prompt table { 2016 } 100 situations

[iluvroadrunner6]

Because I intend to finish this table one way or the other - please feel free to claim prompts from the list below. Anything with a link or a strikethrough is off limits, but otherwise, comment below and I will mark your prompts as claimed!

001.	Tired	002.	Back Alley	003.	Sunrise	004.	Late	005.	Son
006.	Hot	007.	Friend	008.	Floor	009.	Cheat	010.	Think
011.	Disgust	012.	Shelter	013.	Borrow	014.	Chair	015.	Alter
016.	Peace	017.	Beach	018.	True	019.	Crazy	020.	Love
021.	New	022.	Beggar	023.	False	024.	Happy	025.	Cancer
026.	Pickpocket	027.	Reverse	028.	Deliver	029.	Arrival	030.	Fall
031.	Knife	032.	Torn	033.	Danger	034.	Neutral	035.	Mate
036.	Fly	037.	Loud	038.	Touch	039.	Seek	040.	Argue
041.	Work	042.	Sink	043.	Nut	044.	Stuck	045.	Animal
046.	Pray	047.	Kill	048.	Light	049.	Cold	050.	Affair
051.	Restaurant	052.	Movie	053.	Wait	054.	Patient	055.	Crime
056.	Choke	057.	Fever	058.	Summer	059.	Eat	060.	Thirst
061.	Chance	062.	Appear	063.	Whisper	064.	Day	065.	Scream
066.	Fail	067.	Confused	068.	Smile	069.	Come	070.	Alone
071.	Fast	072.	Slow	073.	Return	074.	Fire	075.	Positive
076.	Baby	077.	Upset	078.	Kitchen	079.	Winter	080.	Ignorant
081.	Fool	082.	Afraid	083.	Prison	084.	Sex	085.	Hate
086.	Alarm	087.	Genius	088.	Negative	089.	Flood	090.	Bomb
091.	Hospital	092.	Trap	093.	Celebrate	094.	Old	095.	Disappear
096.	Writer‘s Choice.	097.	Writer‘s Choice.	098.	Writer‘s Choice.	099.	Writer‘s Choice.	100.	Writer‘s Choice.

Prompts Written: 100/100
Total Word Count: 124,261 words

Fill Plurk | Fill Plurk 2

Comments

[chocolateries]

021. New: Piper/Max
030. Fall: Eliot/Lucy Preston
051. Restaurant: Felicity/Vi/Mongolian BBQ
064. Day: Ro/Bea
089. Flood: Davina/Tandy

and this present will be past ~ teleios ~ 2,475

[facetheday]

There’s a new girl on the docks.

It’s not an uncommon occurrence, as there are new people every month. That’s the way that Teleios works, he’s finding. Every month, like clockwork, the Two bring in a new crop of people to put through their unnecessary tests and they all complain about the same things. Max stopped going at this point, wanting to stop listening to useless questions that no one ever liked the provided answers. It’s a waste of time. And the one person he wants to see shouldn’t be trapped here anyway.

So why go?

Still, there’s a new girl on the dock, and while that would not usually be a thing of note, today he notes it. She’s a pretty girl, that much is true. She seems out of place in a spot where he had been pouring out dead fish from his morning haul only moments before, but he’s glad she’s there. A change in scene from the crassly vocal fishermen is probably good for him, one way or another.

“Can I help you?” he asks as he drops another net of fish down onto the pier next to her, and when she turns and smiles at him, it’s like she’s graced him with a presence Max’s been lacking, a hole he didn’t know needed to be filled.

“I’m here to work,” she replies, hands on her hips. “Which is just as gross as it sounds, but I’m trying to prove a point to someone.”

He can’t help but raise an eyebrow in response, looking her over for a quiet moment. She’s got the standard gold bracelet on her wrist that designates Indebted, so if she’s assigned to work here, there’s nothing he can do to stop her. It’s proving a point that gives him pause. “What kind of point are you proving, exactly?”

“That just because I’m the daughter of a love goddess doesn’t mean I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty. So. Put me to work.”

He should correct her and say he’s not the one actually in charge, there are big burly men behind him who will likely have a better idea of where to start, but he’s too intrigued to say no to that request, and nods to the fish next to him. “Help me sort these? Mostly by size and type. The kitchen doesn’t like it if we don’t sort out the prime fillets.”

“Got it.” She then sticks out a hand to him with a smile. “I’m Piper, by the way.”

He reaches for her hand in return and nods as he shakes it. “I’m Max.”

- - - - - -

Sorting fish turns into flirting, and flirting turns into a few dates, and Max can’t help but feel a small sense of déjà vu. It’s not the first time he’s felt it while being in Teleios, but it’s undoubtedly the strongest. There’s something about Piper that he feels in his bones, and while he doesn’t mention it, he lets her pull him along into the beginning of a relationship, a bond without interrogating it too much. It feels good, it feels right, and he doesn’t want to jinx it on the off chance she might go away.

The first time he kisses her in the front entrance to the temple, it’s almost like coming home, even if ninety percent of the time, he feels so far away from all the things that make home, home. He would have been content to kiss her forever if she hadn’t pulled away and said goodnight. There are few nights like this, with teasingly familiar kisses before he’s sent back to his room and she to hers before things come to a head.

“Wait.”

He stops as soon as she indicates, he always does, but when he does, the look on her face doesn’t match his dopey, teasing smile. The humor fades, and the quiet coax to kiss him some more dies. “What? What is it?”

Piper licks her lips. “What would you say if I told you that we’d done this dance before?”

The moment she says it, he can feel the truth of it – the déjà vu, the knowing that he can’t seem to escape. Still, if they had, he would remember. Wouldn’t he remember? When he doesn’t answer, lingering too long in the silence, she brushes her hand against his cheek.

“I won’t tell you if you don’t want to know. But I don’t know if we can keep doing this if you don’t. It doesn’t feel fair.”

That doesn’t feel acceptable either. The idea of not remembering Piper is one thing, but completely losing her feels impossible, so he stays silent again, waiting for an answer that feels something like the truth. Does he truly want to know? Will this make this better? He can’t be sure. More importantly, can he walk away from this and pretend that it doesn’t mean what it does, even if he can’t put his finger on why.

Piper reaches into her back pocket and pulls out a letter and hands it to him. It’s addressed to her, but she folds his fingers over the edge so that he takes it. “If you don’t want to know, don’t read it. Just send it back to me, and we’ll figure out what’s next. If you do read it … we’ll talk about that too.”

She turns to head back to her room and stands there, staring into the space she’s left behind before he turns and calls after her.

“Do you want me to remember?”

Because he’ll do it for her if that’s what she wants. He doesn’t care about this letter or whatever his reasons may have been for forgetting. He’ll do it for her. He doesn’t understand how he can feel that strong an urge for someone Max hasn’t known long, but it’s there and he’s never been one not to follow those kinds of feelings. She stops and turns back to him before shaking her head.

“It’s not about what I want, Max. This time, it’s all up to you.”

She leaves him standing in the entranceway, letter in hand, and tries not to feel entirely at a loss as to what to do next.

- - - - - - -

He reads the letter three times. The first, to read it because he doesn’t know what it says, even if he should as he seems to have written it. The second, to verify it was indeed his, to check his handwriting against the tired words on the page. Then the third, to take in the weight of it.

The problem is, he can’t say he wouldn’t do this.

According to the letter, his sister went to Utopia, and Piper was gone. It says it didn’t want her to come back as a kid again when he was only getting older and still find himself in love with her. It says Max was taking an offer from an agent to wipe it all away, start himself fresh and work to get where Max needs to be – working off his debt to find his way back to Sally’s side. He wrote the letter to explain, for Aphrodite to give her if she ever did return from wherever it is people go when they leave Teleios so that she would understand and hopefully not be hurt by it.

Piper knew he didn’t remember, but she still came and found him again. He can’t imagine what kind of place he was in to think that forgetting Piper was an acceptable consequence, but Max also isn’t sure he wants to remember now. He doesn’t know who that person is, the person he gave up to become someone new. He knows he probably didn’t like him, as some element of self-loathing is always part of him, but is that enough to wipe him away.

He leans back on his bunk, staring up at the ceiling as he turns the day's events over in his head. Eventually, he reaches for his bracelet, closing his eyes and focusing on the goddess in question to see if he can get her to focus on one thing long enough for a brief conversation.

“And here I thought you were done with me.” He could almost picture her face, blond and beautiful, alternating between warmth and vanity, depending on what suited her. “This must be important.”

“Did I give you this letter?”

“You’re calling me to fact check me?”

He makes a face because he should have known she would make this problematic. She’s made a career of it. But he squares his shoulders and does his best to stay on track. “Did I do this? Because you and me don’t get along, so if I asked you to do this, it must have been for a good reason.”

“Because you knew that if Piper came back, I would be the first person to find her.” The voice becomes resigned, almost as though she’s already had this fight with her alternate universe daughter. “And if your follow up question is going to be why did I let you, it’s because it wasn’t my choice. I wasn’t trying to make your life difficult or keep you out of Piper’s life. That’s my job. My job is to accept your favors when you’re ready to cash them.”

He swallows hard, staring up at the ceiling as he tries to phrase his next question. “Is it worth getting them back? Is she worth it?”

“I can’t answer that question for you.”

“Why not?”

“Because she wasn’t the only thing you forgot. She wasn’t the entirety of your story, nor was she the only thing you were trying to forget. You ask for your memories back, and you’ll be getting all of that.”

She’s right when she says that it’s his story to remember or forget. Before this, he hadn’t felt as though he was operating on empty pockets of information. He had had what he considered to be a good life. But now, he knows what he’s missing. Can he still live with all the vacancies that now sit ahead of him?

“What do I have to do to get them back?”

“Are you asking, or is this purely hypothetical?”

“I’m asking. What do I have to do?”

Silence echoes from the other end of the line, but eventually, she sighs. “I may have a quest that needs doing. If you’re still interested, meet Baal Amari on the dock tomorrow morning. If you don’t, I’ll know you’ve decided to stay as you are.”

“Can I back out in the middle if I change my mind?”

“You mean, can you fail? I would really rather you didn’t. But let’s say that if you change your mind in the middle, I’ll let you bank the favor for later use.”

Max nods, content with the bargain for now. “Deal.”

“Good.” She pauses, before delivering one last parting shot. “If you want my opinion, Max, love is always worth the risk. But then again, it is my brand.”

Max doesn’t respond one way or another. Instead, he curls up on his side, closes his eyes and tries to sleep. Max’s going on a quest tomorrow, after all. He’ll need the rest.

- - - - - - -

He sends a message to Piper early the next morning, letting her know to meet him at the docks. He’s not going to do this without saying goodbye, for better or for worse, but he’s hoping that it’s not goodbye they’ll be saying. When he arrives himself, Baal is there waiting when he arrives, and the usually smooth pirate is leaning against the mast, eyeing Max critically.

“Aphrodite tells me you’re in search of a quest.”

“I am,” Max crosses his arms in front of his chest. “Are you going to tell me that you were in love with me, and I erased you too?”

At that, the stern pirate exterior cracks, and the other man laughs. “No, no, nothing so serious. But you were a great first mate on my boat, once upon a time.”

So. Another friendship forgotten because Max decided to sell them away. The discontent must show on his face, and Baal shakes his head, before coming forward. “There are no hard feelings, my friend. We got to say our goodbyes, and I know why you did it.”

Max nods slowly before looking up at the pirate again. “Do you think I’m doing the right thing, trying to get it back?”

The pirate shrugs. “I can’t say for sure one way or another. But I’ve never found love to be an unworthy cause.” He smirks. “That’s why she likes me.”

Max huffs a laugh as he drops his pack on the deck of the boat, and he turns to see Piper standing there, seeming nervous. He makes his way closer, before holding out the letter to her again. “I wanted to give this back to you. I wrote it to you; you should have it.”

Piper nods, before glancing over the boat and waving to Baal. “So, are you going to get them back?”

“I’m going to get a favor that I may use to get them back. I’m still kind of undecided, and even if I don’t, it’s nice to have one, just in case.”

Piper nods again. “Well. Good luck. Hopefully, you find what you need.”

Max pauses, glancing back to the ship himself, before turning back to her. “Do you want to come with me?”

She blinks in surprise. “You want me to go.”

“I mean, I’m doing this because of you.” Max shrugs. “I don’t know if it’s the things I don’t remember, but I feel like we should be doing this together. And maybe by the time I get there, I’ll know whether or not I want to know.”

Piper squints at him. “Are you implying that I may be terrible company and not worth remembering after all?”

Max smirks, then shrugs. “I mean, I don’t think so, but better to be safe than sorry, don’t you think?” Then he grins, making it clear that he’s kidding, and she smacks him lightly on the shoulder in response.

“You’re the worst. You know what, you don’t have to remember me, but I’m going to come anyway.” She turns to charge over to the boat. “You’re a newbie at questing now. Someone has to make sure you don’t get killed on the way.”

He laughs, before turning to follow her onto the ship. Even if he doesn’t get any answers out of this, he still feels like this is where he’s supposed to be. And no matter what pain may be waiting on the other side, he’s yet to run away from something that’s felt so right.

still we found a reason to carry on ~ leverage/timeless ~ 3,019 ~ part 1

[liberatedcroatia]

A man and a woman walk into Bridgeport Brewery looking very out of place. Eliot makes them in five seconds. One could probably look at the way they were wildly looking around and dismiss it as looking for someone they’re supposed to meet, but it’s the other things that give them away as bringing trouble in their wake. The tension in their stances, the furtive ways they’re whispering to each other, and the way the woman is gripping her bag so tightly that if she had the strength, she might have torn the strap in half.

Whoever they are, they are a problem, and Eliot isn’t sure he’s here for it today. Placing a finger in his ear, he adjusts his earwig to get his friend’s attention.

“Hardison, I need you to do facial recognition on the two who just walked in.”

“I told you, Eliot, we cannot keep running facial recognition on our customers. It’s bad for business. If we didn’t serve criminals, then we’d never be able to eat.”

Eliot rolls his eyes. “Just do it, Hardison.”

The two glance over in his direction and the woman points to the man. She’s short and slight, with dark hair and an oddly familiar face. The man is a tall, black man who seems like he doesn’t want to be here. There’s brief bickering between the two as they discuss him, before the woman eventually rolls her eyes and strides over, while the man makes hands behind her back before following.

“Excuse me.” The woman comes to a stop next to his table. “Are you Eliot Spencer?”

He lifts his head, eyeing her curiously now that she’s up close. “Depends who’s asking.”

The woman seems like she’s fighting the urge to roll her eyes. “Wyatt Logan sent us. Or, more accurately, he sent us to find Sully, who then told us where to find you.” Which explains the eye roll. Sully likely gave them the same routine. Still, Eliot doesn’t answer her question directly, just crossing his arms in front of his chest as he leans back.

“And you are?”

She seems to take that as an indication that she should sit, so she does, sliding into the booth across from him. “I’m Lucy Preston, and this is Rufus Carlin. We work with Wyatt.”

“Okay, so. Lucy Preston. Former history professor until she went on an indefinite sabbatical for unknown reasons.” Hardison seems almost bored like Lucy is the most cookie-cutter background he’s ever read. “Second guy is in fact Rufus Carlin, who is an engineer for Mason Industries. Also fairly boring.”

That’s good to know, now comes the matter of picking apart their story, because there’s still one red flag that’s to settle. Eliot doesn’t say anything, waiting them both out to see if either of them will crack, but when they don’t, he smirks.

“Wyatt Logan didn’t send you.”

Lucy starts, looking almost offended that at his statement. “Excuse me?”

“See, I know that he didn’t send you because Wyatt Logan wouldn’t have needed to go through Sully to find me since I talked to him last week, and he knows where I am. So I’m going to ask you again – who sent you?”

Both of them gape at him, glancing at each other for any way to handle this when he hears the door of the brewery swing open, and a set of quiet footsteps approach the table. “They’re here because I sent them.” The voice is soft but he knows from experience that just because she happens to be soft-spoken doesn’t mean she can’t command a room. He looks up, takes in her face and nods. That makes more sense.

“Agent Christopher.”

“Mr. Spencer.”

Denise Christopher, DHS agent, hasn’t been a considerable presence in Eliot’s professional career, but she’s been enough of one to know that if she’s coming to his doorstep for help, something might be quite dire. She swallows, before glancing around the room, taking in the cameras and other signs of security.

“Is there a chance we can talk – without your coworkers listening in?”

“Eliot, do not turn off your earwig. Eliot, this seems like a bad idea. Eliot, why is the Department of Homeland Security looking for you? Eliot? Eliot!”

Hardison’s voice fades from his ear as he takes out his earwig and tucks it into his pocket. He then gets to his feet and nods to the door. “We should take a walk.”

Agent Christopher nods and starts to gesture for the rest to follow them, and Eliot then shakes his head again. “Just you.”

“Mr. Spencer …”

“I know you. But I don’t know them. And I’m still waiting to find out why you told them to take Wyatt Logan’s name in vain instead of just coming to me yourself. So until we get all of that cleared up, I think it should be just us.”

Lucy is studying him from the booth, her eyes taking in his stance, before looking to Agent Christopher. “You don’t have to go with him alone.”

The older woman shakes her head. “He won’t hurt me. And even if he was going to kill me, there’s nothing you could do to stop him, so might as well minimize the casualties.”

She’s kidding, but only those who’ve known her long enough could tell from her tone. Lucy seems appeased by it, however, which means she’s clearly in the know. It’s interesting – unless the history professor is more than just a history professor. Still, he doesn’t comment, and the two of them make their way out onto the street. They wander for a while, making small talk until they find a quiet place, away from the crowds of Portland, and he turns to face her again.

“So. What happened to Logan?”

Agent Christopher sighs, before crossing her arms in front of her chest. “He’s been taken by a group we’ve been investigating called Rittenhouse.”

Eliot takes a sip of his coffee before giving the most subtle nod. “I’m familiar.”

“You would be.” She shakes her head. “This isn’t one of your little side projects, Eliot. These people are dangerous, and I’m asking more of you than I probably should, but this is something I can’t trust to just anyone.”

“I didn’t say no, Denise. Just tell me where to find him, and I’ll get him out.”

“It’s not a matter of where. It’s a matter of when.”

He squints at her. “The hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Well. How do you feel about time travel?”

Of all the things he expected to come out of Agent Christopher’s mouth, that’s one he never saw coming.

- - - - - -

Stepping into the bunker and looking up at the small round ball that Mason Industries was claiming to be a time machine, Eliot finds himself a little underwhelmed. He’s not sure what he expected, exactly, but it’s certainly not that.

“That’s your time machine?”

“Why? Do you have a fancier one we could borrow?” Lucy’s voice comes from behind him; arms crossed in front of her chest. He turns to face her and she raises an eyebrow in return. “Because if you’ve got the Mercedes Benz of time machines hanging out somewhere then by all means. I’m sure we’ll be glad to switch it up.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“And yet you feel free to judge it before you’ve even been in it.”

Eliot thinks there are many reasons why she feels the need to be on all cylinders with him, so he decides to stay calm, to see how she reacts. Instead of snapping back, he shrugs, leaning against one of the consoles. “I guess I was expecting more of a police box.”

She squints at him, confused, a long silence stretching between them before she responds. “Is that … a Doctor Who reference?”

He shrugs. “Does that surprise you?”

“You don’t exactly strike me as the sci-fi type.”

“I have a lot of varied interests.”

“Do you?”

He can see the tension resting in her shoulders, the worry in her face. She doesn’t like the idea of going out into the field without Wyatt because Wyatt’s the one who’s earned her trust. He doesn’t begrudge her that. Eliot only hopes that he can convince her to trust him, at least for this one mission. He takes a breath before pushing off the console and taking a step closer. She seems surprised, but she doesn’t step back, determined to stand her ground. He already appreciates that about her.

“I don’t think this is about my taste in television.”

“How astute of you.”

“I think this is about Wyatt.” At that mention, she swallows, looking slightly uncomfortable, but he doesn’t back off. “Look, I know I’m not Wyatt. I’m not trying to be. I’m just here to do for him what he would do for me – get me back, and protect my team.”

Lucy hesitates before nodding again. “Just … make sure we get him back? Please?”

“I won’t make you promises I don’t know I can keep.” He’s been on too many missions that have gone sideways to know that he can’t guarantee anything. “But I’ll do my best.”

Lucy nods again before taking his arm and nodding towards one of the screened areas nearby. “C’mon. We have to get you dressed.”

Eliot doesn’t fight her as she leads him. “So, where are we going?”

“The Grand Canyon,” she replies as she nudges him behind the screen, “in 1916.”

- - - - - - - -

It’s safe to say that time travel is not one of Eliot’s favorite experiences. It’s disorienting and nauseating and has a way of turning everything you know upside down and inside out. But there is something very cool about seeing something like the Grand Canyon, long before tourism managed to get ahold of it. Unfortunately, not all of them appreciate this kind of nature.

“Man, I remember these paths being so much easier to walk.”

Rufus, the one who’s complaining, is quickly becoming the Hardison of this little group. Smartest guy in the room, who feels the need to continually run his mouth, even if he doesn’t need to. In all fairness to Rufus, he isn’t often talking to talk, he’s talking to fill a silence, but it’s still earned him a little bit of fondness as far as Eliot’s concerned all the same.

He’s sandwiched between him and Lucy as they make their way down the side of the canyon, winding over thin paths that only seemed to get narrower as they got closer and closer to the bottom. He probably should be leading, but Lucy’s the one who saw where they took Wyatt, so she’s the one who’s leading the way. Her footwork isn’t half bad either – she’s moving at about half-speed, to catch herself if she lands on the wrong side of the path. And she’s doing it all in a long skirt, so more power to her. Still, Eliot’s keeping half his attention forward and half behind, to be on the safe side.

“That’s because it didn’t become a national park until 1919. Teddy Roosevelt’s been to visit, but nothing’s finalized yet.” Lucy glances back to Rufus with a smirk. “These paths haven’t been worn down by decades of foot traffic yet.”

“I am aware of how erosion works, thank you.” Rufus reaches up to grab hold of one of the pieces of brush above them for a handhold and keeps taking tentative steps behind Eliot. “I would have just preferred if it had happened one hundred years sooner.”

Eliot catches the smirk that crosses Lucy’s face as she continues to make her way downwards, each step slow and deliberate. She's so careful, but even she can’t pick out every problem, so when her foot goes down on a lousy rock, sending one foot sliding out from under her and her flailing backward towards the edge of the cliffside.

Eliot’s hand snaps outward, wrapping his hand around her wrist and yanking her back into him, his free hand coming up and wrapping around her waist to keep her close. He leans back, pushing his weight against the rock to keep them balanced, but they’re still in a very precarious position, and if either of them shift the wrong way, they could both go tumbling over. Her hands find their way to his shoulders, and she’s terrified.

“Lucy! Lucy, are you okay?!”

Rufus is not helping.

“Look at me,” Eliot says seriously, and she does, eyes fixed on his for as long as she happens to be eye level. “I’m not going to drop you. Take one step to the right until you find a foothold.” He feels her leg move against his, her foot tapping to the side until she finds solid rock, and she can plant it firmly. He then shifts his weight, giving her some room to move around him. “Now, I’m going to spin you.”

“Spin me?!”

“Spin you. Nice and slow, until you get your foot on the other side. Ready?”

She doesn’t seem ready, but she nods anyway, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes so that she’s not looking down. “Okay. Okay, do it.”

Even if she did look, she wouldn’t be able to see how elegant it was, a full spin that put her back on her feet next to him on the path, though he keeps one hand in hers until she feels steady enough again. When she finally does open her eyes and look back to him, she gives him a small smile.

“Thanks.”

He nods because there’s no need to thank him for doing his job. “You good?” She nods as well. “Then let’s keep going.”

It's another twenty minutes before they make it to the bottom of the path. What they find is a small camp full of armed men. Sitting at an easily defensible position is Wyatt Logan, tied to a chair and looking like he’s had the shit beaten out of him more than once. It only takes a few glances for Eliot to make sense of the scene and have an action plan, as Lucy and Rufus crouch down next to him.

“There he is,” Lucy whispers, stating the obvious. “What do we do now?”

“You two stay here,” Eliot nods. “And I what I do.”

“Just like that?” Rufus frowns. “Don’t you want a gun or something.”

“If I need a gun, I’ll take one.” And before they can offer any further argument, he pushes up and charges into the fray. It’s safe to say, the enemy in question doesn’t see him coming.

still we found a reason to carry on ~ leverage/timeless ~ 3,019 ~ part 2

[liberatedcroatia]

- - - - - - -

Getting back is more complicated than getting there since only three people can fit in the cockpit at a time. Rufus and Wyatt wind up going back first, as he needs medical attention, and Lucy waits with Eliot in 1919. He isn’t sure when the mood in the room changed, but it’s different – she still talks at him somewhat, but it’s more pleasant, an endless ramble about all the things the world is on the cusp of, based on where they’re standing right at that moment. It makes him smile, convinced that she’s not paying attention. He’s always been a sucker for a passionate woman, even if the topic is not something that happens to be a personal passion.

But when they return to the present, they go their separate ways, and Eliot knows he’s never going to see her after this. At least, he’s convinced of that until she makes her way back into the Brewery again, spotting him behind the bar and making her way closer with a smile.

“I didn’t know you worked here,” she comments as she slides up on the barstool. “I guess I just assumed it was a favorite haunt.”

“It is,” Eliot smirks. “But I tend to have my hands in a lot of pies anyway. A friend of mine owns it, and he let me have control of the menu.” He pauses long enough to take stock of the bar in front of him. “Can I get you anything?”

She shakes her head. “I won’t keep you. I just wanted to let you know that Wyatt’s doing a lot better. He’ll still have some recovery to do, but he’ll be okay.”

Eliot can’t say he needed that kind of reassurance, but he certainly won’t complain about her being there. “Good to know. But you could have called.”

“That’s true. I could have.” She plays with the hem of her shirt before straightening again. “I guess I also wanted to say thank you. I know I was hard on you in the beginning, but … it means a lot to me that you helped.”

“You don’t have to thank me for doing my job. But you’re welcome. I was happy to do it.”

“Okay.” She nods. “Well, that was all I wanted to say.” She still doesn’t leave her stool, however, which makes him wonder if there is something more she wanted to say. Instead of waiting her out forever, he decides to give her the opening.

“You sure you don’t want to stick around? The food around here’s pretty good.”

She raises an eyebrow curiously. “I would hope so. You don’t seem the type to have only a lackluster menu.”

“I could recommend a few things. Or I could surprise you – head back and fix you something myself.”

A curious expression crosses her face before she nods. “Okay. I trust you.”

He grins, before turning to head back to the kitchen. “If you want to go pick a booth, I’ll join you.”

She smiles softly. “Okay. I’d like that.”

Eventually, he reemerges with two plates and a bottle of wine to go with it, and he slides into the booth across from her to enjoy a meal with someone who’s not a member of the team for the first time in a while. He has a feeling that no matter the topic, Lucy certainly won’t make this boring.

at last i've seen the sunset i've been riding towards ~ knight of legend ~ 1,180

[klep]

[Part 1 | Part 2]

They won.

They won.

Felicity hurts. Every part of her aches. Muscles she didn’t know existed ache. But she’s alive. And they won.

“Holy shit.”

The words are said to no one in particular as she leans back against a piece of rubble, trying to catch her breath. Surveying the wreckage of Los Angeles around her, she still can’t manage to wrap her mind around the fact that they managed to come out of this ahead. But they did. They won. And she didn’t die … again.

As the shock begins to dissipate and the reality begins to sink in, she then realizes that she’s alive – she needs to make sure the rest of her world is too. Which, in the more immediate sense of the world, means one person in particular.

“Vi!!” She scrambles up the nearest pile of rubble, reaching the peak and windmilling her arms as she surveys the remains of the scene. So far, everything seems in order as she picks out various faces over the sea of the battlefield. “Vi, you okay?”

“Kinda?”

Felicity turns left to follow the sound of the voice, and she sees a hand waving over one of the walls of rubble. Skidding down the other side, she darts in that direction and takes hold of her hand as soon as she gets there—Felicity peers over the edge with a smile.

“Hi. You need a potion, or are you good?”

“I should be asking you that question. You need any healing?”

“Nope. I’ll live after a nap.”

“Oooh. A nap seems like a good idea right now.” Vi takes Felicity’s hand and lets the other woman pull her up, giving her something to lean on as they walk. “Any sign of the rest of the group?”

“Probably around here somewhere.” Felicity loops an arm around her friend’s waist and keeps her close as they start to walk through the remainder of this particular street. “We’ll find them eventually.”

“That’s true.” A pause. “Man, I can’t believe we won.”

“Me either. We managed to get our shit together.”

“I’m not sure we had that together any more than we usually do. More that it just happened to work in our favor this time.”

“True enough.” Felicity sighs as she keeps walking. “So what do you want to do after this? Want to get something to eat?”

“You know, what? I’m starving.”

Chatting about the end of the world that they just averted as though it’s just another day in the office is probably not the healthiest way of coping, but they’ll get to the crying, the feelings, and everything else later when they’re safely back at base with the babies. For now, however, the glibness is what’s getting them through.

As they round a corner, heading towards what must have been the epicenter of the fight when a voice calls out from somewhere nearby.

“Vi?”

Both women turn towards the sound and are surprised to see a familiar face.

“Mr. B?” Felicity asks. “What are you doing here?”

“Yeah, man, it’s been a while. How are you doing?”

Neither woman had seen the mild-mannered owner of The Mongolian Grill since before the end of the world went into full swing. The last time they saw him was that time, a Fiendish Centipede of unusual size went smashing through his front door. They managed to put a stop to it and track down the wizard responsible, but after that day, they learned that Mr. Bayarsaikhan had packed up his family and his restaurant and gotten out of London – it wasn’t good for his health.

Seeing him now is surprising, but not unwelcome.

“It was fine until all of this apocalypse nonsense started.” He waves a hand towards the destruction around them. “Fortunately, the restaurant seems to have remained in one piece this time. Were you part of all of that? Was Felicity with you?”

“Oh! Over here.” Felicity waves, before glancing down at herself. “The new face is an illusion. Secret identity and all that. It’s nice to see you again!”

“Oh, you too.”

“But yes,” Vi adds. “We did just take care of all of that.”

“Well, I do still owe you both a meal.” He points back towards the restaurant, not too far away. “Kitchen’s still open. You both must be starving.”

The two women looked at each other before turning to face the restaurateur again.

“Hell yes,” Felicity nods as she and Vi turn to follow him. “Let’s eat.”

- - - - - -

“God, I think I might cry.”

Felicity cradles a bowl of stir fry to her chest as her eyes take in the contents of the table. The scent of cooked meat and spices float up to meet their noses, and Vi picks up her bowl to dig in.

“You know, I remember you saying that this place had the best Mongolian barbecue in town. And now I see that that was not an exaggeration.”

“See what I mean? Those freak magical events robbed us.”

“Do you think we can eat all of this?”

“We’re certainly going to try.” Felicity feeds more of her noodles into her mouth, before leaning back in her seat. “Maybe we can get some of it in to-go containers for the plane ride back.”

“Oooh, that’s a good plan. It’s going to be a long flight back to Russia. We’re going to need snacks.”

They lapse into munchy silence for a moment, before a throat clears next to them. The girls turn, and the Winchesters stand at the table, looking either unimpressed or confused, depending on the brother. Dean shifts, crossing his arms in front of his chest and Felicity stares back at him, before slurping the rest of her noodles into her mouth.

“Hi.”

“We’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Dean begins. “And you two decided to get lunch. In the middle of a disaster zone.”

“First, this was a thank-you dinner, regarding an incident with an armored platypus followed by an incident with a fiendish centipede.”

Sam’s head tips to the side. Dean’s stern exterior flickers in confusion. “What?”

“It’s a long story,” Vi adds. “You had to have been there.”

“Secondly, Mr. B is an old friend. We were catching up. And third of all, this is the best Mongolian barbecue ever.” Felicity reaches over and holds one of the bowls up to him as though to say have at it. Dean pauses, before leaning forward to take a sniff, then tentatively reaching for the bowl and a set of chopsticks.

“Dude.”

“What? That’s a lofty claim. We can’t just hear that and not taste the evidence.”

Vi grabs another one of the bowls and holds it up for Sam. “There’s plenty for everyone.”

Eventually Sam caves, and reaches back behind him to grab a chair. “I guess I could eat.”

Regrouping with the rest of the team and figuring out how to deal with the aftermath would come later. For now, as far as Felicity and Vi are concerned, it’s time for a long-overdue victory meal.

forever can never be long enough for me ~ knights of legend ~ 1,300

[nonconfrontational]

“Mami.”

“Don’t you ‘Mami’ me. I’m not the one who went off and got married by a unicorn.”

Raina Aguilar is less than pleased about the fact that her only daughter went and eloped just because the world was ending. Her dramatics, however, are less than impressive to her daughter, who is currently sitting at the kitchen table, face buried in her hands.

Bea raises her hand because it’s still safe for her to speak. “Technically, Lurue is the goddess of unicorns. I don’t think she’s an actual unicorn. And we were married in a very nondenominational ceremony.”

Raina turns her very intense angry stare on Bea and raises an eyebrow. Bea stares back, before reaching for her mug.

“This café con leche is delicious.”

Satisfied that Bea isn’t going to interrupt again, she turns back to her daughter. “You’re not married.”

“Mami, we are ...”

“You are not married!” Her hand comes down against the counter. “Not until there are dresses, and your father gives you away, and I am there to see it!”

Rosario sighs heavily before looking over her father, sitting at the other end of the table, and he holds up his hands in protest. “Don’t look at me. You’re the one who got yourself into this mess.”

Then, she turns to Bea, who looks up at her wife briefly and points down at her mug. “Delicious café con leche.”

Rosario sighs, before turning to her mother again. “Penguins.”

“What?” Raina frowns.

“Bea says she wanted penguins at the wedding. We’ll do your ‘real wedding’ if you find a way to make penguins work.”

Bea’s brow furrows. “Now you want to enforce my wish for penguins?”

Rosario’s too busy staring down her mother. Raina considers carefully, one hand resting on her hip. It’s a battle of wills, and she who gives too much will lose. “And what happens if I don’t honor this ridiculous bird request?”

“You have to accept our wedding as it was.”

Raina dismisses that with a wave of her hand. “I’ll make it work. There will be penguins.”

Rosario glances over at her wife again, and Bea raises her eyebrows in return. “This, I kinda have to see.”

“You and me both.”

“Good. We’ll have it this weekend.”

Rosario squints. “That’s fast.”

“If I don’t do it quickly, you’ll try to writhe your way out of it again.” Raina then reaches forward, taking her daughter by the arm and pulling her out of the room. “Come. We have a lot to do, and it’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding.”

Rosario blinks but doesn’t fight, at least not physically. She lets her mother haul her up by the arm and take her away. “We’re already married! And you said the wedding is this weekend!”

“You eloped. You need all the good luck you can get.”

The two women exit and Ernesto sighs, before glancing over at Bea. “They’re going to be busy a while. Want to try and see a movie?”

Bea laughs, before nodding her agreement. “Sounds like fun.”

- - - - - -

The door to what used to be Rosario’s bedroom closes and Bea picks her head up from the bed with a small, sleepy frown. “What are you doing here?” It’s been days since she and Rosario have spent any time together, her mother fully committing to the not-seeing-the-bride-before-the-wedding schtick. Raina is even making Rosario sleep in a separate room, even though they are still already married.

They both know that this is part of their punishment for rushing ahead of the rest of the usual steps, but there are only so many days Rosario can sleep alone before she starts going a little crazy.

“I’m tired, I’m frustrated, and I want to sleep with my wife in my bed.”

“I’m not about to disagree with you,” Bea nods, pushing back the covers and opening a space for Rosario to climb in next to her. “But make sure you’re gone before your mom gets up. I’m working hard to stay on her good side.”

Rosario snorts, before crawling into the space offered, curling into her wife’s side with a happy sigh. “I know she’s hurt. But is it bad that I’m not that sorry?”

Bea laughs. “I don’t know. She’s your mother.”

“She’s my mother who’s not even married. It’s a little hypocritical if you ask me.”

“Why? That she chose to live in sin over committing?”

“No. That my mother is holding me to something incredibly traditional standard that she’s not meeting herself.”

Bea sighs, tucking her head against the top of Rosario’s. “I think she’s just feeling a little left out. And yes, she may be trying to punish you a little, but it’s a punishment of love.”

Rosario pouts. “I just wish part of the punishment didn’t mean only seeing you at meals every day.”

“You and me both, babe.” Bea leans in to kiss the pout away, before curling in closer. “Now go to sleep. Remember, you have to sneak out of here early.”

Rosarion laughs, before curling in closer and closing her eyes. One good night’s sleep may be all she gets this week, so she’ll have to make it count, for now.

- - - - - -

The day of the wedding arrives and Rosario has managed to wrangle a few non-traditional things to make the day a little easier and a bit less formal. She can hear her mother’s friends and fellow clerics filling the seats they’ve set out in the backyard, but she’s not worried about them. Mostly, she’s smoothing down her dress, waiting for Bea so they can walk down the aisle together.

The door to the waiting room opens, and Bea steps through, her hair swept up over her head in a look that somehow reminds her of an ocean wave. Rosario can’t help the smile that crosses her face at the sight of her. “You look amazing.”

“I’m pretty sure there’s enough hairspray in this hair that it would stand up, even if there weren’t a million pins in it.”

“That’s kind of the point of hairspray.” She reaches a hand out gently to take Bea’s hand and give it a soft squeeze. “Ready for our big day.” A pause. “Again.”

Bea laughs, squeezing Rosario’s hand in return. “I’m ready when you are.” There’s a pause as Rosario signals the usher to let the rest of the room know they’re ready, and Bea smiles when she looks back again. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Rosario nods. “And thank you for putting up with all this.”

“For you? Anything.”

The doors swing open, revealing a long aisle flanked on either side by white chairs full of people. Standing at the front is Raina, already crying at the sight of her daughter and future daughter-in-law. Meanwhile, wandering around her and chirping at the head of the aisle are penguins.

They don’t look one hundred percent like real penguins. They are glowing slightly around the edges, which means they conjured celestial penguins for the occasion. But given the short notice of all of this, it's still pretty damn impressive.

“Holy shit,” Bea grins, eyes taking in the entire scene. “She got us penguins.”

“I honestly didn’t expect her to manage that,” Rosario admits with a nod. “I am very impressed.”

Bea tips her head to the side, letting it rest against Rosario’s shoulder, looping her arm in her wife’s. “Guess we better go hold up our end of the bargain.”

Rosario nods as she moves to reach for her flowers. “We’d kind of look like jerks if we didn’t.

Bea pushes up, pressing a quick kiss to Rosario’s cheek, before stepping forward to pull her down the aisle. “Then let’s go get married.”

be afraid of the old, they'll inherit your soul ~ cloak and dagger/tvdverse ~ 2,210

[regentem]

Tim dies, and Davina runs.

In the midst of the broken, grieving sobs, she can make out Rebekah trying to convince her to stay, to work with her, to be her spy on the inside, but Davina won’t listen. She can’t. Tim is dead, and Klaus is responsible, and if she knows anything about older vampires, they will give up anything to be known. Marcel did, for Klaus. Rebekah may be angry with him now, but anger is fast and fleeting. One way or another, she’ll find her way to her brother’s side again. None of them can be trusted.

Rebekah may be an Original, but Davina more than approved last night that she had the means to overpower them. Rebekah doesn’t require the dramatics of her brothers – instead, she Davina simply snaps her neck and then flees.

She doesn’t know if Josh will follow her, but she hopes he doesn’t.

The Quarter is full of stragglers from the festivities the night before, though not enough for her to entirely disappear. A teenage girl covered in tears isn’t the most subtle of options either, but she does her best to ignore them, just wanting to get away.

She can’t go back to the church. She can’t go back to the witches. She honestly doesn’t know where to go, and she can feel that grief swelling in her magic bubbling like she’s about to explode until she hears her name somewhere among the crowd.

“Davina?”

She turns, eyes landing on the blond behind her. Tandy doesn’t give her a chance to speak, confusion changing to concern once she sees the look on the other girl’s face.

“Oh my god, are you okay?”

Davina desperately wants to succumb to tears round two, but she can’t. Not here. Not while they’re so far out in the open. “Not really,” she whispers, a hand coming up to brush at her cheeks. “But we can’t stay here. Is there somewhere we can go?”

Tandy glances around. “The church?”

“It’s not safe anymore.”

The blond takes that in, before nodding and wrapping an arm around her friend’s shoulders. “Okay. I know a place.”

Davina should probably ask more questions, but at the moment, she’s so desperate to get away that she doesn’t fight it. Instead, she leans in to the blond next to her and lets Tandy lead her away.

- - - - - -

The basement Tandy is currently living out of isn’t what Davina expected. It’s not much of a home, beyond the cot in the corner mixed in with the various electrical equipment and workspace. Davina squints at her in confusion, and she smirks.

“I talked the owner into making it an actual lease, you know? So it’s safe.”

Tandy’s introduction into the supernatural had been slow, first with witches and later, vampires. Vampires were the more important of the three because, without magic to protect herself, Tandy needed to learn how not to be compelled, how not to invite people into her home without thinking. It’s smart, what she did, but she doesn’t know if it’ll be enough to hold off the Originals forever.

“That’s smart.” Davina moves to settle on the cot, tucking her knees into her chest under the flow of her long skirt. “I’m glad you have somewhere safe.”

“Me too. Especially now.” Tandy sits next to her, settling onto the cot and reaching out to place a hand on her shoulder gently. “What happened?”

“Tim’s dead.”

Tandy recoils. Her hand stays where it is, but she’s visibly shocked. “The violin player at school?”

Davina nods, before recounting the whole story. How Klaus was determined to break her, so he taunted her with the thing she wanted most, threatening to take it more blatantly from her several times before letting her think she won.

Until she didn’t, and he poisoned them both, because of Klaus’ compulsion.

It’s a slow story, with breaks for crying jags along the way, but by the end, Tandy is horrified. “He can’t just do that.”

“He’s an Original,” Davina replies. “He can do whatever he wants. He’s older and smarter than all of us. He’s been playing the game for so much longer.”

“He’s a bully.” The words sound like she would have spat them if she could, like a snake with venom. “And he needs to be put in his place.”

“I tried,” Davina sighs. “Believe me; I’ve tried. But he took Marcel, and now I have no one to help me.”

“You do. You have me.” Tandy shifts, pulling her into a warm hug. “And we’ll figure this out. They’re not the only ones with surprises.”

Davina accepts the comfort, for now, but she’s not convinced that it will get them far. Light daggers won’t do much against vampires that can’t die, but it’s safe to say that it will likely be the last thing they expect.

“Just get some rest,” Tandy sighs. “We’ll figure it out in the morning.”

Sleep doesn’t come easily, but eventually, it does come, curled up on a dingy cot in the basement of a building she doesn’t know. Grief and anger exhaust and energize in equal measure, and as soon as she closes her eyes, she succumbs to the weight of everything that’s happened.

In the morning, she wakes coughing up clumps of dirt and debris onto the basement floor, and earthquakes are echoing her anger, which leads to a whole other set of problems.

- - - - - -

It doesn’t stop with the earth quaking around them periodically. Next, come winds so violent they can hear the support beams of the house shake, then a torrential downpour that leaks through the cracks in the foundation. Tandy returns from trying to get them food soaked to the skin.

“It’s like a hurricane out there,” she says as she pulls open her backpack and retrieves a slightly soggy sack of burgers. “I’ve never seen a storm like this.”

Davina glances up at her. “I think it’s me.”

Tandy frowns, before turning to face her. “What do you mean?”

“I think … I think it’s the Harvest, wanting to complete.”

“You mean wanting you to die.”

“She’s not wrong, love.” They both turn, and looking up at the top of the stairs are Klaus and Marcel, trapped behind the open door. Klaus’s hand is damp, and from the light, Davina can’t tell if it’s rain or blood, but she desperately hopes it’s the former. “Care to let us in?”

“Hell no.” Tandy squares on the landing, staring up at them with the fury only a wounded teenager can muster. “You can stay right where you are.”

“Not very hospitable,” Klaus replies casually. “Why don’t you come to discuss this a little closer?”

“Why, so you can compel me?” Tandy raises an eyebrow. “She told me about all your tricks. I think the better question is, why shouldn’t I punch you in the face.”

“Charming as that request may be, as I’m sure Davina has told you, that goal will not end well for you.” He opens his mouth to continue, and Marcel cuts him off.

“We just want to talk to Davina.”

“Why should I trust you?” Davina pushes up from the cot and positions herself so that she’s visible to the two immortals at the top of the stairs, arms crossed in front of her chest. She knows that she doesn’t have much longer. She can feel the magic tearing her apart, and while she had hoped that the magic she contained would just disappear into the ether, she should have known it wouldn’t be that simple.

Nothing with magic ever is.

“Because I want to help you, Davina. That’s all I ever wanted to do was to help you.”

“If you’re here to get her to complete the Harvest, the answer is no. She shouldn’t have to die for your ritual magic bullshit.”

“No, in an ideal world, she shouldn’t,” Klaus begins, “but unfortunately, we’ve come to a place where she does. The magic she holds isn’t just tearing her apart; it’s tearing New Orleans apart. If we let it run it’s course as it stands, she will die, and so will thousands of people in the city. But if we complete the Harvest as intended, she’s the only one who dies, and once the ritual is complete, she comes back to life again.” Klaus smiles at them both. “I’m sure you can see which one is win-win.”

“What if it’s a lie?” Tandy frowns. “What if it’s all a bullshit fairytale, and she doesn’t come back at all?”

“Then, thousands of people still won’t lose their lives.”

“Since when do you care about human life?” Davina challenges, looking directly at Klaus. “You’re not doing this out of the goodness of your heart that you don’t have.”

“I’m not. But I’ve watched this city burn twice before, and I’m not going to do this again.”

“Davina.” Marcel’s voice is pleading now. His serious voice where he’s trying to convince her that this is for her own good. “I’m sorry. But this is the only way.”

Davina glances from them to Tandy. Then her face softens. “Give me a minute? Alone?”

“Given how slippery you’ve been as of late, I think I’ll wait right here, thank you.”

Davina turns to Klaus with a glare, before raising her hands. “Get out!” Her voice echoes off the walls, and the magic blows them back into the house, before slamming the basement door. The surge of magic hits her like a wave, and immediately she turns, vomiting more water onto the basement floor. It’s starting to boil in her gut now, rolling swells, and she knows this is going to come to a head soon.

And she can’t let anyone else get hurt. Not the way Tim was hurt.

“You can’t be seriously thinking about doing this.”

“Marcel’s right. He wouldn’t be here if it weren’t the only way.” As much as she and Marcel are at odds, she knows that he was always looking out for her. He saved her the day they met, and she knows that he wouldn’t be suggesting completing the Harvest was there any other option.

Tandy’s face crumbles. “This isn’t fair.”

“No, it’s not.” But nothing about magic or the supernatural was fair. Davina makes her way over slowly, before resting her hands on Tandy’s shoulders gently. “Thank you. For being a good friend. I’m not sure I always deserved it.”

“You deserved enough.” Tandy’s lip quivers, and she leans forward, wrapping her arms around her friend and squeezing the other girl tightly like it might be the last time. “How will we know if it works?”

“The rain will stop.” Davina pulls back with a sigh. “And I’ll come to find you when I come back.” She pulls away and grabs one of Tandy’s notebooks and scribbling down a number. “And if I don’t come back –”

“You’ll come back.”

“If I don’t,” Davina pushes the piece of paper into her hand. “That’s the name and number of a friend of mine. She’s human, and she’ll protect you. You can trust her.”

Tandy leans in to hug her again, one last time. “This sucks.”

Davina laughs. “Yeah. It really, really sucks.” Davina pulls back and gives her a small, sad smile. “But maybe sometimes, fairy tales do come true.”

She doesn’t wait for a comeback – instead, she leaves up the stairs and back into the waiting clutches of the Mikaelson family.

- - - - - -

The rain stops an hour later.

Tandy isn’t typically one to play with fire, but when she doesn’t hear from Davina after that, she makes her way over to the Abattoir, just to take a peek. What she finds is furniture smashed, and Marcel raving about how she was dead.

Davina was dead.

She doesn’t linger long enough to get herself caught. Instead, she stumbles out into the street, following her feet to get away from the lion’s jaws and trying to find somewhere safe. Eventually, she returns to St. Anne’s, plants herself in a pew, and pulls out her phone with shaking hands.

Davina’s note in one hand, her phone in the other, she quietly taps on the number, before putting it to her ear. It rings twice before a woman’s voice answers.

“Hello?”

“Is this Cami?”

“Yes?”

“My name’s Tandy, I’m a friend of Davina’s.” She lifts one hand to brush against her eyes. “She said if I was in trouble, you might be able to help me?”

“Where are you?” There’s no silence on the other end of the line. No hesitation, no wait. Just an immediate hand in the darkness and Tandy can see why Davina suggested her. “I’ll come to get you.”

“St. Anne’s. Do you know where that is?”

Cami laughs, and the sound feels too light for the night Tandy’s had but has a way of making her feel lighter as well. “I do. I know that church very well. I’ll be right there.”

Tandy hangs up and stars up at the altar ahead of her with a small sigh. Tomorrow they start again. But it still doesn’t feel right to start without Davina in it.