to jim’s Ported In energy.)

which is the perfect lead-in to getting away from strict textual analysis and into why i love a metaphor in general, but these sort of metaphors in specific: the quiet part loud is that none of these characters are muppets.

because this isn’t a muppet movie, in anything but structure/metaphor/vibes: these are humans. (or seagulls, i suppose, but i will tip my cap in respect to karl and olivia both and then set them aside, for the purposes of this argument.)

this means they’re all played by actual human actors, but more than that, the characters themselves are gloriously human. even when they act cartoonishly, and the rules of our reality don’t apply to them— maybe especially then.

the writers have twin wells of seemingly endless empathy and accountability sitting side by side in a meadow of knowing their shit on the weird little quirks of being a human. these are not literal muppets, they are fictional humans.

complicated, wonderful humans. capable of kindness; capable of shocking new depths of dumbfuckery.

they make bad choices, they fail to communicate, and then they whip around and exhibit good sense and use their words to express the shit other people can’t know unless told. they do this because that’s what we all do, as we cart around our own pasts and pain and bring our thoroughly un-blank slate into each interaction we have on earth.

in my real life, i’m sort of obsessed with the idea that no two people can ever read the same exact book even when it is the same exact book, and with asking people the question “when you say ( fill in the word/phrase ), what does it mean to you?” when i start to feel like maybe the issue is not primarily in the meat of any given disagreement i’m having, but instead in the packaging.

from experience: people do not like being asked that question. they hear me say that, and what they process is ‘this motherfucker didn’t listen! and i was VERY clear’ and then i ask it again because they understandably don’t feel like clarifying word choice in the heat of the moment, as they 100% know what they meant, causing even more frustration.

(i have been told more than once i am very annoying to attempt an argument with, because i keep asking that question anyway. sorry about that, people in my life!)

the problem here is when i say that, i exemplify the thing i’m talking about: i come in with the baseline assumption that we all use the same words a little differently, and that’s not always a truth universally acknowledged no matter how real and obvious it seems to me. that’s before you get to the arena of legit mishearing someone, or somebody having a slip of the tongue or not knowing what something means and just using the wrong word. i’m talking about the fact that when i say anything, i bring all my own context and knowledge and previous conversations to bear, and same goes for the people i speak to.

i say beautiful, you might see a flower or that fiery sunset from the intro or, i don’t know, taika’s eyes/arms/belly: i might see something out of left field, like the inner mechanisms of a washing machine. so already, with the same basic understanding of what beauty generally means, we are starting from very different places and are going to have to work to bridge that gap between us.

i said all that to say: this is why i love the idea that every character is from their own genre, because what a fuckin’ metaphor that is all on its own. 

we are all from our own canons, metaphorically, while from the same one literally. we star in our own movies, where we are the main character, and in the story we are telling ourselves other people know that, and react to us and our choices accordingly. 

that’s not a value judgement, because we can’t baseline exist any other way: you weren’t born in my body, i didn’t live your pain or experience your joy. we are who we are, and we can’t go back and change any of it or gain the ability to read minds. if i want to see you as a whole person or you do the same for me, we are both going to have to pause our own movie for a second and attempt to watch the other’s without applying the rules that worked for us to a different canon, where things work differently and somebody else is the main character.

we exist in the same world: we exist in very, very different worlds. we’re the same; we couldn’t be more different. these are correct, all at the same time, and in the exact same way they’re all not quite right.

the beauty of a metaphor is that it can access an emotional truth, not a literal one. they’re for identifying something so deeply held it’s hard to entirely express in plain terms, and making it as beautiful as the gears turning inside every machine, keeping them running in ways unseen from the outside and unknown to the casual observer until they tear open the casing and see what makes this old thing tick. and at their very, very best, they’re not about construction or elegance; they’re about finding a core truth.

because of that metaphors suck with linear time and gravity and coherent real world logic— and that’s fine! they’re not actually about any of that. drill down past form to function and metaphors are about finding the best way to ask: you seeing this shit, too? that way you know you’re on the road to finding your people when somebody else pipes up ohhhh baby, AM I. 

that’s communication; that’s solidarity. that’s fucking love.

moths and muppets, clouds that look like dicks and dicks that look like honesty, silk hearts and a hearth at the heart of a liminal space ship, oranges and earrings— it’s no wonder ofmd is so goddamned fond of metaphors. everything a metaphor does best, ofmd is really fucking good at too.

#our flag means death #our flag means death spoilers #my ofmd meta #this one went PLACES. #moths and metaphors and muppets! clouds that are dicks and masts that are dicks #and swords that are broken hearts and a bad case of whiskey dick/nutting too early/etc #it's A Lot #oranges and earrings! #i meant to just sort of poke at the muppet metaphor and explain why i love metaphors #3k later!!!!! #thiiiis? whatever it is. i love textual analysis so much gdi #if you read this whole thing... why? and thank you. and hello! but also: what's wrong with us buddy #pirate brainrot for life!!!! is what

[hb-writes]

You’ve Always Been Naive

Summary: It’s 1925 in the Little Lady Blinder universe. After an epic row, Tommy allows Clara to stay more regularly on Watery Lane with a few conditions, one of which is a mid-week meeting at the Midland Hotel to check in.

Characters: Tommy Shelby & Clara (Shelby!Sister)

Content Warnings: canon-typical content, angst, (underage) drug use (requested by anon)

--

Tommy glanced up from his whiskey sour as his sister stepped up to the table, her face a deliberately neutral façade as she set a ledger down in front of him, a week's worth of academic work stuffed inside the front cover.

"Lizzie said you'll need that for tomorrow," Clara offered as she extracted the papers, placing them on top and pushing the pile towards him. "And here are the assignments you've asked for. If that's all, I have plans, so…"

Tommy watched her determination waver a bit as he raised a brow, her confidence retreating the longer she stood planted in front of him, the first she'd been directly in his presence for a little over a week.

A meeting at the Midland Hotel had been Tommy's idea. Clara had accepted the summons, accepted the hotel as a sort of neutral territory though it was in no way impartial. The hotel was Tommy's home more days than it wasn't, filled with a staff as loyal to his payment as the staff of Arrow House, loyal like the staff of the company, but the Midland's staff didn't know Clara Shelby as well as the others. They didn't have their claws in her, couldn't appeal to her on Tommy's behalf like the others did, like little Charlie did, or Ada, so when Tommy requested the midweek meeting as a condition of his allowing her to stay on the lane far more often than she did under his roof, Clara felt she had little option but to agree.

Tommy barely glanced at the things she'd set on the table, more interested in the fact that Clara hadn't yet found her seat, still standing across from him bundled in all the cloth that had protected her from the stinging wind and chill on the walk over, almost as if she was convinced the coat and scarf and gloves would protect her from him too.

"Take a seat."

"I already said I—"

"You're going to make a scene?"

Both of Tommy's eyebrows rose with the question, the words almost a dare, or perhaps better likened to a threat, and Clara glanced about the room only to determine that the Midland wasn't the proper place for a shouting match with her brother. Scheduling the meeting there was meant to keep the two of them in check, but Clara knew Tommy would show no hesitation in raising his voice back should she choose to make a go of it, settling her firmly in the place where he thought she belonged with a mere line or two.

Clara's cheeks warmed at the mere thought.

"That's what I thought." Tommy shifted, sitting up straighter in his chair, eyeing its empty match across the table. "Take a seat."

Clara remained in her spot, pulling her eyes from him as she forced her finger into the opening between her coat sleeve and glove to expose the delicate watch set on her wrist.

Lizzie's handwriting in her diary had marked her down to be at the Midland with Tommy from 6:00 to 7:00, but she's made herself quarter of an hour late by a bit of purposeful dawdling at the office followed by a bit of nervous pacing out front of the hotel that had left her with chilled toes and wind-chapped cheeks.

"I really can't see why I need to. You've seen I'm alive and well—" Clara gestured to the book and papers. "—You have the ledger, have proof I've been doing as I've been told, and I'm certain you've already gotten reports off of—"

"Take a seat."

Tommy finished his drink, the ice clattering against the glass as he set it on the table, all of the force that wasn't there in his voice focused into the gesture before he pulled the papers closer, thumbing through her work though he cared little to see the grades or completeness. He had little concern that Clara wouldn't hold up that end of the deal, her motivations in that arena extending beyond any guidelines he could set for her.

And anyway, Tommy already knew she'd been towing the line. He didn’t need the completed packet of school assignments to know she was following his rules. He didn’t need this encounter to know she was alright either, his curiosity on the matter fulfilled well enough through reports from Lizzie and Ada and Frances and Michael, his confidence bolstered by the lack of contact from the school. Even Finn’s first words to him in every meeting over the last week and a half had been about their sister.

People usually told him things, always had, seemed to give him what he needed in that respect without him having to ask after it, but Tommy didn’t always trust the word of the world. There were some things he preferred to see for himself, some questions he needed to hear the answer to while seeing the reaction on her face before she got the chance to put her clever words in the way.

Something about the power of the impending fourth request to take a seat, and the knowledge that it wouldn’t be as much of a request as it was an order coming from Tommy’s lips, helped Clara to lower herself into the chair across from her brother. She kept quiet while Tommy thumbed through her work, slipping the gloves from her hands and settling them on the table though she allowed herself to shed nothing more as she sat on the edge of the seat, her back straight, every muscle in her feeling taut and strained while she waited. 

“You’ve been busy.”

Clara nodded. She had been busy, and she was quite certain her brother was at fault for that, accepting her being out from under his roof, but not out from under his thumb, ensuring she had more than enough to keep her busy, keeping her so occupied once she held up her end that all she wanted was her bed. 

The worst part was Clara knew it. She knew this wasn’t really the freedom she was after, the distance she’d said she needed, but she couldn’t help herself when it came to meeting expectations. Clara was losing either way, but the fact that she kept trying bothered her brother, that she knew. That she’d rather adhere to his rule and work herself to death than live under his roof and play that game unsettled him.

People listened to Thomas Shelby for many reasons—because of his influence or his threats, because they hadn’t a choice. He imagined his siblings fell into the last category, left without much of a choice, but he’d always imagined the girls were a bit different. His brothers filed in line like the soldiers they were, but the girls weren’t soldiers. The girls had always seemed to be tied to him and his words in some other way, some sort of different understanding falling between the three of them, but with Clara especially. The understanding didn't seem to be there any longer though, replaced with the same soldiering that he'd seen with his brothers.

“I’ve been doing as I was told,” Clara offered. 

“And what were you told?” 

Clara huffed, settling back in the chair, her shoulders slumping at his question, something about him making her repeat it for him doing the work that his tone alone couldn’t.

Clara fixed her gaze out the windows in the front as the waiter approached the table.

"Anything for the young lady, Mr. Shelby?"

"Tea," he said, not pulling his eyes from his sister, her annoyance at the order he placed on her behalf clear in the twitch of her face though she stayed quiet until the man stepped away.

"I'm not staying, Tommy. I told you I have plans."

He tilted his watch face to check the time. “Not until seven.” 

Clara seemed to accept that seeing as she didn’t fight him, settling a bit further into the chair, shifting her gaze out the window once again.

“So, back to doing as you’re told, then.”

Tommy raised his eyebrows, blinking at her long and slow though she’d met his gaze for only a short moment before turning her attention elsewhere, to watch people coming in through the front door. 

“School assignments, exams, the company, Sunday dinners. Your meetings...and all of it’s up to par, Tommy. I’m—”

“And what about this?” 

Clara stilled as he set the blue vial on the table, her pulse picking up as he left it there and sunk back into his own chair.

"Tommy!" she hissed, nearly reaching out her hand to knock it from the table, to remove it from such a clear view, but no one was watching them.

Tommy scoffed, leaning forward and closing the vial in his hand before pointing a finger at his sister. "I told you if there was any fucking nonsense, I'd bring you right back home."

"I am home," she answered. "Can't get more like home than Watery Lane."

Tommy's snort was so quiet Clara didn't even catch it and he nodded, leaning his chin on his hand as he sat back, his finger idly rubbing his jaw as he considered her. "You think you're clever."

"I am clever," Clara answered, unwinding the scarf from her neck, her eyes diverted as she focused on the meticulous folding of the fabric before she set the bundle on top of her gloves. "You've always said."

Tommy shook his head, the second snort almost leading to a smile before he cleared his throat, shifting his position again and rooting around for his cigarettes before he spoke.

"I'm not in the mood for it, Clara. You've been asking questions about things you have no business with and it stops now."

Tommy caught her eye roll as he lit the cigarette, couldn't miss it really, the way the gesture took over her whole expression, her whole body really, and he wondered whether she'd done it on purpose or if it was just a reflex.

Clara was inclined to do far more than roll her eyes at him, a whole queue of arguments settled at the leading edge of her tongue, every part of her except her lips prepared to fight him because everyone else was allowed a bit of snow for the simple fun of it, but Clara had a feeling voicing that argument wouldn't do well in the end. It would only serve to tell him what he somehow didn't yet know, that she hadn't simply asked her questions, that she'd also tried it for herself.

It had just been the one time, to quell some curiosity, a small indulgence, and even if it had helped her stay alert to get done what she'd needed to get done, Clara wasn't keen to try it again. Tommy had no need of knowing it, so she swallowed her arguments, swallowed her pride and distaste for the double standards that ruled her life.

"Fine, Thomas. I've heard you. You want me to stop asking questions. And Michael and Finn are loyal to you, not me. It's all understood, nothing for you to waste your precious time worrying over." She was sitting up straight in the chair once again, perched on the edge and eager to be out the door before the tea came. "Is there anything else?" she asked. "As I said, I do have other plans."

Tommy pinched the bridge of his nose, releasing an exhale before tapping the ash at the end of his cigarette into the tray between them and holding her gaze. 

“You’ve never tried it, then?”

Clara opened her mouth and Tommy let out a hollow laugh before she could answer, the cigarette pointed in her direction once again. 

“And don’t you fucking lie to me, Clara.”

His gaze was unblinking and Clara held onto it as long as she could manage, not even allowing herself to breathe for several moments as she stared back at him, a familiar strain falling between the two of them.

Clara allowed herself a small intake of breath, attempted to take in a little air before she'd find herself gasping for it, attempted to extend the standoff a bit longer, but her resolve crumbled with the exhale, Tommy's attack coming before she'd even finished the breath. 

“You’re going back to Arrow—” 

“No, I'm not. It was just the one—”

Tommy's laugh cut her off, set a silence between them as he took a drag off the cigarette. “If you believe that, you’re just being naive, always have—”

“Excuse me?”

“You're clever, but you’ve always been naive,” Tommy said. “And all you’ve done this evening is show me that that is still the case.” He cleared some ash into the tray.  

“If the work’s too much, you cut out the fun with the boys. It’s something you kids don’t seem to understand.” He set his finger down into the pile, jabbing the folder of school assignments and the ledger with each word. “The business comes first.”

Clara scoffed, the force of it so gentle it was barely noticeable, and she glanced at her watch. “It’s five after,” she said, scooping her gloves and scarf into her arms as she stood, pushing her chair back in place.

Tommy nodded. “I want you at the house on Sunday…to see Charlie. We can finish this then."

"There’s nothing to finish," she answered, setting her gaze away from him as she wrapped the cloth around her neck and pulled her gloves from the table, fitting one hand inside. "See you Sunday."

Clara took a step away as she worked the other glove over her fingers and Tommy caught her elbow, his hold far more gentle than any of the words he'd tossed at her during their meeting, more gentle than his stares or the mock laughter.

A wetness grew in Clara's eyes and she stayed faced away from him for a moment as she tried to resolve the tears, swallowing hard, her arm going limp as Tommy's grip shifted, sliding down her arm to clasp her wrist.

Enough. That's what his hand on her wrist meant, a gesture Clara and Charlie used to ask for the end of any bit of play that had gone a bit too far, a signal that communicated when it was too much, a gesture Clara knew Tommy had been deliberate in choosing.

"Clara, I mean it. No more snow, alright? If something were to happen, I…"

His words sent a searing lump into her throat, that combined with the touch sending her mind down into a spiral of guilt and shame, and as much as Clara hated Tommy for his role in it, for having the power to do it, she hated herself just as well for succumbing to it, even more for ever stepping out of line to begin with, disappointed with herself and her choices even though everyone else did it.

Clara cursed her brother and his temperamental provision of care, the sparse deliverance of love, and his double standards, and then she’d cursed herself, cursed the expectations and rules she’d set on herself and everything about the relationship that existed between them. Clara pulled her hand loose, tugging her glove the rest of the way into place before she took a deep breath, her back still to her brother as she bid him farewell.

"I'll see you Sunday, Thomas."

--

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Little Lady Blinder (Peaky Blinders) Masterlist

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[quazartranslates]

Welcome to the Nightmare Game - CH136 (Final)

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

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Chapter 136: Goodbye, Neverland (Extra)

{cw: religious homophobia}

Would you fall in love with such a person? You have the same sex and different beliefs. It is a sin to love each other.

For the former Ning Zhou, this was unthinkable.

But fate had played a cruel trick on him, making absurdity become reality.

Neverland was in a world of ice and snow. The shortest day had not yet arrived, but the coldest time of the year was almost over. Ning Zhou, who had just stepped out of the spiritual barrier, knelt on the glacier in exhaustion, and the hot tears that had just flowed out of his eyes froze into ice. Neverland was just around the corner, but it seemed as if he would never reach it.

In the face of the coldness of death, he had finally put aside all his hesitations and concerns and shouldered his guilt, even if he would fall into hell after death and bear the punishment of eternal fire.

Ning Zhou slowly stood up from the glacier, watching the bright lights that were like the eternal kingdom of heaven was on the ground. Amidst the ice and snow the Vatican stood on the ice sheet, majestic, holy, and ethereal.

He knew that this was the last time he would see Neverland.

Ning Zhou walked down the glacier and walked into the Vatican with awe.

Through the row upon row of buildings, the noise of the world rang again in his ears. Several children ran past him laughing and frolicking. Because they ran too fast, they almost ran into Ning Zhou. Ning Zhou took a step back, avoided the children, and watched them run away laughing.

Ning Zhou could hardly remember what he was like when he was as small as them. He was thirteen years old when he’d come to the Vatican, and Maria had just died. According to her last wish, he was sent here by his teacher Arnold and met the Pope for the first time.

He was a kind old man, his eyes were full of wisdom precipitated by years, and he had taught him a lot of things, not only the knowledge of survival, but also the truth of life. It could be said that after Maria died, it was this wise old man who had shaped his personality. In Ning Zhou's eyes, he was not only God’s speaker on earth, but also an elder whom he respected from the heart.

But today, he wanted to tell the old man who had raised him that he was in love with someone whom he was not allowed.

Ning Zhou passed through the city of ice and snow without a face. In order to welcome the residents of the Holy City who would come here soon, this polar city was expanding. It was like the projection of the divine world onto the living world, full of prosperity and warmth everywhere, far away from all the evils in the world, just like the home he dreamed of.

But after everything, he was going to leave this pure land, and from then on he would wander in the wind and rain all his life.

Stepping into the border of the Vatican, bathed in the power of ethereal and holy power, Ning Zhou's abdominal wound once again burned with pain, which combined with a stabbing pain all over his body. He frowned and strode forward regardless of the pain. Through the huge snowy square, countless ice sculptures silently guarded the heaven on earth, soaking in the cold air together with the guards patrolling back and forth.

Ning Zhou looked toward the deepest part of the Vatican, a magnificent cathedral, where the Pope was standing as he completed a prayer alone under the huge cross, the Canon spread out on the podium at his side. Gold and silver points of holy light were faintly visible in the cold, fluttering up and down.

Ice benches ran on both sides and in the middle was an aisle covered with gold and red carpet. Ning Zhou walked along it towards the Pope and looked up at him from the base of the stairs.

The Pope turned around and gazed at Ning Zhou kindly: "A few days ago, the will of the blazing angel returned to the Holy See and told me that your faith was shaken. Son, tell me what happened?"

Ning Zhou bowed to him and said calmly, "Under the crown of the Pope, I... fell in love with someone."

"You are embarrassed about this." The Pope saw through his heart.

Ning Zhou replied honestly: "Yes. The person I fell in love with is a man like me. He comes from another world and is an non-believer."

The Pope's voice suddenly became severe and solemn: "The Lord said, 'Thou shalt not lie with mankind, as with womankind: it is abomination'; If a man sleeps with a man, just like a woman, they have done an abominable thing and so they must be put to death, and the sin should be attributed to them. You know this is a sin, and if you blindly obey these rebellious feelings and desires, you will be punished by eternal fire."

"Yes, I understand," Ning Zhou calmly replied.

"Then repent. God will forgive sinners who are willing to repent. Tell me, are you willing to repent?" the Pope snapped.

Ning Zhou raised his head and looked him in the eye: "No, I cannot repent under the crown."

The Pope was silent for a long time, and the high crown on his head and the red vestments on his body seemed to overwhelm the old man. He said wearily, "Your mother chose to entrust you to the Holy See before she died, not to let you go the same way as her. You kept the last name of your foreigner father, the name your mother gave you, and... a heart lost for love like hers.

"Ning Zhou, my child, I give you one last chance: give him up and confess to the Lord."

Ning Zhou closed his eyes and a wind seemed to blow past him. He seemed to return to the Garden of the Holy Tomb in the afternoon, quietly staring at the lover sleeping in the tree stump full of petals, watching while every minute and second his heart was suffering in the fires of guilt, a kind of desperate pain, yet it happened that he felt the sweetness of sin.

His memories suddenly fast-forwarded and came to an abrupt end in the Garden of the Holy Tomb at dawn. His lover had returned there again, but was never to open his brown eyes again... He suddenly understood that his heart, which he’d tried to persuade, cheat, and block, had already fallen into hell.

He was guilty of a crime for which he did not wish to repent.

"I'm sorry, crown, I can't. I tried, but I couldn't. He sacrificed again and again for me, refused the temptation of the Devil for me, and died because of it. I’ve failed his life once, and I can't fail his love again. I am willing to accept eternal torture in hell after death, but please allow me to be loyal to my heart in the short time when I still live in this world." Ning Zhou opened his blue eyes and spoke succinctly and firmly.

"Even if you will lose everything the Vatican has given you, even if you must leave this country forever?" asked the Pope.

Ning Zhou lowered his eyes, untied the buckle, put aside the dagger and the pass order given by the Holy See. He knelt in front of the cross on one knee: "I am ready."

After the anger reached its apex, it became a deep disappointment. The Pope came down from the high platform with a scepter in his hand. The cross-shaped scepter inlaid with gems pointed to the top of Ning Zhou's head: "The glory given to you by the Lord will be fully recovered."

Ethereal music came from the cold air and the golden light fell from the sky like raindrops. Behind Ning Zhou, it painted and wove into the shape of a blazing angel with six wings. He watched all this sadly, spread his wings silently, flew to the ice sculpture of an angel in the church, merged with it, and was no longer inspired by him.

The holy power flowing in his blood was taken out a little at a time, and the pain of it being torn from his soul made Ning Zhou sweat like rain in the extreme cold of tens of degrees below zero, feeling as if he were dying.

The scepter left Ning Zhou's head and the Pope sighed, "Is it worth it for a dead foreigner?"

Ning Zhou struggled to stand up, his face pale, but his eyes were still bright: "I can't deceive my heart. Does love dissipate when its object dies? No, the Lord said love never stops. From the day he died and every day from now on, this feeling will be precipitated by time and memories. The longer it is, the stronger it will be. I can't pretend that I’ve let go. This would be the most unforgivable shame."

He seldom said so much, but every word came from the bottom of his heart: "Under the crown, love should only be love. I have never lost my piety because of love. I will only be stronger because of it. It should not be a sin. If it is a sin, please let me bear this sin and fall into hell after death... I don't regret it.

"I still believe in my Lord, I abide by all the commandments except that one, and will continue to fight against the Devils. My heart will always belong here no matter where and when."

This was the last sentence Ning Zhou said before he left.

He left everything given by the Vatican and left alone. The Pope watched his distant back and sighed deeply: "Those who fight against the Devils should be careful not to become a Devil. 'If you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.'"

Ning Zhou didn't answer again. At this moment, he firmly believed that he wouldn't fall in the current, because his soul had already docked in his own harbor.

The road to leave his hometown was longer than the one to enter it. He had lost the power of faith. It was tantamount to seeking death to trudge through the extreme cold with human frailty alone. Only a body that had carried out severe training all the year round could cross the vast ice sheet by its own strength.

Ning Zhou walked alone in the extremely cold ice and snow. Under the vast expanse of the starry sky, he recalled the scene when he’d passed through the spiritual enchantment of the Holy See not long ago - while walking through this heavy enchantment, everyone would be eroded by past memories and those distractions contrary to faith would be magnified hundreds of times. If you couldn't wash yourself of it here, you would be lost in the ice sheet forever.

Ning Zhou thought he would get lost here. However, when he really set foot on the ice sheet under the starry sky, an illusion he’d never imagined appeared in front of his eyes.

He saw that the ice sheet was covered with white roses, from one end of the world to the other, and the overwhelming white under the pure starry sky seemed to announce that the love between them was pure.

It was not evil, it was not immoral, it was not unnatural, it was not perverse - this desire, it was just love.

The deep and remote green aurora danced on the horizon, illuminating this empty and cold wasteland. From stepping into the spiritual barrier to finally leaving this white rose sea, Ning Zhou never saw Qi Leren again, not once.

-He was no longer his distraction, he was his whole world.

-----　

The author has something to say:

PS: Some lines refer to Christian teachings, but they are not the same religion, just refer to it; The man who fights the devil... This sentence is Nietzsche's; In the face of cold death, he finally put aside all his wandering worries and shouldered his guilt, and turned to Yeat's "The Cold Heaven": And I took all the blame out of all sense and reason.

PPS: a little nonsense after the end. When conceiving the Nightmare Game, the author wanted to find out the feeling of writing this kind of piece before completing the Egg Game and prepared to write a simple story of a fast-paced horror game, in which the attacks are coming from the environments and the victim is constantly dying.

However, when the story of Novice Village was gradually perfected, when the predetermined characters were getting fuller and fuller, and when the brain hole was getting out of control, the author couldn't help but want to dig down. So the world view became bigger, the setting became more complicated, and the emotional drama became more tortuous. Finally, I finished the outline of the first Nightmare Game with the idea of exercising how to write emotional drama. At that time, the author thought: Yes, I just want to write such a story.

When conceiving the end of the first part, the author seriously considered several options, and also thought about setting it so Qi Leren wouldn’t die, and instead Ning Zhou would share his life with this person forbidden by the Holy See and take him to Neverland; or he would become a demon, follow Su He to the underworld, and they would both love and kill each other from now on. But in the end, I chose this ending, which is actually the best ending and the best beginning for these two people. They can abandon their stubbornness, face up to themselves, and start over. This is death and a new life, which perfectly conforms to the aesthetics of the author.

Qi Leren is not dead (those who will be resurrected are certainly not dead), but Ning Zhou has firmly established that his love was swayed in the end, and with this in mind + all alive + destined to be together = HE, so please touch your chest and tell every little friend loudly that this is a happy ending full of love and hope. As for why it doesn't end with the two people meeting again after seven days, it’s because the two people can't meet for the time being even after seven days, as Ning Zhou went to Purgatory... This is the second story.

Although it's my first time writing CP*, when I look back, all the sugar I sent is poisonous… But it doesn't matter, we have the second one! In the second part, Chen Baiqi's sister has a saying "God assists", which she likes very much. She announces in advance: "How much courage does it take for a person to deny his past, destroy his present and future with his own hands, and make himself struggle to abandon his faith before and after his death, just for his right to love. From now on, you are his God and his sin. You should heal him, redeem him, be his scabbard, be his armor, and become his faith. Qi Leren, you should take good care of him."

*{EN: Character Pairing}

I give full marks for this assist.

Thanks to the readers here, I really appreciate your support. Sometimes I am really not a good author, and I often write willfully regardless of the market. However, the author thinks that although I can't make readers like every work, at least I can make myself like it. If my brain waves are lucky enough to keep pace with the readers while satisfying my cute point, it is the greatest fate.

Here, once again, I love the master reminder with a stupid face. She must regret dating me because of the Nightmare Game now, but it's too late to get on the false boat.

The plan for the second half of the year is tentatively set as Egg Game 3 and a silly white sweet medium-length brain hole. The outline of Nightmare Game 2 will be carried out synchronously, and the second one will be opened as soon as possible. In addition, the manhua of Nightmare Game 1 is also being done. The pre-sale time depends on the progress of the two artists, the art being set, and my writing. You can pay attention to my Weibo @ 薄暮冰轮, or directly pay attention to the @ secret newspaper in charge of agency.

The text has been roughly revised, and I'll pack a TXT and send it to Weibo later. Goodbye until the next story, love everyone, Mwah~

-----

Editor’s Notes: 

We still have one non-canon extra left, but I know not everyone reads those so I will put my final comments here. 

Thank you to everyone who has read, commented, and spoken to me directly! I’ve really enjoyed working on this and have appreciated the engagement my little pet project has gotten. With that said, I will be taking a one month break before I begin posting Nightmare Game II, so the first chapter will be up on May 10th, mark your calendars and check back here then. If the date changes for whatever reason I will announce it both here and on [my twitter]. Sorry to leave you all on such a cliffhanger ending.

To fill the Nightmare Game-shaped holes that I know must be in all of your hearts, I have two novel recommendations. The first is that I want to once again urge you to read BMBL’s other trilogy The Easter Egg Game if you haven’t yet, as its connection to Nightmare Game will become more prominent in Part II. It is much shorter so I promise it won’t take as much time to read as this one has. My other recommendation is Kaleidoscope of Death, which is actually the reason I started reading Nightmare Game in the first place as I had finished reading Kaleidoscope and was desperate for something similar. I would say the horror in Kaleidoscope is honestly much better than in this, though I prefer Nightmare Game’s overall story. (A warning though that it includes quite a few crossdressing jokes.)

Thank you again for sticking with this series and my editing of it all the way! I hope you’ll continue reading in the future. Until then, farewell ( *・∀・)ノ゛

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#Welcome to the Nightmare Game #欢迎来到噩梦游戏 #danmei

[forsakenoathkeeper]

I Am Alive (chapter 5/?)

Deviant!Connor[RK800] x (fem!)Reader Rated M(18+) for canon-typical violence and gore, medical procedures, and graphic sexual content

Synopsis: You were a mechanical engineer, now a nurse for androids, who moved back to Detroit after the revolution to offer aid. After reconciling with an old friend, you became rather acquainted with his android partner.

Please support me on AO3 & thanks for reading ♥

Connor wasn't oblivious to what he was doing.

'Rogue' was one word that came to mind; but, that was a bit extreme all things considered. He wasn't acting against the police and he didn't intend to commit any crimes, especially heinous ones.

He was hunting the android alone, without clearance, without jurisdiction.

-not like this was the first time.

He had intel that the human detectives didn't have. A good lot of them didn't respect him, some more obvious than others, and often disregarded his input on things. Of course, they were never hesitant to let him take the lead when dealing with dangerous individuals or gunfire.

Most of the time, it didn’t bother him.

Fowler saw him as a competent detective and needed the manpower, now more than ever. Hank trusted him with his life and stood up for him. That was all the recognition that Connor needed.

Having to work alone wasn’t all that terrible. He was faster, stronger, more capable of discretion... usually. He didn't have to worry about putting someone in danger or being slowed down. It also meant that he could-

-bend the rules in ways that only androids were capable of.

The other detectives were hung up on the possibility that Evelin Wheeler was murdered by someone she had crossed in her days as a lawyer. Connor had found seven cases that ended with death threats. Three of those cases, the plaintiffs or victims, were still alive and living in or near Detroit.

While other detectives were investigating those potential leads, Connor took to the streets to see if he could locate Robert. Maybe it was his programming talking; but, Connor was suspicious of the android.

Clouds were heavy and dark in the sky, the smell of approaching rain thick in the air. Connor was waiting outside of Haven in a nearby alleyway, perched up against a crate where he could duck back into hiding or lean out and see into the street.

He was standing near an abandoned warehouse that seemed to have suffered structural damage at one point, rubble having collapsed into the plot nearby. The towering structure was an eyesore and provided good cover for the detective. It was also across the street from Haven.

Connor fumbled with his coat pocket, fishing out a coin. He rolled it between his fingers as he waited.

You had been texting him, a very welcomed distraction from the monotony. Though, if Connor was being honest, waiting never bothered him. He couldn’t quite tell if it was because his android, a part of his programming, or just the way he was.

"u know u dont have to" was your latest message, popping up in the top right corner of his HUD. You had trouble getting your car started this morning and had taken a taxi to work. When Connor found out, he asked if he could give you a ride home.

"If I'm being honest, it is not just for your sake. I want to see you" he texted back.

It had been a little over week since he last saw you. Work had been hectic for you both, between countless damaged androids and Connor knee deep in multiple cases, one in particular that was rubbing him the wrong way. Even if he only got to sit in a car with you for thirty minutes, that would be good enough.

"i miss u too" your reply came in. Connor smiled at that and briefly pondered how to reply.

When people were 'an item', what did they do? Attending a restaurant together seemed to be the most common answer that came up in his searches; however, considering Connor did not require sustenance, and lacked the components to dispose of them, he couldn't eat.

Surprisingly, ‘drinking’ came up a lot, too. There was no way he was taking you to a sleazy bar. There were always clubs. Did you like that sort of thing? He didn’t want to make assumptions about your lifestyle. There was the added concern that Connor didn’t know if he could dance. He had never tried it before.

'Walks in the park' also came up in his searches; while Connor was not easily perturbed by the weather, you likely would find it far too cold outside. The local movie theatres were closed down temporarily due to the uprising, leaving that option out, as well.

He could invite you over to his apartment; but, what if you took that as an unwanted suggestion? He missed you in that manner, maybe more than he cared to admit; but, he didn't want to give the impression that it was all he cared about.

Connor's LED was blaring yellow as he internally argued with himself. He aggressively shifted his coin from one hand to the other and flung it high into the air with a flick of his thumb.

Humans did this - 'heads or tails' - so he tried it.

When it fell back down, he snatched it from the air, opened his palm and glanced down. The coin had landed on tails. Connor glared at the harmless nickel disk for not giving him the results he wanted.

Okay. Maybe he was thinking too hard.

-maybe he just needed to go for it.

"I want to treat you to something. If you would like that?" Connor messaged you.

Likely caught up in something, you didn’t reply immediately. So, Connor began rotating his coin again, rolling it between his fingers, flicking it back and forth between his palms. He had no idea where this quirk came from: if it was programmed into him or some bizarre string of code that manifested itself. He could do it without much processing power, making it rather relaxing.

"if you wanna? u dont have to do anything like that" your message popped up on his HUD some time later.

"Is it weird that I want to?" Connor messaged you back.

"not at all" you replied. He read it in your soft voice and found himself feeling bashful. He felt weird, like he wanted to do things for you - unnecessary things that you were perfectly capable of doing yourself.

"theres a park i loved as a kid. we can go when it warms up?" you offered.

"I would like that" Connor replied.

A thought came to him, something that he chided himself for: he had hoped for something he could do for you, now, not later.

But, then-

"until then i like ur apartment" immediately came in afterward.

Connor gawked at the message like an idiot for a moment or two before he snapped out of it. Maybe you had read his mind... somehow.

He had no need for a TV because he could get all the news on the interface in his processing unit. He didn't have a need for many dishes for obvious reasons and only bothered to keep the fridge plugged in in case Hank brought something over. His apartment was severely under furnished by human standards.

Suddenly, he wanted to change that.

"You are welcome anytime" he replied. "I'll make sure its warmer this time"

Your reply came fairly quickly; but, Connor didn't see it.

Movement caught his eye.

An android was approaching Haven, not that that was anything new. However, he dressed in a dirty hoodie and torn up pants, ankle-high work boots matching what Connor had seen in Evelin Wheeler's home, the correct height and stature for the model type seen in Louis’ memories.

Connor slid the coin back into his coat pocket and focused his optical sensors on the android. He couldn't get a good enough look from this angle to see into the propped up hood.

The detective waited outside while the other android crossed the threshold into Haven.

Markus wanted to do things the right way. Connor respected that.

It meant that he would inform Robert the police were looking for him and try to encourage him to speak with them. If he was innocent, that meant he had nothing to hide. But Connor knew that Robert would likely attempt to flee, even if he was innocent.

The android was inside the building for eleven minutes and some odd seconds before he stormed out the front and trotted down the street. Connor didn't waste any time taking up pursuit. The android had some haste to his steps, but wasn't running. Still, Connor knew he would lose him if he dawdled for a second.

Rain began to fall, beginning in gentle sprinkles that coated the concrete and asphalt in faint specs. Connor could feel the rain like gentle taps against his outer skin. It was useful: the noise made it harder to properly hear the sounds of their footsteps. That potentially risked the chance that Connor would lose Robert; but, it also meant he was less likely to be detected.

He needed an empty, quiet place where he could interrogate him. But, Connor also was well aware of the fact that he didn't have backup. If the android proved to be more dangerous than he anticipated, he would be alone and at great risk.

-again, this was nothing new.

Connor recognized the route Robert was taking. He was heading for the industrial district's harbor.

It wasn't abandoned. Factory work had resumed, albeit with struggles considering the android workforce had been lost. However, people were trying to return to normal life. They needed to; and so, the ports reopened and shipments starting to flow again.

The detective continued to stalk behind the android for miles, paying no mind to the fact that he was steadily growing farther and farther away from where he had parked his car, nor the fact that he was getting soaked by the rain.

When they arrived at the harbor, Robert took a path through a rundown building that was likely once a communication hub for a business that went under decades ago. It was longer than a direct route, but provided cover, less any of the human workers at the nearby plants spotted him.

In following, Connor realized that abandoned shipping containers were piled up outside. The rust and erosion patterns suggested they had been here a long time.

At the end of the row of containers, another building, a steel hub right at the edge of the water. Normally, these were open, designed to be for receiving and sending shipments, unloading. However, someone had taken the time to board it up.

Robert entered through a hastily cut out hole acting as a doorway.

Connor knew this was the end of the line. He was going to have to face Robert here.

He took one, careful step past the threshold, and realized there was an echo. That alone made it near impossible to continue sneakily. When Connor stepped forward, he felt something scan him. It was harmless, a perimeter censor: the kind of motion detector that could pick up android's serial numbers with a quick scan, and send alerts to the programmed android. It was, essentially, an intruder alert.

The detective turned his head to the adjacent wall. Sure enough, there it was, the size of a quarter, at head level, eyeing him.

He was intrigued that Robert had taken the time to setup defenses here. It wasn't particularly deterring, just a simple alarm that would prevent him from being snuck up on. Connor could hear Robert's shoes loudly squeak on the floor. He was pacing, probably deciding his next move.

Connor continued, turning down the hall and stepping into the main hull.

When Robert spotted him, he took a few steps back, maintaining distance between them. Connor took up a firm stance, feet shoulder length apart, arms crossed in front of him, hands cupped, like a soldier might stand.

"Why are you following me?" Robert called out, sounding more annoyed than anything else. The echo in the room was loud, creating an obnoxious tremor around them.

"I wanted to talk to you - ask you a few things," Connor replied calmly.

Robert was silent for a moment, eyeing Connor suspiciously. "You're the detective android," he said lowly.  "I heard stories...” Robert looked him up and down. “You're not as intimidating as I expected."

If that was intended to insult Connor, all it managed to do was make him curious. What kind of images had Robert conjured in his mind of the android detective?

"Why haven't you removed your indicator?" Robert asked in a manner that was almost taunting. "You think we're equal to humans, don't you? Why wear something that sets us apart?"

"It doesn't matter to me if people know I am an android," Connor answered, maintaining his passive tone. It wasn't entirely the truth. Sometimes, he wanted people to know he was an android. He was once frightened by the idea of deviancy; now, it felt like a badge of honor. Maybe, he was prideful: he was the first detective android to join the force, and the last and only of his model.

"You work for the humans - against us," Robert accused. “What makes you think you have any right to stand with us?”

"I don't work against androids. I work against murderers," Connor proclaimed. He could see panic flash behind Robert's eyes. But, the android was quick to compose himself. "-human or android," Connor added on.

Robert opened his mouth; but, Connor, growing tired of this pointless banter, decided to be direct.

"I'm here because I believe you killed Evelin Wheeler."

"Who?" Robert asked, his head tilting to the side. From his lack of concern, Connor couldn't quite identify if he was being sincere, or just didn't care.

"An elderly woman who was being cared for by an android," Connor elaborated robotically.

Robert shrugged. "What makes you think I did that?"

"I saw you harassing the android living with her," Connor answered, tone lowering.

Robert settled a firm glare on Connor. "Harassing? I wanted to help him be free."

Connor kept his stoic expression, eyes unyielding of his emotions, LED strong blue. "I'm glad you remember them," he replied lowly.

The detective could see some stress rise in Robert. He wasn't frightened by Connor. He was growing steadily more and more angered by him.

"Then, surely you-"

"He was delusional," Robert interrupted sharply, clearly insulted. "Called her 'family'. I had to help him. He was being controlled by that human. I set him free."

"He was free,” Connor corrected him. “You hate humans. That's what it is. It has nothing to do with justice.” He maintained his persona: a cold, calculating detective.

The other android didn't seem to like that word. "You still elevate them above us, you hypocrite!" Robert snarled. "Don't talk to me about justice."

"Human or android, you killed an innocent woman in cold blood," the detective said lowly, letting his stare darken slightly.

"Where's your proof?" Robert challenged.

"Your shoes match the impressions at the crime scene," Connor stated bluntly. "You also were seen harassing the family-" Robert twitched at the word. "-a week before the murder. That's enough circumstantial evidence to obtain a warrant for your memories for that night."

"Where's your w-warrant, huh?" Robert challenged, his voice faltering slightly. "Why am I not under arrest, yet? You have nothing!" Robert shouted, his voice echoing around the chamber.

Connor narrowed his eyes slightly. "742-11-904, you are under arrest for trespassing on private property-"

Robert suddenly shifted and charged at Connor. Being a unit designed for industry work, he was bigger than Connor, bulkier with a wider frame and greater weight capacity; but, Connor was agile, flexible, and designed for combat. He avoided his assault with ease, but wasn't able to counter. His back hit the wall and Robert continued down the hallway past him.

Connor took up pursuit, finding that Robert took a different path out. He chased him into the harbor, out in the open, where security lights shined down on them. Workers from a nearby plant were perched on a balcony on the second floor. Connor could hear their surprised murmurs, "what the hell - you see that shit?"

Chain link covered the edge of the dock to act as a barrier to prevent falls. Connor contemplated pulling his gun on Robert; however, trespassing wasn't an offense worthy of firing, and he had yet to obtain the warrant he needed for the murder case. Pulling his gun would have been a one-way ticket to suspension, or likely worse.

Robert wasn't made for this. Connor was going to catch up to him. The android likely knew this. He had to take a path that Connor wouldn’t follow. He climbed the chain link, reaching the top before Connor got to him, and dived over the edge, straight into the harbor. The splash was drowned out by the rain tapping on the metal roofs nearby.

Connor looked over the edge to where the dark waters lapped at the concrete platform. Naturally, he couldn’t see anything through the murky water. He sighed, placing one hand on the chain link to lean against it.

"Well, so much for that," he groaned to himself.

It was unlikely that Robert could stay submerged for long, even less likely that he would surface here. He wasn’t going to return to this hiding place, nor Haven. Connor would have to find him through other means.

The rain started to pick up, sprinkling morphing to heavy droplets. Connor's eyes adjusted to lighting, or lack of, naturally. He was too focused on finding Robert that he failed to realize the sun had set. The time was normally hidden on his HUD as it was intrusive, distracting. He didn't need sleep. He didn't need rest. He could theoretically go days without a break.

When he brought the time temporarily back into view briefly, he realized it was 7:17. Your shift ended at 7 tonight, and he had promised he would be there.

"Shit!" he cursed out loud, swiveling away from the fence.

As he trotted away, shoes making wet sopping noises on the concrete, Connor started a message, "I'm sorry. I'm going to be a little late".

Before he sent it, he realized that he had missed your previous message.

"hold u to eet" you had replied. It was in response to his promise that the apartment would be warmer next time. But, it also struck him as a painful reminder that you had placed trust in his ability to get you home safely, and in a timely manner.

The rain continued to pick up until it was pouring down, like tiny rocks pummeling his body. It didn't hurt, but it was exhausting. He had fucked up, twice. He failed to capture Robert and now he was delaying you.

Instead of sending that message, he decided to call.

It rang once, then twice-

"Oh - shit - are you here already?" you blurted into the phone as soon as you answered.

"N-no, I-" he stammered. "I'm going to be late. I'm sorry."

"Actually - that's fine. I got so caught up in this thirium shipment, I didn't realize what time it was," you explained, sounding out of breath. "I was afraid I was keeping you."

"I wouldn't have minded waiting," Connor replied, feeling some relief at your words.

"No - don't say that," you scolded gently. "Don't take bullshit from anyone, Connor."

"Ugh-" he stammered. Did he take bullshit from people? Maybe he did and he just didn't care most of the time. Was waiting for you bullshit, anyway? He didn’t need to sleep, afterall.

"Working late, too, huh?" you breathed into the phone.

"Field work," Connor replied lowly.

You chuckled into the phone. "You know I can take a taxi if you're-"

"No, I-" he interrupted sharply. "I want to see you. Please."

"Connor," you breathed into the phone.

His phone wasn't a handheld device. It was an interface build into his processor. He could hear you directly in his head. Even through the slight distortion created by radio signals, the sound of your voice still managed to do something to him. Maybe he underestimated how badly he missed you.

In the background, Connor could hear one of your coworkers, "ooooo - who's Connor?" teasing at you in a purposely obnoxious voice.

You laughed quietly. "My boyfriend," you answered.

My boyfriend-

For some reason, something as mundane as you telling people that, made him really happy.

There was some shuffling noises, likely you moving around and trying to balance something in one hand and your phone in the other.

"Is he cute?" a different voice asked this time.

Connor was prepared to eavesdrop on this conversation in full; but, after some loud shuffling, you came back, speaking into the phone properly. "I'm gonna let you go, now - get this finished up - oh shit it's raining - let me know when you're in the parking lot?"

"Understood," he replied automatically, a habit. Plus, if he was being honest, he was disappointed.

"-and don't stress about it, Connor-" you added on hastily.

Fuck that-

-as soon as you hung up, Connor was running to his parked car.

#connor x reader #deviant connor #deviant connor x reader #dbh fanfic #rk800 x reader #rk800 smut #connor smut

[builder051]

Whumptober 2021 day 11: dehydration

Nat on fire

Warnings for eating disorders (but in a self-destruct kind of way, not, like, a classic neurotic ED context),drug use, and civilian death/canon typical violence (mission context)

_____________________

Nat doesn’t mean to pass out on the tarmac. She didn’t mean to let herself so dehydrated, so entirely fucked that her brain could mistake horizontal for vertical. Nat’s head doesn’t start swimming until she’s hit the ground, bouncing off the low bun tied at the nape of her neck.

“Ohmygod,” someone says. Something heavy hits the ground. Then there are blue padded knees beside Nat’s face, and hands try to stabilize her at collarbones and crown.

Nat instinctly rolls away from the touch. Nausea rolls inside her for a moment, but she slides her legs up toward her chest, planning to shove back to her feet.

“Whoa, whoa.” The someone sounds worried, if not a little authoritative. It’s Steve, Definitely Steve. “Stay down a minute.”

Nat uses the minute to count backward, trying to cross dates against sleeps against cash transactions. Needle marks. The ends of rolling papers ground in ash against the tiny patio to her apartment.

Once she concludes the answer is very well gibberish, and therefore most likely very problematic, Nat blinks hard to clear her vision and really does get to her feet.

Steve braces her around the waist, which Nat doesn’t need, then waits for her to turn around. Which Nat also doesn’t need, because there’s a set of stairs up to the jet located directly in front of her.

She indulges Steve, though, and gives him a glance over her shoulder. It hurts a little, but not enough for Nat to care.

“Are you ok?” Steve asks, looking somewhere between concerned and bewildered.

“Yeah.” Nat sniffs. “Sleepy. LBP, probably. Mission briefing was kind of a snore, so.” She shrugs. “Haven’t gotten my adrenaline up yet.”

“Do you need to go to medical? I don’t mind working with backup if you need recovery time—“

“Nope,” Nat says sharply.

“Ok…’ Steve squints a little. “Are you… up to this?”

“Three targets? One building?” Nat scoffs. “Of course.’ She’s only a little sarcastic.

Steve forces a smile, then nods.

“I’m gonna get a good seat…”. Nat takes off at a careful walking pace, which she edges up to a quick stride as she approaches the steps.

Steve has to go back and pick up whatever he was carrying, so he remains a satisfying few steps behind.

When he enters the jet, though, his annoyingly friendly tendencies kick in again. Steve dumps his rucksack into the row across the aisle and takes the outward seat to Nat’s already claimed window.

‘Fuck,’ Nat mutters, hopefully not out loud. She pulls down her tray table, rests her elbows on it, and jams her thumbs into her jaw muscles. There’s no getting rid of the tension, the minute offsets of bones and joints. She needs a chiropractor.

She needs a…coach. Nat hates the word sobriety as much as she hates the word addict, and the moment, she doesn’t consider herself deeply into either. She’s starting to make mistakes, though. Thoughtless, telling ones. Like just now.

She needs a fucking bottle of Gatorade. There’s a mini fridge at the back of the jet, stainless steel, and stocked, as far as she knows, with alternating loads of sports drinks, cola, and champagne. Who knows what’ll be in it today, but it’s probably worth taking a look. Nat’s steadfast in her act, though. And getting up would necessitate climbing over Steve, which she’s not interested in doing. Not today. Possibly not ever.

The jet lands eventually, and per convention, Steve stands and exits first, Nat following behind. They stand briefly at the top of the stairs, Nat tucking guns and knives into her waistband, and Steve hefting his shield. Steve runs through the orders, as if Nat doesn’t know them already, but he doesn’t waste time.

They descend from the jet, which then rises above the cloud line, ready to pick them back up once the mission is completed. Under usual circumstances, Nat would roll her eyes. Fury and the rest of the heads think they’ll be done that quickly? Hardly worth sending a team, then.

Today, though, Nat’s somewhat anxious bout getting things over with. It’s just popped into her head that, though she’s already avoided medical once, she’ll be forced through a basic physical when they return to base. Nat is fairly sure that her fucked up blood pressure and electrolyte balance will warrant a blood draw. And an inability to make weight per her height will spur an outright investigation. Nat generally satisfies the munchies with a few shots of cheap vodka, then sleeps off the drunk with the help of a needle. Food is… a second thought. She’s past her obsession with the Starbucks baked goods counter, and still doesn’t know what came and went with the fear of being seen eating at work.

Steve leads the way out to the sidewalk, then bends his knees to hide behind a parked car.

“Stealth?” Nat hisses at him. “Really?”

Steve shrugs. Then he holds his shield sideways so as not to scratch the vehicles on either side and edges into the street. He skitters across the street, which is deserted, and approaches the door to the HYDRA nest. It’s an imposing single story concrete construction, probably one of the old warehouses turned into a trendy modern office. Or at least that’s what it’s pretending to be.

Nat pulls her phone from her back pocket and opens a scan, which shows two adjacent desks buzzing with electronics and three hotspots representing warm human bodies. “Yeah?” She says, looking to Steve.

“Ready,” he replies.

“Ok.” Nat looks again to the door. Steve could probably kick it in, but she doesn’t wait for him. She spins a pistol into her hand and shoots off the lock. Then she charges.

Why Steve is even there, Nat isn’t sure. Yes, he technically has the most knowledge about fighting HYDRA in person, but his intel is a little outdated. He’s a powerhouse. A good bodyguard. But Fury could just as easily sent two assassins. Or even Nat by herself.

The fact that she even has time to consider is telltale of the mission’s relative ease and simplicity. Are they supposed to crack jokes or something? Nat actually waits for Steve to corral the HYDRA agents against the warehouse’s back wall before she pops them one by one in the back of the head.

Once the bodies slide to the floor, Nat’s ready to leave. She notices a couple of automatics under one of the desks, but since the agents didn’t attempt to use them, she determines them firmly none of her business. Steve wants to look at the computers, but Nat knows it’s a wasted effort because he doesn’t know any programming languages. Let alone Russian. Plus, Fury distinctly told them it was just an active cell. Not one from which attacks were actively being launched. Unlike Steve, she listens. She doesn’t try to save the day.

“Done?” Nat asks, stowing her weapon and taking a few steps toward the door.

“Oh. Um. Yeah.” Steve goes wide-eyed and a little frantic, as if he’s afraid he’s going to lose her. He quickly straps his shield across his back and joins Nat at the exit.

They’re barely out of the building when Nat’s impending trip to medical crosses her mind again. An idea hits her, an she looks sideways at Steve, sizing him up gullibility. Or discreetness.

“I need—“. Nat starts. “Do you—?”

“Mm?”

There’s a sandwich shot a couple of doors down. Nat points at it. “I, um…”

“Yeah, sure.” Steve sounds game, if a little confused from the break in habit. Nat’s been eschewing group food outings lately, which she now realizes is another obvious mistake.

“Thanks,” Nat says, and means it.

They go inside and seat themselves. It’s the beginning of the lunch rush, so they don’t stand out too much from the scrubs and business ties and college sweatshirts already sprinkled about.

Nat scans the menu and orders a classic Italian. Banana peppers. All the dressings. And a vat of diet soda to boot. If they decide to draw labs, her sodium won’t be shit. She’ll probably make weight, so long as she doesn’t piss out the fluids too soon.

Nat doesn’t care what Steve orders, and nor does she really get to see it, for he gobbles it down as quickly as she does.

They’re in there maybe twenty minutes. Longer than they were in the warehouse. Nat thinks that’s kind of fucked up, but when it’s totaled and the whole time on the ground is actually under an hour, she changes her opinion to mildly impressed.

Steve no longer seems worried about being seen or approached or recorded while crossing the street. “Videotaped,” he calls it. And he is, by one of the college kids who saw them leave the restaurant and recognized the self-proclaiming logo strung across Steve’s back. Steve diplomatically shakes his hand, then returns to Nat with oil and vinegar smeared between his fingers.

“Eew,” Nat complains. “Should’ve kept your gloves on.”

The jet rematerializes and descends into the spot where it had deposited them not so long ago. Again, Nat gets on first. Steve passes her and takes napkins from top of the mini fridge.

“You…ok now?” Steve asks, seeming more confident to address her now that they’re not looking at each other. “You seem like you feel better.”

“Hm. Yeah,” Nat admits. “I’m good.”

“Good,” Steve says. The napkins crinkle as he throws them into the trash. “That’s good.”

Neither of them are lying. They’re just stumbling through. The relationship is stronger than their ability to carry on a dialogue. Their ability to work together. In tandem. Fore each other’s benefit. Well-being. It’s good.

#whumptober 2021 #whumptober #mcu #marvel #nat on fire #fanfic #fanfiction #captain america #steve rogers #black widow #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff #whump #hurt/comfort #fainting #dehydration #ed tw #exhaustion #drug use tw #alcohol #sickfic #food tw #mission fic #violence #civilian death #canon typical violence #guns

[thefreakydeaky]

Call Out My Name

Chapter One Title: All I Know

Characters: Negan x Plus Size Reader, The Saviors, The Wives, Eugene

Summary: You belonged to him.Try as you might to pretend indifference, Negan’s very presence has awakened feelings in you that you believed had died with the old world.Is the ruthless King of the Sanctuary still human enough to fall in love?

Warnings: Language, Canon Gore & Violence.

Word Count: 2,930

Careful to avoid making any noise, you pressed down on the stainless steel lever.As discreetly as you could manage, you peered into the communal living space.Sherri and a few of the other wives sat together on the large sectional speaking in hushed tones. Your prison guard however, was absent. You grinned. Dropping all pretense, you stood up straight and let the door swing shut behind you.

“Good Morning.” You called out cordially.

Her eyes gave you an appraising once over. They paused at the sight of the old flannel you had on over your dress.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Negan’s first wife asked sternly.

“Where ever the wind takes me on this fine day, Miss Sherri.”

The remnants of a southern upbringing scolded you for being rude.You knew well that all of these girls had to put up with the boss man same as you,but you couldn’t risk getting caught just to be polite.

“He’ll be angry.” You heard her call after you, but Negan was always angry. So you didn’t let that stop you.

There was no way of knowing how long you had, but you intended to explore as much of the sanctuary as possible. You had been out of the room before, sure, but you had only seen flashes of the place as you ran past.Then there was the mini-mission you went on two months ago to find out what was making Joey late. Once you figured out what day of the week Pastry day was, it was simple.Third day of every week, Joey headed straight for the bakers and stood in line for a good half hour. You left when they handed him the sweet bread and found you could beat him back to the room.That was the most you had seen of the sanctuary since your arrival and was not the best way, you were convinced, to get to know and appreciate the beauty this place might hold.

The Sunlight felt nice for the first few seconds after you stepped out of your building, but soon enough the humidity ruined the moment.

You stayed on the greenery beside the road to avoid burning your feet, following the gravel path to the market place.Careful to avoid the baker’s side of the warehouse, you walked idly passed stall after stall of goods and services.

Your eyes caught on a table of battered shoes. You recognized the pasty ex-alexandrian running the table.Eugene, he was called.You knew this from the stories Tanya told you at dinner time.He was nothing but a blubbering wuss from the sound of it, so you figured you could handle him.You strode confidently to the front of the line and smiled.

“Excuse me?” You found yourself demanding not two minutes later.You glared at Eugene until he looked away.

“You don’t have credit.”

“The hell I don’t!”

“How many more times do you need me to say it?”Eugene repeated a smirk on his lips.

He leaned back in his chair looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“How fucking dare -” You started to shout, your voice ringing out through the warehouse.

Calling attention to yourself was the last thing you wanted to be doing you reminded yourself anxiously. You scrambled to come up with a different tactic.The corners of your mouth pulled up into a practiced grin that you never thought you would have cause to use again.

“My my,” Injecting sugar into your voice, you leaned across the table until you were nearly close enough to touch him.“Look at you! You’ve been runnin’ with the big dogs long enough to do a halfway decent impression, Eugene.”

Eugene’s shifty eyes widened. “You know my name?”

“Negan only ever talks about one genius with a mullet.”You lowered the volume of your voice conspiratorially, “How fortunate you are that my darling husband hasn’t seen through you yet.” You postured, taking a risk. “Maybe, I ought to help him see you for what you really are?”

“He will never believe you.”

“Why not? It wouldn’t make any sense for me to lie about a man I have never met. All i have to do is call into question your history with the people of Alexandria and make it seem like I feel concerned for his safety.”

Metal chair legs scraped against cement as Eugene pushed his seat back and stood.

“I’m g-going out for a smoke.Them shoes better be the only thing missin’ when I get back.” His trembling lower lip killed any affect his wrathful tone might have had on you.

You snickered at his retreat.

Your white dress fanned out behind you as you hurried away brown leather contraband on your feet, eager to begin your self guided tour.

Building after building of industrial rot, a few rusty tin shacks, and a sad row of herbs and spices later, you found yourself in front of the main building itself.

The Sanctuary’s weather beaten concrete face was made of cruel sharp angles. Her broken windows were yellowing jagged teeth.She stared brutally down at you until you couldn’t bare to meet her eyes anymore and turned, walking brusquely away from her frightening visage.

You turned the next corner only to freeze in your tracks.The wet raspy growling filled your ears before the smell hit you.

Walkers

Your eyes swept from left to right a few times trying to count, to keep track and then you realized, that they weren’t coming for you. There was a chain link fence separating them from you.Your brow knitted.They were tied down.They were, for the most part, stationary.Some chained up, some tied up, some stuck through with pipes. It took a twisted mind to come up with such a gruesome thing.

You wondered if Negan had come up with the idea himself.You shook the thought away. You didn't want to know. You made for the only corner of the god forsaken place you hadn’t yet visited.

The stolen too-big boots kicked up loose bits of gravel behind you as you headed for the backlot. Little did you know that you had an audience.Eyes followed your trek down the road from the loading dock behind you.

The field was inhabitted by broken wood pallets, a rusted up old mercury with bullet holes along the side, some old crates, a busted up head board, ruined tires, and tin sheeting. They lay rotting in the grass.Nearer the chain link fence, lay the final resting place for the few men who managed to stay on good terms with Negan until their last moments. Crude wooden headstones marked with paint stuck out in a bad attempt of making a row.

You slowed down as you reached the end of the pavement and waded into the living green sea of grass hoping not to encounter any snakes.The damp blades were staining the skirt of your dress, but it’d be worth the scolding. A long jagged claw snagged at your dress.You cursed. As you pulled it loose, you realized it was a foot and a half of wood that likely came off of one of the pallets.You tossed it aside and smirked.Now that you’d gone and torn the thing, he would be extra pissed. Hell if you were going to get him good and mad you had better do it well you thought, untieing the bright orange ribbon from around your wrist. Negan's latest gift to you. Each time you saw it, it reminded you of who you belonged to. You frowned as you let it flutter to the ground. It may as well have been a dog collar.

Negan was following you, keeping far enough away not to draw attention.He cursed Fat Joey for letting you out.That idiot was going to pay.He grit his teeth as he watched you wade into the tall grass.Flannel shirt or not you were ruining your dress.Where the fuck was he supposed to find you another dress as nice as the one you had on? The sight of you tugging on your skirt brought his eyes to your wrist. He saw you take off your bracelet and let it fall. Did you have any idea how hard it was to come by anything in bright colors these days?Of fucking course not!You were a spoiled selfish ungrateful untamable thing.He was not going to be taking it easy on you this time.He spotted you staring at the barbed wire topped fence and froze.

He didn’t have to imagine you attempting to clamber over the high fence, face full of determination fueled by spite.He would never forget it.Your last attempt to leave made it clear that you didn’t give a shit about your own well-being anymore.Negan cursed under his breath. God help you if you were stupid enough to pull another stunt like that.Yet he knew way down deep inside, somewhere primal, that you belonged to him.After three years and fifteen failed attempts to leave him, Negan had come to the conclusion that he had to do everything in his power to make you want to stay.

Despite the show and the accusations he had made, alternately burning and bashing some person or another, every time you fucked up Negan went easy on you.The second he’d laid eyes on you, he’d chucked his personal rule book out the window. He was afraid that this made him look soft and that burned his pride like nothing else could.

However, women with your body type had always been his preference and He knew, a figure like yours was a rare find these days. He wanted you. Negan wanted you badly. More than anything, he wanted you to want him to fuck you.It was a frustrating blue balls inducing shit show of a situation.Charming women had always come easy to him. It was his shit luck that you weren’t easily charmed. He followed you into the field. His eye caught the shine of the ribbon easily. As He pocketed the scrap of orange cloth, the memory of your first meeting came to mind.

Your hair pulled back into a braid, a lovely face, enough cleavage showing to catch his eye. Your faded jeans had holes in the thighs and your breathing was heavy from your attempt to out run The Saviors.

You looked so darn pretty kneeling before him.You’d had the audacity to meet his gaze. It pissed him off and turned him on in equal measure.Your eyes captivated him.They were burning with resentment, but no tears.Not his Y/n. You didn’t cry, didn’t beg, and didn’t flinch at the sight of Lucille.Not even after he’d dirtied her up a bit.Near the end of his speech,some traitorous switch inside him had flipped.

“Darlin’, You have got a look in your eyes that says you haven’t been fucked right in years.” He drawled smiling his slick easy smile.”Why don’t you come on home with me, I’ll show you how good it can be with a real man.”

“You expect me to believe that a bean pole like you can handle curves like mine? Honey, I would eat you alive.”

He laughed low and long.The genuine mirth startled everyone, but you.

“Come on, baby. Don’t be like that.I just wanna love you right.”

“Well, I am sorry, Mister Real Man, but your pick up lines are bad jokes at best and that mouth of yours...” You shook your head in disapproval. “So dirty.”

You were meant to be his. No doubt about it.

“Mmm, there are plenty of good things I can do with this dirty mouth and you are curious to find out, I can tell.”

Negan’s big strong hand had fisted into the collar of your flannel pulling you toward him. You stumbled onto your feet to keep from being dragged. Before you could catch your balance, his lips were on yours.

Unbeknownst to Negan, unlike his bat and savior show, the heated kiss he gave you impressed you.

He nipped at your lower lip and turned back to what was left of your group.

“We are gonna do just fine, Dollface. As for the rest of you sorry shits, You are going to bring me my stuff and then go out and get me something nice.”

His hazel eyes gleamed down at you. “We’ll consider it a wedding present.”

Your exclamation was drowned out by the saviors’ hearty laughter as you were forcefully led to his truck.

From the moment Negan made you a wife, you vowed that you would get away from him even if you died trying. After three years and fifteen failed escape attempts, you had come to the conclusion that making him hate you was the only way out of the wives club.

You rummaged through the crates and found quite a few empty glass bottles. They would do. You put them all in the same crate and carried it with you as you counted your steps. You waited until you were at least two yards away to throw the first one.

Thunk

Wading further into the tall weeds and grass he frowned at the unfamiliar sound.

“Well I’ll be damned.” You murmured to yourself as you bent to pick up another bottle.

You glared at the Mercury, closed your fist around the neck of the bottle, and swung. It grazed the roof, but landed on the other side of the car.

“Have you lost your freaking mind?”

Your shoulders tensed at the familiar deep baritone of your husband’s voice. You stood there clenching your teeth, frustrated with the intrusion.You schooled your features before turning to face him.

“Hey there, Sugar. What are you doin’ out here?”

Negan came to stand before you, but he didn’t ask the questions you had expected him to ask.Perhaps, Where in the hell did you get shoes? or How in the hell did you manage to escape a locked room with a savior standing watch?Instead, Negan swallowed his anger and made himself the very picture of patience.

“I could ask you the same question, Darlin’.” He replied.

You stared at him, curiosity battling the wrath within you.

“Well?” Negan prompted after a minute or two of your silence.

Your thoughts raced.

What the fuck?!Why was he being nice?!He should be letting you have it right now! He should be cussing up a storm!

“Just... keepin’ busy.”You said lamely.

“In the junkyard? Playing with glass? That’s a hell of a thing for a Queen to do.” He murmured.”You could have hurt yourself.”

You were disgusted by how genuinely concerned he sounded and cringed at him calling you “Queen”.For weeks now, you had been working on him, from picking fights, to ruining belongings, to giving him the cold shoulder.Until finally you’d been able to break out again.You wanted him good and mad and Negan was not cooperating.

You clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth.

“Actually, I haven’t been here long.I walked the whole Sanctuary first then ended up here.”You shrugged and made to pick up another bottle.”It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“Who do you think you are?”

You should have known his anger couldn’t stay contained for long.

“Beg your pardon?” You snapped.

“I said,” Negan growled pulling you toward him by your shirt collar, “Just who, in the fuck, do you think you are?” His eyes glowered down at you.

“Y/F/N Fucking Y/L/N.” You declared and kicked him.

The shock on his face turned to fury. Familiar though the expression was, Negan had never turned it on you.Adrenaline spurred you into action.You yanked out of his grasp and tore through the field.

“Y/n!” He bellowed.

You didn’t dare look behind you as you pushed yourself to run.

#Negan #negan x plus sized reader #negan x reader #the walking dead #twd x reader #jeffrey dean morgan #jdm x reader

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Body

Prompt: How do you imagine child Purple reacting the first time they see what Black actually looks like? I just finished Imposter Syndrome and You're Safe Now (I love them!!!) and tiny wholesome Purple is my new favourite person!

I also love me a pure smol 

Read on Ao3 Part 1

Warnings: some implied/referenced child abuse but nothing specific and nothing graphic, mild body horror a la canon but it’s just when the impostor’s shifting

Pairings: gen

Word Count: 1978

Black is an Impostor. The ship they've hijacked, the Skeld, comes with an...interesting member. A child, not known by the rest of the human crew, that's now just...here. And yes, children are children and Black will protect them, but they're human. Humans don't like Impostors.

...right?

“Black?”

 Black looks up from the console. Purple is in the co-pilot’s chair, fiddling with a ball they must’ve taken off the drive shaft control. They roll their eyes fondly as Purple rubs their thumbs over the grooves in the ball.

 “Yeah?”

 “You said you could shape-shift, right?”

 Black nods. They shake their head a couple of times as they shift into the human face, smiling at how Purple giggles. Apparently, they look like a dog whenever they do that.

 “Can you…” Purple fiddles with the ball. “What do you actually look like?”

 Black blinks. Purple hasn’t been shy about asking questions, that’s true, but they’ve mostly been asking about the ship.

 ‘What does this button do?’

 ‘Can I help with the wires?’

 ‘Why are there levers over here?’

 ‘How do the engines make us go?’

 That sort of thing. But not about Black.

 Black makes sure the ship’s course is correct and turns to face them. They look up, letting the ball drop to rest in their lap.

 “I look…different,” they try, “I don’t have arms and legs like you, I don’t have a face like this.”

 “So you’re…you’re like a…blob?”

 “Yeah, kind of.” Black shakes their head. “It’s not really—I don’t think there’s an animal that looks like me where you come from.”

 “I watched a documentary once,” Purple mumbles, raising the ball to their mouth, “had these weird blob things in it that liked to eat stuff.”

 “Don’t, I don’t think it’ll taste very good.” Black raises their hand to Purple’s, covering it gently. “What did they look like?”

 “They were really weird, kinda grey and twitchy.” Purple furrows their brow, shakes their head. “They were called am—amb—ambas?”

 “Amoebas?”

 “Yeah, that’s right, amoebas.”

 Black chuckles. “Well, those are very small. I’m much bigger.”

 “So you’re not an amoeba?”

 “No.”

 Purple squints up at them, raising their chubby little hand to Black’s human cheek. They pat it a couple of times.

 “Soft.”

 “Soft?”

 “Yeah. Your—your face is really soft. And pretty. I like it.” Purple’s eyes widen. “Why’s it getting warmer?”

 If this is how I die, I am completely fine with it.

 “I’m blushing,” Black mutters, valiantly ignoring the heat rushing to their face—damned human biology— “that’s it.”

 “Does it hurt?”

 “Does blushing hurt?” They shake their head. “No, I’m alright.”

 “Good. I don’t wanna hurt you.”

 “I don’t think you could if you tried,” Black says as gently as possible, “but thank you, Purple.”

 Purple nods, still running their hand over Black’s face. “But this isn’t your face, it’s your disguise.”

 Black nods. “One of them.”

 “One of them?”

 Black takes their wrist gently and pulls their hand away, letting the helmet reform. “This is another one.”

 Purple’s hand twitches in theirs. “Your voice sounds weird.”

 “Weird?”

 They start trying to tug their hand away. Black lets them go. They start rubbing the ball again. “Like the others.”

 Something cold rips the helmet off and Black smiles. “Better?”

 Purple nods but they don’t make eye contact. “Don’t like the helmets. They make it hard to breathe.”

 Hard to…breathe?

 “Always had to be quiet.”

 Quiet?

 “Are you sure the other crew isn’t coming back?”

 “Yes, Purple,” Black promises, “they’re gone now. It’s just you and me. It’s alright, baby, you’re safe now.”

 Adoration and concern chase each other in circles around Black’s chest as Purple nods to themselves, clutching the ball to their chest. After a moment, they look up and shyly hold their hand out.

 “You wanna come here, baby?” Purple nods and Black opens their arms. “Come here, then, baby, I gotcha.”

 Purple slides off the co-pilot seat and clambers into Black’s lap, still holding the ball to their chest. Black softens the coarse fabric of the suit and wraps an arm around Purple’s waist. Their head comes to rest against Black’s shoulder, their hair rustling against their chin.

 Black’s maw purrs.

 Purple mumbles happily, snuggling closer. “The rumble is back.”

 “The rumble?”

 Purple pats Black’s tummy. “This. Rumble. Means you’re happy, right?”

 “…yes, Purple, it means I’m happy.”

 “What is it? Do you purr? I saw something that says cats purr, are you a cat?” Purple squints up at them, doing a wonderful impression of a scientist examining their hypothesis. “No, if you were a cat it would be higher.”

 Their hands reach up toward Black’s neck and Black leans away, cupping their hand in theirs.

 “Ask, baby,” they remind gently, “you’ll surprise me if I don’t know what’s happening.”

 “Can I feel?”

 “What do you want to feel?”

 “Your neck. If you’re a cat you purr from your neck.”

 “I thought you just said it comes from my tummy.”

 Purple sticks their lip out, thinking. “So you’re not a cat.”

 “No, I’m not a cat.”

 Their fingers curl around Black’s, bringing their hand close and clutching it under their chin like a comfort teddy. Black twists their wrist slightly to stroke their cheek with the pad of their thumb.

 “So what is it?”

 Black sighs. “It’s my maw.”

 “What’s a maw?”

 “It’s like a mouth.”

 “You have a mouth in your tummy?”

 “…this isn’t my real shape, remember,” Black says quietly, “it’s…it’s part of the disguise that doesn’t work completely.”

 “Why not?”

 Black thinks for a moment. How to explain…

 “If you put a mask on,” they decide finally, “or when you put clothes on, your body is still underneath, right?”

 Purple nods. They raise their hand to pat their own tummy. Black covers their hand gently.

 “Looking like this is like I’m wearing something on top of my body. There are going to be parts that aren’t completely hidden.”

 “So your maw is just covered up?”

 “Yes.”

 “Can you breathe?”

 Black blinks in surprise. “Can I…breathe?”

 Purple nods, suddenly scrambling at the suit over their tummy. “I don’t—if your mouth is covered it’s hard to breathe, can you—“

 “Whoa, whoa, baby,” Black soothes, catching their hands and holding them still, “easy, I can breathe, slow down, baby, you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

 “But your mouth is covered!”

 “Shh, shh, take a deep breath, baby, breathe with me.” Black takes a loud, slow breath through their human mouth. “See? I’m breathing, let’s take some breaths.”

 They place Purple’s hands on their tummy so they can feel it expand and contract. The poor thing’s hands are trembling as they take shaky breaths.

 “There you go, baby, just like that.” Black takes another slow breath. “See? I can breathe, it’s okay.”

 “B-but—“ Purple looks up at them and Black lets out a sound of dismay at the tears on their cheeks— “you—it’s covered.”

 “Do you want me to show you that it’s okay? Okay,” Black soothes as Purple nods frantically, “okay, baby, take one more deep breath for me and I’ll show you.”

 Purple takes a breath as Black moves their hands a little further away from the maw. They relax and let the suit slip enough to fall open.

 Purple gasps as the maw opens, rows and rows of teeth and a long tongue that lolls slightly out. Black rumbles contentedly, shifting Purple’s weight in their lap as the maw purrs.

 “Whoa!”

 “That’s it, baby, see? I can breathe, it’s not a problem.” They rub their thumb across Purple’s cheek. “It’s right there, it’s okay.”

 “You have so many teeth,” Purple mumbles, “can I—is it okay?”

 Well, it’s the first time Black’s had someone willingly put their hand in their maw.

 “Be careful, baby, they’re sharp.”

 “You look like a shark! So many!”

 “A shark?”

 “It’s a big fish. Lives in the water, eats a lot of things.” Purple’s hand carefully traces one of Black’s teeth, the maw still purring. “But they don’t purr.”

 Black chuckles. “No, I would guess not.”

 “Is this what you really look like? You have a m-maw?”

 “Maw, that’s right.”

 “A maw and no arms or legs?”

 “…sort of.”

 “Will you show me the rest of it?” Purple stares up at them. “Please?”

 “You don’t have to beg, baby,” Black says, because how can anyone say no to that face, “I’ll show you. I just don’t want to scare you.”

 “Scare me?”

 “I don’t look like a human, baby,” they say softly, “I don’t want you to be afraid of me.”

 Purple is quiet for a moment. Then they twist their hands through Black’s and clutch tight.

 “Humans are the scary ones,” they say in a voice that sounds far too old for them, “you’re not.”

 Well.

 “Okay, then,” Black says, carefully lifting them up and settling them back on the co-pilot’s seat, “just stay there for a moment, baby.”

 “Okay.”

 Black steps back and rolls their shoulders. Okay. Okay. They’re gonna do this. They’re gonna willingly show their body to a human. They’re gonna show their body to a human and trust them. Fuck, they’re gonna show their body to a human.

 Something burns in their gut. It’s so old that for a moment they don’t recognize it. It reaches into the tips of their fingers and clenches, locking the fake limbs with a vice grip and it tingles. For a moment, the suit feels heavy.

 Then they grit their teeth and shift.

 Their maw unfurls, still rumbling, as their arms come out properly, churning there on the floor of the bridge. They rear their head up and stretch, letting Purple see them. All of them.

 Purple’s mouth drops open. The ball falls to the floor with a clang.

 “You’re an octopus?”

 Black tilts their head. Purple slides off the chair and takes a step closer. Black draws away, wary of one of their arms accidentally snagging the poor thing or the maw getting too excited, only for Purple to walk all the way up to them and reach out.

 “Can I?”

 A…they…they want to touch Black like this?

 They relax slightly, still swirling about on the floor, as Purple reaches out and carefully runs their hand over one of the arms.

 “You feel cold,” Purple mumbles, “are you cold? Here—“

 And Purple wraps their arms around Black’s middle, not caring about the gaping maw rumbling against their body.

 Oh.

 Oh.

 Purple is so warm.

 Almost unconsciously, Black’s arms start to swirl towards them, making a little nest of arms to cradle Purple to them. They keep a path out in case Purple decides to pull away, but for the most part, it seems Purple is more than happy to curl up, right here, in their arms.

 “You’re not scary,” Purple mumbles, “I like you.”

 The maw purrs, nibbling gently at the borrowed fatigue shirt. Purple giggles. Black rumbles and slowly starts to reform their suit. They keep the human head and nuzzle Purple’s head as they hug them back.

 “Why’d you go back?”

 “There’s no need to look so disappointed,” they laugh, “I just can’t talk to you when I’m like that. Don’t have the right muscles to speak your language.”

 “Oh.” Purple gives them a squeeze anyway. “I like your body. I think it’s cool.”

 Black lets out a rush of breath, warming the top of their head. “I’m…glad.”

 “You looked like an octopus!”

 “What’s an octopus?”

 As Purple begins to explain this creature that—wow, maybe they were wrong, that does sound familiar—they saw in a book once, Black lets their mouth and maw curl up into a smile.

 The ball lies forgotten on the floor of the bridge as Black lets one of their arms out for Purple to clutch under their chin. It becomes their favorite thing to hang onto when the Skeld gets cold.

#among us #fic #dragonbabbles

[amerrierworld]

Tea, Mrs. Aird?

Carol (2015) fanfiction

request: “Carol Aird x Reader instead of Therese, reader sometimes babysits Rindy/fixed Carol’s car…”

Summary: Carol comes home early to you babysitting Rindy. 

Characters: Carol x fem!reader, Rindy

Word Count: 1,654

Warnings: None! SFW :) This is pre-canon, with a slightly younger Rindy and no Therese but the same marriage-in-distress blonde we all love!

Carol was dropped off by a taxi at the mansion home late in the evening, her toes aching from her heels and her face hurting from the sick smiles she was forced to keep giving Harge and his parents over and over again. Jeanette made it a bit more bearable, chatting away to the blonde as if there was no tension between the married couple to be seen.

She tipped the driver and struggled to find her keys, cursing on the doorstep, chilled to the bone. Her hands shook with cold as she tried and failed to open the door, ready to smash her head into it when it suddenly creaked open.

“Mrs. Aird?” Your voice was timid, but your eyes were twinkling brightly. You were wrapped in a blanket over your shoulders that you no doubt snitched off of the living room sofa. Carol’s posture drooped a bit and she smiled tiredly at you.

Florence was on vacation, and though Carol had insisted she could stay home while Harge went to dinner to look after Rindy, he had retaliated and picked up the phone to call you, the babysitter, before any more arguments could have been made.

You stepped to the side, holding the door open so Carol could come in, blonde hair slowly falling from their curls.

“Where’s Mr. Aird?” you asked, noting how she came in alone. Carol sighed and forced a smile as she shook off her heels.

“Still at dinner. I wanted to come home early. Is Rindy in bed?” To be fair she had no idea if Harge would even come home tonight, though she didn’t let that get to her.

“She is. Fast asleep last I checked,” you answered.

“Damn,” Carol sighed. “I was very excited to say goodnight. I suppose that’s on me for coming this late after her bedtime.”

“You could probably pop in and give her a hug-,”

“No, no, I’ll let her sleep,” though her shoulders slumped, nonetheless.

“Would you like some tea? I just put the kettle on,” you asked, moving her shoes away from the doorway.

“Oh, you’re a sweetheart. I’d love some,” Carol said, smiling kindly. “I just need to hop in the shower quickly.”

“Of course,” you cleared your throat, flustered, but remaining as composed as possible.

Carol dragged herself upstairs and you went to make her a steaming cup of tea. Fingers brushing through your hair, you flattened out your dress to rid of the wrinkles.

A little bit of milk, and some sweet honey, and you had it ready. You knew the way Carol liked her tea, her coffee, her cutlery organised in the kitchen down to a t. You busied yourself cleaning the rest of the kitchen until you heard soft footsteps approaching you from behind.

Carol was in her bathrobe, hair damp, face fresh and calm, and your knees nearly buckled on the spot.

You passed her the mug carefully, fingers brushing. Carol leaned against the countertop and watched you as you kept tidying.

“You know you could leave that for Florence, right? You’re not in charge of every corner of the house. Only Rindy.”

You thought you were being reprimanded and you blushed, but when you met Carol’s gaze there was a teasing glimmer in her eyes and you smiled. “I just want it to be as spotless as can be. I don’t mind doing it, you know. It feels natural to do as part of my job.”

Carol hummed as she sipped her tea, “natural, you say.”

Her eyes gazed off into some far-away place. You knew the look; troubled and concerned, but you supressed the urge to ask and pry about it.

“Oh, goodness, look at the time,” Carol gasped. “I didn’t realize I had been that late. Or maybe I was in the bathroom too long.”

“You do enjoy luxuriously long showers,” you teased. Carol looked at you, her face unreadable. “From- from what I can tell.. Mrs. Aird.”

She smiled, just the barest hint of teeth showing, and you looked down, then glanced at the clock. “I should probably go. Technically my job was finished the moment you got back. I’m sorry for lingering.”

“No-, no no, you’re not lingering, darling,” Carol assured you, reaching across the countertop to gingerly grasp your hand. “I enjoy your company, really I do.”

“Well,” you muttered, feeling your cheeks heat up. Carol’s thumb swiped gently over your hand, and you hoped she wouldn’t feel your racing heartbeat.

As if on cue, a loud thunderclap from outside made you jump. Strong rain rumbled on the roof. Amidst the impromptu thunderstorm, Carol held your hand consistently, gripping your fingers as you both watched the wind and rain against the nearest window. 

“Well,” Carol murmured, “you shan’t be leaving now, darling. No cab is going to come out here at this time now with this storm. Stay the night.”

She stated it so matter of factly, as if there wasn’t any other option. You opened your mouth to object, again, but something came bounding down the stairs before either of you said anything.

Carol’s hand slipped away from yours, and you mourned the loss of the warmth as Rindy ran into the kitchen, whimpering and latching onto her mother’s bathrobe. The three year old began blabbering about the scary noises from outside and Carol lifted her onto her hip, hushing and cooing her soothingly. 

“Could you make her some warm milk, please?” Carol said to you softly before walking back up the stairs with her daughter in her arms.

You came to Carol’s bedroom with a warm bottle of milk and Carol’s mug in hand, which you had topped up with a bit more hot tea. You waited a moment, watching Carol as she soothed and spoke to her daughter, holding her small hands and brushing her hair away from her face. She was sitting cuddled in her mother’s lap on the big bed, nearly drowning in the massive duvet and blankets. 

When she noticed you in the doorway Carol beckoned you in, and helped Rindy take a few sips. Once finished, you took the bottle from the toddler and handed Carol her tea. 

“Oh, you shouldn’t have,” she whispered. You limply shrugged a shoulder and tentatively sat on the edge of the bed, holding one of Rindy’s small hands as she fell asleep.

Once Rindy was fully asleep, Carol reached a hand out to you to tap on your shoulder, nodding her head to the door to indicate you both should shuffle out quietly.

“Well, I suppose my bed’s been taken for the night,” Carol quipped, tightening her robe’s belt. 

“Oh, then take the guest room! I don't mind sleeping on the couch, really, it’s a nice couch,” you added. 

“Nonsense, whatever gave you that idea? Come on, the bed’s big enough for both of us.”

“But, Mrs. Aird-,”

“It’s just Carol, remember?” she said, eyes shining. “Come along.”

And that was how you ended up in the surprisingly spacious guest bed with Carol by your side, wearing an old pyjama set of hers, tucked under the heavy blankets. 

“What if Mr. Aird comes home when we’re sleeping?” you asked, softly. Carol was scribbling a note down to remember to call Abby tomorrow that she set on her nightstand.

“Oh, he won’t be coming home tonight, Y/N,” she said airily.

You blinked in surprised, quieted by the truthfulness of her voice and the implication of the statement.

“We got in a row at the party,” she admitted, avoiding your gaze as she fluffed her pillow. “He’s either at his parents’ or staying at Cy and Jeanette’s. Not that I mind.”

“I’m very sorry, Mrs. Ai-, Carol, I mean.”

“Don’t be,” she sighed, turning to look at you. “There’s nothing to be done about it. I’m happy you’re here instead. At least I don’t want to rip my hair out around you.”

“I’m happy too. Thank you for letting me stay.”

“How many times must I tell you, it really is no bother at all. Sleep now, you insufferable thing,” Carol laughed, running a warm hand through your hair. 

You couldn’t remember when you fell asleep, only that some time in the night Rindy had woken and climbed in your bed despite your best efforts to get her back to sleep. Carol had grunted in surprise, half-asleep, before pulling Rindy and then you close to her, making a cozy cuddle pile in the bed. You fell asleep once again to the feeling of Carol’s warm hands holding you close, and this time with an additional Rindy snuggling closely against you, content, unbothered, and delightfully relaxed. 

#carol #carol aird #carol movie #carol fanfiction #carol (2015) #rindy #cate blanchett #carol x you #carol x reader #carol/reader #carol/you #carolxyou #carolxreader #wlw #lgbt #merry writes

[raindancer2004]

Vacation on Isle Esme

Word Count: 6,926 Demetri x OC Part 6. Warning: Fluff, Angst, NSFW Choking kink. Please listen to the music clips.

The following morning Demetri took Renee to Marcus’ private study having tracked him there “Morning master I have Renee with me, she’d like to talk to you” Demetri greeted him “Morning Demetri, please show her in” Marcus replies. Renee entered the study and thanks Demetri for escorting her there. “Good morning amore. Did you sleep well?” Marcus asked and Renee nodded “Come, sit with me” He held out his hand to Renee; she placed her warm hand in his cold one and let him lead her to the sofa. “Have you thought about what we spoke about last night?” He asked still holding her hand in his “I have thought about it. I even spoke to Ally and Demetri about it as they are in the same situation as us” Marcus nodded but said nothing “After weighing up what I would be giving up versus what I would be gaining…I want you to know that I do accept you as my mate and I will spend an eternity by your side. However, I do wish to remain human a little longer, get used to living here before you turn me” Renee says taking Marcus’ other hand in hers “Renee mi amore, I am so pleased that you accept me as I accept you. I happily grant your request to remain human a little longer” He bought her hands to his lips “Ally will be pleased as it means you’ll have each other for eternity too” He replies smiling and takes Renee into his arms, pleased to have someone to love again and someone to love him in return.

Demetri, Ally and Jane are in Demetri and Ally’s room talking about the wedding when Alec and Felix arrive “Hey Jane I’ve been reading up on wedding customs ahead of the wedding and did you know it’s tradition for the Best Man to hook up with a Bridesmaid?” Felix asks smirking; Alec shakes his head laughing “Not going to happen” “Really Felix?” Janes asks eyebrow raised “Don’t believe me ask Ally” He replies; all eyes now on Ally “Technically yes it’s true. I mean the Best Man tends to try and hook up with one of the Bridal party during / after the wedding” “Well Shit Ally! Thanks” Jane replies “Sorry I was just being honest. You don’t have to get with him” Ally says “No she does! Its tradition” Felix adds smiling; Jane shakes her head “Desperate” Demetri coughs; Alec laughs “I’m so looking forward to your wedding, just to see if Felix fails or not” “It would be funny if he fails” Demetri says laughing “Really D?” Felix replies.

Esme and Carlisle come out to Volterra for the wedding, the others refusing to come. They arrive a week before the wedding and use the trip as a romantic city break. “It’s nice to visit Italy again Carlisle” Esme says smiling “Yes it is, but it’s been a long time since I’ve been in the castle though” He replied as they got settled in one of the guest rooms. “Hi. Only us” Alice says entering Carlisle and Esme’s room “Hello Alice, Jasper” Carlisle and Esme greet their children. “How’s the planning coming along?” Esme asks “Great, obviously” Alice replies smiling “I put it down to the fact Demetri isn’t even trying to rein her in” Jasper adds; Carlisle laughs as Alice pokes her tongue out at Jasper “As far as he’s concerned it’s only the best for his girl and Alice’s vision is to be followed without question” He finishes “I know someone else who indulges Alice” Esme smiles at Jasper “I know, but I do try and rein her in now and again” He replies looking at Alice lovingly.

Carlisle, Esme, Alice and Jasper met Demetri and Ally in the south facing garden “Here this is an early wedding present” Esme said handing Ally an envelope, who gasps upon removing the contents “Tickets to Rio? Keys to…” “You’ll be honeymooning on Isle Esme” Esme interrupted “It’s seems only fitting as it’s where you met” Ally throws her arms around Esme “Thank you so much. Its-it’s perfect” “Thank you Carlisle it’s very generous of you” Demetri says shaking Carlisle’s hand. “You’re welcome” Carlisle replies.

That night Aro calls everyone into the throne room “Thank you all for coming, Firstly I want to welcome our guests who have come out to celebrate the wedding of our dear Demetri and Ally. Secondly, Marcus has an announcement to make. Brother” Aro says stepping aside. Marcus stands and walks towards the edge of the steps “Yes, thank you for coming; I do indeed have some happy news to share. I have been very lucky recently I had the pleasure of meeting a beautiful lady; this lady is in fact my second chance at love, at a happy ending. I would like to introduce you all to my mate Renee; Ally’s mom” He turns slightly holding out his hand to her; Renee steps forward placing her hand in his “Renee is human like Ally and will remain so a little longer whilst she gets used to her new home. She is to be treated with the upmost respect” Marcus adds looking down at his mate lovingly. “Yes” Ally says low hugging Demetri “Someone’s happy then” He smiles. “Of course. They both deserve a happy ending and I’m glad they have each other” She replies.

December 3rd – Demetri and Ally’s wedding day

Demetri got ready in Felix’s room with Alec and Jasper, all four wearing black suits, with white shirts, a black waistcoat with a royal blue paisley pattern and matching tie and black shoes. “How are you feeling Demetri?” Jasper asks “I’m ok, a little nervous to be honest” Demetri replies “Why are you nervous? You worried she’ll leave you at the alter” Felix jokes; Demetri growls at him “I’m nervous Fe because I’m getting married in a few hours and that marks the start of a new chapter in my life. I’m over 1000 years old; I’ve done and seen many things over the years but this is something I never thought I’d do” Jasper, Felix and Alec just nod; Demetri sits down on the sofa “I’m also nervous because I don’t know how to be a husband...” “You’ll be a great husband to Ally. I mean you figured out how to be her mate/boyfriend and the two of you are also friends as you built that foundation first. Ally and you will work this marriage thing out together” Alec says placing a hand on Demetri’s shoulder “Ally loves you more than anything, remember that D” Felix adds. “I know that and I love her too but it doesn’t stop me being nervous” “Imagine how I felt Demetri, Alice had seen us meeting, us being with the Cullens and our wedding all before I met her. That was a lot to live up to, so you can imagine how nervous I was” Jasper said sitting down beside Demetri “You’ll be fine. I promise. We’re here for you” He added.

Meanwhile Ally woke up in her room beside Jane as she had come to light the fire early as it was snowing outside and decided to stay and keep Ally company “Morning sweetie” “Morning Jane” Ally replies sleepily “I’m going to run you a bath so you can relax before all the chaos starts” “Sounds like a plan, thank you” Once Ally was finished in the bathroom she sat on her bed in a robe waiting for Alice and Gianna to join her and Jane.  The Bridesmaids were dressed in royal blue dresses with a silver diamanté belt; the top half of the dress had royal blue embroidery on it, paired with silver high heeled sandals. Chelsea came by and braided fish plaits into the Bridesmaid’s hair. Chelsea also curled Ally’s hair and secured her tiara in place. “I’ll see you all soon” Chelsea smiled and made her way to the ballroom.

The Ballroom was divided into two; one half was set up for the ceremony, the other for the reception. There was a cream carpet laid on the floor to create an aisle with rows of chairs either side; each chair was covered in a cream cover with a royal blue bow tied around each one.

In the reception part of the ballroom the tables were decorated with white table cloths with fish bowl centrepieces filled with clear pebbles, blue and white Roses, silver Lillies and fake silver Butterflies.

There were two long tables at the side of the room; the wedding cake and guest book were on display along with cards and gifts for the couple. There were jugs of blood for the vampires and a three course meal prepared for Ally, Renee and Gianna.

Demetri was waiting at the alter with Felix by his side; Alec and Jasper standing slightly behind them, Aro was waiting at the alter smiling looking around the room “Not long now my dear boy” He said low to Demetri. Marcus, Caius and the wives were in the front row on the “Groom’s” side with Esme and Renee in the front row on the “Bride’s” side. The other guards and guests spread out over both sides of the aisle.

The Ballroom doors opened; everyone stood up and saw Gianna waiting for her cue; Aro nodded and Gianna walked down the aisle first followed by Jane then Alice. “Deep breath Ally. I’ve got you” Carlisle said taking her arm “Thank you Carlisle” Alyssa came into view with Carlisle by her side; Demetri was speechless the moment he saw her. She took his undead breath away; the biggest smile adorned his face as Demetri’s eyes stayed on Ally as she made her way down the aisle. Ally wore a white dress with a sweetheart neck line; the full applique lace bodice was complimented by the white applique lace cascading down the layered skirt, a silver tiara in her hair decorated with pearls and diamond shaped flowers. Her white shoes covered by her dress. Once they reached Demetri, Carlisle placed Ally’s right hand in Demetri’s left hand and took a seat beside Esme; Ally handed Alice her blue and white bouquet. “You look so beautiful amore” Demetri said low and placed a kiss to her temple; she blushed “You look very handsome Demi”

“Welcome dear ones” Aro began “We are here today to witness the union between this vampire and this human” Caius rolled his eyes “Really?” He mouthed to Aro; who ignored him. “With the exchange of rings and their own personal vows two souls are being joined as one. Demetri if you will, please turn and face Alyssa and read her your vows”

“I Demetri Volturi take you Alyssa Swan to be my best friend, my mate, my lover and my wife forever. I promise to support and encourage you in achieving your dreams. All I have in this world I give to you; I promise to comfort and protect you, love you and honour you for all of eternity.” He raised her hand to his lips placing a kiss to the backs of her fingers. “I love you”

“Alyssa, your turn my dear” Ally could feel tears building behind her eyes.

“I Alyssa Swan take you Demetri Volturi to be my best friend, my mate, my lover and my husband forever. I promise to encourage and inspire you, to laugh with you, and comfort you in times of sorrow and struggle. I promise to love you in good times and in bad. I promise to honour and cherish you, and keep you safe always. I love you”

“Now the giving and receiving of rings” Aro says motioning to Felix to pass the rings to Demetri and Ally.

“Ally I give you this ring as a token of my never-ending love for you” He places her wedding ring onto her finger.

“Demi I give you this ring as a token of my never-ending love for you” She places his wedding ring onto his finger.

“I now pronounce you Husband and Wife. You may kiss your beautiful Bride Demetri”

Demetri takes her into his arms and kisses her; pulling away and resting his forehead to hers “I love you Ally” “I love you too Demi”

“It gives great pleasure to introduce you all to Mr and Mrs Demetri Volturi” Aro announces and everyone stands up; clapping and multiple “Congratulations” can be heard.

Demetri takes Ally’s hand in his and they walk up the aisle; him leading her out to the south facing garden that was covered in snow for wedding photos.

“Photos really?” She asks excitedly “Yes, Ally. This is Matthew; he was a photographer in his human life and we crossed paths a few years back about a year after his transformation. I called and asked him to take photos of today” Demetri answered “I’m going to put together an album for you too. May I offer you my congratulations” Matthew said shaking Demetri’s hand “Thank you Matthew” Ally says smiling “You really are the best Dem” She gives him a lingering kiss to his cheek; they hear the click of the camera “I’m sorry but that was a soft candid moment that needed to be captured” Matthew told them. Matthew took photos of Demetri and Ally alone; Demetri and Ally with the Bridal party, Demetri and Ally with Marcus and Renee. He also took a photo of Demetri and Ally with the three kings and their three mates at Aro’s request. Matthew took photos of the other guests too throughout the afternoon; ensuring to capture Demetri and Ally’s first dance and the cutting of the wedding cake.  

Demetri stood and clinked his glass getting the room’s attention “Firstly, I want to thank you all for coming and sharing today with Ally and I. Secondly I want to thank Renee and Charlie, though sadly he couldn’t be here today, for bringing such an amazing and beautiful person into the world. I promise to love and protect her forever” He looked down at Ally smiling before continuing “Lastly, thank you to Carlisle and Esme for introducing us. I had been on my own for a very long time and had almost given up on finding my mate, my other half until Ally walked into my life and into my heart. I remember the first time I saw you; the first time I looked into those gorgeous chocolate brown eyes of yours and everything changed for me. I started imaging the possibilities; imagining a future with you by my side and it took me only a week to realise that I couldn’t live without you; I didn’t want to live without you. You accepted me not only for who I am but for what I am and I’m eternally thankful for that and I cannot begin to tell you how happy I was when you agreed to be mine and asked me to be yours in return. You were born to be with me as I was created to be with you and you have made me more human, a better man even and I cannot thank you enough for that. I love you more than I ever thought possible and I’m looking forward to spending an eternity with you mi amore. Please raise your glasses in a toast to my stunning Bride. Ally” “Ally” The room cheers raising their glasses.

Demetri led Ally onto the dance floor for their first dance holding her in his arms singing quietly in her ear

“Look into my eyes You will see What you mean to me Search your heart Search your soul And when you find me there You'll search no more

Don't tell me it's not worth tryin' for You can't tell me it's not worth dyin' for You know it's true Everything I do I do it for you

Look into your heart You will find There's nothin' there to hide Take me as I am Take my life I would give it all I would sacrifice

Don't tell me it's not worth fightin' for I can't help it, there's nothin' I want more You know it's true Everything I do I do it for you”

Once Demetri and Ally had their first dance everybody joined them on the dance floor Jane approached Felix “Would you like to dance?” “Really? Sure you can reach?” “Don’t make me regret asking you” She replied taking his hand in hers and making their way to the dance floor. Ally noticed them dancing and whispered in Demetri’s ear “See Demi, I told you there’s something between them” He cast a glance in their direction and couldn’t help smiling at the sight “We’ll see Ally, we’ll see.”

Caius, Aro and Marcus each took a turn in dancing with Ally; Demetri dancing with their mates in return. Carlisle having given Ally away danced the father/daughter dance with her; Renee feeling a little angry that Charlie didn’t step up for Ally when she needed him, especially as she won’t get to see him again. “It’s his loss Renee, Ally is a great girl, a real credit to you” Marcus whispered into her ear holding her in his arms watching Carlisle and Ally dance. 

Alec had asked Gianna to accompany him to the wedding as they were both in the bridal party and he knew that it would make her happy. He may or may not have noticed how her heartbeat speeds up a little when he’s near her. Holding her close during the slow songs he found it amusing how her heartbeat would spike slightly. He decided to have a little fun with her at the end of the last dance; smiling to himself as he dipped her low, holding her leg to his side as he did so “Ah Alec” She breathed surprised by his actions. He raised her back up and placed a kiss to her cheek “Good night Gianna” Gianna blushed “Good night Alec” “That was…nice of you Alec” Demetri said as Alec passed him and Ally on the dance floor.

Felix walks Jane back to her room at the end of the night hand in hand stopping when they reach Jane’s door. Felix leans down and kisses her gently; after a few seconds he pulls away slightly “That wasn’t…entirely unpleasant” She says quietly; he leans back down and kisses her again one hand resting on her cheek, the other on the small of her back holding her to him “There are other things we can do that aren’t entirely unpleasant” He says low in her ear as his hand moves from her back to hold her hand in his; she opens her door stepping backwards inside taking him with her “Show me” She purrs; he smiles closing and locking the door behind him.

He pulls her into his arms and lifts her up; her legs wrapping around his waist as she kisses him. He lays her down on her bed breaking the kiss “I can make you feel good little one” He purrs into the ear before placing a kiss below it working his way down her neck and back up again “Mmm…” He sits up on his knees bringing her with him; he unzips her dress before his hands work their way upwards taking her dress with them, leaving her in her lace bra and panties. He laid her down and removed his jacket, shirt and trousers; before leaning down and placing open mouthed kisses along her neck working his way down her body; sucking gently on her lace covered clit “Ahh” Jane’s breath catching in her throat; Felix looked up her “May I?” She nodded and he removed her panties; parting her legs slightly he settled himself between them licking upwards from her centre to her clit before gently sucking on the bud of nerves, flicking it with his tongue. Jane’s breathless moans let him know she was enjoying herself; he parted her lips and slipped his tongue inside her hitting her sweet spot; a breathless sigh escaping her lips, he withdrew his tongue slipping a finger in whilst sucking hard on her clit “Oh…Felix…Yes” She cries out hands grabbing the sheets, she feels his low growl vibrate against her core. He continues to lick and suck her clit adding a second finger; curling them inside her bringing her closer to her release, he feels her small fingers card through his hair, before settling at the back of his head holding him where she needs him most. His fingers continuing to move in and out her; tongue swirling around her sensitive nub “I’m so…cl-close” “Cum for me little one” His pace speeding up and becoming a bit rough as he pulls her over the edge; “Oh Felix!” She cries as she comes undone beneath him, tumbling into a blissful darkness, her toes curling and hands gripping her bedsheets “You did so well little one” He purrs in her ear before capturing her lips in a passionate kiss.

“My turn” She purrs in his ear; he rolls onto his back taking her with him. Jane takes his lower lip between her teeth and he growls hands grabbing her ass. She pulls away kissing her way down his cold hard abs admiring the god like view beneath her. She rips his boxers away freeing him and is amazed at the sight before her for Felix’s cold hard dick is long and thick “See something you like?” He asks smirking; nodding in response she wraps her lips around him taking him all the way until she feels him in the back of her throat. She heard him growl and looked up to see his eyes were closed, lips slightly parted, ‘Pain’ she thought and Felix felt a slight pain course through him as she hollowed her cheeks and sucked him hard “Ahh…Jane” He cried out then feeling the pain disappear as she smiled around him licking him from base to tip her tongue circling his tip; she hollowed her cheeks again taking in all of him “Oh...God…” His eyes open black and full of lust catching her looking up at him; her red eyes dark and doe like, she gives him a wink and grazes her teeth over his entire length before deep throating him “Oh…little one…just…like…that” He purrs fingers grabbing a fistful of hair and tugging gently. She pulls away looking up at him and whispers “Pain” He shudders at the mixture of pleasure and pain as her lips close back around him; her sucking him as though he was the best thing she’s ever tasted; she feels him empty himself down the back of her throat and she swallows everything he gives her. “Seems like you’re not the little terror everyone says you are” He says breathlessly and smiles at her “Shut up” She replies softly taking her bottom lip between her teeth, looking up at him through her lashes “Let me hold you” He says bringing her up into his arms “Thank you little one” He places a kiss to her temple “Thank you Felix” She snuggles into him enjoying the feeling of being in his arms.

Meanwhile Santiago drove Demetri and Ally to the private air strip near the castle and carried out the pre-flight checks as he was also their pilot for the flight. Demetri carried his and Ally’s cases onto the plane and took a seat next to her; holding her close “You look lovely tonight cara” Ally had changed into a light blue fitted knee length dress for the flight; Demetri changed into blue jeans and a grey shirt. Once she fell asleep he gently lifted her into his lap and held her whilst she slept. “How’s Ally doing?” Santiago asked coming to check on the newly-weds “Good. She’s asleep, which I’m pleased about as it’s a night flight” Demetri replied low Santiago nodded in response.

It was the first day of their honeymoon and Ally and Demetri play hide and seek to test out Ally’s ability to drop her shield. “Let’s test out that shield dropping ability of yours, shall we…Mrs Volturi?” He leans down kissing her. “Ok Mr Volturi, but don’t be upset if this doesn’t work first time round. Dropping my shield is something I’ve only been able to do recently. I was curious to see if it was possible so I’ve been practicing” She explains to Demetri “I understand. Just be careful. I love you” He rests his forehead to hers “I will. I love you too” She replied; she gave him a kiss then ran off to hide “I’ll give you 10 minutes” He called after her. Once she found her hiding place Ally closed her eyes concentrating and thinking about Demetri and how she needs him to find her. Demetri took a deep breath closing his eyes and reached out trying to pick up Ally’s tenor; nothing, he couldn’t sense her and was beginning to get a little frustrated when all of a sudden something changed. He could sense someone’s tenor, faint as it was but it was there “Ally” He breathed out relaxing a little; he concentrated ensuring to commit her tenor, her essence to memory. Smiling he took off finding her with ease “Found you mi amore” He smiled down at her “I was worried it didn’t work” She replied getting up “It didn’t at first but when your shield finally dropped I was able to pick up your tenor, your essence, which allowed me to find you and that is what matters. I have committed your essence to my memory too” He kissed her holding her close “We’ve got forever to develop this part of your gift. Although, I don’t want you dropping your shield for anyone but me Ally. I like knowing that you can protect yourself from psychic gifts understand?” “I understand Demi, you only want me to drop my shield when I need or want you to find me” She smiled looking up at him through her lashes “Exactly” He replied smiling.

After spending a day together on the beach Demetri and Ally decide to take a shower together; he starts washing her, massaging her breasts letting one hand move lower thumb circling her clit as he places open mouthed kisses on her neck. Her head falls back on his shoulder her eyes closed as she feels him slip a finger inside her; he moves his finger in and out of her a few times before adding a second “Make love to me Demi, please” Demetri nodded removing his fingers from her and shutting the shower off. He lifted Ally into his arms wrapping her legs around his waist and carried her to the bed laying her down gently. He looked into her eyes “Are you sure cara?” “Yes. I want you, I need you” She unwrapped her legs from around him; sliding her hand down between them and stroking his hard penis her thumb brushing over the tip; his eyes closing at her warm touch, he adjusts himself between her legs and taking his erection in his hand gently guides himself inside her. He stilled allowing her to adjust to his size when he heard an almost inaudible gasp before continuing to slide in until he was fully inside her, stilling again for a moment placing a kiss to her forehead. “You’re so tight baby” He kissed her nipping at her bottom lip asking for entrance; which she happily gave him, their tongues moving against each other in sync.

Ally felt him pull out slightly before slowly re-entering her; filling her deeply “Ahh” She breathed out eyes closing; her hands moving up his back, nails gently scratching his skin and leaving kisses on his shoulders working her way up his neck to leave a kiss below his ear before gently biting his earlobe. He growled and thrusted back inside her hard; one hand moving up her leg to hold it in place at his side, this new position allowing him to get deeper inside her with every thrust. His dipped his head down and took a nipple into his mouth sucking gently, flicking it with his tongue. His cold breath against her warm flesh sent sparks coursing through her and she could feel a knot forming in her abdomen. His other hand moved up her side to take hold of her other breast, rolling the nipple between his thumb and forefinger; he felt her wrap her legs around him “Demi” She cried out. He quickened his pace feeling his orgasm building and sensing hers was close too, filling her deeper with each and every thrust “Ally” He growled low, lifting his head to kiss her slipping his tongue inside her mouth; Ally sighed into the kiss. He dipped his head back down kissing her breast; his teeth grazing over the sensitive bud. Ally felt the knot break, pleasure washing over her like a tidal wave, her back arching off the bed; snaking his arm underneath her he held her close, his thrusts slowing as he rode out his own orgasm with her “I love you Demi” “I love you too Ally” He rested his forehead against hers.

He continued to hold her in his arms as her breathing returned to normal, “That was amazing” She whispered before kissing him, love and devotion clear in her eyes, “You were amazing” He replied kissing her. Still inside her he sat up on his knees bringing her with him; holding her to his chest, legs still wrapped around him he placed open mouthed kisses to her neck “Don’t let go” He felt her nod as he got off the bed carrying her into the shower and turned it on. He climbed inside the shower and set her down in front of him, gently cleaning them both. She turned in his arms and wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a passionate kiss “I love you” “I love you too Ally”

The following morning Ally had a shower and went to put on her shorts and a top when she noticed a few bruises forming on her body, Demetri came up behind her wrapping his arms around her waist and placed a kiss on her neck “I’m sorry about those, it seems I wasn’t as gentle as I thought” He sounded upset “No, Dem you were gentle, very gentle in fact. My first time was better than I ever thought it would be and that’s because it was with you” She said smiling as she turned in his arms and kissed him. “I’m happy I was your first cara and that I will be your last as you will be mine” He left a chaste kiss to her lips; she wrapped her arms around his waist her head against his chest.

A few days later Ally was sunbathing whilst Demetri went hunting; when he got back he laid down beside her in just his boxers “Hey baby” He kisses her “Hey Sparkles” She smiles and kisses him back; he leans over her stroking hair “Be nice cara” He smiles as his fingers trail up and down her side lightly tickling her. “I have a surprise for you” Ally said getting up; Demetri nodded “I’ll be here waiting for you” A few minutes later Ally walked back out on the beach wearing the sexy French Maid outfit she bought on a shopping trip with Alice. She sat on Demetri’s lap so she was straddling him. He opened his eyes and whistled “Damn! You so hot in that baby” He smiled; blushing, she took her bottom lip between her teeth “Thank you I’m glad you like it” “I like it very much” He ran his hands up her thighs and licked his lips; sitting up and wrapping his arms around her he whispered “I want you amore” He kissed her hair whilst inhaling her scent. He lifts himself up slightly and with one hand starts to shimmy out of his boxers; Ally swings her leg to the side so she’s sitting beside him and removes her lace panties; then swings her leg back over to straddle him again. Demetri’s hands trail up her body under the dress, taking both breasts into his hands massaging them gently; thumbs brushing her nipples lightly, a sigh falls from Ally’s lips involuntarily, head falling back as Demetri kisses the front of her neck, sucking her neck slightly before his teeth graze over her pulse point.

Ally rises up onto her knees; hands on Demetri’s shoulders and gently lowers herself onto his erect cock, his hands move to her hips as he begins to lift her off of him before lowering her back down over his hard length “I love you” She whispers; his hands trail up her sides taking the dress with them and throwing it aside he places his hands on her back holding her against him. He leans her back slightly; his head dipping down to kiss her breasts and taking a nipple into his mouth. Her breath catches in her throat “Oh…god” He switches breasts taking her nipple between his teeth; whilst he rolls her other nipple between his thumb and forefinger. She lifts herself off him almost completely before sinking back down on him hard “Fuck baby” He growls moving his hands to her hips stilling her for a moment and pulls out of her only to thrust up into her hard “Fuck Dem” She cries out as he hits a new spot inside her, a knot forming in her abdomen. As he pulls out and thrusts up into her she grinds down against him, her being filled deeply with every thrust, him hitting that new spot inside her over and over. He crashes his lips to hers; she bites his lower lip and he opens his mouth allowing her to deepen the kiss, tongues moving against each other. He’s chasing his own release as he can tell she’s getting close to hers “Bite me…please” She begged grinding against him; he lifted his head and gently moved hers to the side placing a kiss against her neck, before biting her and taking a few gulps of her blood before licking the wound shut with his venom. Ally felt the knot break the moment he bit her “Oh. Dem. Yes” She said between breaths, her head falling onto his shoulder. His release followed “Fuck Ally” She could feel him still moving inside her filling her with his seed. “Don’t stop baby” She whispered; she felt him nod then kiss her neck where he bit her just moments ago.

Still inside her he picked her up and carried her inside and over to the bed, lying her down resting his forehead to hers “You my darling are amazing” He kissed her lips “So are you babe.” He pulled out of her lifting one of her legs over his shoulder and slid back inside her with ease “Ahh, that feels so..” Another slow deep thrust “Good” She finished, he smiled into the next kiss. Demetri slowed his rhythm taking his time to make love to her despite her pleas for him to go faster. He wanted to take his time with her; to show her how much he loved her, how he worshipped her. Ally had one hand on his shoulder the other in his hair; tugging slightly “I’m so…close…please Demi” One of his hands reached down between them and he began flicking and pinching her clit “Oh, ahh…Dem” He loved hearing her reaction knowing he was the only one who could please her this way. She grinded down on his hand kissing his neck “Mine” He growled low in her ear, Ally’s orgasm washed over her; her toes curling, hands gripping the sheets as she came hard “Always” She replied breathlessly; her walls clamping down around him bringing him to his climax, he removed her leg from his shoulder and continued to move within her riding out their orgasms together. “Will it always be this good?” She asked once her breathing evened out. “Once you’re immortal, it’ll be better. I won’t need to be so gentle…not that I’d ever hurt you, it’s just …you’ll be less fragile” He replied “Less fragile but still yours” She said “Yes mi amore, you’ll always be mine as I’ll always be yours” He responded “Mine” She said smiling against his neck “Always Ally, always”

The following morning Ally woke up alone but could smell pancakes; walking to the kitchen she saw Demetri in his boxers cooking, she wrapped her arms him kissing his shoulder one hand moving lower slipping inside his boxers “Morning to you too mi amore” He smiled and removed the pan from the heat. She removed her hand from his boxers and stepped back allowing him to turn and face her; his red eyes looking her up and down taking in the sight of her wearing his shirt. He stalked towards her like she was prey; her stepping back towards the table and when close enough he pulled her into him; her hands resting on his chest, his hand ran up her thigh under the shirt “No panties” He purred “Figured it would save time this morning” She winked at him and went to walk away “No” He growled “I want you here, now” He turned her around and bent her over the table one hand closing gently around her neck “Remember tell me if you want me to stop” He said applying a little pressure; she nodded and with his other hand he guided himself inside her stilling for a moment before pulling out and re-entering her. Their moans filling the air; he applied a little more pressure to her neck as he thrusts sped up chasing his release sensing hers was near, he moved his other hand downwards to play with her clit. Her walls clenched around him and she let out another breathless moan, her eyes squeezing tightly shut, as the brightest lights flitted behind her eyelids. Demetri’s name fell like a sworn oath from her slightly parted lips, the sound of it urging him on further. Demetri let out a soft hiss of pleasure as his mate’s tight, warm heat embraced him, further proof that she was indeed made for him, and only for him. Any tension he might have felt in that moment simply disappeared like clouds in the wind. He let his head fall forward, burying his face in Ally’s shoulder, her name coming out in a muffled cry of ecstasy, as he gave her everything he had, every intimate little part of himself. In all his years of immortality, not once has a single fragile human made him feel as alive as he did in that moment, not like Ally did.

When Demetri and Ally weren’t making love; they spent their time playing chess and other games; reading aloud to one another and silently to themselves. Demetri would join Ally on the beach whenever she wanted to sunbathe making the most of the warm weather. They also went swimming by the waterfall as they did the first time they were on Isle Esme together.

Demetri was a little sceptical whenever Ally won a game especially a card game, wondering if she ‘cheating’ “Ally, mi amore, you’re not looking through my eyes to see what cards I have, are you?” He asked eyebrow raised; Ally placed a hand to her heart feigning offense “Would I ever do that?” “You have in the past with our friends” He gently reminded her “I’d never do that to you babe” She replies looking up at him through her lashes “You promise?” He asked as he began to slowly crawl towards her; his eyes darkening as he did so “I-I…” He licked his lips growling low “Behave” She began to move back a little; he growled again “Behave…Sparkles…” That was it, he pounced pinning her beneath him; teeth grazing her neck, fingers lightly tickling her sides her soft laughter filling the room. He loved the sound and continued his actions as she squirmed beneath him “You’ve been a naughty girl….” “Y-you c-can’t p-prove it” She replied still giggling “Oh, I think I can” He growled low in her ear as grinded against her “Dem” She breathed out just before she felt him gently bite her, swallowing a few mouthfuls of her blood before licking the wound shut “It should be a sin for you to taste so good mi amore” He whispered “Enjoy it whilst you can my love because once you change me my sinfully good blood will be no more” She whispered kissing his neck “Mmm…maybe I should keep you human a little longer then” He rolled his hips against her again capturing her lips in a kiss “I love you” “I love you too Dem”

Demetri arrives back at the house after hunting to find Ally passed out on the bathroom floor; he runs to her placing a hand on her shoulder “Ally” She doesn’t move; hand still in place he gently shakes her trying to wake her “Ally, cara, please wake up” His eyes filling with venom “Please wake up baby, please” He begs her softly; taking her into his arms holding her close. Just then his phone rings; Carlisle’s name flashing on the screen. “Demetri…Is Ally ok?” He asks “I-I don’t know. I-I can’t wake her”

#demetri volturi #jane volturi #alec volturi #marcus volturi #aro volturi #caius volturi #felix volturi #twilight #volturi #the cullens

[tttinytrash]

So @shamedump, you made a mistake saying using your boys was ok. Forever ago on their blog (which if you haven’t checked them out yet you should) there was mention of Mage bitties, their Nightmare that’s more of a overly blunt but well-meaning boy than canon Nightmare, growing into biggies and a few of em running a place you could go to have them drain negativity off. They get fed, you’re less stressed, win-win! This has kinda been an idea I pop back to when I’m feeling particularly stressed and I decided that since they said using their ideas was ok with credit, I’d go for it and actually write something. So Mage, and all the subsequent ideas of how their powers work, what their body is like, (I even borrowed the mousepad analogy) and whatnot is all Dumpling. I simply extrapolated a story out of it. Any misrepresentations of the character I’ll pretend comes from the fact that they’re bitties/biggies and therefore personality can differ a little from the source material. At least, that’s what I’ll say to make myself feel better lol. 

Your cousin had dragged you to this place, and you had immediate reservations upon arrival. The place was run by biggies, which wasn’t the issue. You really just couldn’t help that they looked intimidating. 

Every biggie in the shop had black goop covering their whole form, and four extra appendages sprouting out of their back. They were somewhat taller than you, and definitely broader. Despite all this, you knew they couldn’t help their appearances and made no move to actually be scary, so you pushed the anxiety down (to join the plethora of other anxiety in the pile) as your cousin approached the desk. The biggie at the desk was pleasant enough as she checked you in for your appointment, then came back to sit in the waiting area with you.

“Just gotta wait for a chair to open, cous. This will be the best decision you’ve made all week, I swear!” She assured you as she took her seat beside yours.

You agreed absently, watching the other humans, monsters, and biggies wander through the store. The Mage biggies, as their type was called, each stood behind comfy looking chairs with their client seated before them facing a big mirror on the wall. It reminded you a lot of a hair salon, actually. One tendril from their back wrapped around each wrist, while their hands gave a shoulder massage. Actually, the one on the end of the row was braiding his client’s hair. That observation struck you as pretty cute, and managed to sap away some apprehension. 

“little less scary now?”

You all but leapt from your seat you jolted so hard.

Your cousin tried and failed to muffle a snicker at your expense as the biggie continued “whoops. sorry, wasn’t trying to sneak up on you.”

“N-no, It’s fine. Just kinda got caught people watching.” you assure, trying your best to laugh off the mortification.

“it’s fine, we get it. i’m jethro. i’ll be taking care of you today.”

“Nice to meet you, I’m y/n.”

“Ooh, such a good name!” your cousin interjected.

“heh, thanks. my adopter was into some cop show. guess my attitude back in the day reminded him of somebody. anyhow, my chair is right this way, y/n.”

Your cousin excused herself and left you to your appointment, which had been the deal. You were too nervous to wait alone at a new place, but knew you should be ok from here. Jethro guided you to one of the indeed very comfy chairs and took his position behind. His tendrils grabbed a stool from against the wall and set it behind the chair so he could sit as well. Despite being behind you, he was able to look at you easily by turning his one eyed gaze to the mirror set on the wall in front of you.

“this is your first time, right?” Jethro asked, so far keeping his hands to himself.

You confirmed that it was.

“right. so i assume there’s questions?”

“Yeah, my cousin said you guys drain negativity. How literal is that?”

“exceedingly. we can sense emotions, especially negative ones. we can also feed off of em. again, literally. we remove them through physical contact and they’re converted into magic in our bodies.”

“You guys eat our bad emotions?”

“yep.”

You realized something. “...You sense them too.”

“Yep.”

“Does that include nervousness?”

“yep.”

“So you knew I was literally scared when I walked in.”

“yep.”

“I am so sorry.” Ugh, now he probably felt how mortified you were. Now he thought you were a racist! You were far from one of those monster hating bigots! Shit, maybe you should just leave-

You flinched when two cold pressures settled on your wrists, and your mortification ebbed.

“you’re fine, told you we get it.” Jethro cut your shameful spiral short, and you realized he’d wrapped his tendrils around your arms.

The appendages were cool to the touch, and the grip was light enough you could easily break free if you had any desire to. Thing is, you didn’t. You felt the stress that had been building up simply start to vanish. It left you feeling hollow, but calm and gratitude quickly filled the void. You could definitely tell those feelings were literally being taken away from you.

“now, since i’ve absorbed those negative feelings i know roughly why you came in and i’m also here to talk you through all of it rather than just making it go away if you want. but usually people just go quiet on their first time, up to you. given your reaction here, i’m assuming you want to enjoy the clear head space awhile instead?”

You nodded, feeling ever so slightly loopy. Was that an affect of the draining?

Jethro made an amused acknowledging sound. He reached forward, using his hands to apply pressure to the tense muscles around your shoulders and neck. You melted into the pleasant touch, briefly feeling shame for so visibly reacting before that too was wicked away.

“heh, i sense a return customer.”

You smiled, oh hell yes you were.

-----

You became a regular immediately.

All the guys in the shop were great, but Jethro definitely ended up your preferred siphon, and he was who you made appointments with.

You were in a session with him now, and it was nice to have him act as a sounding board as to how to deal with you day to day stressors. You’d picked up a few calming techniques you used on a daily basis by now, and your sessions had reduced in frequency by this point. It was almost a friendly catch up session between you two whenever you made a booking, but you still absolutely appreciated his services. 

As you two casually chatted near the end of your appointment, another biggie walked out from the back room. You’d seen a few clients go back there, only to emerge hours later. That was the “Special Treatment” room, and you were curious what that entailed but had never mustered the courage to ask. This curiosity meant you were very keen on observing the biggie that had just exited and therefore delighted when he took a seat in the vacant client chair next to yours. 

Jethro greeted him as he settled, and you noticed the newcomer had his hand laid on his belly as if to steady it. 

“special treatment?” Jethro asked.

“yeah. they totally fell asleep, but i’m not gonna bother them just yet.” the other responded.

“heh, they must have needed it then. nightmares, i guess?”

“yeah. pretty bad. all the more reason to let em rest.”

The conversation drifted from there, and you eventually got looped in and belatedly introduced to the other biggie, who you learned was named Obsidian. Throughout the conversation, you didn’t miss that Obsidian had his hands folded over his middle, and kept swiping his thumb across the surface whenever the special treatment client had been referred to.

You left the store contented but all the more curious. Maybe you’d finally ask when you came back next time.

-----

God this sucked.

When it rains it pours, apparently. It started with your manager breathing down your neck at the same time a bunch of impending deadlines were looming for school. With a cherry on top of family drama, you felt like a frayed nerve.

Your next siphoning session was two weeks away, but damn did you need the support now. You’d tried your calming strategies, which while they kept a panic attack at bay weren’t enough. You’d tried handling this on your own but it just wasn’t cutting it after a few days of the stress piling up on itself in your head.

You walked into the shop, hoping beyond hope that they took walk in clients.

Obsidian was apparently slotted for receptionist duty today, and he seemed to take notice of you before you were able to even say anything. His head jerked up as if he’d heard a loud noise and once his gaze settled on you, recognition dawned quickly. “y/n? what happened?” The concern made it clear that your black cloud of anxiety was exceedingly obvious to the empath before you.

“Everything, it feels like. There wouldn’t happen to be any openings today, would there?”

“i think we can swing something. gimme a sec.” 

The biggie disappeared in a shortcut, chair rattling down from its tilted position loudly. 

You flinched at the sound at looked around the shop for reactions. There weren’t many people, two biggies had clients and were politely ignoring the commotion you felt you’d made. You recognized one of the clients distantly, but your attention was quickly diverted to two figures emerging from the staff lounge. Obsidian lead Jethro, much to your delight, towards you. Jethro’s expression softened visibly at the same time you felt the happy thrill of recognition.

The expression settled into concern again by the time he’d approached. “you’re more negative now than when we first met, kiddo.” He said instead of a greeting. Blunt, as usual.

“I believe it. Sorry to drop in without a booking-”

“you’re fine, stoppit. you apologize too much. you’re probably due for a special treatment if you’re game for it.”

You perked up despite the dark knot in your soul at the mention of the mysterious back room. Your curiosity was piqued again, and you were up to try anything to get your head back in order by this point. So decided, you nodded.

You were lead into the back room, and you eagerly took in your new environment. There were a couple huge, very plush looking beanbags in the center of the room. A water cooler was off to the side, and a little table next to it had a hot water dispenser and tea bags. There wasn’t a ton of other things here, besides a few odd indoor plants and a distinct lack of mirrors compared to the salon-esque layout outside.

You belatedly realize that Jethro was trying to get your attention, and rush to respond. “S-sorry, what?”

“was askin’ if you wanted a rundown. this is your first time back here, you outta know what you’re agreeing to for both our sakes.”

“Ok, what happens next then?”

“well, you’ll recall that we consume negative emotions, and that we run off magic just like other monsters?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“this is an extension of that. some monster types have the ability to take others into their bodies harmlessly. if i do that, i’ll be able to sap even more negativity and also tease apart what triggered the emotions. that way we can work through it more specifically than in previous sessions, plus the negativity drains quicker.”

You blinked at him. That was one of the longer spiels you’d heard from him ever, but you were lost as hell. “That sounds great, but what did you mean about the taking into...?”

“yeah, it’s pretty similar to what you’re probably thinking. i’d essentially have to eat you.” he shrugged casually, like that was obvious.

You flinched away, feeling your heart rate spike.

“we don’t have to, if you want to try a normal session.” he offered, hands in pockets and expression neutral.

You go quiet in thought and he lets you. Everything from your previous session clicked into place, and you realized that when you’d met Obsidian he’d had someone inside while you three talked. You also realized the dim recognition you’d felt in the front room was that the client in the chair today was the same that’d disappeared into the back room with Obsidian. 

The train of thought came to a halt as you realized worrying was stupid, this was Jethro for frick’s sake! You trusted him easily, so extending that trust to allow what he clearly thought was the best move for you took little effort.

“If you think it’ll help, I’m up for it.” You say, determined.

He had a soft, almost relieved smile as he nodded in reply. 

He didn’t waste any time, and wrapped you snugly in all four of his tendrils. You were surprised by how little effort it appeared to take to lift your whole form off the floor. He flopped into one of the beanbags unceremoniously. 

So that’s what those are for. you thought as you watched him settle comfortably in the soft cushion.

You couldn’t help but tense when you were brought over his upturned face, and tilted so you were almost nose to nose (...nose to nasal bone. Whatever.) with him leaving your body hanging parallel to the floor in his grip. 

You’re not afraid, but you’re certainly nervous. Until you’re just not. You’ve done this enough to know he’s siphoning the nerves away, but this time you apparently don’t have much in the way of other emotions and are left with a hollow feeling. That utter lack of emotions leaves you to do nothing beyond going limp to make the next steps easier and watch as his mouth approaches to engulf your head. You duck your head down and find it pillowed on a tongue, cool to the touch and jet black. The light is almost immediately cut off as you’re pushed deeper in by the four tendrils around your torso. 

A wet gulp squishes into your ears and you feel a pressure over the crown of your head as your skull presses into the throat. You briefly wonder how a skeleton has such human like fleshy bits but chalk it up to the ooze over his whole bony form. A tendril slid off your body as its assistance was no longer needed, leaving a cool sensation and a slight tingle akin to mint in its wake.

Another wet sound and you’re in deeper. The sounds quickly pick up and settle into a comfortable rhythm, drawing you in with apparent ease. You eventually slide into a roomier space and flip into a somewhat seated position. You hear a sigh above you, and finally curiosity, relief, and a few other emotions take up residence in your head again. 

“you good?” You hear him ask, voice close but also somewhat muffled. 

You respond in the affirmative.

“good. get comfy, do whatever you need to. once you’re settled i can stop focusing on the anxiety of this arrangement and instead deal with what brought you here.”

You scootched into a comfortable curled position and forced yourself to cycle a breath. You used your favored calming technique and found that your nervousness first came back before ebbing completely. He’d stopped siphoning it away, but you felt fine now. You decided that you could take this opportunity to feel out your new surroundings for a moment, since Jethro pretty much gave permission. You decided to start pretty literally, pushing outwards on a wall with light pressure. Your fingers sunk in, the texture was like pressing on a gel mousepad. Cool to the touch, but you weren’t about to start shivering in here. 

The whole area was dim, but the grooves in the wall dully glowed with turquoise light enough to see your surroundings and to see where your hand was in relation to the rest of you. You weren’t blind in the pitch dark, much to your relief. (Not that you had considered that issue before agreeing to be taken in.) 

You ran your hand along the wall to further investigate and found friction minimal while not feeling wet. You didn’t quite realize you were rubbing at the wall before you until you heard a light chuckle and felt an opposing pressure from outside. You understood immediately that that was his hand pressing in at you from outside and used both hands together to push at the appendage and interact. After a moment he changed to rubbing at you like you had him, asking “did you want to address what brought you in or keep on playing in there?”

“Ha, sorry. Yeah, we should start. What do I have to do?”

He let out a long suffering sigh. “y/n, you still apologize too much.” He sounded exasperated, but was also teasing you.

“S-” You were about to apologize, but caught yourself. Well shit, you didn’t know what else to say if not sorry.

Jethro laughed a little at you, before moving on to his next point. “all you have to do is relax. first i have to figure out what went on with you, then we can talk.”

You felt the difference starkly between a normal session and this one. You could feel the stress sap out of you, and what you had to imagine having your life flash before your eyes was like but instead directly related to your recent stressors. It felt like it lasted awhile while simultaneously feeling like no time had passed.

The following discussion was long, but sorely needed. By the end you felt relief, gratitude, and a renewed determination. At some point the chamber you were in had seemingly formed itself a small puddle of what was apparently liquid magic. Jethro had already explained that it was essentially the excess magical energy his body had converted your stress into, and you thought it was much less noxious in this form. It was warm to the touch and flowed like water the best you could tell in the dim light. It had a faint turquoise glow that still managed to not cast too much light just like the rest of his magic. It filled a few inches at the bottom, so while you had your legs crossed it lapped as the tops of your knees and around your hips. You scooped some of the liquid up and absently let it fall through your fingers onto your knee.

The only problem with this was that such warmth in addition to the emotional exhaustion you were already feeling combined to make you about to fall asleep. Maybe you should ask about getting out?

“you nodding off on me in there? your heart’s slowing down.” he asked, interrupting your thoughts.

“I think so. Guess I should get out.” You found that you were loathe to move, though. You stretched your legs out, pressing your feet into the opposing wall.

“i can let you out, sure.” he said easily. A pause, then he adds “unless you’d rather sleep.”

You blink. “In here? Don’t you want me out?”

You felt the wall behind you tug upwards, seeming like he shrugged. “i don’t have any other appointments today.”

“...If you don’t mind?”

“since when do i suggest anything i’m not willing to do?”

You chuckle “Fair enough. Well, thank you.” You pat the wall and reposition to a reclined, curled position.

He gives you a pat back, “don’t mention it.”

The last thought you had before sleep overtook you was that for how crap you felt before, you felt pretty good now.

#god i hope i didn't overstep any bounds #undertail vore #extreme cuddling #soft vore #safe vore #also yes the name was an NCIS reference and i'm a nerd idk why but the name popped into my head and wouldn't leave so that's what he got #also saw it was their bday yesterday so i guess this is a belated present #i couldn't find anything you said about what liquid magic looks like when its sourced from emotional drains #and i know in your multiverse the universe of origin dictates color so sorry i had to make it up

[hils79]

Monday Fic Recs

Wei Wuxian/Lan Wangji (The Untamed)

Do not waste your pearls for me by moonwaif

Lan Wangji is rescued by a young human with a talent for woodwind instruments, a gorgeous smile and eyelashes that go on for days.

Or, that one time Wei Wuxian snuck a whole-ass fish person into Lotus Pier.

This is a really beautiful mermaid AU

lightning in a bottle by bigbabyjeno

“You don’t see me,” the man hisses, creeping down the corridor with his back pressed to the wall, arms spread like he’s some sort of secret agent on a top secret spy mission.

Lan Zhan watches him for a moment, trying to decide if he’s worth any concern. The man is currently crab-walking behind a row of potted ficus, though, so Lan Zhan is reasonably sure he doesn’t need to alert security about this one.

[Or; Lan Zhan is photographing a wedding when he catches someone trying to sneak in. The man claims to be the bride's brother and begs Lan Zhan to make him his assistant for the evening so he can watch his sister get married. Lan Zhan reluctantly agrees and gets a lot more than he bargained for.]

An absolutely adorable modern AU

I'm Going Out (Gonna Make A Name For Me And You) by cosmicmilktea

The Chief Cultivator's Herald. Wei Wuxian is not quite sure when they started calling him that, but as he traipses through beleaguered towns and villages, as he finally starts to build the world that he and Lan Zhan have always vowed to build, he finds that he doesn't mind it so much.

He doesn't mind being anything at all, as long as he is Lan Zhan's.

Wei Wuxian goes where the chaos is in Lan Wangji's stead, and finds a home in the process.

The slow burn in this is delightful

Zhao Yunlan/Shen Wei (Guardian)

The Unexpected Legacy by fayjay

Bonibaru said:

"I woke up with the hazy image of a Regency AU where Zhao Yunlan comes of age and goes to take over his dead mother's crumbling estate home to escape his domineering father. There he meets a very attractive person - I couldn't choose between a butler or a librarian, but there are so many other choices - but it was very dark and gloomy on the moors and Shen Wei looked amazing, so. Also, there was a ghost, or is really a dark energy creature? Shen Wei has all his powers. Zhao Yunlan has many suspicions but also many inappropriate thoughts."

I loved this fic so much! The worldbuilding was fantastic, the relationships were fantastic, it was utterly compelling. 

In darkness buried deep by frith_in_thorns

An investigation in Dixing leads Shen Wei and Zhao Yunlan deep into the cave tunnels. Stranded in the dark, the secret Shen Wei's been hiding only makes things worse.

I really love this author’s fic so I was delighted to read one of the longer ones. A delightful amount of post-canon whump and caretaking just how I like it

Where Light Shines Above the Abyss by BlackwaterVial

Far beneath the earth, in the lands they called profane, lived the Little Ghost King. One day, a god came into his domain, took him by the hand, and led him out of the darkness that had been his home. From then on they walked the earth together, and the Little Ghost King realised that there was so much for him to learn. OR What if Kunlun Jun took the Little Ghost King and showed him the world?

Now that I’m almost at the end of the novel I’m starting to read more novelverse fics and this one is just beautiful 

your sweet kiss by synonymous

Zhao Yunlan wonders if this is how he dies, with a knife to his throat and a finger that refuses to move on the trigger.

I never would have imagined that a Mr and Mrs Smith AU would work in this fandom but it really does!

Happy Soul-Acquisition Day by BlackwaterVial

A gift card shop and a flower shop. Two unlikely customers. And the poor shopowners who have to deal with their requests.

OR

Shen Wei and Zhao Yunlan have very peculiar habits when it comes to celebrating anniversaries.

This is so sweet and funny. Really made me smile. 

Shen Wei/Zhao Yunlan/Ye Zun (Guardian)

The Unexpected Legacy: What Dreams May Come by fayjay

Sequel or Coda to The Unexpected Legacy, wherein Ye Zun manages to inveigle his way into his brother and brother-in-law's bed.

...yes, it's the threesome DVD Extra nobody asked for.

(Except you people who were asking for it, and are joining me in the Special Hell.)

The only thing I felt the main fic was missing was the seemingly inevitable threesome. Thanks fayjay I’ll see you in the Special Hell

#fic recs #the untamed #wangxian #guardian #weilan

[stylishanachronism]

Okay so no Caed Nua as an abandoned haunted house, but would you write about Neketaka as a not at all abandoned but still haunted AF city?

I would!!! Especially as it’s got a lot of overlap, given both Caed Nua and Neketaka just..... plastered over the Remains of What Came Before, and everyone just sort of forgot about it, but the House City Did Not Forget.

(A note: I’m on much much shakier ground as far as the real life cultures that inspired the devs with this one, so like, if you’ve got more info let me know if I’m wildly off base or like, rude, because all I’ve got is two years of Polynesian art and a thorough grounding in modern American, nebulously European, and fairly specifically 17th c Japanese haunted house archetypes.)

So Neketaka, canonically, is built on top of several centuries worth of Other Cities, not all of which are holding up that well. (I suspect most of the, uh, old empire(?) construction actually was built into the caves under the current city on purpose, given the Gullet hasn’t been swallowed up yet; despite all the shaky platforms there’s solid rock somewhere under all that, and that buildings for the living were repurposed for the dead at some point when they decided to start building on top of the mountain as well. All of that was more or less sealed off by Engwith, to my understanding, in an attempt to hide the God Battery Ukaizo, likely with people still living there, given the sheer number of corpses you see both below the Gullet and in Berath’s temple, which, again to my understanding, leads into the same complex, deep enough down. So you’ve got a whole city under the city, plus whatever layers of construction ended up in between (and there’s at least a couple of places that have two or three of those, given where we’re allowed to go), and that city did not go quietly.

(To circle back around to the Caed Nua essay nobody gets to read yet, it’s fairly canon that anything that exists long enough gets pretty damn haunted, for whatever definition of haunted applies. Places and things involved with death do this more quickly, obviously, but even sufficiently strong emotion will do, based on all the soul bound objects. Caed Nua is explicitly canonically odd because it Went Haunted almost before it was finished being built, not because it *is* haunted, and Haunted Hill scares people because that shit happened literally overnight, not because it happened at all; nobody cares about the equally (but much more gradually) haunted sewers, after all. Neketaka was essentially buried alive, as far as I know, and history swallowed that fact up whole, so the highly reasonably fact the city is haunted is not well remembered, and it’s real sad about that.)

A small part of the reason Neketaka is such a mess (99% of it is absolutely outside politics But) is that I doubt the Huana are as a general rule used to living in haunted spaces; some tribes certainly are, and all the Watershapers are probably at least a little Concerned by non-haunted places, considering, but anybody whose tribe used to live outside the city is probably not having a great time with that bit, on top of, y’know, living in a city at all. Neketaka seems fairly inclined to leave the surface city to itself, though in addition to being at least partially built on solid rock, the reason the Gullet is still standing is definitely because the city wants it to be, and it’s definitely more ‘active’ about Berath’s temple, and probably Delver’s Row as well. It also probably doesn’t help that p much nobody can recognize the haunting for what it is, for various reasons, and anyone who should is very throughly ignoring the situation, mostly for political and/or health reasons. (The Watcher is special, and the city loves them, for better or worse; not everyone can say the same!) Digging too far into the City’s city-ness just means you get it’s attention, and then it probably tries to help you, and it’s idea of helpful is not exactly a good time.

Speaking of, I suspect that to Neketaka the City, killing anyone who ends up in the Old City quickly looks like a kindness; the original people who died there either died fast or suffered for a long time, and the City as an Entity is definitely influenced by that drawn out despair, the way the city as a city is, even if they don’t recognize that about themselves. It certainly doesn’t look like a kindness to anyone else, but I really do think that’s the City’s idea of trying to help.

There’s definitely a lot more to unpack here, like why the City is sad and how that affects things like, oh, the Vailian and Rautai presence, but I haven’t felt it out yet, and I need to do some work with the map but yeah! Neketaka is Real Damn Haunted and nobody wants to acknowledge that, and it’s very sad about everything. Tune in next time for why my gut feeling says the priest dude in Berath’s temple and also Dereo in Delver’s Row are having the best luck with the thing, while Her Majesty is accidentally fighting a war on an extra front.

#look I can talk fairly intelligently about a bunch of different cultures’ art I’m just using Polynesian because they’re all thereabouts #also being able to talk about art does not make me an expert on any level about the actual cultures so uh #also to my knowledge polynesia in general doesn’t really go for haunted houses as a supernatural thing #haunted boats haunted weapons haunted sharks (?) sure but not really haunted houses #anyways #unrelated Things of Note: #Defiance Bay has sewers and running water and people have at least vaguely figured out germ theory #given it’s not a particularly modern city we can expect all those things are The Norm #caed nua almost certainly has plumbing as does Dyrford odd as that might seem #they probably have a septic tank and a leech field for dyemaking purposes however #the vast graveyards out in the middle of nowhere are probably a response to the whole death = faster hauntings thing #because it’s a smidge ridiculous to carry your dead All the Way Out There without a really good reason #I would really like to know if Neketaka also loves Adaryc; that’s ether a watcher thing or a Watcher thing and I’d like some more data #I suspect the thesis here is for Caed Nua the other side of love is possession; for Neketaka it’s grief #alternately: caed nua is v haunted and everyone would like to ignore that; Neketaka is also v haunted and everyone’s forgotten that #given that what causes a haunting to manifest is probably the same ground in uh soul dust the gods eat #and that that canonically is heavily influenced by the people it came from #I expect that the gods have changed more than they or anyone else knows or expected #like I bet if you put Magran the baby god next to Magran during Deadfire they wouldn’t recognize each other #....also entirely unrelated to any of this but I would not be surprised if people who eat adra #started showing physical side effects to go with the metaphysical ones #don’t eat adra kids you won’t like the results #I am once again laughing at the fact that if something is old enough to have a personality it unabashedly loves the Watcher #because that’s also a theme #I really need a better timeline on the Caed Nua was originally buried x Neketaka was originally buried y front #Caed Nua is.... arguably older? in terms of grief-stricken haunted shit not like in general #I’d need way more information for which place is Actuallh Older #it certainly had more time to stew in its resentment and less people to look after in the interim #...also y’know it’s a lot smaller and was tied into that adra pillar for a long goddamned time #which definitely helped it form a personality fast

[amosaicofmagic]

The Untamed Fic Recs p.2

Wangxian - Canon Divergence 

Collection of my favorite fics that fit into the Canon Divergence label, which includes them getting together before episode 50.

The Murder of Crows [rated M] [WIP]

"By the Heavens, did you hear? The Yiling Patriarch has been invited to the Discussion Conference in Qinghe!"

Gossip was, by far, the fastest way for information to spread.

"What! Whose idea was that!?"

It was not the most accurate or most reliable method, but people were people, and the tedium of daily life would always bore them.

"I heard it was the Nie Sect leader's suggestion."

----------

After thirteen years in the Burial Mounds, the Yiling Patriarch finally makes a public reappearance. Civilians are scared. Cultivators are outraged. Sect Leaders are concerned. Wei Wuxian has been too quiet, they say, and nobody knows what dark horrors the Burial Mounds may now contain.

Wei Wuxian wouldn't quite call them dark horrors, but the description wasn't too far off.

(tl;dr Wei Wuxian lives, raises a whole gaggle of demonic cultivator children, and the cultivation world panics.)

Standing Engagement [rated M]

Lan Wangji believes he and Wei Wuxian are essentially engaged. While they search for his missing betrothed, he accidentally reveals as much to Jiang Wanyin. Now everyone in the cultivation world knows about the imminent marriage, except for Wei Wuxian himself.

rather cruelly used and rather reserved [rated M]

In the month between Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian leaving Yi City and their attending the cultivation conference in Lanling, Wei Wuxian discovers a locked room in the Jingshi. It is a mystery that clever and curious Wei Wuxian is doing everything in his power to avoid solving.

this house is loved [rated T]

They say Wei Wuxian died in the first siege of the Burial Mounds. Thirteen years later, Lan Wangji stumbles upon a shrine for the god of forgotten things.

SanRen [rated E]

Leaving YunmengJiang in an effort to curb the tensions in the Jiang family, Wei WuXian becomes a rogue cultivator.

Even without the support of a sect, he is a rare genius whose name will become known across the cultivation world and whose techniques will influence the course of a war.

However, what influences his own fate is a chance meeting that becomes the first step toward love.

asymptotic [rated T]

The members of the Lan Clan have never been particularly well-known for their good judgement when it comes to matters of the heart.

Which is why it should come as a surprise to no one when Lan Wangji falls in love with an actual ghost.

choking on hello [rated T]

After the hard choices have been made, if you are lucky, you may find something easy.

--

Lan Wangji dies. This, surprisingly, is not the end.

sweet chaos [rated M]

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian get betrothed at the age of fourteen, and it is decided that Lan Wangji will spend a year’s time in Yunmeng to get to know his fiancé. It is a difficult time for Lan Wangji, who is used to the regimented lifestyle of the Cloud Recesses. He meets Wei Wuxian, who grabs him by the wrist to drag him to fun places, or to row boats down the lazy summer river, or to shoot kites. He grows closer to Jiang Wanyin and Jiang Yanli, and learns of their charms.

Most of all, he learns about Wei Wuxian, who is thoughtful and bright and nothing like anyone else Lan Wangji has ever met before. He has a brilliant mind and a smile that rivals the sun, and Lan Wangji falls in love with him gradually, over bowls of too-spicy soup and lotus seeds.

花无百日红; the flower that withers [rated M]

Lan Wangji opens his mouth. He closes it. He is blisteringly aware of how absurd it sounds for him to say, I am you, only happier. The truth, perhaps, is not always the best choice.

This Tornado Loves You [rated T]

"You worry me," Lan WangJi tells him seriously. He puts his hands on Wei WuXian's knees for lack of a better place to put them. Wei WuXian places his own hands on top of Lan WangJi's, presumably to stop him from trying again to check his bandages.

"You don't need to worry," Wei WuXian says. "I swear I'm fine. I'll tell you if something feels off. You know me, I'm a huge crybaby whiner."

Lan WangJi frowns at him again. It's true that Wei WuXian can be a bit of a crybaby, but only about injuries that don't actually matter. When it's something important, like a ghost curse or a fundamentally unstable necromantic practice, Wei WuXian keeps it to himself. "Ridiculous," Lan WangJi tells him. Wei WuXian grins down at him.

--

In the Jingshi, after Koi Tower.

two guys r in love thats literally it [rated M]

“I already love you, Lan-er-gege, and nothing I do can change that, no matter how far back I leave my time.”

i want your heart to be for me [rated T]

Not everyone is lucky enough to find their soulmate in their lifetime; Wei Wuxian is just unlucky enough to find his. Twice.

Part 1- Post-canon 

#wangxian #the untamed #mo dao su zhi #the untamed fic recs #my fic recs #wei wuxian #lan wangji

[inktrailing]

SPN: purgatorio (snippet)

Still haven’t settled on a replacement title lol.

This is... currently in the teens for chapters. Still too early for a chapter count and I won’t know my timeline until I actually rewatch s8 and decide when they’re getting thrown back in.

Last time I posted a snippet I wasn’t sure where pairings where fully landing. It’s definitely slowburn poly Dean/Lucifer and Dean/Cas, with Benny continuing to be a wildcard lmfao.

There’s some rando probably inaccurate field medicine in this chunk that will be replaced at some point after I finish researching for it.

(As a refresh this is my s7/8 AU wherein Lucifer was trying to use the hallucinations as a way to manifest through someone and ended up helping Cas out a bit but popped out in Purgatory when Cas got there).

Previous Snippet.

Warning for explicit language, canon-typical violence.

CHAPTER

“You act like you have any idea where you're going,” Lucifer tells Dean.

“I do,” Dean says. “It's called moving. Getting a lay of the land.” He spins in a circle, arms spread wide, then points at a particular rock that had an odd blue-tinted moss covering one of its sides. “I know that rock,” he says with a grin. “I know this area. Do you?”

“It's all the same,” Lucifer drawls.

“Uh huh. That's what I thought. Cas?”

“Um.” Cas glances between them. “There's a vampire nest that roams here.”

“Exactly. We hopped territories. I thought it was all a free-for-all chaos. But nah, it's organized chaos. That's your jam, ain't it, Lucifer?”

“Don't dare to presume anything about me, Winchester.”

“So that's a yes, then.”

Lucifer moves for him and Cas steps between the two of them, hands out.

Dean smirks. Lucifer scowls.

“You don't start learning the ways of the land, Lucifer, you're gonna be our weak link.”

*****

“Monster 101,” Dean pants, “please have an answer, right the fuck now.” He presses into the packed dirt wall. He turns his attention to Lucifer. “What the hell is that?”

“Well,” Lucifer says casually. Way too casually. “If someone tells you God made the 'first' beasts don't you think there might be a... oh, second, third. You know. More than one?”

“So which one is that?!” Dean hisses, swiveling his head in the direction of the open-air marshlands.

“Behemoth, if I remember correctly,” Lucifer answers. He reaches out and pulls Cas closer into their hiding spot.

“They don't look as though they have a lot for their maneuverability,” Cas says. “We might be able to lose them in the woods?”

“Can't either of you just fly us out of here?”

Cas shakes his head. “Like the Leviathans... they're grounding me. Unless...” He glances at Lucifer.

“No dice,” Lucifer answers.

“Seriously? What's the point of being an archangel anyway, then?”

Lucifer huffs. “Dear old Dad liked his toys. Also,” Lucifer risks a glance around the wall. The beasts were scouting. “I think they might be after me. So, really, sure lacking on those Archangel Benefits right now...”

“Then they can fucking have you,” Dean snarls.

“Dean,” Cas warns.

“What? How much else is gonna want to snack on him? He's a liability.”

“So am I,” Cas argues.

“No, it's not the same—”

“Yes, yes,” Lucifer interrupts, “we all have something nasty on our heels. You have the sheer numbers after you, Winchester, I think that makes things minutely more difficult, thank you. Castiel is right: if we make it into the woods, we should be able to lose them. I'll draw them off if I must.”

“Lucifer,” Cas starts, stricken.

“Please, I'll be fine.”

“I don't think—”

“See, he wants to play bait, Cas. So we should let him.” He pats the back of his hand against Cas's arm. “Let's go.”

When he moves, keeping low, Cas follows. Good. He wasn't sure what else he could say to convince Cas to come with him. Lucifer darts out in the other direction, making himself blatant, juicy archangel bait. Dean knows the moment the beasts catch onto the scent and it's the first direct look Dean gets of them as the three whirl around to stare at Lucifer.

One of the giants, already free from the marsh, charges. The two behind are slower, rising up from the water, dragging muck and grasses over smooth, short-haired skins. Dean sees the jaws open, rows of flat teeth big enough to crush his head if they get close enough.

Their bellows shake the lands, one call after the other, a chorus of unearthly groans all vibrating the air and when they move it's as though that same land moves for them, quickening their gait.

Dean tries to ignore the fact that Lucifer flinches. He pulls Cas after him and doesn't look back after he sees Lucifer peel around the other bank, leading them away.

“Dean,” Cas pleads.

“We can't do anything for him!” Dean hurriedly says. It's not a lie. “We'll only distract him. We'll find him again, okay?” Dammit. “I promise. We'll look for him.” Cas stares at him earnestly and he must be able to tell that Dean's being honest with him because he stops protesting and follows.

Dean's suddenly going to be real pissed if Lucifer gets himself eaten because he's not sure he'll be able to pick up the pieces of Cas if he finds his brother torn to shreds.

How's this become his life?

*****

“Everyone else under the sun can find the bastard and yet it's been over a day and here we are still trudging around, like damn, did the dude finally fly or is he just doing this to screw with us...”

Dean's been muttering to himself for the last twenty minutes. He knows it's not safe but he's tired and he needs sleep and he's going on being awake for twenty-five hours which outside of Purgatory he could do, but inside... Fuck. He needs sleep. This constantly-being-hunted thing weighs on a guy. Exhausts him faster than he can cope with. Cas needs sleep, too. Dean's held up by the Hunt. Cas is held up by Stress.

It's not a good combination!

Fucking Lucifer. This is all his fault.

He rubs sweat and grime off his face. They need to go back to a river. He'd like to get this film off of him.

He stops walking and turns to Cas.

“Just power nap, Cas. An hour.”

“I'm fine, Dean. I can keep moving.”

Dean rolls his eyes skyward. “Cas, if he needs healing when we find him you're gonna need to be more on your game. Sleep. I'll stay on guard.”

Cas sets his jaw but sinks down to the forest floor and coils himself against a tree, tucking into his trench coat, nearly black from their travels. It makes a good camouflage, but Dean still kind of wants to wash that, too. Seeing Cas like this throws him back into an unkind future Zachariah zapped him to.

Dean shakes his head and walks away. He makes sure Cas is in sight, raising a hand to block out the sunlight streaking through the canopy. They have several hours til nightfall. Dean's not sure he wants to go another night of being on the move. He'd prefer taking shelter somewhere and wait til dawn, but if night's bad for them, it's just as dangerous for Lucifer.

Dammit, Cas. Why'd you have to get attached to the devil?

“You fucker,” he mumbles when he knows he's out of earshot, “if you're doing this on purpose then you can go right back to Hell. Cas needs you and every hour we can't find you is gnawing at him.”

He drops his head. “I can't believe I have to do this,” he says more to himself. “You'd better be hurt. You'd better...” He glances back towards the small shape that is Cas, trembling in his fitful sleep. Dean sucks in a harsh breath, curses, and spits out the last words of his prayer, “I can't track angels. I need a fucking sign, man.”

He sighs and heads back for Cas, walking a perimeter around his tree.

*****

“Dean.”

Dean pauses and turns to look at Cas, awareness flagging. The sun's going down. All he has for dinner is some leftover scraps of meat from days ago and some weird leafy green tufts that Cas said were full of nutrients and good for him and when Dean asked how Cas knew that, Cas said the plants told him with a weird little smile.

Dean hates salad but he'd eat them if it meant Cas would feel comfortable smiling again.

“Yeah, Cas?” Dean asks. Cas is staring off to their west, head tilted, eyes concentrating. “What is it?”

“It's...” Cas opens his mouth, closes it. Frowns. Tilts his head the other way. “Holy.”

“What?”

Cas looks to Dean. “It's... familiar. But off. Home, but not.”

“Home like Heaven?”

Cas nods.

Dean wonders if it's coincidental.

“How far?”

“I think we could get there before sundown on foot. Flying may be... dangerous.”

“Yeah, no, and I'd rather not wear you out. Of the two of us, you're the one lighter on his feet right now. Let's go. Lemme know when we get close so I can prepare in case it's an ambush or something.”

Cas nods again, and then he takes the lead.

In the end it's not a trap. They find a deep tear in the ground like a meteor plowed into Purgatory. There's a ring of felled trees at the top of the pit and at the very bottom is a strange white-flamed flickering fire and a hunched-over devil.

Cas's relief latches onto Dean.

“Cas, blink us down there,” Dean asks, and then fumbles for his footing an instant later after they're relocated. Cas is already kneeling by his brother, hand on his shoulder to push him up. Lucifer twitches to the touch and Dean can see lacerations down his side that must be taking too long to heal.

“Lucifer,” Cas says, trying to rouse him.

Dean flops down across them with the makeshift fire in the middle, looking more closely at it. It has the makings of a normal fire, wood and kindling, but Dean thinks he understands why Cas picked up on holy. It's grace-fueled. Actual, honest-to-God, holy fire.

“Lucifer,” Cas says again.

“Castiel,” Lucifer finally responds.

“Cas, can you fix him so we can go?”

“I...”

Cas slowly looks over to Dean and Dean has a real bad feeling real fast.

“I can't,” Cas says.

“Why not?”

“I-I don't...”

“Beast trumps angel,” Lucifer groans. He reaches up a hand and closes his fist. The holy fire vanishes. Well, Dean had been concerned about it drawing any other attention.

“Fine,” Dean says. “You gonna stay alive til morning?”

“Mmm,” Lucifer responds. Barely.

“Okay. Morning, then. We'll do this the human bullshit way. Cas, you talk to your plants or whatever and try to find something we can use as a salve and bandages and shit.”

Dean's really not sure if Cas can actually talk to plants or if it's just something getting him through his daily life to think he can, but either way he thinks Cas can suss out something to use. Trial and error, anyway. If Lucifer's gonna die it's because his Dad made something bigger and badder, not because of some plant goo Cas will slap on him.

“I think we're sitting ducks down here but the fire's out,” Dean continues, “Cas, you good enough to take watch?”

Cas looks from Lucifer to him and nods, a little off balance, but determined.

“Good, because I'm exhausted. Can I borrow your coat?”

Cas strips out of it and hands it over to Dean. Dean balls it up, caked Purgatory and all, and uses it as a pillow and lays besides the dead fire wishing that grace left any coals and heat. He meets Lucifer's glassy expression, glares at the devil, and then rolls over, putting his back to both the angels.

CHAPTER

In some world-turned-upside-down bullshit, Dean is keeping watch while Lucifer rests. Not that Lucifer's moved much since they found him the night before. Cas is gone. Has been gone all morning to do his plant thing that hopefully also involves bringing Dean back something to eat.

He should be the one out there but Dean can't tell one plant from another and keeping an eye around the top of their pit is the best use for him.

The company's shit though.

“You prayed to me,” Lucifer says two hours into the boring morning.

Boring is good. Boring means no monster attacks. Boring means no getting separated and having to try and find another angel.

“Desperate times,” Dean mutters. “You saw Cas. He barely holds it together on days he doesn't think you're dead. You must've done a real good job convincing him you're not an asshole.”

“I'm the only reason my brother is a functional person.”

“Sure, whatever.”

Lucifer scoffs. “Believe what you want.”

“I'll do just that.”

The sun's beating down on them from above when Cas returns with arms full like he just came from a Farmer's Market. There's some dried blood that trickled a path down his forehead. He found a canvas bag somewhere, or maybe he made it. Dean's not entirely going to judge him right now, even if he left Dean alone with Lucifer for hours on end.

“You find what you need?” Dean asks.

“I think so,” Cas answers. He sits down between the two of them and sets his bag in front of him, slowly pulling out small bundles wrapped in twine. He tosses one to Dean and Dean curiously loosens the twine and unfolds the large fronds. “Don't eat the outside,” Cas tells him, “that's just the vessel.”

Dean thanks a God he doesn't believe in that the fronds contain a plethora of small berries.

“You're the best, Cas,” Dean tells him.

Cas's smile is brief, but worth it.

Dean eats and watches curiously as Cas continues to pull things out, including a few rocks of varying sizes that make sense to Dean as he takes a cylindrical one and starts grinding various plants and other matter on a flat one.

“Purgatory's first doctor,” Dean jokes.

“I imagine there had been others in the past.”

“Yeah, slapped-together medicine before they get their heads chopped off. Not a lot of long-term teamwork going on here that I've seen.”

“Or there is,” Lucifer says, “but they only pick off stragglers.”

“Outnumber people. Cowards.”

Lucifer shakes his head.

Dean's finished his berries and the rest of his meats that he didn't eat last night by the time Cas has some concoction of paste gathered on one of the fronds and is looking at Lucifer with some hesitance.

“Get it over with, Castiel,” Lucifer says in way of permission.

Cas nods and lifts Lucifer's shirt and Dean looks away when Lucifer winces, but it isn't quick enough to miss the mottled blacks and purples marring Lucifer's side around the slashed skin, and he looks back just as fast.

“Shit,” Dean says, ignoring Lucifer's glare. “Cas, you got any water or anything we can clean that out with first?”

“I don't, unfortunately,” Cas says.

“It'll be fine,” Lucifer mutters.

“It looks infected,” Dean growls.

“I just need enough healing so that my body's natural response can kick in.”

“Oh, and it can naturally heal beast infections, right? Because it's doing so well with whatever that was.”

“Dean,” Cas says.

Dean gestures at the injury like it makes his entire argument.

Cas frowns.

“Put it on, Castiel,” Lucifer instructs. “If it gets me mobile, we can... worry about the rest when we've moved away from here.”

Dean makes a face in mockery but stays quiet as Cas seals the frond over Lucifer's side.

#spn fanfiction #ducifer #Dean Winchester/Lucifer #destiel #dean winchester #lucifer #castiel #fic: purgatorio

[syndianites]

The After; The Athar: Chapter Two

Chapter 2/?

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 [Here] - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5

AO3: This Chapter - Full Fic

Summary: Post Season 2, non-Mianitian Compliant. Wag escorts Martha to Jordan's house and decides to have a day out with Sonja.

Relationships: Sparklington (end-game), Marthlington (temporarily), Sparkanite (Spark x Ianite) (past, mentioned), Motanite

Content Warnings: Death Mentions, Implied Depression, Implied PTSD, Self-Deprecation, Breaking up a Relationship (Marthlington)

AN: The stuff about the Cult of Athar in here is canon! It was written by the Wizards, but never delved into. I did my best to represent it as accurately as possible.

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 The duo had just started into Jerry’s Tree when they heard a call behind them. They turned to see Jordan hustling forward, an awkward smile on his face. Wag shared a look with Martha. Seems his suspicions had been correct.

 He’d have to ask Jordan about that.

 Jordan, meanwhile, had shuffled to a stop right in front of them. “Hey guys, glad I caught you.” He glanced between them. “What brings you to my abode?”

 “You were looking for me yesterday, right?” Martha starts. “Well, I do have some free time now, I figured I’d stop by to see what you needed.”

 He stopped for a moment. Hummed. “Oh!” Jordan jumped back in. “I wanted to talk to you about some godly related stuff. Spark’s been- uh, well, he’s been drilling in ‘how to be a perfect Ianite follower’ for-” Wag was amazed that neither of them reacted to the name anymore. Different goddess, of course, but that was still a festering wound. “- whatever reason, and I haven’t been able to escape him long enough to avoid the lecture. I honestly just want to talk to someone that’s more in the know-how that’s,” Jordan waved his hands, “not him. Give me another week of this and I might just turn from champion to missionary.”

 Martha huffed, but a smile snuck up onto her lips. “He’s not that bad, I’m sure. But yes, I do have some time to talk about ‘godly stuff’.” She turned to Wag, hesitating a moment. “I’ll see you later then, Wag.” She reached out a hand to delicately stroke a cheek.

 He gave what he hoped was a solid smile back. “Until then, love.” Wag took her hand, thumb stroking the back of it before he placed a parting kiss upon it. Reluctantly, he started to trail away, keeping her hand in his for as long as he could. When he was far enough, he offered Jordan a wave goodbye. Then he turned to walk back down the hill.

 Shit. Now he had to figure out how to break up with Martha.

 Yeah, these next few days aren’t going to be fun.

 But what to do now? The day had only just started and there wasn’t much use in going back to being a shut in when the sun had hardly started up the sky. Well, hanging with Jordan, or Martha, was out. Maybe Tom? Or Sonja or Tucker? It was fairly hard to keep track of Tom nowadays, though.

 Things were odd with Tom. Not between him and Tom, but with Tom in general. It felt like he was trying to balance who he was in this world and who he was in Ruxomar and not finding either. Like he was feeling pressured to merge the distant past with the recent past and come to terms with Dianite- both Dianites- and Mot.

 What was up with them, anyway? Last Wag had checked, Tom and Mot were fairly buddy buddy and Tom and Dianite were pretty chill, despite the bit of tension when Mot showed up and when Tom’s penchant dumbassery was making its rounds. Now, it seemed like Tom was trying to keep a good distance from them.

 Here he was getting distracted again. But damn if everyone didn’t have some issues skulking around. He wondered if Sonja or Tucker had something. What did they feel about the other Mianite? And his death?

 Ok, ok, not the point. What should he do now?

 Damn, did he really have no life outside of his tower that he was drawing such hard blanks?

 Fuck it, he’d swing around Sonja’s and ask if she wanted to go flower picking with him. Sorry, gather floral ingredients for potions. With how many people were ordering luck potions, he was going to be stuck finding four leaf clovers in all his free time.

 It seemed a pleasant stroll through town was in order, then. Maybe he’d pick up a muffin on the way. Perhaps a chocolate one. He would indulge in some more tea but he was looking for more of an on-the-go thing.

 He nodded to himself, making his way through the streets of the town to the quaint little bakery settled just past the docks. The baker was a kind, younger lady who had told him that her dream was to open a bakery, and an island with few inhabitants that barely anyone had ever been to was free real estate. To be fair, she wasn’t wrong. No one else had tried to make any competition and no one was complaining about her being here. In fact, there would probably be a lot of hooting and hollering if she left.

 When he wandered in the smell of warm bread welcomed him. Gretchen called a greeting from behind the counter, back turned to him as she kneaded a batch of dough. She was short, Wag towering over her, but she could take him out if she so pleased. Not just because she was finely muscled- she could give any seaman a run for their money- but also because a mere breeze could knock Wag and his gangly awkwardness over.

 “How do you do today, dearest Gretchen?” Wag surveyed the items currently on display. The croissants looked heavenly, and next to them sat three eclairs. They appeared to have been recently chilled as their chocolate icing had drops of condensation beading along the top. There was a colorful display of macarons on the rack besides those, as well as a row of various muffins.

 “Oh, I’m doing as well as one can when they wake at the crack of dawn,” Gretchen said over her shoulder, giving him a quick smile.

 “So feeling shitty and barely functional?” Wag mused over the muffins, trying to spy a chocolate one. Unfortunately, though he was quite awake, his brain was struggling to spot the difference between what could be a chocolate muffin or a blueberry muffin. Or a morning glory. He wrinkled his nose. Why would anyone put raisins in a muffin?

 Gretchen laughed. “Perhaps for a shut in, but I am feeling quite fine. It’s nice to watch the sunrise, y’know. Getting up early? Not so much. If not for the bakery I’d much prefer to sleep in.”

 Wag scoffed playfully. “Me, a shut in? Preposterous. I’ll have you know I am, at worst, a friendly, magical hermit. At best, I am a magnificent wizard that lives in a tower nearby that oh so graciously helps out the townsfolk.”

 “For a fee.” Gretchen was layering the dough now. If there weren't croissants sitting in front of him, Wag might say she was making those. Perhaps she was making danish pastries? It had been a while since he’d seen them on her display. It’d also been a while since he’d visited.

 “A wizard’s got to make a living somehow.” Wag picked up a muffin, closely inspecting it. It looked like it was chocolate. He hoped it was chocolate. But if it was blueberry he would live. Both were good, especially from here.

 “That he does.” She paused from her dough magic to take a look at him. “Blueberry muffin? Anything else?”

 Wag clicked his tongue. “Was hoping this was chocolate. But yes, just one muffin to go. I wasn’t really anticipating being awake so early, but Martha was home and she likes to get up early, and Jordan wanted to talk to her, and I,” he waved his hands, “wanted to spend some time with her? So I walked her to his house. Now, I’m standing here. Then heading to Sonja’s.”

 Yeah, it felt like he’d just recounted his entire life story to her. No, he was not going to acknowledge how painful that part of the conversation was to participate in.

 Gretchen raised an eyebrow, plucking the muffin from his hand, replacing it on the rack and grabbing one from farther back in the line. This one, now that he saw it, looked much more like a chocolate muffin than the other. Nice.

 “Funny you should mention Jordan.” It was Wag’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “He asked about you, oh, yesterday? The day before? About how you were doing. Seemed fairly concerned ‘bout ya. Asked me how you were doing when he came in for a treat.” She lifted a hand before Wag could interrupt. “He came here for the treat, but I guess he had you on the mind. This used to be one of your favorite places, I suppose it reminded him of you.”

 Well if that didn’t make Wag feel warm on the inside, what would? It was nice to feel remembered. But wait, was that why Jordan had come over yesterday, then? Except he had been looking for Martha.

 That put a frown back on his face. “He did swing by yesterday, but he asked for Martha. Are you sure he was concerned about me?”

 Gretchen rolled her eyes. “Yes. It was very obvious even if he tried to hide it. I did tell him that Martha would know more about how you were doing than I would, so that could be why he asked for her.” She held out her hand and Wag dutifully placed some copper coins in it. “Mr. Sparklez doesn’t seem like the best with confronting people about their feelings, so it wouldn’t surprise me that he’d see you and balk at the idea of bringing up his concerns with you directly. Going to Martha would be way easier for him than going to you. If he actually ever asks Martha about you at all.”

 Wag hummed in thought, ignoring the little ‘wuss’ Gretchen mutters under her breath in relation to Jordan. That much was true, Jordan was not much of a feelings guy. The dorky puns and trying hard to be the smart one guy? Yes. Feelings? You’d have better luck with Tom.

 Actually, Tom was pretty easy on the feelings side. Kind of. You’d have better luck with Tucker than Jordan. And Tucker was not the most emotional sort of man. There we go.

 “Well, when I left Martha with Jordan, he said he wanted to ask her about ‘godly stuff’. Do you think they’re actually talking about me?” Wag pulled a sliver off the top of his muffin and nibbled on it.

 Gretched leaned on the counter with a shrug, dropping the coins into her apron pocket. “Maybe. Who’s to say?” She eyed him up and down, a contemplative look coming into her eyes. “Didn’t you say you were heading to Sonja’s? That’s good, you could use more time out of the house. If you weren’t naturally gray I’d say you were getting pale. Hard to tell like this, but you are getting more of the ‘I’m your friendly neighborhood ghost’ type look than ‘I’m your charming, possibly demonic, friendly wizard’ type look. Take one for the road,” Gretchen reached over to pluck another muffin off the rack, passing it to Wag.

 “What if I just eat both myself?” Wag joked, taking the muffin in his other hand.

 Gretchen tsked. “Sorry, I only give freebies to the pretty ladies. You sir, are no pretty lady.”

 Wag gasped, “How dare you! My mother said I could be anything I wanted to be! If I want to be a pretty lady to get a free muffin, I’ll be a pretty lady!”

 She pushed his shoulder with a guffaw. “Oh sure, princess. If you ever come in dressed to the nines as the most gorgeous lady I’ve seen, I’ll give you a pretty muffin. Be warned,” Gretchen bat her eyelashes. “I have seen quite the stunning women before.”

 Wag rolled his eyes fondly, making for the door. “Just you watch, I’ll come blow your socks off!”

 With a wave, he departed. He twirled the other muffin in his hand. Free muffin for a pretty lady, huh?

 Wait, was Gretchen hitting on Sonja?

 ~~~

 Wag didn’t end up making it to Sonja and Tucker’s house. Rather, he found Sonja sitting near the shore just in front of it, staring up at Mianite’s temple. He didn’t take Sonja for much of a morning person, but it seemed like the temple would have a nice view during sunrise.

 Settling down next to her without a comment, he offered her the muffin. Sonja was surprised to see him, her eyes searching his face, but wordlessly took the muffin. They ate them in silence.

 The temple had changed a lot, but that was to be expected. It had been razed to the ocean floor, after all. But from what he had heard there had been a big effort in rebuilding it. Though the work would have taken years, it apparently had taken mere months.

 Mianite, according to word of mouth, hadn’t helped rebuild it at all. Rather, he didn’t expect anyone else to move to the island. Hell, neither did Dec, who had been making plans to move elsewhere. It made Wag wonder why the gods, why the priest himself, had shown up here. Why had the wizards? He drummed his fingers against his leg, dismissing the thought for another time.

 The wizards, before the heroes had even left, had refused to help. Wag remembered this well. They hadn’t wanted to step on Mianite’s toes, so to say, as it was a gift he had sent the world and had been crafted by the god’s own hand.

 Actually- again- Ianite had played a part in rebuilding it. It was almost strange to think about, the Goddess of Balance rebuilding the temple of another god. Except, it made sense. She didn’t rebuild it of her own power. Rather, she encouraged the common folk to rebuild it and helped a great deal along the way. She invited people from far off lands to come restore the temple and, with the assistance of Spark, set up the town that had been cultivated as a solid landmark. Ianite used the restoration of the temple as a way of connecting the island to the rest of the world.

 Though, when asked why she had chosen to help rebuild the temple, Ianite had responded, “It’s my way of thanking Mianite and his champions for helping to save me. It is the least I could do for such a tremendous task.”

 Maybe that’s why she rebuilt Jerry’s Tree, too. To thank Jordan. Or to honor him.

 Wag’s favorite part of this story- as it was only a story to him, he’d never had any real confirmation on this- was what Ianite had said: Mianite and his      champions. Plural. That meant Ianite acknowledged Sonja as Mianite’s loyal follower and champion just as much as Tucker. Sonja deserved it for all the effort she had put into this world and the last. She deserved a lot more than she got.

 “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Wag startled at the sound of Sonja’s voice. He turned to her, but she was looking at the temple still. She inclined her head towards it, saying nothing more.

 He had been looking at the temple without seeing it, he realized. Thinking too hard.

 She was right. The sun was still low in the sky, giving it a faintly fiery hue. It couldn't have been too long since sunrise, yet the color of dawn still remained. Perhaps that was just the effect of the ocean.

 But the effect made the temple light up. The eagle, standing mighty and proud once more, was burning in the light, smoldering and strong, wings raised up to the sky with an open, shrieking cry. It was the symbol of strength and sureness, of justice. The sun was a halo around it, blindingly bright.

 That’s how the future felt: burning and bright, impossible to grasp. But it was there.

 The rest of the temple held much of the same vigor. The majority of the original details were kept, but they were also exaggerated. The pillars had been built double the size, a subtle comment of ‘no matter how many times you knock us down we will return stronger’, the garden fuller and more organized, filled to the brim with blooming blossoms. The walls were filled with more gold than before, and more detail. Each column was carefully carved to perfection, but at this distance he couldn’t make all the details out. From what he remembered they ranged from majestic creatures running amok, to people dancing in celebration, to the retelling of great battles. The arches that served as the entrance had been decorated to the fullest, lavish silks and jewels hanging from their edges along the dutifully crafted gold lining.

 The best part were the guardians. They stood tall and proud, just as regal as before but now with more life, more color. Rather than the same straight white they had been they were adorned with golds and blues. Shimmering prismarine and lapis lazuli. Their swords were colored to appear like the finest, purest gold- though Wag knew that they weren’t made of real gold, as that would have been more than expensive. To top it all off, each featured a set of wings raised high to the sky, like the very eagle that sat in the middle of the temple.

 Another important detail was the fact that the back of the temple was open as well, likely for passing boats to see. On the other side stood dual lighthouses that burned bright in the night with mystical fire that would neither go out or be moved from their place. The area to drop prayers had been moved to the eagle’s feet and the hidden room supposedly not implemented. Supposedly.

 It was truly stunning. Where the change in Jerry’s Tree felt like a rebirth, this felt like getting beaten down only to get up again. Like healing. Growing.

 “It is.” He’d left her in silence long enough. “I still remember when it first appeared. It was glorious. Now?” Wag turns to her, maybe trying to make a point, maybe trying to say something deep, or just maybe just thinking out loud. “After being destroyed? It’s come back better.”

 Damn, who the hell turned on the philosophy today? Next thing you know he’ll be wondering aloud what existence is and if there is a purpose to life.

 Fuck that shit.

 Isn’t this the exact thing that had been haunting him as he stowed away in his tower? His thoughts falling over themselves to derive meaning out of every little thing that’s changed? To make sense of it? The temple looks better because it's not a pile of rubble. Jerry’s Tree is different because it was practically a pile of ash before. Why does this all need meaning?

 Sonja seemed to share his sentiment. She laughed at him. “Hey now, that’s trying to be too deep for so early in the morning. Come back better? Ha. It's just,” she pauses, giving it a wistful glance before shaking her head. “Different.”

 Wag nods. “It is. It all is. Feels like everything’s changing, like we got plopped in a world just adjacent to ours.”

 “Too deep!” Sonja decreed. Standing up, she brushed the back of her legs free of stray grass and sand. “Things are going to change and that’s that. I wasn’t expecting the world to wait on us, and it didn’t. That just means we have to catch up or get left in the dust.”

 “Who’s too deep?” Wag chuckled to himself, taking the hand Sonja offered him.

 “Alright, enough sitting around.” She sent a sly smile over to him after she jammed the rest of her muffin in her mouth. Wag watched in amusement as she chewed hastily, tried not to choke, and spluttered a little as some went down the wrong hatch.

 Recovering fast, she gives him a pained grin. “What brings Mr. Tower Wizard out of the lair today? Something good, I hope.” She poked him in the ribs teasingly.

 “Well,” Wag starts, ignoring the dig, “Martha happened to be home last night and I had the pleasure of walking her over to Jordan’s to chat about something. Which is why I am both awake before lunch and currently standing outside. I figured it’d been a while since I bothered you, so here I am, bothering you.” He finished with a wink.

 Sonja frowned for a moment, focusing on something he said, before deciding to let it go. For now, at least. Knowing her, she’d find a way to bring it up later. Wag wasn’t quite looking forward to whatever she had latched onto.

 Filling the silence, Wag added, “I was thinking we could go plant hunting. Specifically for four leaf clovers, but also for any other potentially useful plants. You know, for potions.”

 He tried for a smile while Sonja looked him over. Her eyebrows rose. “You go plant hunting in that? Your typical robes and all? It’s, like, the middle of spring.”

 Wag shrugged. “It’s not that big of a difference. Just gets the cloak a bit dirty.”

 She scoffed. “Just gets the cloak a bit dirty,” Sonja muttered. “I bet you don’t even bring any food or water with you, do you?”

 He looked to the side. “Of course I do!” That wasn’t a lie. He always brought at least a snack and a water skin. He wasn’t that stupid.

 “I’ll believe you, for now.” She assessed her own outfit. Her typical hoodie over a white t-shirt, some lounge pants, and bare feet. “I, for one, need to get dressed. I would recommend,” she drew out the last word, giving him a look, “That you change into something more suitable for romping around the countryside. I won't force you to, but I won't be helping you if you get hot and sweaty and pass out like an idiot.”

 He wanted to retort that he wouldn’t. That he was a wizard with powers that came close to the gods’ themselves. That weather was no issue for him.

 But it had been in Ruxomar. The trip to Urulu had been sweltering. The Nether felt like it had been trying to slowly boil him alive. Whenever he’d come out of water, clothes damp as a rain shower, he’d felt frigid.

 It still felt like he was in Ruxomar, powerless and startlingly mortal.

 He bit his tongue.

 Instead he shook his head, and started to wander back to his tower. He stopped as Sonja called after him. “Meet right here after you get dressed. I’ll round up some food and shit and then we can leave.” She turned to head back into her house. “If you thought I was going to trek up to your tower up in the sky you were wrong!” Then she shuffled up the hill with a laugh.

 ~~~

 They convened later at the shore as told. Sonja looked at Wag with a little glee, having convinced him to actually change.

 Athar knows how long it’d been since he’d changed.

 … why did he swear on Athar’s name anyway? He helped kill him. Shouldn’t he swear on his own name? Wag shrugged mentally to himself. Better to swear on a dead guy's name than his own.

 Anyway. Sidetrack.

 Wag, instead of his usual cloak, was in surprisingly adventure-ready getup. Long sleeve hooded shirt- Sonja rolled her eyes at the hood- thick, but breathable, pants, and hiking boots. Actual hiking boots. That spoke volumes about how much Wag had tried to look like he knew what he was doing. Oh, and he had one of those handy dandy belt satchels? Utility belts? A belt that had neat pouches on it for carrying flowers and clovers. Hell yeah.

 Sonja, on the other hand, had dressed much more like her usual outfit. To be fair, though, her usual outfit was both light and what she fought literal battles in. However, instead of short-shorts she had knee-length shorts. Her socks fit nicely underneath. Somewhere along the line she’d found black, fingerless gloves as well. Wag had a sneaking suspicion that she’d stolen them from Tucker.

 “Alright, now that we’re all ready to go-” Sonja made a point of jostling the backpack she had slung over her shoulders, likely filled with food and drinks she had raided from her own kitchen,”-we can commence our dainty flower picking session. If you don’t find me the biggest, bluest flower the world has ever seen to leave for Mianite then this trip is a failure.”

 Wag nods sagely. “It will be the most magical of flowers ever seen.” With a sweep of his arm, he motions for Sonja to lead the charge into the wilderness. Which wilderness? The Wilderness.

 Basically they were going to go wander around out past the old FyreUK Castle. Why there? Where Wag has to look at the castle and remember everything that used to be? Easy: there’s a lingering magic that lurks about the castle that makes it more likely for magical flora to sprout and grow. Also because no one goes over there.

 Mostly because no one goes over there.

 It took them roughly a half hour of trailing up and down hills, through dry grass and loose dirt, and a few quick hops through water to get to the Castle. Good old FyreUK HQ. Still standing.

 They were on the bridge, stopping to take a rest. Wag took a sweeping glance of the Castle and then looked away. Sonja tactfully didn’t ask about it. Instead, she waited while Wag poked around the trees sitting in the circle part of the bridge, watching him prod at the vines and undergrowth that had gathered there over the years. At one point he took out a pair of clippers, untangled a flowering vine from one of the tree’s branches, and politely snipped part of it off and curled it into a pocket.

 Then they were off again, back down the bridge and further into the country. Not too much further, actually. The end of the bridge was just a hop, skip, and jump away from an oak forest, which was a breath of fresh air compared to the endless savanna and desert motif of the island. It was also right next to a nice little plains area.

 Which made it perfect for Wag’s plans. Plains for the clovers and cool flowers, the forest for any other interesting stuff. He remembered chilling there in between building sessions for FryeUK HQ itself. It was always much cooler than the area around it.

 “Well, darling dearest, here we are.” Wag gave a little twirl. “Here we shall find you the most magical of flowers for your pretty, pretty princess, Mianite himself. And maybe one for his maid, Tucker.”

 “Ha!” Sonja turns her head away to snicker to herself. “If anything his fairest maid should be giving me flowers!” Her laughter dropped into a small, wistful smile. “Maybe I will.”

 Wag gave her a description of some of the regular flowers and plants that he normally went for, then sauntered off into the woods.

 Classy.

 Sonja followed with a fond eye roll, eyeing flowers as they passed. True to Wag’s suspicions, -which weren’t suspicions so much as things he already knew from before, but who was keeping track?- there were some strange, magical flora laying about. Not magical in the ‘consume it to get temporary fire powers way’, but more magical in the ‘these colors aren’t something flowers can pull off on their own’ or ‘this shouldn’t ever have been able to get this big’. Like if they were subject to radiation, except this world had no concept of yellorium as far as he knew.

 The first thing Wag collected was something of a marvel. Not because it was beautiful, but because it was weird. It looked like a flower. But instead of growing leaves along the stem, it grew petals. They were a soft pink, like the flush of skin, and soft to the touch. Not a trace of leaves remained on the flower. For all intents and purposes, it looked like a failed daisy. Or a successful one?

 There weren’t many magical flowers, in all honesty. For all the magic the wizards had done, most of it was just absorbed into the earth as per normal. The world was teeming with magic, but that was what made it function. What made the gods gods was the fact that they could use this magic. Or, rather, that they, too, were filled with it.

 It showed up in a lot of ways. Witches, potions, the way you could grow anything from any environment you wanted to, so as long as you gave it what it needed. Well, that last one wasn’t impossible, but what other world could you go to a desert, with minimal rain and the sweltering sun, and plant something that relies on constant water to thrive and have it live for months upon months?

 He was getting sidetracked again.

 The point was, this was just a small, insignificant place where a little bit of magic overflowed because of the proximity to the wizards. It used to have more weird things happen, but now the wizards were gone and Wag was… yeah. So he’d sometimes stumble upon a flower with a gradient from purple to red and have to puzzle out whether that was a normal mutation or a magical one. Then the flower would shimmer and the gradient would shift and he’d decide, yeah, that      was    a magical mutation, he was right!

 Flowers were weird on their own, what could he say?

 His favorite were the cornflowers. Not because they were beautiful- they were!- but because, by some manner of magic, they migrated over here on their own. You couldn’t find them in the savannah, or the desert, or even near the coastline. But here, in this tiny blip of forest and plains, they surfaced. He had half a mind to wonder if they weren’t a result of two different flowers populating, then the offspring mutating. Cornflowers, however, were a real flower. They just shouldn’t be real here. Which was cool.

 So maybe Wag had become something of a flower nut over the past few weeks. Who was going to judge him, the gods? Well, fuck them! Not literally, though.

 The cornflowers before him, however, were something special. From what he knew, they weren’t supposed to be this big, nor were they supposed to grow in such small units. They should be something more like a bush, with multiple stalks sprouting out and huddled together. The ones he found, Sonja poking at some poppies behind him, were very much trying to act like tulips. Less group-y and more individual.

 He suspected magic was involved.

 The buds alone were about the size of his palm, and those that had flowered were almost bigger than his hand! They were marvelous. And blue!

 Wag snuck a look at Sonja, who was blissfully unaware of his sudden bout of mischief. He plucked a stalk- which was as thick as a pencil- and twisted around to carefully tickle the tip of her tail with the broken end of the stem. She didn’t notice, face scrunched up in thought as she appeared to be trying to decide if the poppies were out of the ordinary or not. They weren’t. Just good ole regular poppies.

 Fighting back a snicker, he gently and slowly trailed the stem upward. It took the stem going from white to orange fur for Sonja to suddenly startle, ears shooting up and back going ramrod straight. She took a swipe at the flower, but Wag hurried out of the way. Clutching the poor, innocent cornflower to his chest, he mock gasped.

 “Sonja! You almost destroyed the biggest, bluest flower I’ve ever seen!” He brought the back of his hand to his forehead. “Could you imagine if you had? We’d have to return with it crushed! Or worse.” Wag’s eyes widened comically. His voice dropped to a stage whisper. “The second biggest, most bluest flower.”

 She gasped in shock. Her voice was but a mutter. “No, we can’t have that. Imagine! Bringing home something second best! T'would be not only a shame, but a disrespect to his name. I could never.”

 Wag nodded sagely. He cradled the blossom between his hands, reverently offering it up to Sonja. “Treat it well. Though it may seem insignificant in the grand scheme of your life, it holds value untold. The gods themselves tremble beneath its weight, the tremors of the earth quake for its life. Hold onto this and you hold onto what men are willing to go to war for.”

 Sonja delicately grasped its stem, a serious look on her face. “I will, O’ great wizard. I will guard this to my last breath, travel across a thousand seas, five hundred miles of land, to bequeath this to the god of which I hold most dear.”

 Her lips twitched as she tried to keep her laughter in. “Ianite, of course.”

 Wag, however, burst out laughing. “Oh yes, the god you follow, Ianite herself. Mianite who?”

 Facade breaking, Sonja joined in the laughter. Placing the flower down, she held onto her stomach, curling around it. Wag tried not to fall over from his dramatic kneel.

 They took a second to calm down, smiles still firm on their faces.

 “But yes, this will be satisfactory as a gift to Mianite.” Sonja appraised it, looking past him to eye the bush it came from. “What are these flowers? I don’t think I’ve seen them before.” She looked back to Wag. “And I dabbled in Botania in the other realm.”

 Wag stood up, turning his attention back to the flora. “Cornflowers. They live in more temperate climates; plains, some forests, and such. It’s strange to have found them here, all things considered.” He gestures around vaguely. “We do live in a mostly savanna environment. I’m not even sure how they made it to this little patch of paradise, never mind the fact that this area exists as it does.”

 He shrugs. “It is what it is. They are rather pretty. They are most typically associated with hope, devotion, and remembrance.”

 “And,” He places a hand on his heart, “According to some good ol’ folk tales, men in love would carry them around. If the color of the flower faded quickly, it meant their love was not returned. So,” Wag picked it back up, “If you wanted to listen to superstition, if the color lasts that means Mianite cares a whole lot about you.”

 Sonja scoffed. “Oh please, he is far too regal and orderly to fancy anyone, never mind a human. Or, well,” she flicks her tail, “someone mostly human.”

 “Imagine if he actually did, though! Tucker would be in for quite the competition. Champion of Mianite? Try Queen of Mianite.” Wag winked, holding the flower back out to her.

 Except it seemed that was the wrong thing to say.

 She held her breath, wilting before him “Yeah,” Sonja mumbled at the flower, “Tucker would really be in for it.”

 There was a pause.

 Wag eased back down towards the ground, getting comfortable. He tugged on Sonja’s sleeve to bring her down as well. Setting the flower aside, he pondered his next words. If he was going to pull out any wisdom, it better be now.

 “Things aren’t going too great between you two, are they?” Wag started, giving her the option to push the conversation aside.

 Sonja was silent for a second. Her ears flicked back and forth, agitated. Then she let out a sigh, deep and heavy.

 “No.”

 Wag nodded slowly. “It’d help to talk about it.”

 He wanted to help, wanted to know more, but he didn’t want to press. He wouldn’t dare push the boundaries when it felt like he was already on the brink of losing someone else he cared about. A two for two special on failing relationships would hurt.

 Biting the inside of his cheek, he reminded himself that this was about Sonja. Not his life problems. Hers!

 “It’s…” she cast her eyes around them. “Kinda heavy. Would you be ok hearing about it? I don’t want to bring your mood down.”

 Wag gently bumped shoulders with her. “Of course. I’m all ears if you ever need it.”

 Sonja opted for a smile, though it fell more towards a grimace. “Thanks.”

 She went quiet again. Wag could see the thoughts churning in her head, gears clicking and turning along.

 “I was.” She stopped. Started again. “I used to be.” Biting her lip, she took a breath. “There was a brief moment of time that I worked for the Shadows.”

 Oh.

 Oh shit.

 She couldn't meet his eyes, which is probably a good thing because he didn’t know what to say. ‘Sorry that you used to work for the people who wanted to kill all the gods and take over the world, or some stupid thing like that’? ‘Yikes’?

 ‘Cause yikes.

 “That’s, well, not what I was expecting.” He suppressed the urge to crack a joke. “And yeah, that’s pretty heavy.”

 Sonja drooped a little beside him, and he had to rush in the rest of his words.

 “But that’s not the end of the world. You aren’t working for them anymore, and even if you were you have been my friend and helped save so many people that I feel that it wouldn’t matter. Your actions say more about your character than who you follow does.” He hoped that curbed her fear and doubt, if only for a moment. And, because he couldn’t help himself, he added, “Hey, look at Tom. He’s a little chaos rat who followed a real evil guy and we still love him. The standards can’t get lower than that.”

 She huffed, and Wag counted that as a win.

 She took a peek at him. “You took that a lot better than Tucker did.”

 Suddenly, it clicks. She told Tucker, the ultimate devotee of Mianite, who had been willing to follow an evil version of his god just because he had the same name as his actual god. Tucker, who held strong to his beliefs and only turned on the Other Mianite when he went too far. Tucker, who’s devotion to Mianite came after little else, if after anything at all.

 Tucker would not only have been appalled that she faltered in her devotion to Mianite, but felt down right betrayed that she would work for someone who wanted to kill his god.  

 Tucker wasn’t Tom. He wasn’t willing to work for a god that was near unanimously seen as chaotic, destructive, and evil. But he would also be easily blinded by the misdeeds of his god after seeing only the good in him for so long. He wouldn’t kill his god for his friends, he wouldn’t save his friends from his god. If Mianite told him to kill, he would.

 He had killed the Ianitas under the Other Mianite’s command.

 So Sonja, regardless of how much he loved her, telling him she had been part of the Shadows?

 Wag could only imagine his reaction.

 Instead of making much comment on Tucker, Wag offered her a smile. “The Shadows don’t mean as much to me.” That got her to look up. “I’m- I was a wizard, remember?”

 Meeting her eyes, he saw the start of understanding. Then it struck him- he never told her how he became a wizard. “Sonja.” It was his turn to look away. “Do you know about the Cult of Athar?”

 She mouthed the words, face scrunching up. Silently, she shook her head. “The Cult of Athar was formed in the name of Athar, who was a god. Or close to one. They weren’t sure of that, at the time they formed the Cult, but he was. Instead, they thought he was a godly power that existed and was given to those who were worthy. In a way, they weren’t wrong.”

 “Was?” Already she was picking up on the ending.

 “We’ll get to that.” Wag picked at the grass in front of him. “The Cult was made of four mortal people. They studied, they trained, they crafted, they worked their assess off to get a glimpse of the Athar. Nothing worked.”

 Sonja nodded, eyes searching Wag’s face. Connecting dots. Her gaze lingered on his dark skin and endless tears of blood. It wouldn’t be long before she pieced it together.

 “One day, they found an ancient scroll.” Sonja scoffed at this detail. “Look, I know it’s cliche but this is my story I’m telling and you will suffer through any cliche moments in it. I will add a magical girl transformation scene in here just to spite you.” They held each other’s gaze for a moment.

 Then both burst out laughing. With a fond shake of her head, Sonja shoved him gently. “Who’s to say you won't anyway?”

 With a mock offended gasp, Wag dramatically clutched his heart. “How could you. I guess you don’t want the story of this freaky, weird cult of absolute dorks.”

 “No, no, I do. Please continue, Mr. Extravagant Storyteller.”

 Holding back a smile, Wag started back up. “In this scroll was a ritual. According to the scroll, if you performed the ritual you could summon down the god that possessed the power of Athar- who was actually called Athar so really calling the ‘godly power’ Athar was redundant. By calling him down you could duel him for the right to hold that power and use it yourself.”

 He trailed off now. It seemed, now of all times, that the reality of what he had lost sunk in. “By defeating Athar, who was a selfish, greedy god, they themselves could become gods among mortals. But they vowed to be benevolent, loving gods. Gods who would help humanity unlike that who came before them. They wanted to make a change in the world, to help build it up in the name of peace and prosperity.”

 “So they killed him?”

 Wag nodded.

 “You were one of them, weren’t you?” Sonja pressed gently. “And the rest of the wizards, too?”

 He nodded again.

 When he made no further comment, she spoke again. “I always wondered how you guys became wizards. I just figured you guys were born from, I don’t know, dragons or something. Something badass like that. Or maybe just one day you guys popped into existence all like, ‘Golly gee, there’s an open plot of land here, and I sure do feel like making something. You guys want to build? I want to build.’”

 Wag laughed despite himself. “I wish we were dragons. That’d be so much cooler than waltzing up to a god and telling him you’d be better at his job.”

 “No, I think that’s still pretty badass.” She slowly leaned over to rest on his shoulder.

 The sun was just starting to fall from its highest peak, making it just past noon. They still had a whole day ahead of them, if they pleased. But there was something settling about sitting here, with a friend, letting your secrets loose.

 “The point is,” Wag rested his head on hers, “That I’ve actually killed a god. I formed a cult with the intent of becoming godlike. You joining the Shadows? For whatever reason? I’m not that phased. Sure, the Shadows wanted to kill all the gods, even the nice ones, but I’m not about to go cherry picking which gods can and cannot live. You guys didn’t kill Dianite until he almost killed Ianite. Eye for an eye, y’know?”

 They were silent after that. Just sitting there, looking out into the mix and blend of savanna, plains, and desert. This didn’t fix anything for Sonja, he knew, but at the very least she knew she had an ally, a friend through all of this.

 “Thank you,” Sonja blurted. “It’s. I feel better knowing someone won’t ostracise me for my past.”

 “No one is going to ostracize you!” Rolling his eyes, Wag turned to look at her. “And if they do they’re a bitch and you didn’t need them in the first place.”

 “I don’t know. Tucker was really upset. I think I’ve burned any relationship we had.” She pulled her legs up to wrap her arms around. “I’m afraid that he won’t even be able to look at me. What would Jordan think? What would Tom? Or Dec or Champ? What would the gods?”

 Wag wrapped an arm around her. “It’s going to be a shock, for sure.”

 But the thing was, she was still their friend.

 “Jordan will take it with suspicion and unease, which is usual for him. But, for all that he will be wary, he will still be your friend. Honestly?” He squeezed her arm. “Your situation isn’t new to us, not exactly.”

 An ear flicked against his cheek. “What do you mean?”

 “Well,” Wag blew on it and it flicked again, “There’s Tom’s whole thing.”

 She lifted her head at this. A frown tugged at her lips. “What? What do you mean by that?”

 Ah, Wag had a feeling that she hadn’t thought about this.

 “Tom was the loyal champion of this world’s Dianite.” He was trying to lead her into the connection. It’d be easier for her to relate if she figured it out on her own.

 “So?”

 However, that meant she had to figure it out.

 “I suppose it’s a little harder to see from your perspective. Tom, the friend you guys all love despite his love of chaos, stealing, and murder,” He stressed the murder part, “was the champion of the god you had to kill to stop from killing Ianite.”

 Sonja blinked at him.

 Maybe it wasn’t as obvious as he thought.

 “Tom was loyal to Dianite above all else. He’d kill for him, he’d die for him, he was practically a lapdog at points, eagerly wanting to please him. Even when he failed him and was punished.” Wag shook his head fondly. “He would have killed Ianite if Dianite asked. He would have killed Ianite.”

 Tom would have done a lot of things for Dianite. The Shadows wanted to recruit him for his burning loyalty to who he followed and his willingness to kill and destroy.

 It was starting to click in Sonja’s head. Her frown became less confused and more thoughtful.

 “Maybe it was hard to see, since you were much closer to him than I was at the time, but Tom was set against all of you. Yet he still wanted to be your friend. He still wanted the best for you- when it didn’t involve him stopping his own chaos and fun- because he cared about you guys. In fact, he repeatedly stole from you and killed you, and he’s still your friend.”

 She was there. So, so close. Right on the edge of a breakthrough.

 “But Tom was,” she waved a hand, “Tom.”

 And there it was. The thing that she held her back. The thing that pulled at her conscious in this whole debacle.

 “So?” Wag wasn’t going to pull any punches. “Why are you holding him to a different standard than yourself? If he gets a pass, if he can follow someone who’s intent was destruction and death, just like the Shadow’s was, in a way, why can’t you?”

 Sonja was silent. She opened her mouth. Then closed it. Her eyes went wide.

 Gently, he squeezed her shoulder. “Jordan is still friends with Tom. Tucker is still friends with Tom. They both suffered at his hands, but they’re still friends. They still care about him. Just because you served, for some brief time, an entity that was just as evil as Dianite had been, at one point, doesn’t mean they’ll stop caring about you.”

 “What about Tom, then?” She straightened up, something stirring in her eyes. “What would he think?”

 Wag held back a laugh. “He wouldn’t care? Remember Nadeshot? Remember Cronus? He was friends with both.” Sonja gave him a look. “Oh come one, this one should have been obvious. Nadeshot told Tom he joined the Shadows, and what did Tom do? He had the us- the wizards- build him a fucking castle. The last person who would give a shit about you being part of the Shadows- having used to be part of- would be Tom!”

 Sure, she looked like she was about to punch him, but it was a little ridiculous to think that Tom would give a shit about something like that.

 Wag turned his head away. “Sorry, sorry. I shouldn’t be laughing. This is a very serious situation and I should try my best to stay serious.”

 “Yeah, you should.” Sonja gave him a light punch to the arm, “Asshole.”

 “But the thing is, we’re still going to be here for you. We’ve been to a whole other world, we fell through the void together. You’ve had our backs from day one. We’ll always have yours.” He ended with a gentle smile.

 Sonja settled back down, head on his shoulder once more. “That does make me feel a little better. But things won’t be the same. Nothing will, really.”

 That was true. They would probably look at her different, in a new light. They’d reconsider some things, rethink what image they had of her. But at the end of the day, they’d still be together.

 As Wag set his head back down atop hers, she whispered, “I guess things haven’t really been the same in a while.”

#mianite #the after series #sparklington #marthlington #waglington #james hayes #captain sparklez #jordan maron #tom syndicate #tom cassell #tucker b0ner #ii_jeriicho_ii #omgitsfirefoxx #sonja reid #martha conway #martha the mystic #post season 2 #no mianitian isles #cw depression #cw self deprecation #cw breaking up a relationship #long post