#I mean he was a big lamb to begin with but I bet he’s big chungus now

[ladykailitha]

Royal Pain Part 19

Hey, guys. Sorry it took so long to get this out. The chapter was fighting me and I have had the absolutely worst week. However in slightly happier news, my partner got a new job and that means I should be able to quit mine and go back to writing full time. I'll let you know more when I do, but it's looking more and more likely.

I realized it had been a while since we had an Eddie centric chapter and decided this would be the one. And I left it on a cliffhanger again. But don't worry next chapter will see more than one villain vanquished.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18

***

Eddie was seething. He hadn’t been this mad since he learned Max was moving to New York. Actually. No. He was madder then that. He was pissed.

Gareth grimaced. “They won’t do anything?”

“No,” Eddie growled. “Because he technically hasn’t violated the protection order, according to them.”

“If he can’t get with in five hundred feet,” Brian said, “then how did he find out about Steve.”

Eddie threw up his arms into the air. “That’s what I asked.”

“I’m betting,” Mandy said, “that they didn’t have a good answer?”

“Apparently since Seth showed up at Hopper’s,” Eddie snarled, “and not Steve’s shop, that he was just going around to all the tattoo parlors and threatening everyone.”

Jeff rolled his eyes. “I bet they didn’t even check with other tattoo shops and just made that shit up.”

“I even talked to Officer Callahan who was in charge of the original case file because he’s not supposed to be out of jail yet,” Eddie said, beginning to pace. “He never went.”

“What?!” came the shocked cry of outrage from everyone.

“Yeah,” Eddie continued. “Apparently he made a deal with the DA and they didn’t tell me. He got two years probation.”

“That’s bullshit!” Mandy hissed. “He was going to kill you.”

“Criminal mischief,” Eddie said. “Domestic abuse down to criminal mischief. $300 fine, two year probation, and forced to take a class about how not to be a violent offender.”

“It’s because you’re a man, isn’t it?” Gareth asked, licking his lips slowly. “These fuckers don’t think a man can be abused.”

Eddie pursed his lips into a line and nodded.

“Hop’s calling in a couple of favors to keep Steve safe,” he said. “But that does jack shit about me. And this isn’t me calling out that shit. That’s Hop’s prerogative but he’s my dumb ass ex, who’s protecting me?”

“We are,” Jeff said. “You don’t go anywhere without one of us. Garth, since you’re the only one without a roommate at the moment, Eddie’s going to stay with you. Brian, talk to Cecil, he’s studying law. See what he can recommend.”

Gareth and Brian both nodded.

Eddie buried his head into his hands. “This is such bullshit.”

Mandy came up and gave him a hug. “We’ll get through this. We did before and we will again. And this time we have more people that would be willing to help. Steve, Robin, Chrissy, hell the whole of the Royal Pain would throw hands for you.”

Eddie chuckled. He knew that too. “Well, maybe not Erica.”

Brian snorted. “That girl would sell her own mother for a cookie.”

“Not even a Girl Scout cookie,” Jeff agreed. “That girl is bound for world domination.”

“No doubt.”

*

“You tell me right now,” Wayne said when Eddie had called that night, “do you need me up there? Because work be damned, boy, I’ll be up there in two shakes of lamb’s tail.”

Eddie chewed on his nail. He felt like that little boy all over again. Being given the choice between being with his uncle or being put in a foster home. He didn’t want to be a bother to anyone, but he knew. He knew that Wayne was someone that wouldn’t care. That he could be as big a bother as he wanted, he would still be loved.

He let out a shuddering breath and like that little boy all those years ago said, “Yes. Please.”

“I’ve got some vacation time coming,” Wayne said as if he didn’t have weeks and weeks of it stored up because he was never sick a day in his life. “I cane be up there for as long as you need me, you hear?”

“I’m staying with Gareth for the time being,” Eddie said solemnly, “because Jeff is worried that Seth will follow me home.”

“Smart man, your Jeff,” Wayne agreed. “I have a friend in Indy I can crash on the sofa of for a couple of days until I can find something a little more permanent.”

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Let me know when you get into town and we’ll meet up for lunch.”

“You can finally take me to that pizza place you’ve been going on about for months.”

Eddie laughed, a knot loosening in his chest. “You’ve got it, old man.”

*

A few days later Steve was waiting for the pizza he had ordered for the shop, playing silly games on his phone when the bell announced new arrivals. He looked up instinctively and grinned.

He waved. “Eddie!”

Eddie lit up with a big smile. “Stevie?” He hopped over, an older man following a little slower behind.

“Hey!” Steve greeted. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Eddie’s smile turned into a grin. “DiMaggio’s is the best pizza place in Indy, not coming here is a crime.”

“If it’s not it certainly should be,” Steve agreed with his own answering grin.

“Steve,” Eddie said, “this is my uncle, Wayne. He’s staying in town for a few days.”

Steve’s mood was dampened a bit, knowing why he was in town. “Nice to meet you. I was planning a trip back down Hawkins at the end of the summer so that Eddie could introduce us, sorry we had meet under lesser than ideal circumstances.”

Wayne blinked at him for a moment before turning to Eddie. “This one is a keeper.”

Eddie blushed, shoving his hair in front of his face, ducking his head to hide his embarrassment.

Steve just smiled fondly at him. “I think that’s up to him.”

Wayne’s eyebrows shot up. “I like him.”

That surprised a laugh out of Eddie causing him to drop the hair. “Me too.”

“Let me just go order our pizzas,” Eddie murmured and darted for the front counter.

“He’s cute,” Steve said, waving his hand to the chair in front of him for Wayne to sit.

Wayne took the seat and smiled. “He certainly is. I’m glad the world didn’t beat the silliness out of him.”

“Me too,” Steve agreed. “I love how earnest and outgoing he is.”

Wayne hummed. “He tell what was going on?”

Steve nodded. “I’m afraid it’s my fault. Seth came after me at a friend’s shop, tried to threaten me into leaving Eddie alone.”

“I don’t think being threatened is the fault of the victim,” he said, his voice a deep comforting rumble.

Steve blushed. “That’s what Jeff and Robin said.”

“Jeff I know,” Wayne said, “Robin I don’t, but it sounds to me like they both have their heads on straight and you should be listening to them and not that voice in the back of your head.” He tapped Steve forehead for emphasis.

The bell above the door rang again and Mike and Will walked in. Steve raised a eyebrow when he spotted them.

“DiMaggio’s is certainly hopping for a random Thursday,” he commented dryly to Will when he lead a slightly reluctant Mike over to their table. Eddie arrived at the table just moments later and there are hugs and greetings all around.

“You caused quite a stir at the latest family dinner,” Will said with a huge grin to Steve.

Steve huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, how did that happen?”

“Jonathan is back on Mom’s couch,” he said with a smirk.

Steve reared his head back. “And how did that involve me?”

“Argyle kicked him out of the apartment because him and Nancy lied to him about who’s fault your and her relationship ended.”

“Nancy is furious at them both,” Mike said with a half shrug. “I’m not sure their relationship is going to survive that little revelation.”

Steve winced. “Yeah...that’s on them though. How was I to know that Jonathan hadn’t been honest to Argyle about that.”

Eddie bumped his shoulder. “You weren’t.”

“Oh we are totally on your side,” Will said.

Mike nodded. “Yeah, man. It was straight up bullshit all the lying they did.”

“Mom’s pissed because she really liked you,” Will continued, “and believed Jonathan about how things went down. Like of course she did. He’s her son, but she should have tried to get your side of it.”

“Those eight years are totally on her,” Steve said, holding his hands up in surrender. “You’ve been trying to tell her for years to at least talk to me about it.”

Will and Mike nodded.

Mike chewed on his lip as he played with the loose string on the hem of his t-shirt. “Is it bad I hope Nancy and Jonathan break up?”

The table got silence for a moment.

Wayne lifted his chin. “Why’s that, son?”

“Because I don’t think she wants a relationship. I think she was only with Jonathan and Steve,” he said waving at him with his left hand, “is because that’s what you’re ‘supposed’ to do.”

“Steve!” the counter called.

Steve got up to get his pizza order, he stopped back at the table. “I don’t think it’s a bad you want your sister to learn how to be herself without a partner. I think it shows that you’re more mature then she is. You’re a good man, Mike.”

He clapped Mike’s shoulder and then waved goodbye to everyone. He pulled out his keys and walked out to his car, flipping the key ring around as he thought.

He never intended this to happen when he saw his ex at the grocery store, but honestly? Maybe it was a good thing to get all those wounds brought to light so that they could heal properly.

For all their sakes.

*

Steve was ready for the weekend. His week had been a literal hell. But Eddie had promised that he would have fun. The band had been practicing a couple of new songs and were debuting them Saturday night.

He sat at the curve of the table, sandwiched between Robin, who wouldn’t care, only to tease him mercilessly later, and Mandy who got it, how fucking sexy Eddie and the band was when they were on stage.

Steve wished he could say he was better prepared every time Eddie got on stage, but every week Eddie went out of his way to drive Steve absolutely wild.

“He does this on purpose doesn’t he?” Steve asked after a particularly hot number where Eddie fell to his knees grinding on his guitar.

Mandy laughed. “I would like to put you out of your misery and say yes, but no. When Eddie gets on stage he loses all connection to the audience and just rocks out. His fans love it.”

Steve looked around the dingy bar and had to agree. They were just as turned on as he was. He shifted uncomfortably in his jeans, clearing his throat. “If we...” he cleared his throat again. “I mean if Eddie were to–if we were–”

Mandy took pity on him. “If you two were going out would the fans tear you to pieces for touching what they can’t?”

Steve bit his lip and nodded, looking at his hands that were twisted in lap.

She gave his knee a squeeze. “I honestly don’t know what the fans would do. But Eddie wouldn’t give a damn what they think. He’s been booed before for a song that they didn’t think was metal enough and he didn’t let that stop him. Not once.”

Steve let out a breath. It was always something that worried him. He knew he went against the grain in everything he did, but he didn’t want that with Eddie. He didn’t want to be with Eddie just because it went against the norm of what was expected of either of them.

They arrived at the club and already Robin was on the dance floor. She loved dancing and soon Mandy, Chrissy, Jeff, and Brian were out there with her. Gareth, Eddie, and Steve watched in amusement as their friends let loose on the dance floor, living it up under the rainbow lights and the thumping beat of the music.

Steve turned around and Eddie wasn’t there.

“You seen Eddie?” he shouted at Gareth.

Gareth shot up and looked around. “Shit.”

Somehow during their watching of their friends cutting it up, Eddie had slipped away.

“You check out back to see if he’s gone for a smoke,” Steve said.

Gareth nodded.

“I’m going to check the bar.”

Gareth nodded again.

Across the crowded room, a man in a tailored white suit grinned as he moved to the back of the club where the restrooms were, eyes glittering with want and rage as he scented his prey.

***

Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Epilogue

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk ​ @renaissan-vvitch @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @plyerice27 @thedragonsaunt @sapphirecobalt-1 @a-little-unsteddie @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @itsall-taken @justforthedead89 @emly03 @bookworm0690 @aizawa-emma @redfreckledwolf @thesuninyaface @bookbinderbitch @yikes-a-bee @littlewildflowerkitten @scheodingers-muppet @archermightbegay @hallucinatedjosten @ellietheasexylibrarian @anne-bennett-cosplayer @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @bestwifehaver @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @oldwitcheshat @nightmareglitter @tinyplanet95

#stranger things #steddie #my writing #tattoo artist steve #ladykailtiha writes

[beelsjockstrap]

Nicknames With The Obey Me Brothers’ Part 2

Younger Brothers Edition!

Satan, Asmo, Beel, Belphie

A/N: You don’t have to agree, again these are just my head-cannons. Just know you’re wrong though

Also not proofread (;￣ー￣川

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

Satan <3

Satan to MC

Little Flower  (Okay I kinda need to explain this one)

I have a HC with my MC and Satan, that when he's talking about his birth a little bit after that my MC sends him a message through flowers (I'm a florist lol) It had Begonias (meaning intelligence, since he’s smart) Blue Iris (meaning wisdom, from all that information from reading) Daffodils & Lilies (meaning rebirth & new beginnings representing his birth and how it was a new beginning and that's why he’s here. He doesn't have to hold onto how he came into the world just that he and his brothers started a new life in Devildom after the fall.) and Purple Lotus (meaning knowledge since that's his driving force in life to find meaning) And since he reads so many books I bet he's learned some floriography, therefore he knew the meaning behind the flowers. So because of that he calls MC his little flower! :)

Sweet Siren (Okay I kinda need to explain this one)

Okay so again since he reads a lot I figured he'd be familiar with folklore and mythology right? And so he would be using this to refer to how MC was “luring” and “enchanting” him to fall in love with them. Though he does end up entranced with MC despite knowing they'll be the death of him. (like the sirens) (+ in some cultures they are also associated with having hidden knowledge! Gosh I just feel like this fits perfectly! :D)

Pet

Kitty/Kitten (You saw nothing)

Little Minx (Flirty/teasing)

MC to Satan

Sadie (Teasing)

My Beloved 

Tiger (Hey he gets to call me kitten!) 

Detective (Teasing)

Casanova/Romeo (Okay maybe I like teasing Satan a little too much)

Asmo <3

Asmo to MC

My Goddess 

Darling 

Dearest/MC dear (Like mine would be Ella dear)

Bombshell (Teasing/Lowkey kinda serious) 

Cupcake 

MC to Asmo

Darling

Drama Queen (Teasing)

Momo (Teasing)

Cutie 

Heart Throb

Beel <3

Beel to MC

Princess

Little One 

Dumpling (Based on his surprise guest dialogue) 

Pumpkin

Little Lamb (Hehe since we're a sheep? :p)

MC to Beel

Bub(s)/Bubba(s)

My Heart

Big Boy (For more reasons than one ;)

Sugar/Honey

Love bug (Since he's a fly? God I'm a genius) 

Big Teddy Bear (Teasing)

Belphie <3

Belphie to MC

My Dream Girl 

Sunshine 

Bright Eyes

Dork 

MC to Belphie

Snuggle Bear

Starlight

Moo moo (Teasing)

My Sleepy Boy

#obey me asmodeus #obey me #obey me simp #obey me shall we date #obey me solmare #obey me swd #obey me brothers #obey me headcanons #obey me shitpost #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #satan obey me #obey me satan #beelzebub obey me #obey me beel #obey me belphie #belphie obey me #asmo obey me #asmodeus avatar of lust #beelzebub avatar of gluttony #belphegor avatar of sloth #satan avatar of wrath #obey me younger brothers #obey me nicknames #obey me beel headcanons #obey me satan headcanons #obey me asmo headcanons #obey me Belphie headcanons #obey me shall we date beel #obey me shall we date Satan

[thatanonymoususer8518]

List of Writer's Tips that I made (will be updated frequently)

Through out my time working on City Bleats and various SITBC fan-fics, I had learnt a lot about writing and I decided to share knowledge as tips so people can learn from them and grow better as writers.

#1 - Cliff-hangers

There are two types of cliff-hangers that I came up with: Conclusive and Continuative

Conclusive is when you end your story here and leave the audience to think about what's going to happen next, especially if you don't have a sequel planned. Your best bet if you don't know what else to finish your story with, and you can change it to a Continuative one easily if you had made a sequel.

Continuative is when you add hints in an ending that leave the audience thinking that a sequel is going to be made and be excited about what's happening next. Only use it if you have sequel in the works AND if you're confident it's going to be finished, and you cannot change it to a Conclusive one at all. Too many works have fallen victim to this.

My advice: Be careful on what you choose.

#2 - Clichés

Despite what many think, clichés aren't inheriently bad. It is their usage that counts. Don't feel ashamed if you have to use a cliché if it actually helps the story and it isn't overused.

#3 - Importance

If something is not important, there is no point including it (jokes are excluded). It just waste the audience's time and makes something longer than it already needs to be.

#4 - Two Wrongs Don't Make a Right

It doesn't matter if your character has done good deeds before or is even heroic, if they do something that is considered evil, they don't get a free pass. They still did something that is considered evil. You should be focusing more on their redemption or even write-off rather than their excuses.

#5 - Dumb =/= Entertaining or Funny

Even if the world the work sets in is dumb, just because something is dumb doesn't make it entertaining or funny. The reason some dumb stuff is funny is because there is either a good reason, joke or logic behind it, not just because it's dumb.

A perfect example of a wrong way of doing this is "An Officer and a Gentle-Lamb" from Sheep in the Big City (S2 E10). The world of SITBC is considered dumb in some areas, but it mostly works because there's good reasons and logic behind it (like Sheep being wanted by a secret military organization because he is needed for a sheep-powered ray-gun that only he can fit in). This episode fails at that because there no logic, reason or even joke behind the decisions made (like Sheep getting fired from his job because the SMO keeps raiding his boss' shop despite it being out of his control, or how Sheep joins the SMO despite being the same organization who wants to capture him (even the show makes fun of it)), and expects the audience to laugh. Instead, the audience is frustrated at it, and you don't want that.

#6 - Post-Credit Scenes are Not Your Friend

If you're going to put lore into a work, never (and I mean NEVER) put them in post-credit scenes. The audience often don't stay for them and would miss out, especially if the lore in question is important and not all the episodes/parts/etc. have post-credit scenes at all. If anything, putting lore in the background is more likely to get noticed.

#7 - Less IS More

You can make many signs towards something you want your audience to notice, but they'll always notice something else if there are a bunch of important factors involved that are not present in the former (e.g: Is it more enjoyable? Is it logical? Is it better overall?).

#8 - First Impressions or Cancellation

When you're making an introduction or pilot to your work, you better make sure that it grabs the audience's attention and interests them. If the beginning is too boring, then they would leave and not continue the work further, missing out on any excitement that lays beyond.

#9 - Last Impressions or a Waste

Like tip #8, you better make sure all the backstory, build-up, anything really (with the exceptions of jokes), ends up not going to waste and being essential to the ending of the work. If none of that is ever brought up or is important in the end, then your audience is either going to forget about it or even despise it if it's constantly hinted at, therefore, making it a waste.

#10 - About Fan Service

Fan Service is like sugar. Very little, if none at all, could make the audience assume that you are not listening or acknowledging them. Too much could make it notable, distracting and off-putting to some.

[yaldabaoth]

Had a dream about that lamb I love so much, and that I saw him after months and he remembered me and chewed on my fingers like he always did lol. Then I woke up sweating and a little sad.

#I’m worried he won’t be there when I get back #That little fucker is just. constantly on my mind! #Fingers crossed that he’s there when I go this week and they will sell him to me #I bet he’s huge now omg. #I mean he was a big lamb to begin with but I bet he’s big chungus now

[taeescript]

29 + 1 (Part Two)

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰: In which Seokjin is the Devil from The Devil Wears Prada, Taehyung is your work Jesus and Jimin is your handsome successful brother.

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: seokjin x reader (squint harder than before for taehyung x reader) 

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢: slice of life; ceo!seokjin; a dash of enemies to lovers au 

𝔴𝔠: 7.6k

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: language; a plethora of drunk people, maybe a sext, and a ton of lying (possible implication of impending smut?!) 

𝔞/𝔫: this part came out longer than i thought it would be but *shrugs* feedback and thoughts always welcomed. enjoy (:  𝔡𝔦𝔰𝔠𝔩𝔞𝔦𝔪𝔢𝔯: DailyHive is real; this is not associated with it 

part one || part three 

The bright pop music that is blaring from the speakers does little to slow your animated talking. Bodies are packed into the small local bar, and students on summer break fill booths and form a snake of impatient, drunk (and horny) people. A slow trickle of the brazen has started to fill the dance floor as the evening morphs into the night.

  You whip your hair into a ponytail and dab at the sweat that is beading your forehead. You definitely should have worn that sleeveless top rather than this thicker t-shirt dress.

  “So, is he like your sugar daddy or something?” Taehyung asks, “Also drink.”

  Friday nights were usually spent at home, snuggled under the blankets in your pjs binging another rewatch of Friends. After work today, you could no longer hold onto your secret and invited Taehyung out for drinks. His girlfriend, Fei, was supposed to join but had been held back for overtime.

  You tip the shot back with no chase.

  “You’re a monster,” he comments as he bites into his lemon piece.

  The two of you had made a bet at the beginning of the evening: you each chose a pop song and each time it played, the nominee had to take a shot. That was your fourth of the night, and to say there was a bit of a buzz is an understatement.

  “It’s all throat technique, Tae,” you say with a bit of a slur, “Hit the back and swallow. No innuendo intended. Also, why the hell haven’t you had any to drink?”

  “You picked ‘Peaches’ for fuck’s sake.”

  “I told you I don’t listen to pop music. It was the first one playing.”

  “And shouldn’t that have told you something? Justin Bieber of all people?”

  “Shut up. It’s your song.” You nod at the pink-faced barista for another round. She slaps your order in front of the two of you without so much a glance.

You don’t even know what song is playing, but you feel quite satisfied watching Taehyung make a face as he downs it in one go.

  He clears his throat after the liquor has burned its way down to his stomach. “Back to my question: is he your sugar daddy?”

  You bark out a laugh. Was he? Perhaps the fact that he paid for fancy meals at lunch? Those have been his one o’clock meetings for the past two months.

  “I don’t know. I’d rather he buy me a car or pay my rent if anything. A casual 1k a week wouldn’t be so bad either. We just sit in his office and eat in secret, Tae. He’s ‘training me in the art of culinary cuisine’. I think it’s just so I don’t embarrass him by stuffing a shrimp cocktail up my nose.”

  “You do know – ”

“Yes, I know. And I would never. It’s a metaphor. It’s just that the position ‘intern’ is quite loosely defined at DailyHive, don’t you think?”

  Taehyung rinses his mouth with water before speaking. “So let me get this right. Mr. Kim calls you into his office, says he’s going to take you as his guest to the biggest tech event of the year, treats you to lunches and doesn’t ask for anything in return? No secret midnight meetups or shady business deals…”

  You shake your head.

  “Damn,” Taehyung says, resting his arm on the bar table, “Forget sugar daddy. He’s just daddy.”

  Sticking your tongue out, you gag visibly at his comment. “Do not ever call him that again, Tae; ev-er.”

  He laughs and watches you pensively. After a moment’s thought, he says, “Nobody has ever called me Tae.”

  “What do they call you then?” you reply, wrinkling your brows together. A cute brunette across the room catches your eyes and for the briefest of seconds, you wonder what a one-night-stand would feel like.

  He shrugs. “Just Taehyung.”

  The brunette waves in your direction. You are about to return his wave when an equally cute brunette runs up to him. He promptly kisses her before swivelling her around to join his group of friends.

  “Sorry. Do you want me to stop? I just assumed since we were out of the office…”

Oh Fate, how cruel you are. Life of twenty cats and solidarity, here you come. Maybe dogs. You feel like you could be more of a dog person.

  “No,” he stops you, “You can call me Tae. Whatever you want.”

  You turn your attention back on the also cute brunette in front of you. In all honestly, despite his youthful god-like countenance, he looks slightly out of place at this college bar with you in his upstanding business attire and dorkishly adorable thick-framed glasses.

  “Sure. How about Tee-Tee? Or Hyungie? The TaeMan?” You wiggle your brows with the suggestion.

  “God help me.”

  The two of you clink your shot glasses together even though neither of your songs are being played.

  His Apple watch lights up to indicate an incoming message. He relays the text to you, “Fei’s done work. She’s on her way now.” You can’t help but notice a shift in his previously excited demeanor.

  You nudge him with your elbow. “Aren’t you excited? She’ll need a glass of wine or two to destress after work. I might be projecting onto you for this part, but you’re buzzed. So after we get her to unwind I’m sure the overwhelming power of pheromones will get you lucky tonight.” You wink at him to emphasize your point.  

“She’s not a big drinker. She’s probably just going to come and ask to leave in five minutes. Bars like this aren’t really her thing either,” he states. He then unbuckles his watch and tucks it away into the pocket of his pants. Undoing the cuffs of his shirt, he rolls up the sleeves and continues to regard you solemnly. “Okay, next round is one me. Are you absolutely sure you don’t want to switch songs?”

  You notice how nice, long, and slender his fingers are. Plus the thing of girls liking when men have visible veins on their forearm? That had never really caught your attention until now.

  “She’s a bit of a bitch,” you say and immediately regret, “Shit, sorry. That just slipped out. Alcohol.”

  He offers you his water to drink.

  “I mean, she’s a little…uptight at times? But people can be completely different in and out of work. I can only imagine how stressful it is in her position. Working overtime until 9pm on a Saturday night seriously sucks,” you say to try and mend your wrongdoing.

  “Fei in the office is basically Fei at home,” he says softly, “It’s always work with her.”

  “We support career-driven women, yeah?” A smile is offered from you to him.

  He finally lets out a small one and nods. Out of the blue, he reaches over and covers your hand with his. Staring intently into your eyes, he says, “I know she makes you do her reports and occupies your time to do her coffee runs as well. You can say no to her. She may be my girlfriend, but you’re technically my intern, and I will stand on your side no matter what.”

  “Um, okay. Thanks, Tae,” you say. His sincerity has caught you off guard.

  At that moment, the sound of clicking heels pierce its way into your eardrums through the noise of the even busier bar. Taehyung quickly retracts his hand.

  Fei arrives, not a hair out of place in her tightly pulled bun. Her lips are painted a striking red against the paleness of her skin, and her manicured nails dig into the forearm of Taehyung when she reaches them. Even though she is wearing an otherwise drab office business suit, the curvature of her body draws quite a few glances from the younger men in the crowd.

  “It’s like a zoo here,” she sneers, turning away from a sacrificial lamb who had been bold enough step out of his circle of friends to greet her with a sleezy “hey”.

  “Hi, Fei. Busy night?” you greet her first.

  She gives you a tight-lipped smile. “Yes. I don’t know why you weren’t there. Isn’t it the intern’s job to complete reports?”

  Again, a loosely defined use of “intern” at DailyHive.

  You return her smile with a crisp one of your own.

  She turns away from you and regards Taehyung, who looks as if he had been the sacrificial lamb instead. “Teddybear, let’s go home. You know this type of place isn’t my vibe. I’m getting a headache already.”

  You raise an eyebrow at his pet name.

  He turns a little bit pinker, if that is possible under the current alcohol-induced glow of his cheeks, and says, “Um, sure. Y/N, are you going to be okay getting home?”

  Waving him off, you show him your phone. “30% left. I’ve got pepper spray in my bag and enough booze in me to not run from a fight. I’ll call an Uber home soon, don’t worry.”

  Fei has already begun to fight her way through the squirming, dancing bodies. Taehyung glances quickly at her and turns back to you once last time. “Text me that you’re home safe.”

  “Will do, boss,” you smile at him warmly.

  He lingers for just a moment more before running after his impatiently waiting girlfriend.

  You turn back to the bar and order another beer for yourself. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is perhaps the biggest perk of being single.

...

On the opposite side of town, sinking deeply into a soft lounge chair is Seokjin enjoying a rare evening out with his best friend. He has swapped his usual attire for a more relaxed fit of a white oversized crewneck and techwear bottoms. A heavy, exorbitant fur-lined long leather coat hangs on the coat rack beside the door to their private VVIP room. He swirls his glass of Chateau Lafite before sipping delicately.

  Outside, only a handful of patrons sit quietly engrossed in their own conversations. It is a relatively empty night at the high-end lounge. A lady sings sultrily on stage with the smooth background of a saxophone as accompaniment.

  Junho has poured himself another glass while he is talking to Seokjin. Seokjin had since slightly tuned out his friend’s rather elongated rendition of another celebrity sighting to occupy his mind with another individual.

  “Earth to Jin? When did you get so lightweight since I’ve been gone?” Junho waves a hand in front of Seokjin’s nose.

  Seokjin blinks to refocus.

  “The mansion I bought last year or the one I bought last month?” he reiterates. Sensing that Seokjin truly had no idea what the topic at hand had been, he tries again.

  “Where should I do my birthday party this year, man? I thought the mansion from last year since it’s closer to the city, but I feel like it’s been reused too many times. It’s not completely furnished yet, but the property I got last month is significantly bigger and I can probably host more people.”

  “The new place then,” Seokjin answers half-heartedly.

  Junho grumbles something intelligible.

  “What did you say?”

  “Nothing,” Junho sighs, “Tell me what’s new with you. How’s that little project of yours going? I still can’t believe you won’t let me know who you’re planning to take to the Gala.”

  Seokjin had refused to release even the slightest detail about you to Junho. Letting him know that Seokjin had agreed to one of his plans would be enough to inflate Junho’s ego for at least a little while.

  “It’s been going...”

  Junho waits for more of Seokjin’s answer, but his friend’s attention has been turned to a received text.

  10:17pm “Safe and sound, Teddy Bear.”

  10:17pm “Or should I say Taeddybear? 🥴”

10:18pm “That last beer done me rael godo.”

  10:18pm “Real good**”

  Seokjin raises a brow at the unknown number. He responds back.

  10:18pm “Who is this? I think you’ve got the wrong number.”

  Junho crosses his legs and sits back with a sigh. He presses the button to request for an attendant.

  10:19pm “You know who… Anyways, I just wanted to say thank you for saying you’ve got my back. It’s definitely appreciated.”

  The response doesn’t do much except to further pique Seokjin’s curiosity.

  “Sorry,” he says, sliding his phone back into his pocket, “Rogue text I think.”

  Junho shrugs. “Is that right? Seems to have caught your attention.” There is now a manner of indifference to his voice.

  “It’s going well, by the way – answering your question. I mean, all things considered. It’s not like I have to teach her how not to stuff a cocktail shrimp up your nose.”

  His friend snorts. “I’d be concerned and against this person if it’s who you’re planning to bring.”

  Seokjin’s phone buzzes again.

  10:21pm “Pray for me when I wake up with the worst hangover of my life. I’m going to bed now.”

  A moment of silence.

  10:21pm “I hope I didn’t piss off Fei tonight for stealing you for the evening.”

  10:22pm “Okay I’ll shut up now. Please don’t tell me you’re reading this. You should be getting some 😼💦.”

  The emoji makes Seokjin choke, liquid sputtering from his lips.

  Junho cusses. He angrily dabs at the speckle of red wine that has landed on his pearly white top.

  10:23pm Download attached image. “Just in case, here’s a little something to get the night started 😉”

  “What the hell man?” Junho gets up and makes his way to the bathroom. Luckily, the previously called attendant had arrived in time to escort him.

Seokjin barely notices that he is alone in room as he taps the download button. It isn’t until he has returned home and is looking at the picture one last time before bed that he realizes who his mysterious texter is.

  The employee nametag clipped to the collar of your workday shirt hanging on the arm of a chair can only be found when zoomed in past your painted toes and naked feet.

... 

You cannot hide your nervousness when you arrive at your “lunch meeting” the following Monday morning. All weekend, you had cursed yourself for not better checking who the recipient of your texts were before pressing send. Never had you thought that in your drunken stupor you would mix up “The Devil” in your contact list with “Taehyung Kim.” Curse you and your lack of friends beginning with the letter “T”.

  You balk before, a hand poised in perfect position for a knock. Maybe he didn’t download it? And even if he did, it was just a troll feet pic. You had made sure that it was as pg-13 as possible before you had sent it.

  “Hi,” you greet sheepishly when he has given you the go to enter.

  In a smart plain blue button-up and round frames that are almost certainly for the aesthetics, the CEO of the company and your boss sizes you up and down.

  “I know we’ve gotten to know each other better these past few weeks. But you’d think it’s still common courtesy to at least make eye contact,” he says. You look at him wide eyed without a word.

  He rolls his eyes but does not gesture to your usual seat. In fact, you don’t spy a take-out container in sight. He instead stands up and picks up his phone, walking to the door. He notices you have yet to move.

  “Let’s get moving. You’ve only got a 45 minute lunch.”

  You scramble to match his speed and catch Taehyung’s eye as you grab your jacket at your desk. Taehyung’s gaze follows you as you hurry to leave in pursuit of Seokjin’s coattail.

... 

The restaurant is a popular vegan establishment with a plethora of greenery crawling up its high ceilings and a window-framed overview of the city’s skyline. Waiters and waitresses who may just as well be walking New York Fashion Week serve you brunch mimosas on a golden plate; they attentively wait to the side in case you ever run out of water.

  Common topics are rare between the two of you. Initially, you respectfully kept quiet and only answered questions when asked, but you have never been one for awkward silence. Yes, it’s awkward only if you make it awkward; there is just no denying the hanging suspense that curls your toes each time. Recently, you have started with simple inquiries regarding the company, who they might meet at the Gala and everyday mundane topics.

  “You’re probably wondering why we’re out of the office,” Seokjin says. He continues shortly after taking a bite of his meal and ignores the look of your surprise at his initiation of a conversation. “My office has been getting stuffy with the warmer weather so I thought it’d be nice to get some fresh air. How’s the food?”

You nod, making small sounds of contentment as you chew on the Avocado Lime Tartare. Mmm… tart-y.

  He takes a deep breath in, stalling the incoming conversation. “It’s my friend’s birthday this next weekend.”

  “Oh,” you say, “Happy early birthday to him.”

  “He’s my best friend.”

  “Well… An extra happy early birthday to him.”

  A sigh. “Are you free next weekend?”

  Your chewing comes to a halt and you blink once at his question. Next weekend is the weekend before the Silver Gala. It is also the sole weekend before your birthday the following Friday after the Gala. You had hoped to spend it with Taehyung and maybe even Jimin who had promised to be in town on a long overdue vacation despite your chastising to visit your parents first.

  He senses your trepidation. Quickly, he explains himself, 

“He’s having a birthday party Saturday night. He has a place about an hour north of here. I can have somebody pick you up if that’s more convenient. I don’t have a birthday present for him and thought it’d be nice for you to meet him.”

  “You’re giving him me for a present?” you ask, incredulously.

  He bites his tongue. He never anticipated how awkward this conversation could go.

  “You’re going as my plus one. He really wants to meet you; in fact, he insisted that you be there. He’ll be at the gala too. I have something else planned for his birthday present,” he adds hastily, “Besides, you’re less than qualified as a present.”

  Musing silently to yourself, you wonder if in any situation should a human be qualified as a present. Despite that, you hate yourself as you agree on the spot.

  The rest of the lunch passes by quickly in dull silence. As Seokjin pays for the meal on the company card (and hands you the receipt for reimbursement), you note that there has been no comment made on any strange photos texted to him over the weekend.

  Perhaps being nonchalantly implied as a human birthday gift to a stranger is your karma for sending weird texts to your boss.

  Seokjin stays inside the car as he drops you off at the office after lunch, already preparing for his next business meeting. You nod your goodbye and step onto the pavement through the courteously held open door of the limousine.

“Y/N, try a soft pink. Fuchsia is not your colour,” he tells you as the door is closed.  

He then leaves you standing in front of the large office doors, staring at your chipped, week-old purple toenails.

... 

“I’m not exactly expecting a package in the mail or a dress laid out on the hotel bed – ”

“You guys are staying at a hotel?” Taehyung says over the phone.

  You are standing in your bedroom, an hour before when Seokjin is supposed to pick you up as an offering to his best friend. There are two dresses laid out on your Hello Kitty bed covers: a simple black dress you had worn once when you were a little bit more in shape and your prom dress.

  “No, I’m at home. But I mean, let me play into this movie metaphor.”

  “You suck at metaphors.”

  You have your phone propped up on some pillows so that you can see Taehyung as you debate your fashion decision. He is in a relaxed white tee, hair messily framing his face after a shower and a bowl of popcorn in his hands. You watch as a droplet of water runs down his face from his still-wet hair. He nonchalantly licks it off from the side of his mouth.

  “As I was saying, it wouldn’t hurt to get me something. He made it seem like it was a big deal. Like doesn’t the male lead usually surprise the female lead with a big bouquet of flowers and this over-the-top expensive dress which she wears and makes the male lead fall head over heels in love with her?”

  He chews silently on a kernel then probes, “You want Mr. Kim to fall in love with you?”

  “No,” you hastily correct, “It’s a metaphor. I think you’re the one who sucks at metaphors.”

  There is a beep on your phone to indicate you have another incoming call.

  “Tae, I’m going to have to call you back. My brother’s calling me,” you tell him. The black dress; your old prom dress is way too early 2000s. Black never hurts.

  “Okay. Have fun tonight. Pretend that it’s your birthday party. And then I’ll meet you for brunch tomorrow, my treat? You can tell me all about it,” he says. “Also the black. You look cute in that one.”

  “My party if I was 30, rich and successful. Oh wait, I’ll have one thing in common soon; that’s a start. Thanks though. I’ll call you tomorrow morning once I get up,” you say, then switch the call over to your brother. You had missed the flush of his cheeks as you busily swipe your phone.

Sticking the prom dress back into your closet, you rummage around the meager display of shoeboxes for a pair of high heels.

  “Hey, Jimin,” you greet over the phone.

  “Jesus, I do not need to be accosted by my half-naked sister,” he yells over the phone.

  You turn rapidly, seeing that you had accidentally continued a video call from when you had hung up on Taehyung. You throw a pillow over the camera in your haste to cover yourself up.

  “I was going to ask why you’re dressed like that but on second thought, I think I’ll leave your sexual exploits as your own secret.”

  Despite how disturbed you feel about this comment, his cheerful voice makes you smile.

  “So little sis, the weekend before the big three-oh!”

  “Please stop reminding me.”

  “Where do you want to meet tonight? I just got off the plane, but I can be ready to meet in about an hour. I booked a hotel close to the airport.”

  Shit. You forgot to tell Jimin. These heels will have to do.

  “Um… I, uh…”

  “What?”

  You clear your throat and begin to undress in front of the mirror. You have a sudden conscious thought that the dusty treadmill in your living room seems to be staring daggers at your back. 

  “I’ve got plans tonight.”

  “Plans? I wasn’t even aware you had friends here.”

  “Ouch, Jimin. But yes, I have friends. In fact, I am meeting a friend for brunch tomorrow if you want to join. I’m sure he’ll be okay with it.”

  “He?” Jimin repeats, “Should I put on my big brother boxing gloves? Give him a good talking to in case he’s interested in my baby sister?” Pause. “Was that who you were calling before?”  

You bite your answer back, not feeling the need to go down that rabbit hole.

  “He’s just a friend; A co-worker really,” you say, “He’s also unavailable. And before you suggest anything, his goalkeeper is technically one of my bosses so I do not want to try and shoot past her thank you very much.”

  Jimin laughs. “I wasn’t going to suggest anything. Well if you’re busy tonight, tomorrow morning works for me. Give me a call. I’ll spend the night in watching some good ol’ Netflix and enjoy this vacation time.”

  “Sorry again,” you apologize.

  “Go out and have fun,” he says, “You deserve it.”

  The two of you finish off the call with the usual goodbyes. You have forty-five minutes to dress the part of a sparkly birthday surprise for the co-founder of the company you work for. Throwing on your favourite throwback music, you get to work.

  Once satisfied, you snap a picture and sending it to Taehyung making special care that you have picked the right individual this time.

... 

The mansion is bigger than you could have ever imagined, and the amount of people present are…

  “You’re telling me I can do whatever I want tonight,” you ask Seokjin in the car.

  There is no denying that Seokjin knows how to dress for an event. In a velvety black and white suit, contrasted by his blonde hair which he has elected to temporarily dye for the evening, he looks very much the posh CEO magazines brand him out to be. You are glad you elected for the simple black dress as standing beside this Renaissance statue in a floral pastel yellow dress would be like planting dandelions in Kanye’s sculpture garden (if he ever wanted one).

  “The majority of people won’t recognize you after tonight. They’ll also be too drunk to even register anything you tell them,” Seokjin says.

  He cannot believe that you chose a simple black dress. Did you really not own anything remotely feminine besides the most generic clubbing outfit? Even if you had wanted to make an appearance as a hooker, at least make it an expensive-looking one. Maybe he should have bought you that Versace dress he spotted in the window the other day. Instead…

  “Take this. Your earrings are too gaudy for this event.”

  You touch the sparkly black cats you have put into your ears. Their eyes are made of crystal, and you thought it looked quite fetching in the light. Opening up the box, you see a dainty elegant pair of teardrop earrings that may or may not be of real diamonds.

  “Only Junho will know who you really are and then you can enjoy the rest of your night. I don’t want you to feel like you’re being held here against your will.”

  Putting them on, you note that even this simple change in attire has elevated the entirety of your presence. You felt as luxurious as this gift.

  “Thanks, Seokjin,” you try the first name basis he had insisted upon for this evening, “Not going to lie, I had imagined that maybe you’d send me a dress in the mail or something, but this is still very nice.”

  He snorts and rolls his eyes. “Like in the movies? Please, I run a start-up company. I’m not a millionaire and I don’t think you would appreciate my handouts.”

  You don’t respond, making your second note of the night on the Prada label on the cuff of his suit. “To clarify, I don’t introduce myself as your plus-one tonight.”

  “No. I don’t want you associated with me,” he curtly states. He watches as your smirk twitches and he hits himself mentally in the head again. “It’s to protect you. There are bound to be tons of paparazzi tonight at a party as big as this. I don’t want you to find yourself in the tabloids tomorrow morning. Just be smart.”

  The car pulls to a stop after inching its way up to the front door. People mill about outside in extravagant brands, holding glasses of champagne. The man of the hour is somewhere inside the building, charming his way into new business deals as well as making new friends.

  “Stay close to me. You can leave after we meet Junho. It is his birthday after all,” Seokjin offers a hand as you step out of the car.

  You take it, looping yourself into him so that your hand rests on his forearm. You are only 13 days younger than Junho, and yet this striking contrast in lifestyle hits you like a landslide while the two of you walk up the stairs and into the mansion.

  Inside, it is dim with disco lights flashing to the beat of amped party music. Upon entrance, the two of you are offered glasses of liquor (you take a swirling iridescent drink) to which you are then ushered to where the birthday boy lounges.

  Junho has an even more youthful face than Seokjin does. Where Seokjin’s features exude class and charm, Junho appears mischievous and looks to have stepped out of every girl’s bad boy dream.

  You stop Seokjin with a tug and make him look at you. “Tell me: do I look like a passable birthday offering?”

  Seokjin rolls his eyes and pulls you along with him.

  “Jin!” Junho hollers loudly across the room when spotting his oldest friend. There is a doll-like female magnetized to his side. “This is Clara, my date for the evening.”

  Seokjin shakes her hand and greets them. The female cannot seem to pry her eyes away from this handsome new stranger. He introduces himself chivalrously to her as Junho sides up to you and grips your hands in his. His breath smells strongly of mixed drinks, and you know that in about fifteen minutes the entire night will be a blur for him.

  “You must be Y/N!” he says excitedly, “Jin didn’t tell me that you were coming! What a surprise!”

  “I am,” you greet back with a large smile. “Although I’m also surprised. Seokjin told me that you had insisted I came.”

  Seokjin grits his teeth, annoyed at Junho. Would he ever learn when to keep his big mouth closed?

Laughing loudly, Junho grabs two drinks just as a waiter passes by and hands them to you. “Insist might be a strong word,” he says, drilling another hole unknowingly, “I honestly thought I’d have to play part-time wingman tonight. But I’m glad he’s got someone by his side.” He jabs you a little too hard in the ribs. “Next week’s gala is going to be fun! Okay, now there’s only one rule tonight: there are no rules!”

  The four of you clink your glasses together, while you do your best to hide an embarrassed smile on behalf of the birthday boy.

  “You bet I’m going around as your trophy wife tonight,” you whisper in Seokjin’s ear when Junho looks away.

  He whirls around to look at you, the tip of both your noses impossibly close together. He can taste the acidity of the wine when you breath out with a wicked smile. He barely has time to stop you as you peel yourself away to mingle with the crowds.

  Seokjin is about to follow you but Junho pulls him away, flamboyantly introducing his handsome best friend to a group of international models. He turns on his brightest smile, but his heart thunders in his chest at you calling yourself his wife.

... 

You twirl around in your dress, nobody noticing the small splash of champagne on the front of it in the quickly changing lights.

  “He bought this for me last week. Says it reminds him of the first night we met. Our eyes met across the waters in Tuscany where he was on a business trip. I’ll let you on a little secret, but I was his mistress for a little while.”

  Seokjin cannot make out the words you are saying to a small but growing group of people around you. He stands across from Junho, but looks over the latter’s shoulders to watch as you do another spin.

  “A little while, Charlotte? Are you still his mistress?” an older lady with an exuberant amount of jewels hanging off her body whispers with a keen interest in your expertly spun story.

  Charlotte Dior Laurent, an identity you are pretty sure is an amalgamation of French brands from the top of your mind. You continue to personify this character however.

“Don’t worry. He’s left her since. I know I know, my friends all say the same. ‘He’s already been divorced three times. How can you be sure he won’t leave you?’”

  At this point, you are in way over your head at having told this story to at least two other groups and a multitude of other renditions to whomever you have met tonight. But there is something powerful about liquid courage as it courses through your body.

  The lady lays a hand on your arm. “I don’t want your heart to break. You are still young.”

  Looking up between the heads of your audience, you catch Seokjin’s eyes. They are fiery and it sends a strange sensation up your toes to your abdomen. You give a titillating wave at him in which he does not return.

“He says I’m special and different. How can you say no to that?” you exclaim with exasperation, fully committing to the poor damsel just oh-so in love.

  There is a look of genuine concern on the lady’s face at your statement.

  Before you can dig yourself a deeper hole, you place your empty glass on the table and excuse yourself. You do not know if it’s the drinking on a relatively empty stomach or if the room is really much warmer due to the multitude of bodies, but you head out to the balcony.

  On your way out, you notice that the clock reads twenty minutes past midnight. This gives you a shock at how fast time has passed. Perhaps you should go find Seokjin if you are to get a decent amount of sleep before meeting with Taehyung and Jimin tomorrow. Speaking of Taehyung…

  You pull out your phone and see that there are two unread messages. The first is from Jimin, confirming that he is indeed invited to brunch tomorrow morning. The second is a response from Taehyung.

  11:09pm “Wow. You have me a little lost for words. I had imagined you’d look nice in the dress but… You really are beautiful.”

  Smiling, you type in your response.

  12:21am “Thanks, Tae. You’re up late.” You take a picture of the earrings Seokjin had gifted you and attach it to the message. “What do you think of these?”

Barely have you returned your phone into your bag when it buzzes again. This time you receive an attached image. Taehyung seems to be sitting in front of a monitor, as his face glows with a blue light and contorted into a pensive furrow of his brows.

  12:21am “A little different from your usual style. Are they new? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear those.”

  12:21am “Fei’s out with some friends tonight. She likes when I wait for her to come back before I sleep. To make sure she’s safe, I guess.”

  12:22am “Pooey. I should’ve brought you as my plus-one 😩. Also, Seokjin bought them for me for tonight. He says my other earrings are too gaudy.”

  12:24am “First name basis 🙃”

  12:25am “How is your night going? Having fun?”

  You are about give Taehyung a call for a detailed recounting of tonight’s escapades when someone speaks out from within the shadows.

  “A penny for your thoughts?” He walks into the moonlight. You flush, meeting the eyes of this particularly dashing gentleman, the phonecall immediately forgotten.

  Oh, Alcohol, you make even the smartest of people do dumb shit. And right now, your effects are even worse on this idiot.

  Your mouth hangs slightly open as you watch him puff out smoke from his cigar and offer it to you. He brushes up beside you, his fingers trailing up your hand which grips the balcony. You cannot seem to break away from his gaze.

  “Lung cancer has an increasing incidence rate particularly for females due to smoking. Are you sure you want to be condoning this type of behaviour?” Seokjin interjects himself between you and your Tuxedo Mask, pushing the outstretched cigar back towards its owner.

  There is a small stare down amongst the two men before the latter quietly exits the stage. Your eyes continue to linger on him even as he walks towards another female alone in the night enjoying the outdoor breeze.

  “You’ve just ruined by chance. I could have seduced then blackmailed him with the story of his illegitimate child to play Black Widow,” you whine.

  Seokjin takes the glass that had somehow magically appeared in your hand during the short walk from inside to outside on the balcony.

  “How many have you had since we came?” he asks.

  You sigh wistfully, still in your dangerous daydream. “I don’t know. I’ve lost count.” You turn your attention back to him eventually. “What are you doing here? Did you see me with him and get all jealous, hubby?” you tease.

  He scoffs, drinking from your glass and pulling a face. Once again, there is that twist and jump within his chest, but he attributes it to whatever nasty concoction he had just ingested. He pours its contents over the railing and into whatever shrubbery lies below. “You seriously went with being my trophy wife?”

  You shrug. “Of sorts. You’d better be right about people being too drunk slash not caring about me enough after tonight to remember the things I’ve said. ‘Cuz you’ve been divorced three times, had me along with another as your mistress, I think you’ve sired a few illegitimate children and all in all, a Games of Throne life. Damn, maybe I made you a little too badass.”

  “You’re having water for the rest of the night,” he says.

  You glare at him, contemplating on making a remark about his equally flushed face but decide against it. Instead, you lean onto the balcony and give a cat stretch. A large sigh escapes from you.

  Wordlessly, he shakes off his jacket and places it around your shoulder all the while averting his gaze on the unblemished skin of your upper thighs that had been exposed from your previous movement.

  Your blood feels like liquid fire coursing through your veins. Feeling overheated even in the evening breeze, you give him back his jacket. You note his reluctance to meet you even as you throw what could be a thousand dollar jacket in the air to him. “So what’s it like to live like this every day?” you say in wonder. You feel said breeze return and lean over the balcony to catch its chill.

  “Like what?” he asks. The warm summer night’s breeze blows through, settling his hair in a childish tousle.

  “Like rich,” you say. You sigh again. “Believe it or not, I’m the same age as your birthday boy best friend.

  And everything feels absolutely unreal right now. If I hadn’t agreed to come here tonight with you, I’d probably be at another dingy bar knocking back shots with my brother and friend.”

  “Are you a secret alcoholic?”

  You glare at him. “No,” you state matter-of-factly. “As I was trying to share, this type of lifestyle is something I could ever only imagine. I’m not ungrateful about spending time with them, but at the end of the night I’d go home, sweaty, drunk and gross, and then simply pass out. My bank account might be a couple hundred bucks lighter. Come Monday I’ll be working my ass off just to earn back what I had spent. Then cue the repeating cycle.”

  Resting your chin on your palm, your other hand sweeps your hair back behind your ear.

  “It’s amazing the difference a few life choices can have.”

  Seokjin remains silent beside you. Truthfully, he is at a loss of words. The moonlight plays across your face and caresses your nose down to your lips. You are arching your back once again to pull away the soreness that comes with wearing high heel the entire night. It is just a simple black dress but on you it made you look –

  “Well, you’re Mrs. Kim tonight,” he starts.

  “Charlotte Dior Laurent,” you correct him.

  He raises an eyebrow. “Okay… Ms. Charlotte Dior Laurent. Tonight you get to live like the rich, as you’ve put it. As a rich person, what would you like to do?”

  You ponder his question a few moments for the answer. “Hmm…I think I’d like to play golf. It’s a rich person’s sport. I want to play it on a private golf course, wearing cute golfing outfits and talk about million-dollar deals with a client without a care in the world. I want to order sangria by the gallon.”

  He laughs out loud. It takes a while for him to be able to speak again, but when he does you feel as if the night has been illuminated a few degrees brighter. “I personally don’t have a private golf course, but Junho does here in his backyard if you’re up for it. I can’t promise cute golfing outfits so you’ll have to do with your wine stained dress. And if you’re really up for it I can pretend to make business deals with you, that’s my job anyways.”

  You grin, taking the hand he has offered you. “Call.” The two of you shake upon his suggestion.

As he is leads you by the hand towards the dim gates of said golf course, you tug at him gently. “There’s something missing…” you say.

  He shakes his head and pulls you back in towards the party room. 

“I’ll see what they have at the bar.”

... 

As the hands of the clock continue to spin past another hour, the summer night takes a chilly turn. Seokjin has lent you his jacket but even that cannot stop your fingers from becoming numb. Your hands shake even as they tightly hold the golf club. Seokjin watches you in silence as you prepare to hit the golf ball, a beer in one hand and a few opened bottles littered on the grass beside him. The club hits the ball with a resounding “cling” but does little in propelling it a few centimeters.

  “This one doesn’t count,” you announce, “It’s too dark to see anything here.”

  Seokjin takes a swig as you readjust your position. You sway in the wind and the last tendrils of your hair come undone in its half up half down hairdo. Your hair now whips wildly around your face when another gust blows through.

  “Shit!” you exclaim, missing the ball again. “Why is golfing so hard?!”

  You throw your club down and trudge to Seokjin. The six pack the two of you had been sharing has officially been depleted. Seokjin offers you his half empty bottle. This time, you are the one watching as he goes to your spot and effortlessly swings his target into the darkness.

  He smirks from the spot.

  You grumble. “You’ve had years of practice. Not fair.”

  “You’ve got to do better than that, Mrs. Johnson,” he says, teasing you.

  Your grumble becomes more audible. You place the now empty bottle on the ground and cross your arms against your chest. Since telling him of your other American alias from tonight, he has not ceased to remind you of your strange choice of name.

  “Just so you know, Mrs. Johnson can afford both an affair and the consequential prenup,” you huff.

  “It’s still a stupid last name.”

  “It’s an American multinational corporation with an income in the billions, okay?”

  “Keep telling yourself that if it makes you sleep better at night. Now come on, I’ve got one last ball. Take a swing.”

  Groaning, you shuffle over. You wish you had not suggested golf. You had never been good at sports anyways – bad hand-eye coordination.

  He stands beside you this time, scrutinizing your every movement with hawk-like eyes. “No, not like that,” he says, “Have a wider stance and bend your knees. Better centre of gravity gives you a better swing. Also hold it with a neutral grip.”

  You readjust your positioning following his instructions.

  “Index finger down the center. Good. And three knuckles on each hand. No, that’s two. Okay your hands are just weird now. Three. I said three.”

  “Stop standing there and show me then, Mr. Know-It-All,” you say, your patience in this makeshift lesson also coming to an end.

  He walks closer to you, reaching out for the golf club. He retracts his hands in seeing that you have yet to let go. “You got to – ”

“You can touch me. I did tell you that Mrs. Johnson can afford an affair and prenup. Besides, I’m not going to be able to learn anything if I can’t even see you in this dark.”

  He comes behind you and puts a foot between yours to guide your stance. Wrapping his arms around you, he fixes the placement of your hands to grip the shaft of the club in the way he had previously instructed.

  Perhaps it is the mixture of wine, champagne and beer offered tonight, but being enveloped in the warmth of this embrace intoxicates you. The tingles that are sent down from his soft breathing on the base of your neck, make you shake like a leaf in the wind.

He inhales the sweet undertones of your perfume. The tendrils of your hair brush against his collarbone, sending a sensual kiss onto his skin. Unconsciously, he draws you closer to him, shielding you from another gust.

“Now you just want to swing,” he says, the words a mixture of a whisper and guttural grunt. His chest rumbles with it, passing the vibration through to your back.

  You remain as still as a statue and lean ever so slightly back into him until your entire backside is pressed upon him.

  You can’t stop yourself as you ask him, “Do you want to have sex with me?”

...

#bts #seokjin #taehyung #bts fanfic #seokjin fanfic #taehyung fanfic #bts x reader #seokjin x reader #taehyung x reader #ceo!seokjin #enemies to lovers #bts imagines #seokjin images #taehyung images #kim seokjin #jin #namjoon #hoseok #jungkook #yoongi #jimin

[writinglizards]

Something the Cat Dragged In

Summary: It's been almost a year since Lambert's seen Aiden.

He's likely not interested anymore, even if Lambert had done his best to curb his sharpest edges, keep him coming back. It hurts and he tells himself it doesn't. It's better than the alternative. Better than Aiden hurt...or worse.

Then he finds the cat.

Pairing: Aiden/Lambert Rating: Teen Warnings: None

This is for @contemplativepancakes who asked for a comedy of errors. I am awful at that, but I’ve been assured this is funny, so. Please enjoy!

Read on Ao3

It's been almost a year since Lambert's seen Aiden when he finds the cat.

Or more accurately, perhaps, the cat finds him.

It's been about two weeks since he set out from Kaer Morhen to the clearing where he usually meets Aiden. He hadn't shown last year and Lambert hadn't been able to find him, even keeping an ear out for word about a tall, dark-haired cat witcher too nice for his own good.

He's not sure what he's hoping for this year, or at least he's not comfortable admitting to himself what he's hoping for. He likes Aiden, but they don't need to travel together. He's sure he's fine, he's just...busy.

It doesn't make the ache in his chest any easier to deal with, but he pretends it does.

Regardless, he heads for their meeting spot and sets up camp. He'll wait a week and if Aiden still hasn't shown after that, well.

He's fine. He's just...not interested in Lambert anymore, probably.

That hurts worse, somehow.

-----

The cat shows up the second morning Lambert's camped out.

It's a skinny thing, sleek black with a patch of white on his chest and haunting green eyes.

Lambert wakes up to the creature nestled between his calves and startles, upsetting the cat who mews his annoyance and bites his foot. Lambert shoots out of his bedroll after that.

"What the fuck?" he asks the cat, who eyes him with distaste but doesn't move, and Lambert figures, well. The cat will leave on its own he'll just...wait.

-----

The cat doesn't leave, and it's starting to freak Lambert out, just a little bit.

When he settles down to eat, the cat creeps from his bedroll to sit by his boots and stare with big, green eyes that remind him of Aiden. He shoves that thought from his head as quickly as it arrives.

"Cats don't like witchers," he says, as if the cat might have forgotten, but he doesn't move, just sits and stares at Lambert's jerky.

"Are you just hungry?" he asks, and, after a brief hesitation, he snaps a small piece off and offers it to the cat. The cat, for his part, briefly sniffs the offering before taking it into his mouth only to drop it on the floor and bat it around like a toy.

"Really?" he asks the cat, but the cat doesn't seem to care about Lambert's none too silent judgment, just continues to amuse himself with the bit of food. Lambert only hopes the little creature will move on, and quickly.

-----

It keeps trying to creep into his bedroll.

"You can't sleep here," he hisses, shoving the little creature away from his feet for the third time in as many minutes. In response, the cat hisses and bites, sinking its sharp little teeth into Lambert's calf.

"Son of a bitch." The cat stares defiantly at Lambert over its mouthful of flesh as if daring him to retaliate. Reluctantly, he can admit the little thing has gumption.

"You're mean you know that?" he asks the cat, who, when it becomes clear Lambert isn't going to continue fighting, lets go of its mouthful and steps daintily over his leg to settle between his knees.

"This is only for tonight," he says, huffing irritably, "and only because you're such a little dick." The cat ignores him, settling down and beginning to purr softly. Lambert pretends that doesn't make his heart swell.

-----

Lambert can't bring himself to disturb the cat when he wakes so he just...lays there and lets the little beast slumber.

He tells himself it's because he doesn't want to be bit again. It has nothing to do with the fact the cat is small and warm, and the weight of it against his shins is comforting.

It's fine until the little creatin begins to chew on his toes.

"I thought you were asleep," he hisses, twitching his ankles to dislodge it. The cat only delights in the movement, pouncing after him. Lambert groans.

"When are you going to get lost?" he asks, hauling himself up and depriving the cat of their game. He's not expecting the small thing to sit back on its haunches and merp softly at him. Slowly, he stills.

"You wanna say that again?" he asks, and the cat meows plaintively. Staring at him like this, he's reminded again of Aiden. The eyes, the color of the fur so close to the deep black of Aiden's own hair, and the jagged, mangled left ear, just like--

Something like ice settles in his veins.

"Aiden?" he asks tentatively, and the cat meows delightedly, striding forward to wind between his legs. Lambert crouches to put himself on level with the cat again.

"Tell me I'm not crazy," he begs. The cat just stares at him before headbutting his knee. Without thinking, he raises a hand, running fingers meant for killing back through silky fur. Beneath his fingertips, the cat kicks up a purr again.

"Fuck, it is you, isn't it?" he asks, scratching gently at the base of the mangled ear just to listen to the way the cat--Aiden, it's Aiden--purrs his pleasure, head tipped into the contact.

"What the fuck am I gonna do with you?" he asks. Aiden, too distracted by Lambert's gentle caress, isn't in the least bit helpful with an answer.

-----

If Aiden is here, there's no point in sticking around camp and waiting any longer, but Lambert still feels off-kilter and he did budget a week's worth of resources for camping, so he’ll just...he'll just give it another day or two. Just until he feels a little less like he's losing his mind.

He feeds the cat the bits of the fresh rabbit he caught the night before for breakfast and the cat does eat that, quietly delighted with its little meal. And now that he knows it's Aiden...

"Do you have any idea how worried I was last year?" he asks, petting down his lanky back and enjoying the way he arches into it, purring again, "I thought...uh," he can't quite say it. The I thought you were dead or the I thought you didn't want me, bit. Both hurt.

"Anyway," he mumbles awkwardly, "how long have you been like this?" Aiden just makes a little chirping sound and headbutts his hand again to get him to pet him. Lambert sighs.

He spends the day charting out a path to the nearest mage who might be willing to help. He's pretty sure that would be Triss where she’s been staying in Ard Carraigh, even though she's more than a two-week ride away. She's helped Lambert in the past, he figures she's probably his best bet now, too.

"What do you think, Aiden?" he asks, but the cat is napping curled up on top of one of his saddlebags and otherwise unhelpful. Lambert is pretty much on his own.

-----

That night is a repeat of the night before, Aiden curled up across his shins and purring sweetly. As he lays staring at the stars and trying to sleep, he can't help but wonder how much of Aiden is...present, for lack of a better term. The cat acts like a cat, except he's eerily like Aiden in appearance and the fact that he's...he's fond of Lambert, apparently. He'd known, immediately, Lambert would care for him. He at least needs to get him turned back, proved that Aiden's instincts there had been right.

He falls asleep worrying about it.

-----

Traveling with Aiden as a cat is...not as simple as it should be.

"If you won't stay in the god damned saddlebag, you at least need to hold still," he hisses wrestling the cat into his lap. Aiden’s been trying to walk the length of his horse as they ride, and the prick of his claws is making Cinnamon nervous. Lambert doesn't want to be thrown from the saddle, so he's got the cat under the arms, holding him to his chest as he wiggles in an attempt to get free. Aiden is clearly not amused by the situation.

"You bastard," Lambert hisses when Aiden takes a chunk out of his arm through the thin cloth of his shirt, unprotected by his bracer or jacket, "Aiden would you, fuck--" the cat yowls and Lambert jerks Cinnamon to a halt. "What?"

Before he can figure out what's wrong, Aiden's lept from his arms, landed gracefully on his feet, and bolted into the trees.

"Aiden, wait! Fuck," he hisses, and the next minute, there's a click of hooves and--

"Having a good morning, Lambs?" Lambert whips around so fast his neck cracks alarmingly.

"Aiden?"

He's astride a horse Lambert doesn't recognize, not Sugar, and he looks...he looks...

"You're not a cat," he says dumbly, and Aiden grins, the bastard.

"No, but it's been very fun watching you the last day or so," and oh, Lambert's going to kill him, actually, "you didn't really think the cat was me, did you?"

"I...it was...fuck," he spits, wheeling Cinnamon to march past Aiden's gelding, now headed in the opposite direction. If the damn man is fine, then he doesn't need to go see Triss and he can head back towards Aedd Gunvael looking for contracts as he'd planned previously.

"Aww Lambs, no need to get embarrassed," Aiden calls, and Lambert can hear the shit-eating grin, "I'm just teasing."

"Fuck off," he growls, but Aiden's horse falls into step beside Cinnamon.

"Oh, don't pout on me, Lambert. I thought it was cute," he says, and Lambert can't bite back the words in his throat any longer.

"I thought you were dead," he spits, "or worse." Disinterested. Abruptly, Aiden leans over and catches Cinnamon's reins, pulling them both to a stop.

"Whoa, wait. You thought...what?"

"I haven't seen you in a year," he bites out, horrified to find his throat thick with tears, "what was I supposed to think?"

"You didn't get my letter?" he asks, and then, before Lambert can process that statement, "fuck, Lambert, I'm so sorry. I thought you knew I was working far south last year, I couldn't...I couldn't ask you to come with me, so I left you a note at that inn we drink at every year. Bastards must have tossed it. Fuck."

"So you didn't..." you didn't abandon me, you aren't tired of me, you haven't moved on to something better. He can't say any of that, just goes quiet.

"I didn't leave you high and dry on purpose, no. Fuck, Lambert, how could I?" he smiles, a small, timid thing, "you're the best part of my year, puppy dog, how could I?"

The sincerity in his gaze and his words makes Lambert's face hot, makes his throat tight. He spurs Cinnamon back into motion, and Aiden's horse follows.

"Whatever, you fucking sap." It's the best he can manage without risking something drastic, like tears or his own dopy smile. Still, he can feel Aiden radiating smug energy behind him again.

"Aww, come on, puppy, I just poured my heart out for you, I deserve better than a whatever."

"You did not," he snaps, "shut up."

"Oh, you need declarations of love then? Fine. I--"

"Aiden," he cuts him off, not willing to find out how far Aiden will take this game of emotional chicken, "stop. I'm...I missed you. You're the best part of my year too." He says it without looking at him, Cinnamon a few crucial paces ahead of Aiden's horse. The back of his neck feels hot and he knows he's blushing.

"O-oh," Aiden stammers out, "uh--"

"There," Lambert cuts in, "now you can shut up."

Gratefully, Aiden does.

-----

Lambert's so relieved about Aiden, he doesn't think about the cat until they stop to camp for the night.

"Do you think the cat's okay?" he asks, and Aiden gives him a long, slow look.

"Why does it matter?"

"Why does it--what the fuck Aiden? It's just a little cat. How's it gonna take care of itself out here? I should have gone after it." He regrets being so wrapped up in Aiden that he'd forgotten the other Aiden, cat Aiden. Not cat Aiden? Fuck, he's tired.

"Cats take care of themselves, Lambs, don't stress about it. He was managing just fine until he found a soft-hearted witcher to feed him, he'll be fine."

"Excuse me, who the fuck do you think is soft-hearted here?" he growls, and Aiden lays his bedroll out beside him and grins.

"Why you, puppy dog. You're the sweetest--" he doesn't let him finish, hooking his foot around Aiden's ankle and bringing him down on top of the bedroll hard.

"Not sweet," he hisses, but it feels like overcompensation even to him, and Aiden just laughs, rolling to stare at him with eyes that are far too fond.

"Sure thing, Lambert."

And if, as they both fall asleep, Lambert shifts closer to throw his arm around Aiden's waist, pull him in closer amidst Aiden's sleepy mumbling, well. It's still cold at night. Nothing more.

-----

There's a slight, warm weight across Lambert's shins when he wakes.

It takes his half-asleep mind a minute to realize what that means, and then he's sitting up so fast Aiden makes a startled noise.

"Lambert, what the fuck," Aiden husks, but Lambert's not listening.

No, he's focused on the cat curled across his shins, jet back with one mangled ear and a white spot on his chest. He peers up at Lambert with those same big green eyes, and something in Lambert's chest shifts.

"Hey there Aiden, thought I lost you," he murmurs, reaching out to pet across the broad side of the little creature. He allows it for a moment before catching Lambert's hand with his paws and biting, just enough for him to feel it. "Yeah, yeah, I deserve that."

"What are you--oh." Aiden comes up short when he sits up and sees the cat again, nestled across Lambert's legs, "well I'll be damned." He reaches out to pet the cat too, who promptly hisses and swats at Aiden, claws extended, "Oi, fuck, rude." Lambert laughs.

"Guess he doesn't like you much, eh?" His chest feels light as he scoops the cat up into his arms. He tolerates it, although he gives a fretful little meow at the treatment.

"You would find the only cat that stands witchers and get it only to like you," Aiden grouses, but he doesn't seem genuinely troubled about it, "I can tell why you thought of me, though. That's sweet." And that--

"Yeah," he says, unable to come up with something suitably snarky and mean. He sets the cat down, who scampers back over to make himself comfortable on Lambert's saddlebag, away from the indignity of surprise cuddles. He's trying not to look at Aiden's own mangled ear, the one cut round in a rough approximation of a human's, a reminder of how he’s been treated in the past. Lambert had been...so fucking worried.

"You can't keep calling him Aiden, though."

"Sure thing," he says, forcing a grin. He has no intentions of calling the cat anything else and he knows Aiden knows, too, can see it in the fond little crinkle around his eyes, the sweet upturn of his lips, "Come on, we've got a camp to pack."

And if Lambert keeps calling the cat Aiden and starts calling witcher Aiden witcher Aiden just to piss him off? Well. How else is he supposed to know he's loved?

#witcher #witcher fic #lambden #laiden #lizard writes #rating: teen

[whencartoonsruletheworld]

Disney Songs That Hit Different™ When You’re Autistic, a full Spotify Playlist

Open to updates should anyone notice a song I missed!

Tracklist and specific lyrics that fuck me up under the cut: 

The World Above - The Little Mermaid Broadway Production

“It’s like my life was wrong And somehow, now, at last I’m in My own skin Up here in the world above!”

“The sun’s so bright here Upon my face! It feels so right here Warm as love... Life seems to be Almost calling to me...” - stimmy 

Belle - Beauty and the Beast 

“The bookshop. I just finished the most wonderful story. About a beanstalk and an ogre and a—” - y’all ever been interrupted on an infodump and then realize nobody cared? yeah that feeling 

“Look there she goes, that girl is strange, no question Dazed and distracted, can't you tell? Never part of any crowd Cause her head's up on some cloud No denying she’s a funny girl, that Belle...”

“[That one? But you've read it twice!] It's my favorite. Far-off places, daring swordfights, magic spells, a prince in disguise...” - SPECIAL INTEREST 

“Look there she goes, that girl is so peculiar I wonder if she's feeling well With a dreamy, far-off look And her nose stuck in a book What a puzzle to the rest of us is Belle...”

“Oh, isn't this amazing? It's my favorite part because you'll see Here's where she meets Prince Charming But she won't discover that it's him till chapter three...” - IF NOBODY LISTENS TO MY INFODUMP I SHALL INFODUMP TO SHEEP

“But behind that fair façade I'm afraid she's rather odd Very diff'rent from the rest of us She's nothing like the rest of us...”

More - deleted song from Moana

honestly the entire song is a bit “want to break off and learn about special interest / be in my own world / be myself” mood 

“The other kids just dance and play How can you play? There's so much out there to explore...”

“She stares at the sky, she stumbles down the beaches She mumbles all the names that her Gramma Tala teaches With one foot here and another in a distant past She’s growing up too fast...”

Part of Your World - The Little Mermaid 

not only a BIG SPECIAL INTEREST MOOD... big “i don’t belong here” mood...

“Look at this trove, treasures untold How many wonders can one cavern hold? Looking around here, you'd think Sure, she's got everything” “I've got gadgets and gizmos a-plenty I've got whooz-its and whats-its galore You want thing-a-mabobs? I've got twenty But who cares? No big deal. I want more!”

“Betcha on land, they understand Bet they don't reprimand their daughters Bright young women, sick of swimmin', Ready to stand...”

“When's it my turn? Wouldn't I love, Love to explore that shore up above?”

More Than Just the Spare - deleted song from Frozen 

“I'm not part of the town, not born to be queen Just somebody hopelessly in-between She's the scholar, athlete, poet I'm the screw up, don't I know it...”

“I may lack style and I may lack grace And once in a while I fall on my face But this little button deserves a place in the sky This button wants to fly- Wait, buttons can't fly, it doesn't make any sense!”

“And maybe I can't be the perfect one And maybe I err on the side of fun...”

“Someday I'll find my thing, a thing that's all my own That thing that makes me part of something, not just all alone If only all this feeling I have in my heart, could mean something to someone, how I'd love to play that part!”

“Like a button, like a horseshoe Like a girl who's bad at metaphors!”

Proud of Your Boy - Aladdin Broadway Production 

“So say I'm slow for my age A late bloomer, Okay, I agree...”

“But I'll get over these lousin' up Messin' up, screwin' up times You'll see, Ma, now comes the better part Someone's gonna make good, cross his stupid heart Make good and finally make you proud of your boy...”

“Say I'm a goldbrick, a good-off, no good But that couldn't be all that I am...”

“Though I can't make myself taller Or smarter or handsome or wise I'll do my best, what else can I do? Since I wasn't born perfect like Dad or you Mom, I will try to try hard to make you Proud of your boy...”

Let Me Make You Proud - Tangled: The Series

“Maybe I make things a mess And maybe you're right to have doubts in me Maybe, but nevertheless If you for once could just trust me...”

“And when I return And I'm more than you dreamt I'd be Maybe then you will realize That you never actually knew me at all...”

“Cause I long for that look of surprise When you see your son rising at last...”

Almost There - The Princess and the Frog 

“Ain't got time for messin' around And it's not my style...”

“But I know exactly where I'm going Getting closer and closer every day...”

“People down here think I'm crazy But I don't care Trials and tribulations, I've had my share...”

Home - deleted song from Frozen 2 

BIG routine song

“Wandering through the town with everyone doing all of their stuff Somewhere in my heart I feel I've not yet done enough For these people I know, this place that I love so...”

“I know how fragile things can be. If I lost them, I'd lose me They're my ocean, they're my shore. I wanna give them more...”

In a World of My Own / Very Good Advice - mashup cover of Alice in Wonderland 

“They would sit and talk to me for hours When I'm lonely in a world of my own...”

“I could listen to a babbling brook And hear a song that I could understand I keep wishing it could be that way Because my world would be a wonderland...”

“I give myself very good advice But I very seldom follow it That explains the trouble that I'm always in...”

“Be patient is very good advice But the waiting makes me curious And I'd love the change Should something strange begin...”

“Will I ever learn to do the things I should?” 

Reflection - Mulan

“Now I see that if I were truly to be myself I would break my family's heart...”

“Somehow I cannot hide Who I am, though I've tried...”

“How I pray that a time will come I can free myself from their expectations On that day, I'll discover someway to be myself And to make my family proud...”

“They want a docile lamb, no-one knows who I am Must there be a secret me I'm forced to hide? Must I pretend that I'm someone else for all time?”

If I Wasn’t So Small - Piglet’s Big Movie 

“It's not as if I want to rule the world Or even the forest, or even one tree I suppose I could be happy, if I could be helpful With just a little bit of noticing me...”

“I'd be needed and useful More each passing day...”

Jack’s Lament - The Nightmare Before Christmas 

“Oh somewhere deep inside of these bones An emptiness began to grow There's something out there far from my home A longing that I've never known...”

Everything I Ever Thought I Knew - Tangled: The Series

“I thought no one could love me And how could I have known? I was wrong, oh so wrong...” “Then I thought I found it, a dream that I could share I thought I was so lucky, it almost wasn't fair I thought I knew my purpose, I thought that I knew where I belong But I was wrong...”

“Now that it's all crumbling, help me understand If none of it was really me then who am I supposed to be?”

“I guess my life meant nothing I guess it was a sham I guess I'm someone else now I wonder who I am...”

I’ll Try - Return to Neverland

“I am not a child now I can take care of myself I mustn't let them down now Mustn't let them see me cry...”

“My whole world is changing I don't know where to turn I can't leave you waiting But I can't stay and watch the city burn...”

Waiting in the Wings (Reprise) - Tangled: The Series

“I craved so much, and yet I kept on waiting One glance, one touch, and I just kept on waiting...”

Waiting in the Wings - Tangled: The Series 

“Guess we all are born with parts to play Some of us are stars, and some are just in the way I know I was meant for glory But that's never what my story brings And yet I keep on waiting...”

“When you have the passion and the drive You expect your moment centre stage to arrive I show up with heart ablazing Ready to achieve amazing things But I'm left waiting in the wings...”

“It's always someone else who sings While I'm left waiting in the wings...”

“Always overlooked unfairly, while pretending that it barely stings But it stings, yes, it stings...” 

I’m Still Here (Jim Theme) - Treasure Planet

“I am a question to the world, not an answer to be heard Or a moment that's held in your arms...”

“And how can you learn what's never shown Yeah, you stand here on your own They don't know me, cause I'm not here...”

“And I want to tell you who I am Can you help me be a man? They can't break me As long as I know who I am...”

“They can't tell me who to be Cause I'm not what they see Yeah, the world is still sleeping While I keep on dreaming for me And their words are just whispers and lies That I'll never believe...”

“And I want a moment to be real Want to touch things I don't feel Wanna hold on, and feel I belong And how can you say I'll never change They're the ones that stay the same I'm the one now Cause I'm still here!”

God Help the Outcasts - The Hunchback of Notre Dame 

“Yes, I know I'm just an outcast I shouldn't speak to You Still, I see Your face and wonder Were You once an outcast, too?”

“God help the outcasts, hungry from birth Show them the mercy they don't find on earth God help my people - we look to You, still God help the outcasts or nobody will...”

“Please help my people, the poor and downtrod I thought we all were the children of God?”

So Close - Enchanted 

honestly the entirety of enchanted is an autism mood but, 

“So close to reaching That famous happy end Almost believing This one's not pretend...”

Into the Unknown - cover of Frozen 2

“There's a thousand reasons I should go about my day And ignore your whisper which I wish would go away...”

“I’ve had my adventure, I don’t need something new...”

“Or are you someone out there who's a little bit like me? Who knows deep down I'm not where I am really meant to be?“

“Are you out there? [Do you know me?]  Can you feel me? Can you show me?”

Someone’s Waiting For You - The Rescuers 

“Don't cry, little one There'll be a smile where a frown use to be You'll be part of the love that you see...”

Sally’s Song - The Nightmare Before Christmas 

“I sense there's something in the wind That feels like tragedy's at hand And though I'd like to stand by him Can't shake this feeling that I have...”

“Although I'd like to join the crowd In their enthusiastic cloud Try as I may, it doesn't last...”

Someday - The Hunchback of Notre Dame Off-Broadway Production 

“Someday, when we are wiser When the world's older, when we have learned I pray someday we may yet live To live and let live...”

“Someday, these dreams will all be real Til then we'll wish upon the moon Change will come, one day  Someday soon...”

Where Do I Go From Here - Pocahontas II: Journey to a New World

“They do what they must for now And trust in their plan If I trust in mine, somehow I might find who I am...”

“The path ahead's so hard to see It winds and bends but where it ends Depends on only me In my heart I don't feel part of so much I've known Now it seems it's time to start A new life on my own...”

Wherever You Are - Pooh’s Grand Adventure: The Search for Christopher Robin 

“I'm out here in the dark, all alone and wide awake Come and find me I'm empty and I'm cold, and my heart's about to break Come and find me...”

“I need you to come here and find me Cause without you, I'm totally lost I've hung a wish on every star It hasn't done much good so far...”

“I used to believe in forever, But forever’s too good to be true...”

Belle (Reprise) - Beauty and the Beast 

“And for once it might be grand To have someone understand I want so much more than they've got planned...”

Endless Night - The Lion King Broadway Production 

“Home is an empty dream Lost to the night Father, I feel so alone...”

“I know that the night must end I know that the sun will rise...”

Set Yourself Free - Tangled: The Series 

“Locked inside a tower, kept behind a wall Sheltered from a world you’ve barely known That’s the way they treat you...”

“There's much more inside of you than anyone can see And now the choice is yours, life waits beyond the doors So step on through, the time has come And only you can set yourself free!”

“So use the gifts you're given Make the world your own Look inside your heart and find the key...”

“Bound up by your worries Trapped by your mistakes Forced to play a role you never chose...”

“No more letting someone else define you to a T You know that you are strong You've known it all along...”

Let it Go - Frozen Broadway Production

“The wind is howling like this swirling storm inside Couldn't keep it in, heaven knows I've tried Don't let them in, don't let them see Be the good girl you always have to be Conceal, don't feel, don't let them know Well, now they know!”

“I don't care what they're going to say Let the storm rage on The cold never bothered me anyway...”

“It’s time to see what I can do  To test the limits and break through  No right, no wrong, no rules for me  I’m free!”

“Let it go, let it go And I’ll rise like the break of dawn! Let it go, let it go  That perfect girl is gone!”

How Far I’ll Go (Reprise) - Moana 

“All that time wondering where I need to be is behind me I'm on my own to worlds unknown...”

Colors of the Wind - Pocahontas 

“You think the only people who are people Are the people who look and think like you But if you walk the footsteps of a stranger You'll learn things you never knew, you never knew...”

Strangers Like Me - Tarzan 

when u meet another autistic person.... 

“Whatever you do, I'll do it, too Show me everything and tell me how It all means something And yet nothing to me...”

“I can see there's so much to learn It's all so close and yet so far I see myself as people see me Oh, I just know there's something bigger out there...”

Beyond My Wildest Dreams - The Little Mermaid Broadway Production 

“Look over there! Oh my god! How very odd! And what might they be? Something splendid, maybe! Look over here! Could you bust? Isn't it just bedazzling, dazing, utterly amazing! Gazing 'round, it's like, to die! Just seeing it feels so good, I'd scream if I only could!”

“Just keeps on gawking- Weird how she's not talking!”

“I'd hoped and wished My life would feel enchanted! Wished and prayed The fates would hear my plea...”

Watch What Happens - Newsies Broadway Production 

“’Write what you know’ So they say, all I know is I don't know what to write Or the right way to write it...”

“It could practically write itself And let's pray it does, cause as I may have mentioned I have no clue what I'm doing!”

“Speak up, take a stand, and there's someone to write about it That's how things get better...”

[also. the squeal.]

“Like someone said, "Power tends to corrupt" And absolute power, wait, wait, corrupts? Absolutely, that is genius! But give me some time, I'll be twice as good as that six months from never...”

“Just look around at the world we're inheriting And think of the one we'll create...”

“Give those kids and me the brand new century and watch what happens It's David and Goliath, do or die The fight is on and I can't watch what happens But all I know is nothing happens if you just give in It can't be any worse than how it's been And it just so happens that we just might win So whatever happens, let's begin!”

Son of Man - Tarzan 

“Oh, the power to be strong and the wisdom to be wise All these things will come to you in time On this journey that you're making, there'll be answers that you'll seek And it's you who'll climb the mountain It's you who'll reach the peak...”

“Though there's no one there to guide you, no one to take your hand But with faith and understanding You will journey from boy to man...”

“In learning you will teach and in teaching you will learn You'll find your place beside the ones you love Oh, and all the things you dreamed of, the visions that you saw Well, the time is drawing near now It's yours to claim it all!”

Strange Sight - Tinkerbell and the Legend of the Neverbeast 

“You stand in the light You're wrong, but you're right And my heart's beating wildly Strange how I'm scared but delighted Afraid, but excited too!”

“Do you long to be left all alone? Set apart with a heart made of stone? Let me help, let's begin Let me learn, won't you let me in? All the light, let it show...”

“You are a strange sight, some new kind of wonder With good hidden under, I'm sure that it's true Strange how your dark doesn't faze me...”

Wind in My Hair - Tangled: The Series 

“What if the doors began to open? What if the knots became untied? What if one day, nothing stood in my way And the world was mine?”

“Plenty of mysteries to unravel Tons of mistakes to not regret So much to see, and to do and to be A whole life to spend And it doesn't end...”

For a Moment - The Little Mermaid II: Return to the Sea 

“This way is left, but which way is right? Well, now I'll be circling in circles all night...” - direction problems amirite

“This is more than my thoughts ever thought it could be For a moment, just a moment, lucky me...”

“For a moment, I can feel, All the dreams I've been dreaming are real, Wish my mother could hear it, the sea is my song For a moment, just a moment I belong...”

Speechless - Aladdin 2019 Remake

i would like to send this song to autism $peaks (hate group) underlined in red and with a photo attached of me with a middle finger up 

“Here comes a wave meant to wash me away A tide that is taking me under Swallowing sand, left with nothing to say. My voice drowned out in the thunder...”

“Written in stone, every rule, every word Centuries old and unbending ‘Stay in your place, better seen and not heard.’ Well, now that story is ending!”

“Let the storm in! I cannot be broken! No, I won't live unspoken! Cause I know that I won't go speechless!”

“Try to lock me in this cage! I won't just lay me down and die! I will take these broken wings And watch me burn across the sky!”

“I won't be silenced! Though you wanna see me tremble when you try it, All I know is I won't go speechless, speechless! Cause I'll breathe when they try to suffocate me! Don't you underestimate me! Cause I know that I won't go speechless!”

Show Yourself - Frozen 2 

the siren call... stimmy

“Something is familiar, like a dream I can reach but not quite hold I can sense you there, like a friend I've always known I'm arriving, it feels like I am home...”

“I have always been a fortress Cold secrets deep inside...”

“Are you the one I've been looking for all of my life? Show yourself! I'm ready to learn...”

“I've never felt so certain! All my life, I've been torn But I'm here for a reason- could it be the reason I was born? I have always been so different, normal rules did not apply Is this the day? Are you the way I finally find out why?”

“I am found!”

“You are the one you've been waiting for All of your life...”

Here I Am - Camp Rock 

“They tell you a good girl is quiet and that you should never ask why Cause it only makes it harder to fit in And you should be happy, excited, even if you're just invited Cause the winners need someone to clap for them...”

“It's so hard just waiting in a line that never moves It's time you started making your own rules...”

“If how you’re living isn't working there's one thing that'll help You got to finally just stop searching and find yourself...”

“The world better make some room Yea move over, over Cause you’re coming through!”

“You gotta scream until there's nothing left With your last breath Say here I am! Here I am! Make em listen Cause there is no way you'll be ignored Not anymore...”

Us Against the Universe - Phineas and Ferb: The Movie - Candace Against the Universe

“I used to feel alone, just me against the raging tide, But I guess I should've known that you were always on my side. Now I don't have to be an island, cause you've been there all the while, and Now I realize my fears weren't justified!”

“Cause as long as we're together, We can stand and face whatever Kind of trouble this world tries to put us in. If you're out there on your own, You just might take it on the chin Cause if it's us against the universe, we win!”

#disney #autism #autistic #actually autistic #disney songs #mine

[iamcayc]

Chapter 2: Kids

Fandom: 呪術廻戦 | Jujutsu Kaisen (Anime) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con Relationships: Gojo Satoru/Reader, Gojo Satoru/Original Character(s) Additional Tags: Slow Burn, Flirting, Developing Relationship, Original Character(s), Eventual Smut, Eventual Sex, Strangers to Lovers, annoyances to lovers, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Past Child Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Childhood Trauma, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Vaginal Fingering, Heavy Petting, Gojo Satoru is a Little Shit

---

The phone ringing startles you as you’re sitting on your couch, a true crime documentary on the television as the soundtrack to your night of grading essays. There’s still half a stack of essays to slog through, and only one more glass of wine left in the bottle on your coffee table.

You glance at the screen of your phone, frowning at the name you see.

“What’s up, Nanami?” The phone rests against your shoulder as you scribble a barely-passing grade on the paper in your hand.

“You busy?”

Well, this isn’t going to end well.

“I’m almost out of wine and have twelve more essays to suffer through before I can call it a night.” Nanami chuckles at your predicament. “So, yeah, I guess you can say I’m a bit busy. Why?”

Nanami sighs and you can just see him rubbing his temple as he tries to work out a way to ask you something he knows you aren’t going to like.

“Spit it out, would ya?” you probe with a sigh.

“Satoru wants your help with a mission.”

Your frown immediately deepens. “I already told him that I’m not a sorcerer.”

A muffled series of thwumps and thuds force you to hold the phone away from your ear before a new voice chirps through the device.

“Technically, you only told me that you have asthma,” Gojo says brightly. “You didn’t say anything about not being a sorcerer.”

Your eyes narrow at nothing in particular. “Why doesn’t it surprise me that you’re the kind of guy who likes to point out technicalities?”

Gojo chuckles, the sound a warm caress through the phone. You’re fairly certain that’s mostly the wine reacting, but you aren’t taking any chances.

“Regardless, let me make it perfectly clear to you: I am not any kind of practicing, jujutsu sorcerer,” you say slowly, clearly. “I received enough training to keep my energy in check and help out where I can as a Window since I work at a school and know what to look for. Now, if you’d be so kind as to return my cousin’s phone, I’d like to tell him to make himself available for you since he is sorcerer.”

A soft grunt sounds as you listen to the phone getting passed back to Nanami. “I’m sorry, Kaya. I tried explaining—where the fuck are you going? Satoru!”

As he shouts Gojo’s name, a polite knock sounds at your door. You leap to your feet, your heart thundering in your chest.

“Kaya? Kaya, are you there?” Nanami’s voice sounds tired. “Do not open that door. You give this guy a fucking inch and he takes a mile.”

“Are you telling me that the random-ass person knocking on my door right now is Gojo?” you ask tersely. “Because I’m pretty fucking sure I live a solid distance away from your school.”

Nanami sighs and mutters a series of graphic swears as the person at the door begins to knock on the door to the beat of “Mary had a Little Lamb.”

“I can’t tell you if he’s being so stubborn because he genuinely needs your technique, or if he’s only thinking with his cock, but you do not have to answer that door.” You snort, not buying for a second that Gojo has any intention of giving up so quickly.

“I’m never having dinner with you again,” you hiss into the phone before hanging up. As far as you’re concerned, this is all Nanami’s fault for allowing Gojo to crash their weekly dinner. You toss the phone on your couch before stomping towards the door and yanking it open to reveal a casually-dressed Gojo leaning against the jamb with a grin.

“What the fuck do you want?” you ask with thinly-veiled hostility. Gojo ignores the venom and grins wider.

“I have to say,” he remarks, “I think you’ve got the most beautiful eyes when you’re irritated.”

You haven’t wanted to throttle someone in so long, you forgot what it felt like to have your blood boil.

“What do you want?” you ask again, this time through gritted teeth.

“Your help.” Gojo tilts his head innocently as he looks at you. “Pretty please?”

The bubbling frustration with this man isn’t something you need your neighbors witnessing, so you step aside and yank him through the door, surprised that he allowed you to grab hold of him at all, considering what you know of him.

You ignore his chuckle as you stomp back into your living room and pause your documentary, knowing you’ll likely have to restart the whole thing since you missed so much thanks to the asshat currently making himself comfortable on your couch. He stretches his arm along the back of the sofa, tilting his head back to look at you.

“You’ve got a nice place for a teacher.” You stare at him. He did not just backhand compliment you. “Though, the sound proofing tiles are a little odd.”

“You’re an asshole,” you tell him with a glare. “And now that I am fully aware of the fact that you have highly selective hearing, let me say this one more time: I have absolutely no interested in joining your mission.”

“Because of your asthma, right?”

Dear fucking god, you want to punch him.

“And the fact that I’m not a fucking sorcerer. I have never and will never work as one.”

“Why not?” Gojo watches you as you sink onto a pillow on the floor at the coffee table. “Nanamin isn’t anywhere near my level and he still makes a solid living doing exorcisms.”

You look at him as you pick up your red pen. “If you had to quantify the actual size of your ego, how big would it be?”

The jab is ignored with a dismissive wave. “Your cursed technique, it’s based on sounds that you personally create, right?”

“I mean, it’s definitely bigger than your dick. There’s no way that thing is bigger than a handful of centimeters, considering the way you carry on every time I have the displeasure of seeing you.”

“But that can’t be it, because if that were the case, you would be wreaking havoc on the populace if you so much as farted.”

“I wonder what that server thought when you finally whipped it out, after doing everything she could think of to get your attention? Ha! I bet she was so disappointed.”

Gojo leans forward, his forearms resting on his knees as he grins at you. His aura is practically dancing around him; he’s loving every second of this.

“You really didn’t like her, did you?”

“I really didn’t care either way.” Half-truth, but who’s counting? “I just got tired of seeing her tits every time she came to check on us. That, and her aura was starting to make me motion sick with the undulating and buzzing.”

He raises a white brow. “You can see auras?”

“I heard them first. I’ve always been sensitive to sounds.” You frown at the introductory paragraph of the paper in your hand. Did you students even read the assignment? “I only started to see the auras after training with Nanami.”

“I’ve never heard of someone hearing an aura... what’s mine sound like?”

You look up at him, surprised to see that he’d taken off the sunglasses he’d been wearing to pin you with those eyes. Why is someone so far up their own ass this hot?

Setting down your pen, you take a breath to center yourself, allowing your own aura to reach out to his. You let your eyes guide the edges of your aura along the edges his, like a bow across a string. If Gojo feels anything, he doesn’t say; he just watches you with an intense expression.

At some point, you let your eyes meet his, and that’s when his aura begins singing to you.

“You sound like a cello’s mid-range, that sweet spot of notes on the G and D strings.”

“What does your sound like?”

The question throws you off. No one has ever asked about yours before. It’s not that you don’t know how your aura sounds, but rather, you aren’t sure how to explain what you hear.

“It sounds like me,” you reply plainly. “I sound like... just me.”

He regards you quietly before letting his cheek rest on his fist. His gaze softens as he looks at you, sending whatever traces of annoyance you feel towards him scattering into nothing.

“There have been reports of a cursed human loose in a residential area outside of Hidaka. Some sightings have it listed as a child, others say it's a few adults. But all the witnesses agree that whatever it is, it’s luring children from the area into the woods.”

“Is this the part where you tell me why Six Eyes needs me to find some cursed human in the woods?”

He shrugs. “I’m not good with kids.”

You snort. “You’re a teacher.”

“And you’ll notice that my students are well above the age of 6 years old.”

“So are mine.”

“Are you always this stubborn?”

“Pot, meet kettle.” You set down your pen and look at him seriously. “And before you throw my whole aura-sight at me, I’ll point out that you seemed to have no idea that I could see auras until a few minutes ago. So, tell me why you want my help on a mission you and your students are more than equipped to handle on your own?”

Gojo leans back against the couch once again and sighs. You let silence creep into the space between you. His aura isn’t singing anymore, but it isn’t agitated, so you haven’t totally pissed him off. Yet.

“I want you to lure the curses out and get them to bring the missing kids with them.” One of his hands slides through his hair. “At least, that was my initial idea. But, if you can see and hear auras, that might help us get the kids out before shit goes south with the curses.”

You frown. “That original plan assumes that I can control more than one curse at a time, which isn’t the most fool-proof, either. I’m not being modest when I say that I’m not a sorcerer, I’m being honest. Your dark-haired student’s aura is more powerful than mine, and he wasn’t even trying to let me see his aura.”

Gojo considers you quietly, his blue eyes shimmering in the artificial light of your apartment. You’re tempted to examine the shifting colors of his irises up close, until you remember that you know better than to let your body anywhere near a man that self-confident.

“I’d say you’re an upper Grade 3, just as you are now. Properly motivated, maybe a Grade 2. Still, that’s more than enough to draw out a few curses. I don’t need you to exorcise them, only get their attention and make them a bit more docile for the kids to take out.”

“You really aren’t going to let this one go, are you?” you ask him, sighing as you rest your chin on the heel of your palm. He flashes you a bright grin, sending an armada of butterflies up your stomach and into your throat.

“Nope.”

You lean back on your palms as you look at him. You have no interest in telling him that you’ve already decided to help since there are missing kids involved, so you let him watch you watch him. Because, maturity.

“And what do I get out of this? Other than a potential asthma attack?”

His grin slips into a smirk. “What do you want?”

You raise your brow, knowing full well what he’s insinuating. “I don’t touch sloppy seconds, thanks. I was thinking more along the lines of a few bottles of really nice wine, or maybe an expensive whisky. Or, if you’re feeling really guilty about triggering my asthma, never asking me to help with your job ever again.”

“Since I’m feeling generous, why don’t you decide after you’ve helped me out? You know, see how much effort you have to put in and get the most reward for your buck.”

You don’t trust that new sparkle in his eyes as you agree to his terms.

You only agree to meet Gojo and the others after school the next day because the sooner you’re done with this favor, the better. Then, you can get back to watching Netflix specials on serial killers and grading piss-poor essays on the Baroque movement in peace.

The grounds of the Tokyo Jujutsu High School are well kept, despite there being so few students enrolled. The spans of the campus practically begged to be bustling with chattering students, but all it gets is the occasional grumpy alumni and sporadic admissions.

It wouldn’t hurt to plant some flowers either.

“I told you she wasn’t going to show up with a flute or drum!” You glance over your shoulder and see Gojo leading the two boys from before and a new addition, a girl with down-turned eyes and a bored expression.

Gojo inclines his head towards you by way of greeting. “Kaya, you saw these two yesterday, Yuji and Megumi.” His thumb points out Pinky first, then the dark-haired kid whose temperament you like. “This is my other first-year, Nobara.”

You wave with a polite smile, your teacher’s smile. “Nice to meet you all.”

Nobara peers at you a little longer, her eyes sweeping up and down your outfit with analytical eyes. You couldn’t wait to hear what a sixteen year old has to say about your clothes. You chose to swap out your black jeans for a sturdy pair of athletic leggings to increase mobility, though you are acutely aware of how tight the pants are, especially around your ass.

You pick at an invisible lint on the sleeve of your jacket. Gojo is doing a marvelous job of surveying your… assets.

“I want you to design our new uniforms,” she declares boldly. You blink in surprise since that is definitely not what you were expecting. Not sure what’s so stunning about leggings and a rarely-used running shirt, even if it has Gojo eyeballing your butt with enough heat to send his aura in languid waves around him.

“Thanks, I think.” You slip on your leather jacket and look over at Gojo with an arched brow. “Are you finished gawking? I have classes to teach tomorrow, and there’s nothing worse than trying not to make a bunch of teenage girls cry when you’re too tired to tell them their god-awful piano composition sounds like something out of a third-rate anime.”

If they thought Nobara offers up some hot takes, they need to see you with less than six hours of sleep and a full day of classes on the horizon.

Gojo chuckles as he rubs his lower lip with the pad of his thumb. There is something unfairly sensual about the motion, and extremely predatory. Frowning slightly, you turn away and hand the kids the the earplugs you had stuffed in your pocket before you’d left the apartment.

“What’re these for?” Yuji asks, inspecting the bits of foam like you just handed him cocaine. .

“Maestro, here, uses a cursed technique rooted in sound.” You feel Gojo sling his arm around your shoulders. “Though, seems like she didn’t bring enough for me to get a pair, too.”

You shoot him a look. “You know precisely why I didn’t bother. Now, can we please get a move on?”

Wordlessly, the kids gather around and latch onto Gojo’s jacket, and you brace yourself for the gut-punch that comes along with teleporting. Nanami graciously informed you of Gojo’s aptitude for warping after a series of threats of bodily harm that exponentially increased in severity the more he dodged your questions. In that time, you realized that Gojo’s perpetual use of Limitless could stop your technique without a thought.

You’re in the midst of replaying a particularly entertaining memory of Nanami squealing like a pig after you started to make him juggle kitchen knives when you feel a strong hand press you against Gojo’s chest by the small of your back. Sputtering with utter indignation, you glare up at the grinning man, wishing with every fiber of your being that your knee could make contact with his balls at that moment.

“Ready, maestro?”

“Fuck off, Gojo.” Yuji snickers from behind him. Gojo watches you expectantly and your glare deepens. “I’m ready.”

“There’s a good girl.”

“Dude, keep that shit up and she’s going to find a way around your Limitless to kick your ass,” Megumi mutters from the right. “And Lord knows, the majority of us will sell tickets to that show.”

You don’t hear Gojo’s reply as you're lost in trying not to hurl all over the man as he yanks your body through space. The surrounding trees whisper and rustle in the evening breeze, the low glow of the sunset making the setting feel eerie. You hope the missing kids are okay, but you’re jaded enough to know better. Rolling your shoulders, you shake off the creeping shadows of memories you’ve worked hard to ignore on a daily basis.

“You’re up, Kaya.” Gojo nods at you as he removes his blindfold, his eyes more aquamarine in the dying light. “Think you can tag the auras for me?”

“Everyone got their earplugs in?” you ask the teenagers behind you. They all respond with solemn nods, their expressions resolute. You glance at Gojo, his eyes unseeing but all-seeing as he looks out into the forest around you.

“When I start singing, Six Eyes should pick up any auras my technique hits, like sonar.” It’s been over a year since you last sang, but you’d prepped your vocal cords most of the day with hot tea and a couple shots of bourbon before heading to the school. “I’ll also be willing whatever hears me to come to me as I sing.”

He looks at you with slight concern. “How long can you sustain that?”

You set square your shoulders and look back out into the darkness ahead. “As long as I need to. My priority will be the kids, you guys can deal with the cursed human.”

He nods as you take a deep breath to settle the flurry of nerves in your stomach. Why are you so nervous about singing in front of Gojo, of all people? His opinion has never mattered to you, since the moment he crashed your dinner. Who cares if he doesn’t like the song choice or if he thinks your voice is garbage?

“Unsteady” by X Ambassadors is a go-to warm up song for you. It sits right in your chest range, so it’s easy to project as you start walking slowly into the woods. Besides, you know how it feels to beg someone, anyone for help but end up ignored instead.

Gojo’s footfalls are nearly silent as he stalks behind you, but your voice makes his aura pulse against your own. It’s a comforting feeling, lending you more courage than you were feeling, that’s for sure.

A sharp rustling to your left makes you pause, the movement too harsh and erratic to dismiss as an animal. The icy blue of the aura halos around a tiny form, the fear tinkling like a shrill bell being shaken by a child. Gojo stiffens behind you, but you raise your palm before shooing him back.

Without faltering in the song, you crouch down in the direction of the stumbling child, pulling a small handbell from your other jacket pocket. A steady, calming beat in time with your singing pulses forward, coaxing the child out slowly as her aura shifts from pale blue to a saturated cobalt.

A little girl, no older than six or seven, flies into your arms, making your stumble in your singing. She’s coated in dirt and gods know what else, clutching your jacket so tight that her tiny knuckles turn white.

“You caught the culprit’s attention,” Gojo chuckles as you soothe the frightened child into letting go of your jacket. She clings to your leg when you stand, her snot and tears soaking into your leggings. You try not to cringe, but Gojo catches your obvious distaste and laughs, earning him a glare.

“There’s a cluster of black auras there,” you tell him quietly, gesturing further into the woods, to the east. “I can see them, but they’re silent.”

He hums as he nods, stroking his chin thoughtfully before he looks at you again. His eyes flick to the little girl, whose grip on your leg is starting to get painful, and it’s in that moment you realize two things.

First, that you get to tell Gojo, “I told you so.”

Second, in relation to the first, the tiny girl death-gripping your leg has an aura that is shrieking and melting into an opaque black.

Fuck.

Without a second thought, you send a surge of your cursed energy into your aura, ballooning it up rapidly. You swing the handbell down sharply, a clear, piercing note with the demand to be let go striking the tiny cursed human, tossing her away from you a good 30 yards.

A dull ringing pulses in your ears as you struggle to keep your balance. You shouldn’t have used that move so soon out of semi-retirement.

Arms scoop you up before you hit the ground. Muffled voices bicker as you barely hold onto your consciousness, but they fade away quickly as you’re overtaken with another bout of nausea that pulls you back towards consciousness. You try to move, but the arms hold you tighter against what you learn is Gojo’s chest.

“Easy, easy.” His breath warms your face as he calms you. “Shocked you’re not passed out yet.”

You don’t have the energy to remind him that he’s the pot and you’re the kettle when it comes to stubbornness. Based on the bits and pieces of the room you can see through still-blurred vision, he had warped you both back to your apartment.

He lays you down on your bed, checks your pulse, then slips out of the room long enough to get you a glass of water and a banana.

“I told you I wasn’t a sorcerer for a reason,” you mumble as you push yourself up slowly. The dizziness is gone, but exhaustion presses against your bones at this point. Gojo sits on the edge of the bed as he watches you sip at the water and peel the banana.

“Your stamina is shit, yeah. But you know what you’re doing.” You break apart the banana bite by bite. Like hell you’re going to eat an obviously phallic fruit in front of a man with the maturity level of a teenage boy. “I’d say with a bit of training, you could hold your own without passing out again.”

You shoot him a look that hopefully conveys how little interest you have in making that a reality. He only gives you a small smile before he stands.

“Better go check on the kids, make sure they didn’t completely fuck that simple exorcism.” He pauses at the bedroom door, lifting his blindfold just enough to look at you with one eye. “Thanks for your help, maestro. Think about what you want for compensation. I’ll be in touch.”

He winks at you with that one azure eye before he just blinks out of sight. Your thoughts start replaying your time in his arms, a coveted location, you’re sure. He smelled like cedarwood and eucalyptus, but on the designer fragrance side of the spectrum, which surprises you considering how boring his attire generally is.

Sighing, you fish your phone out of the inner pocket of your jacket and swipe it open. No new messages, but a couple of missed calls from Nanami. You’re too tired to both giving him a lecture, so you just tell him he’s your personal chauffeur tomorrow until you can pick you bike up from the school.

And if you even THINK about sending Gojo in your place, consider yourself a eunuch the next time I see you, got it?

You don’t bother to see if he responds. Instead, you shed your clothes and crawl back under the covers, setting a few different alarms, just in case. Yawning, you curl onto your side and let your eyes drift closed, willing your brain to just shut the fuck up with the semi-intrusive thoughts. Falling asleep now would get you a solid 7.5 hours, more than enough for another round of compositional reviews.

I wonder what he thought of my singing…

#jjk #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen #archive of our own #fanfiction #ao3 #gojo satoru #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x oc #nanami kento #also on ao3 #itadori yuji #fushiguro megumi #kugisaki nobara

[beardycarrot]

I, lying awake in bed because that’s how it always is the day before you have something important to do... am going to try to guess what the plot of Bioshock Infinite is, based on what I’ve seen in the first few hours and with knowledge of the other two (and a half?) games. Spoilers for the entire Bioshock series, except maybe Infinite, but I intend to knock it out of the park.

So. The first Bioshock is set in a futuristic (by 1950’s standards) city at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean, created by a hardcore libertarian named Andrew Ryan as a way to once and for all live in a society free of government regulation. I won’t get into all the “sea slugs that produce a gene-altering wonder drug” and “child slaves brainwashed to drink corpse blood” stuff; very interesting, very important to the plot, but if I tried to explain the world of Bioshock I’d be lying here typing on my phone until the sun comes up. That stuff aside, the major plot points are that you’re not actually a guy who just happened to crash-land near the entrance to the city but are, in fact, Andrew Ryan’s son, and the guy who’s been guiding you through the city was actually using a Manchurian Candidate-style activation phrase to manipulate you into doing whatever he wanted. It’s a big, mind-blowing reveal (as is the realization that your character is actually about four years old... science fiction, man).

Bioshock 2 didn’t really have any big plot twists... or plot, for that matter ...but it was developed by an entirely different team, while the original’s team also did Infinite, so I’m expecting a return to form. Just as an aside, Bioshock 2 had a short DLC campaign called Minerva’s Den, which had a fantastic story, and a twist that the player can figure out on their own if they’re paying attention. Your goal is to get a very smart computer (for 1968) out of the underwater city and back to the surface so you can use it to cure all the victims of the slug-borne gene manipulation, and you’re guided over radio by the computer’s creator. At the end, you learn that the one guiding you was actually the computer itself, and that you’re its creator, slowly recovering from brainwashing. For the record, the endings to all three of these have made me cry.

So! With those kinds of twists in mind, what am I expecting from Bioshock Infinite? Well, I went into the game only knowing the names of the protagonists, that rather than underwater it was set in a floating sky city, and that there was some kind of religious theming but also a lot of old-timey Americana. As it turns out, the people of this city worship— no, have DEIFIED the founding fathers, and are lead by a man called Father Comstock. I’m pretty sure that name is a reference to the Comstock Act, similar to Andrew Ryan being named after Ayn Rand... but he could actually be called Father Cornstalk and I just haven’t been paying attention.

Anyway. Just a few minutes into the game, I noticed that a statue of Comstock looked suspiciously similar to my character... before deciding that I didn’t actually have that clear of a mental image of my character, they wouldn’t pull the “secret son” thing twice, and as much as I love it there probably isn’t going to be any time travel. Le sigh.

UNTIL!

So, your goal is to get a girl named Elizabeth out of the city, and there is some legitimately weird stuff going on with her prison. Like, they have some of her personal possessions from various points in her life in containment: a teddy bear, a diary, and a bloody cloth labeled “menarche”. Gross. Why would you keep that. Well, when an electric current (or something visually similar) is applied, the bear and diary change color, and the blood disappears from the cloth. The reason I’m not sure if it’s electricity is that there’s some kind of siphon system set up, it looks like a bunch of subwoofers, and it’s absorbing... something? When she sings, maybe? Is the energy being siphoned what changed the quantum states of those objects, or whatever was happening? There was also a chart showing that when she hit puberty... something, really spiked, which is what forced them to build the siphon. I can’t claim to know what’s happening here, but when I finally saw her she was day dreaming about Paris, and.. I guess opened some kind of portal, TO Paris? But then a bus or something barreled towards her, so she quickly closed it. In the couple seconds that the portal was open, I saw the marquee on a movie theater that... well, was in French, but I’M PRETTY SURE said “Return of the Jedi”. I should probably mention that this game is set in 1912. That smells like time travel to me, baby!

So, this is where it gets interesting, and confusing, and complicated. I think Elizabeth is Comstock’s daughter, from various signs and posters about Comstock’s seed being their salvation, and The Lamb of God being locked in the tower, and such... and signs about a “false shepherd” who would try to take her away (again, lots of weird divergent Christian sect stuff). One sign showered the false shepherd’s hand as having the initials AD branded on the back, which the protagonist Booker does indeed have. Before rescuing Elizabeth, Comstock confronts you, and seems to know all about Booker’s past, including his wife Anna (who died in childbirth), and claims to know his future as well. Being a prophet and such. Thing is, the way it’s presented, that whole thing could’ve all been in Booker’s head...? Shortly after rescuing Elizabeth, you run into someone who mistakes her for someone named Annabelle. Hmm HMMM. I’ve also run into a diary by someone named Rosalind Lutece (I think she’s one of the creepy twins who keep popping up everywhere) talking about physics and what sounded like the concept of quantum superpositioning, as well as a little informational kiosk in which she claims quantum mechanics are what enable the city to float. There were also a couple diaries that seemed to imply Elizabeth came from... somewhere else, and a part of her might still be there, or something?

SO. Finally, we get to the part where I theorize on what’s going on. In short... iunno.

Okay, well, I feel like my idea should be obvious by now. I think Comstock might be a future, or ALTERNATE REALITY FUTURE, version of Booker, and Elizabeth is... either a past version of his wife, before she went back in time and married him, or an alternate-reality version of his daughter? But then who is the Annabelle that the girl thought Elizabeth was? Did Booker’s child not die along with his wife, and was secretly wisked away to skytown? Comstock’s wife is consistently referred to as Lady Comstock, but what if her name is Annabelle too? Maybe it’s the same concept as the Heinlein story By His Bootstraps, with the protagonist only realizing that he IS now the old man from the beginning, and has to get his younger self into this weird time loop in order to live the life he’s lead?

I might be going a little off the rails; I mean, I’m pretty sure that the statue of Comstock I saw earlier actually reminded me of Handsome Jack, a character from another game I haven’t played who happens to wear an outfit similar to Booker’s. That said, there’s DEFINITELY some kind of time travel or dimension-hopping shenanigans going on here. There are good writers on this game, and I refuse to believe the Annabelle/Anna thing is a Batman v Superman-level coincidence.

The weird part is that in the tower where they were keeping Elizabeth, they have documentation of her dating back to one year old, so she was clearly exhibiting... something, unusual, even as a baby. The game also has yet to explain Vigors, its versions of the Plasmids from the first two Bioshock games, which were basically superpowers granted by the substance produced by those sea slugs. If I had to guess, Vigors are... a result of some kind of quantum something-or-other, which they made from whatever it is they were siphoning off of Elizabeth? Maybe it’s a Scarlet Witch kind of thing... you don’t actually change yourself, you just find yourself in an alternate reality where everything else is 100% the same, except you’re a version of yourself who can shoot crows out of your hands.

Right, so. My... official theory is... that... I have no idea what’s going on. Yeah, sorry, something in that mess up there is bound to be close, but when you get into time travel and/or dimension-hopping, all bets are off the table. Or all bets, a literally infinite number of bets, are on the table. Which is a lot to try to comprehend.

#bioshock #bioshock infinite #bioshock spoilers

[rhetoricalrogue]

41. Comfort food for Rolfe x Roz please? :3

Thank you!  We’ll go with Inquisitor!Roz/Companion!Rolfe

Another day over, another sleepless night ahead.  Roz could feel her stomach knotting as stress from...well, everything, kept her awake and staring at the ceiling of her too-big tower room.  Letting out a frustrated growl, she threw the covers off, pulled on an overdress, and jammed her feet into a pair of slippers.

The cold never really bothered her, the magic running through her veins like her own portable source of heat keeping her warm enough for her lighter garments even though there was still a powdery soft layer of snow on the battlements.  She figured that a walk around the perimeter would wear her out enough that she’s be able to drift off, but then the sight of a makeshift infirmary, the scaffolding around what would eventually be a tower for the resident mages, and the weed-choked gardens put her mind into gear all over again.

“Can’t sleep?”  The question yanked her out of her thoughts and she let out a gasp at the figure mostly hidden in the shadows, the soft red glow from their pipe the only thing giving away their position.

“You startled me.”

Rolfe stepped into the light of a nearby torch sconce and spread out his hands. “Sorry, habit.”  Taking a puff of his pipe, he glanced at her hair that had started coming out of her braid from all the tossing and turning she’d been doing.  Roz felt the distinct urge to hide her slippered feet as he looked down, the shoes meant for going to and from various indoor rooms instead of wandering outdoors in the middle of the night.  “What are you doing up so late?”

“I could ask you the same.”

He jerked his thumb back in the direction of the tavern.  “Too loud in there, even at this time of night,” he explained.  “I don’t mind it, in fact I enjoy the activity of a busy tavern, but sometimes I like to have some time alone with my thoughts.”

Roz wrung her hands. “Too much time alone with your thoughts isn’t good either.”  She had to resist the urge to shrink underneath his gaze as he stared at her for a moment longer than she was comfortable, those blue eyes of his seeing more than what was on the surface.

“Come on, it’s too cold up here.” Capping his pipe, Rolfe placed it back on the spot she’d previously seen it on his belt and held out a hand to her. “I know a place.”

She didn’t have to think, her fingers curling over his as he grinned at her before leading her down a nearby flight of stairs and into the inner courtyard.  A few minutes later saw them slipping into the side door where Roz knew the kitchens were housed, the skeleton night crew standing up to attention when they saw who had arrived at their door.

“Please, I know I’m amazing,” Rolfe started, smiling as he waved hello to them.  “Don’t stop what you’re doing on my account.”

“Thank you,” Roz whispered, giving the staff a smile of her own.  She knew that diverting attention towards himself would hopefully set the tone that she wasn’t someone who needed to be waited on.  “But what are we doing here?”

Rolfe took off his cloak and hung it on a nearby peg, replacing it with an apron that he smartly tied around his waist.  “Helping,” he told her, grabbing a second apron and draping the straps over her neck before turning her to secure the ties around her back.  “Now, Matron Gretta runs a tight ship, even when she’s not around to oversee operations.  She would be most displeased with us if we went around touching things with unwashed hands.”

The door to another portion of the kitchens opened and a harried looking young woman came out, apron full of potatoes.  “Thank the Maker you finally decided to show up, Rolfe,” she said, grabbing a knife and reaching for the first of many potatoes to peel.  “Lana caught a cold and we’re short on breadmakers.”

Rolfe swooped down and planted a kiss on the woman’s cheek that had her turning her head and giggling.  “Excellent.  What stage?”

“Kneading and shaping for the second rise.  I’ve got most of it done, but I’m needed here for breakfast prep.”  She curled her lip as she expertly peeled a potato in record time.  “Some Messere Hoity Toity requested pomme de terre a la Lydes and now half the Orlesian nobility visiting want the same.  The other half want pomme de terre a la Royeaux.”

Rolfe shook his head.  “Bess, it’s the same thing.”

“I know!  And I’d bet my yearly wages that none of them know that it’s just a simple fucking Fereldan scalloped potato casserole with fancy goat cheese and a metric ton of butter.”  Still shaking her head, she moved to another potato.  “I could use some help, Trevelyan.  Do you think that Bruno would mind coming in, especially for the lunch prep later in the morning?”

He nodded.  “You know he would.  I’ll let him know once we’re done here.”  With that, he motioned for Roz to follow him into the other room.

“You seem to know your way around the kitchens,” she commented, looking at the table full of bread loaves in various stages of shaping.

“I should, I was practically raised in one.”  He rolled up his sleeves and got to work separating balls of dough from the main lump on the table.  “Here, knead this one until it comes out smooth, like the ones over there.”

Kneading dough wasn’t unfamiliar work, Roz had been tasked with helping in the kitchens before, but after her supervisors had deemed her talents in the greenhouses more important, she spent less and less time there.  It suited her just fine: getting up earlier than she usually rose to help with preparation for the day’s meals was something that she had dreaded.  “You were raised in a kitchen? I thought you said your family was noble.”

Rolfe snorted, hands deftly kneading and shaping dough at a speed that surpassed Roz’s attempts.  “The bastard son born over a decade after the youngest legitimate child doesn’t get the privilege of a nanny.  My mother brought my sister’s nanny out of retirement and my mother’s husband was so vindictive that he refused to allow her to set aside her duties as one of the cooks in the kitchen, so I grew up being carried by women while they stirred cook pots and playing with their own children as companions.  I learned how to wash dishes and chop vegetables at their elbows and was better loved by the household staff than by my own blood.”

Roz opened her mouth to say something, but Rolfe pounded the dough he was working on a little harder than what was probably necessary before schooling his face into a cheerful expression and winking at her.  “I don’t mean to brag, but I make an excellent loaf of bread.  My lamb stew with rosemary and tarragon isn’t anything to slouch about either and is a wonderful accompaniment to a good, crusty loaf and a bit of butter.”

Roz smiled.  “Maybe you’ll show off one of these days,” she teased, hands rolling the dough into a loaf shape before reaching for the next ball Rolfe had set aside.  “Maker knows it would be a pleasant change from some field rations out at campsites.”

He laughed.  “Think I can whip up something that even Varric would approve of?”

“I think you can do anything you put your mind to.”  Suddenly shy, Roz bowed her head and concentrated on kneading the dough in her hands.

Rolfe was quiet for a beat before bumping his arm against her elbow.  “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”  He took the ball Roz was probably kneading into oblivion and shaped it into a loaf.  “You’re not bad at this yourself.”

“Something tells me you brought me here for more than an extra hand in the kitchen.”

Rolfe shrugged, finishing a line of plain loaves and beginning to make a series of braided loaves, his hands moving dexterously as he wove strips of dough into braids. “My nanny always told me that if I had something on my mind, to make bread.  Eventually I’d knead all my problems out and feel better, plus I would have something good to eat in the process.”  He paused long enough to give her the smallest of smiles, genuine and stripped of his usual bravado. “I wanted to help you with something that’s always helped me in the past.”

“Thank you.” She stopped what she was doing and put a hand on his arm.  “I think this is exactly what I needed.”

He stared at her and Roz felt her heart flip in her chest at the look on his face.  There was a glimpse of something more between them that went beyond friendship during their moments together, but Roz was afraid that she was reading too much into it and this was just Rolfe being nice towards her.

“You’re welcome. I hope you know that you can come to me with anything that troubles you, Rosalind.  I…” He stared a heartbeat longer before returning to his work.  “I want to be someone you’re comfortable coming to whenever you need to talk.”

Roz watched Rolfe’s hands as he deftly moved from one loaf to another, her own hands mimicking his motions, braids of dough forming on the tabletop. “You are.  Though let’s make a deal, I come to you when I’m troubled, but you do the same with me.”

Rolfe gave her another smile, warmth blossoming in her chest at the sight.  “Deal.”

#my writing #rolfe trevelyan #rosalind marlowe #out-of-the-embers

[skymoonandstardust]

Love and Light in Hell

Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2 , chapter 3, chapter 4

Chapter 5:

"They should be here by now. Why aren't they here?"

One of the noblemen stood and bowed at your words. 

"We do not know, your majesty, but give it time. This silence from Asgard may be a good thing." 

Before you could open your mouth to speak, a court lady rose indignantly to her feet 

"Just because we haven't heard anything,  that doesn't mean no attack is coming. It could be closing in on us as we speak, sitting here like lambs waiting to be slaughtered! I say we gather our forces and bring the fight to them!”

Instantly everyone in the hall rose to their feet as cries of protestation and support clashed with each other, creating an incomprehensible roar of voices trying to shout over each other.

Lifting one finger you signaled to Grimir, who was laying by your throne.

Your sign had him on his feet and losing a howl so piercing all noise in the hall immediately stopped.

Everyone but you was in a defensive state. Some had merely covered their ears, eyes scrunched up in pain while others lay curled on the floor with their arms around their head. A few had turned to look in surprise at the source of the noise, only to flinch and cower back, scrambling to hide.

Grimir's howl slowly faded out after a moment and he lay down again, licking his lips and resting his head on the floor to go back to his nap.

Once you were sure the uproar died down, you smiled and stood. 

It was almost like the aftereffects of a bomb.

At first everyone stayed frozen, as though doubting or not realizing that it was really over. Then, the first one dared to peek out and get to their feet. Slowly, one by one in small groups, the rest gradually stood as well, looking embarrassed and chagrined.

"Thank you, for your input, but I will not have troops sent out to potentially start a needless war. If Asgard attacks, so be it. We will fight back. But only when it is clear that is their intention."

 With a few murmurs and grudging looks, they all bowed and conceded.

"As you say your majesty. It may be a Midgardian cliche, but your wish is truly our command." 

You smiled ignoring the barbed words.

"Indeed it is, Carlsson. We will wait till Asgard declares its intentions-- and until then, I expect you all to give me your unwavering loyalty and to see you all at tonight's feast." 

 Noticing some smiles in the crowd and the new happy tone to the mummers in the room you guessed your last words had had the effect you hoped.

The one thing to take their minds off of this would be drinking, dancing and revelry. 

"Unfortunately, I'm going to have a bit of a harder time dressing up for this affair than all of you will so I need to go begin getting ready now. I'll see you all there.”

Some chuckles followed you as you rose and exited the room.

Walking alone to your chamber you finally let the doubts and worries and what ifs to seize you for a bit.

What if they do attack us to get this precious prince back? They're scared of me and this place, but they might risk it on his account. . .and the army might be mobilized too late.

You sighed barely audibly as your gaze passed over an image of a serpent encircling the world. . .

Don't be so down. Maybe they'll just send someone to smuggle him out or try to negotiate. They can't want a war anymore than you do. Loki's plan will fail.

Your half convincing thoughts were interrupted by your chamber door being thrown open in the distance. 

Already fingering famine you continued forward cautiously, waiting for anything to happen, even entertaining the impossible. 

How much do you want to bet it's Loki bringing more good news and fatherly love?

It's a good thing you didn't really make that bet with anyone because you would have lost as you found out a second later when your lady in waiting’s face peered out from around the door. 

"What are you doing dawdling? You're late! And we need every second to get you ready in time--hurry up!"

You rolled your eyes but relaxed and let your hand leave famine's hilt.

"I said move your royal behind!" 

 You did as she said and sped up, basically running through the door a second before it closed.

"Outdone yourself once again, my friend. It's exquisite.."

That was the only way you could think of to describe it as you examined the sheer corset top adorned with it's beautiful patterns of black lace roses. Giving in to the urge, you spun, watching the plain black petticoat like skirt flare out and feeling the decorative tulle cape fluttering behind you, unencumbered by the small black beads adorning it.

As you came to a stop you were grateful for the strip of lace that kept it in place. Though it had been hard to get on (it was one piece so it had to be lifted and put on over your head), it did the job and without it, the garment would certainly have ended up on the floor just then.

I don't even want to think about how I get this thing off. . .but it is pretty. Just have to remember not to do any running.

Turning, you smiled at your lady in waiting. 

"Come, let's be on our way before the ball starts without us."

You knew they wouldn't dare to, for fear of facing a short headless existence, but you set off anyway, leading the way as your routine trailed behind.

Of course you needed to make a big entrance. 

The doors opened with a loud boom, making everyone in the room leap before chuckling nervously and embarrassedly, turning to face the empty entrance. 

You allowed a smile to flicker on your lips as the crowd turned, just in time to see the two wolves come through the door. They stalked the edge of the crowd, snapping occasionally and growling. You had to stifle a laugh every time some foolish courtier jumped when they got too close or made a playful lunge at someone. 

Right as you planned, a gust of cold wind brought in a light but continual dusting of snow. All those nobles in their finery started to shiver, but didn't dare complain as a loud caw rang out and your raven flew forward. 

Gracefully, Alistair and Archibald soared across the room to land on the arms of the empty waiting throne. 

You noticed that as the birds took flight the mass bowed as one and stayed bent until their landing. None of them even dared to look up, but of course not. The raven was the sacred animal of the Allfather, and what's more, these ones belonged to you. They would not dare anger you--or him by showing any less than proper respect to the animals.

Finally, your music struck up and you walked forward through the gently whorling snow, Grimir by your side. 

Unlike the wolves he did not snap or snarl, but walked on, eyes fixed ahead, paying no attention to the crowd. The crowd, of course, paid attention to the two of you.

Just as they had raised their heads and gotten to their feet you entered, forcing the nobles to quickly lower their faces once more and stoop onto hasty bows. Following Grimir's lead, you kept your gaze on your throne and did not look at a single courtier until you had taken your place at the table at the head of the room.

Once in front of your seat you paused, leaning foward slightly with your hands resting on the table.

"I suppose I do not need to introduce tonight's guest. I’m sure you all know why we’re all here here. I suppose you have all heard and know by now, so I only say, let us give him a warm hearty welcome. From this day hell will be filled with light and joy because of his presence.”

You nodded and waved as you sat down, acknowledging the applause and cheers that met your words.

The doors opened once the noise died away, and you felt like all the breath had been stolen from your lungs. It had nothing to do with the blast of chill air that entered the room and everything to do with the boy standing in the doorway, glowing brighter than anything you'd ever seen.

His light had been overwhelming even in the infirmary. But this? . . .this was. Incredible. He looked incredible. 

The impeccably tailored suit fit his frame perfectly, giving a hint at the toned muscles underneath. The silky black material and gold filigree of the jacket complemented his hair and made his eyes pop. Those gorgeous azure eyes were without doubt his most prominent feature. They were what you remembered most about him from your first glimpse of them those eons ago, other than the general impression of overwhelming beauty. 

If it had been so then, it was even more so now, in this dark room among the grotesque and dead.  

Harrison was shining like always, seeming to light the entire room all by himself.

Was there even light in here before he arrived??

You found all breath had left you as Harrison took his first step toward your table. Like the rest of those in attendance, your eyes fixed on him and didn't waver, tracking his every movement until, seemingly suddenly, he was standing before you.

The eyes were boring into your soul and now every little detail was visible. This was closer than you had ever been in the infirmary and though you would have sworn you had no heart, you almost felt it stop. You might not have quite needed air, but your breath hitched silently in your throat as you glanced him up and down.

Oh great Norns. . .

There in the hall, his back straight as a rod with all the eyes in the room on him, and literally glowing he looked more kingly than he ever had. All that was missing was a crown.

He doesn't need one, though.

Your nobles certainly seemed to think so as they all bowed and paid respect to him in the background. 

Really, you should have been upset at that. You should have made some kind of example to assert your authority and show him and everyone in the room to whom their allegiance and respect and loyalty should really go to. . .but, somehow, the thought didn't really tempt you at all.

He is the son of the ruler of the universe, I suppose. The would-be king. 

Harrison nodded to you in respect, then he did something totally unexpected.  

You'd explained to him before that the nod was all that was required of him, and then he could take his seat beside you and you would start the feast. However, instead of edging around the table and sitting in the chair, Harrison reached out and gently took your hand. 

Spellbound, you watched it as it gradually rose through the air and met his lips. The stillness in the room that had sprung up as soon as you entered deepened.

You couldn't blame them, you were shocked too. The whole thing felt distant and disconnected, as though you were watching it happen to someone else far away or you in another life long ago. If not for the ghost of his lips tingling on the back of your hand as you brought it back to the table you would have believed you dreamed it all.

Harrison rounded the table, all the courtiers in the room still watching him. That was good, because it meant that they all missed you sitting there stunned and shellshocked for a moment.

 Thankfully, you got your face under control by the time Harrison sat down.

As half the room turned to you again, you were once more sitting tall, frigid, and imposing.

"Let the feast begin!"

Your words rang through the hall and were immediately followed by a cacophony of clapping and cheering. The staff took their cue and started bringing the food in at that moment, setting down a seemingly never ending parade of food and placing some at each of the tables. 

You were pouring mead into Harrison's tankard after piling a large helping of venison into your plate when the hall's great doors crashed open.

@madmadmilk @hollandroos @hazmyheart @marvellous-holland @queenofmotherfuckingterrasen @aidiastyles @hey-its-grey @mysmileyspideyboi  @pascalispedro @a-sea-of-fandoms @scarlettsoldier @imadeangirl-butimsamcurious @scarlettsoldier  @fangirl-who-dreams @esoltis280 @theresnofandomforthis @cassiopeia-barrow  @dragonangel-funandfire @iaiabear @coffeeismylife28 @katiegoddessofmischief

LLH taglist: @the-crazy-fanfictionist @spideygirl2003 @allegra-writes @rebekkah4766 @musicandbokkslovingweirdo @petersoftboyparker @fanficparker

#harrison osterfield #harrison osterfeild imagine #Harrison osterfield blurb #harrison osterfeild x reader #haz osterfield blurb #haz osterfield #haz osterfield imagine #haz osterfield x reader #haz osterfield x you #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland blurb #you x tom holland

[chasseurdeloup-retired]

A Moment of Rest || Morgan and Kaden

TIMING: Before the cabin in the woods  LOCTAION: Woods PARTIES: @mor-beck-more-problems and @chasseurdeloup SUMMARY: A very normal picnic in the woods with a surprise guest.

“You could look happier to be out in the sunshine, you know. There’s not even any mushrooms in sight.” Morgan said. She spread out the picnic blanket in the shade, and settled down, a little smug today at being beyond heat exhaustion and squirming when she started to sweat through her cami. Corpse chill was so severe, she wasn’t even sure if she would sweat anymore. Morgan squished down the thought, determined to maintain it as a positive. She could look cute in any kind of weather. She didn’t even need ice baths like Deirdre did. Shaking back her hair, she gestured for Kaden to come sit. “In honor of us needing a serious break, and your favorite band of all time, I’ve got a mamma mia mimosa for you, a super trooper brain smoothie for me, and gimmie, gimmie, gimmie, gimmie waffles. Obviously, I can’t tell how much better they are from my last ones, but I’m feeling really confident about how I tweaked the batter. If nothing else, these are at least twice as fluffy. Come on, you know you want some, right?”

“I don’t even want to think about the mushrooms, thanks,” Kaden said as he found a spot on the picnic blanket across from Morgan. “I don’t even know how to begin explaining that one to Regan. She’s finally not five fucking inches so it’d be nice if we could get a two second reprieve from the fae bullshit.” Not to mention, he still wasn’t completely sure about the details on these mushrooms, he just knew he wasn’t ready to face whatever they were going to do to Regan. Part of him considered asking Morgan for advice but no, this was supposed to be a break. Maybe later. He sighed and was about to reach for the mimosa when he heard her little intro. Kaden sat there, blinking at her, fully ready to get up and walk the fuck away. “Erin fucking told you, didn’t she?” Putain. That was his guilty pleasure, not something he wanted out in public. It was embarrassing enough admitting it, he didn’t need ABBA rubbed in his face like that. Still, clear enough she meant well. Teasing. That’s all it was. Like they were friends or something. Fine. “Only if you quit making fun of me, dead girl.” He grumbled a little as he took the waffles from her. “And don’t tell Deirdre.”

“Don’t you know, Kaden? Up in White Crest you don’t think about fairy mushrooms; fairy mushrooms think about you.” Morgan didn’t know how to tell him her flippancy was the only thing keeping her from giving into the dread of being surrounded by those fucking fungi for months. But if he didn’t want an early ticket to the horror show, she didn’t blame him. She laid out all the tupperware and popped off the lids one by one. There was nothing in the make or decoration that signified anything ABBA related. She’d considered arranging berries on whipped cream to spell out the band’s name, but couldn't find any containers that would fit it just right, Lucky for Kaden.

“Of course Erin told me. We’re friends. But I think you still come out ahead of Ms. EDM Queen. I am ribbing you, but I also think there’s nothing wrong with liking ABBA...until you start making faces like that.” She wagged her finger at him, grinning. “And that’s a terrible request to make because she already knows. Sorry, but we tell each other...pretty much everything.” Morgan shrugged and took a deep, satisfying slurp of her shake. “It’s not that deep of a secret, is it? Will you feel better if I say I sing to Rogers and Hammerstein in my car? Or if I had my own brief ABBA phase when the stage Mamma Mia first came out?”

“You joke but if any town had sentient mushrooms, this is the one,” Kaden said. It was fine, Regan was sensible, unlike Deirdre. They didn’t have to worry about fairy mushroom crap. A pit dropped in his stomach out of nowhere, like some part of him knew he was lying to himself. Guess that was a problem for the future.

Kaden sighed. He hated that Deirdre had one up to embarrass him with. She would, too. At least with Erin they were fair and square. “There’s nothing wrong with ABBA, I just don’t want people laughing at me, alright,” he mumbled. It was stupid to admit, considering for the most part how little he cared about what other people thought of him, or at least that was what he told himself. The more he stayed in White Crest, the more he wondered if that was true. Reputations hardly matter if you don’t stay put in one spot for too long. But here he was all settled and cared and shit like that. There were so many days he wondered if that had been a mistake. And here he was, having waffles with a zombie. Probably a fucking mistake. He sighed and bit into the waffles. For a mistake, it was damn tasty. “Of course you sing musical ballads and shit, that’s completely expected from let’s talk about our feelings girl. Hell I bet you’d live in a musical if you could. Everyone belting out their private fucking emotions. I’d put money down that’s your idea of a good time.” He shook his head before taking another sip of Homs mimosa. Sounded like hell to him. Talking about feelings was bad enough. Kaden’s brow furrowed as he heard a soft small rumbling sound. Almost like a… bleating? Odd. “Do you hear that?” he asked.

“Oh, you’re damn right I would,” Morgan said. “You may not know this, but Deirdre and I kill at karaoke. Give me a moving, hummable love ballad, a solo in the rousing group number, maybe a breakaway hit ‘I want’ song. Maybe if I had one I could actually get more direction in my life going.” She took a deep slurp of her smoothie. “Are you saying that’s not your idea of a good time?” She pouted. She was going to relent a little, ask him about the waffles or, heck, whatever else he was interested in outside of work, when her senses perked at a strange sound from the bushes. “Yeah,” she murmured. Setting her smoothie down, Morgan got to her feet and started creeping towards the sound. The leaves rustled. Something was there alright. She positioned herself in front of Kaden, gesturing, sshhh. “We should probably stay quiet,” she whispered.

“Fuck no,” Kaden said with no hesitation. “I can’t imagine wanting to burst out into song or anyone appreciating that, either. All of that sounds tedious. I’ll stick to darts and trivia nights, thanks. Hard pass on the karaoke.” Plus, Regan couldn't sing (by her own admission) and he was fairly fucking ceratin a tone deaf banshee would make everyone else wish they were deaf. He watched, though, as she crept towards the sound. Guess they were going to investigate, huh. He stood and followed behind, nodding and remaining silent at her request. There it was again, the sound. There was no doubt what it was this time. The gentle bleating of a lamb. Which was impossible, there weren’t any farms out here. No livestock was going to survive on its own in White Crest, not out in the woods. He edged up next to her and peeled open the branches to reveal what was beyond them. Sitting there was a small, white lamb. Shit, they had to bring it in, probably take it to the shelter. He didn’t have any of his equipment with him. “Do you have a rope or something? A long string? Anything? We could try to get a loop lead around it,” he whispered.

Morgan gestured for Kaden to keep back as she came up to the bushes. “What are you doing? My limbs grow back, yours don’t!” She hissed. But Kaden peeled back the branches and-- “Aaaw!” Morgan squeezed his shoulder in excitement. “It’s so cute! What do you mean get a rope? Look how small and cute it is!” Morgan reached out a hand to let the fluffy little critter sniff her. It let out a soft bleat and licked her fingertip, testing to see if she was food. Morgan scooped the sweet creature up while it was occupied like this and inspected the little guy on their hands. “Oh, Kaden,” she cooed. “This cutie pie isn’t running off anywhere, are you honey?” The lamb bleated and wriggled in her grasp, ready to be put down. Morgan settled its forelegs on her lap and gave the lamb chin scratches for its trouble. She gave Kaden a look, trying to see if he’d put it together yet. “...It’s a little attached right now?” She prodded. “Because it’s a plant?”

It was always strange to remember that Morgan was damn near indestructible. Sure, Kaden had seen her tossed by a mime moose like a rag doll but so much of him still remembered when a vampire pulled her into the trees and nearly tore her apart. Thankfully, no such danger was there today. It was just a lamb. Well, mostly. It was… tethered to the ground? “Putain. Animal control is ruining me,” he said with a grumble. A year ago, the first thing he would have noticed was the supernatural element of it all. He also probably would have killed the lamb. With how cozy she seemed to be with it, he thought it best not to announce that. Kaden exhaled and plopped back down on the picnic blanket. “I thought it was a lost lamb. Like a real one. I was going to make sure it didn’t get away and bring it into the shelter because I thought it was normal.” That was certainly not the case. “I know what a vegetable lamb is, alright. I grew up knowing this shit, come on,” he grumbled before taking another bite of his waffles. The small supernatural animal across the way bleated and started sniffing the blanket and all the contents there. “Hey. Don’t eat my food; not for you!” he said as he tried to direct the lamb away from the berries on his plate.

Morgan couldn’t help but laugh. “Hey, at least we don’t have to spoil brunch by fighting giant spiders or running from creepy tics. It’s just one sweet little veggie lamb! And still has about another year left in its cute little life, judging from the size.” Morgan booped the lamb’s nose and pet its fur. “Oh, yeah, you’re a real big bad expert. What’s the protocol for this one anyway? It’s just so fearsome and terrible.” This, just as the lamb tried to take some of Kaden’s blackberries, made her laugh even more. Morgan lifted the critter out of the way and wiggled its forelegs in Kaden’s direction, ventriloquising sweetly, “Put ‘em up, Kaden! That’s my berries! I’ll fight you for them!”

She made a show of gasping with horror. “What a very rude vegetable! Should we pacify your gloriousness?” She picked up one of the berries from the tupperware and hovered it over the critter’s mouth. It bleated, thrashing and pleading until Morgan relented and brought it close enough to be eaten. “My mom had one once, apparently. They’re hard to grow in the first place. A lot can go wrong and it’s sort of gross when it doesn’t work out. But I’m not sure what this little guy is doing out here…” Bringing the lamb back to her lap, she pushed herself out of her thoughts and smiled over at Kaden. “How’s the food? And the whipped cream? I’ve never made it before and I can’t taste, but I measured everything really carefully.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’ve got a point there,” Kaden replied. He was sick of being told that normal was a relative word, but at this point, he’d take normal adjacent. And avoiding monsters that ate people, or well, at least actively planned to eat them, was an improvement to most days in White Crest. “Uh, you really want to know?” he asked, mouth pulled into a thin line, looking down at the lamb and then back to her. “Langley code is everything supernatural should go.” He knew those words would fall like a lead weight between them, but it’s not like he could change his past or his family or what he was raised with anymore than she could change what she was. And he was admittedly still a little uncomfortable how much he’d changed himself. He much preferred it when he didn't have to face that reality, it was much easier when he could ignore it, not have to examine what all his contradicting bullshit meant. Good thing he didn't have to think about it long. He couldn’t help but crack a smile at the lamb as she held it up and made it act out a scene. It was so easy to forget that she wasn’t human and that it wasn’t an animal.

Okay, alright, stupid thing was cute. Putain. “Yeah so I’ve heard.” He couldn’t imagine going through all that work for a vegetable version of a sheep when there were standard sheep. Not that he needed one of those either. He rolled his eyes before he held out some of the berries in his hand for the stupid vegetable. It bleated before timedly wobbling towards him, nose sniffing and snuffling to find the fruit in his hands. Funny how similar it was to a normal animal; the corner of his mouth pulled up into a smile all over again as he watched. “Hmm? Oh. Yeah, it’s great. Almost too sweet but that could just be me, I don’t have a huge sweet tooth surprisingly.”

Morgan went stiff as Kaden explained the Langley code. Her eyes did nothing to hide the gravity of what he’d said, the danger she and the vegetable lamb were ostensibly in. She couldn’t help but hold the lamb a little tighter, any number of arguments rising in her throat. We have as much right to be here as anyone else. We didn’t choose how we were made any more than you did. What even gives Langleys the right to determine what counts as ‘natural.’ Cholera is natural too. So was Ted Bundy. ‘Natural’ isn’t a basis for… Morgan stopped herself. It was almost disturbing how easily she forgot what he was. But he was her exception just as she was his. The space they shared as friends wasn’t any more “natural” than the magic keeping the vegetable lamb alive. It had to be crafted with intention and suspended with care. And then, when the moment passed, it would weaken. One day, Morgan feared, it might even break.

Morgan watched in silence as Kaden fed his berries to the small creature, beaming thoughtfully as it nuzzled his hand. Animals were innocent and trusting even when they shouldn’t be; Deirdre had explained that to her enough times when talking about her childhood farm. But the way Kaden handled the lamb, even nervous as he was, was so gentle. She struggled to imagine him stabbing the life out of a creature just because with those hands. “I guess it’s a good thing for both of us you’re only kind of a Langley,” she said quietly. Clearing her throat she pressed on, “I’m glad, though. About the whipped cream. A little surprised since French cuisine is so rich, but, hey, so is Southern food, I guess, and half of my family didn’t have much of a sweet tooth either.” She shrugged, reaching for some thread that would steer the mood back towards levity. Wherever it was, she couldn’t find it yet.

Kaden couldn’t help but bristle hearing her call him “kind of a Langley.” He didn’t know if he wished she was more wrong or more right. Either way he hated feeling like he was either failing or had wasted a good portion of his life. He wasn’t sure which it was yet. Every inch of him screamed at him to fight, snap back at her comment the way he had for so many years at anyone and everyone, especially those who disparaged him. Spit back something about still being a hunter, legacy, any of that. But something stopped him. Maybe it was the waffles, maybe it was lamb, maybe it was the expression on Morgan’s face mere moments ago. Maybe it was because he remembered everything that had happened with his mother’s ghost.

The lamb started to bristle its little lips around Kaden’s fingers to see if there was anything worth nibbling there and he let the thoughts fade away. “Rich and savory is one thing. And I don’t hate sweet things, they just need a balance,” he said as he plucked a berry of his plate and held it out in his hand for the lamb to eat. “Like a good piece of fruit, just ripe. That’s perfect. If it’s too saccharine, it hurts my teeth, all that.” As much as he wished that had pulled his mind from the previous topic of conversation, it didn’t. “Most of my family didn’t have much of a sweet tooth. Not that I remember too much by now.” He hadn’t meant to make it heavy again with talk of loss and death, as inevitable as it was around them. Still, he could try to shift. “I told you my uncle was in town, right? He’s German. Lived with him after--” After he lost his parents. Putain. “Anyway, picked up a decent fondness for good German cuisine, too. Feel like I almost always forget until I see him again, you know? Brings things back.”

“Balance, huh?” Morgan said with a fond smile. “I can get behind that.” But this strange tangent didn’t last long. Kaden hadn’t just lost his family, he’d lost them so young even his memories were faded. For all she knew, his awful ghost problem was the strongest memory of his mother was of her attacking him as that awful creature. She couldn’t help but think about her own mother yelling at her on the beach more than the painfully strained visits in her care facility and later, the home of one of Ruth’s old friends. Neither end was especially wonderful, but the burn was newer in one place than the other.

“I am sorry about your family, Kaden,” she said soberly. “I know how hard it is not to have anyone, to miss people like that, even when your relationship was complicated.” She leveled her eyes at him so he would know she meant it. She wasn’t sure if he realized she’d lost all her family either, that this wasn’t pity, but something about him she might actually understand. “I’m glad Oscar was there for you, at least. It sounds like you two are really close. That has to feel...I don’t even know. How does it feel…? Having him back in your life and accessible in a way he hasn’t been in awhile? Um, cooking and all?”

“Yeah. It’s-- It is what it is,” Kaden said as he tried to keep his eyes on the lamb’s little mouth greedily looking for more berries. It was his constant defense when someone talked about his parents like this. Still, something about the way she said that she was sorry rang true. Kaden could never say where the line was that made it clear to him when people understood loss or not, but it was there, invisible but stark. He didn’t know if it was anything more than just the loss of her own life, though he did recall she also was visited by the ghost of her mother during the whole coin debacle. He wasn’t sure it mattered what or when, if you knew the pain of it, you knew all the same.

“Yeah he was around a lot of my life. Always sort of looked up to him. But ever since I was, I don’t know, twenty or so, we’d split up, reconvene, catch up, repeat.” Kaden shrugged. “It’s always nice to see him. He’s really all I have left of--” Kaden swallowed back his words. Oscar was what he had left of family. His life before anything changed. “But this is, I mean, this is way more complicated than it used to be.” Nothing illustrated it more than this moment right now. He was chatting with a zombie over waffles while petting a goddamn vegetable lamb. There used to be a safety he felt when Oscar was around. Now he felt like the most dangerous person in town. And he hated feeling that way about Oscar of all people, the only person he could always count on to look after him. “Every time I’ve gotten myself into deep shit, I always knew I had someone to turn to. It’s weird not going to him now that I feel like I’m in trouble.” Because the trouble was him.

Morgan didn’t examine the impulse to reach out to Kaden. It came so quickly, and there was something so painful about the way he brushed aside his own loss with such ease, she wondered if he ever let himself feel it now that the wound was starting to numb, or let other people understand what he was feeling. Her hand settled on his shoulder and she squeezed carefully so as not to hurt him. “Yeah, it is what it is, but that doesn’t mean it’s not the worst, or that it doesn’t trip you up almost out of nowhere sometimes.” Life with Oscar wasn’t like anything Morgan could imagine. She craved to have her hands around anything precious she managed to have. But to have a touchstone you could pass by at all must have been special. Morgan was endeared, even relieved by the way Kaden talked about him, even as his mention of ‘complicated’ put a stone in her stomach. Right. Oscar and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad, good for nothing supernaturals that couldn’t possibly be people. Of course.

“I’m sorry that things are different between you now,” she said solemnly. At least for now, she thought, though she couldn’t bear to entertain the idea for long. “Do you have a plan, for how you’re going to deal with his visit here? I mean, is it going to be dangerous for you if he finds things out, or just...well, just more normative levels of terrifying encounters and really hard conversations?”

Kaden never knew what to make of physical contact. Well, when it was from people he wasn’t dating or trying to date. Even between family it had been strained. Or, well, perhaps not strained but it certainly wasn’t frequent. It was unfamiliar, but not unwelcome. Funny, her skin was cold, sure, but cold hands barely registered any more. “You don’t have to be, though. Sorry. I mean-- I don’t know.” Talking about what happened was something he was about as good at dealing with as physical affection. “Sounds like you’re speaking from experience, though. You don’t have to explain, just-- You can always tell.” He gave the lamb another berry and gave it a small scratch behind its ear. It was easier to just think of it as a real lamb, not supernatural. Focus on the parts that were normal.  

“Dangerous? For me, no. But that’s not what I’m worried about.” Kaden tried to swallow back the lump forming in his throat. It felt impossible for him to imagine what Oscar would do if he found out what Regan was, who he was friends with, the fact that he was keeping a pixie as a roommate, any of it. None of it was behavior that he’d ever imagined for himself, so how could he anticipate any reactions? He suspected, at the very least, that Oscar would try to kill them, encourage Kaden to. But maybe he could make exceptions. Or better yet, maybe he’d just leave town before finding out about any of it. He never had to know Kaden had changed any of his views. He could keep thinking his nephew was still a worthwhile hunter, holding up the legacy.

Right. Doubtful. Kaden let out a sigh. “But yeah, no plans. No clue what to do.”

Morgan gave Kaden another squeeze for good measure. “I do, yeah. Family curses of true suffering don’t exactly fuck around,” she gave a small laugh, breathless and humorless to mark all the anguish that had gone numb from her picking at them over the years. Kaden had probably coped by keeping silent, or leaning in extra hard into the ‘it’s fine school of thought.

“Well, lucky for you, I guess.” Morgan said the word gently, meaning it in earnest. “I just mean, you can use that. You can focus on protecting people you care about, and when the time comes, you don’t have to worry about having to save yourself. That can be really important. And, you know, taking care of people can look like a lot of different things. I think you should consider doing a little more than waiting for the sky to fall down, but I’m just paranoid that way. But, you know, if you’re clear with yourself and your intentions, if you tell yourself enough that you’ll protect Regan no matter what, maybe the right plan will come to you later. But then that’s just one hippie zombie’s opinion. What do you think, veggie lamb?” She lifted the fuzzy critter and steered it up toward Kaden so its bright, guileless eyes were level with his.

Kaden looked up and finally met Morgan’s eyes and gave her a nod in return. It was what he could manage. Too much and it would send the grief and pain flooding back, he was sure of it. No need for that. It wasn’t produc-- He froze, the thought rattled in his mind. It was something straight from his mother’s mouth. He wasn’t sure what to do with that. Or what it meant. He tried to let it roll off him. “Yeah, good point. Guess you don’t get to be free of it even when… you know.”

The way she was approaching the situation wasn’t in a way that had occurred to him at all. The thought of having to save himself from Oscar just didn’t--- His brows knit together at the thought. It didn’t make sense in so many ways; it was a scenario he could never imagine himself in. Needing to protect himself from Oscar. Standing against him. Not being just like him. Not wanting to be just like him. And what did it even mean to go against the small scrap of family he had left? What if he-- That possibility was too difficult for him to even begin to consider just yet. Seeing the veggie lamb sitting there brought him out of his thoughts and put a small smile on his face. “Hmm I think he doesn’t know how to plan for that sort of thing. But he’s also a lamb. Well, technically a plant.”

“You mean even when I’m technically un-cursed but still dead and a zombie?” Morgan said, her smile sad for all its warmth. “Yeah. That stuff sticks forever. Get it?”

Kaden seemed confused by something she said, and it took Morgan awhile to figure that he’d never been given a reason to fear the people who were supposed to take care of him. Or at least not enough that he was willing to admit to himself. She wasn’t sure if he was really lucky for that or not. She quirked her brow up at Kaden as he dodged the question. I see you doing that. She held his gaze a moment, debating whether she should give him this out or not. “Lamby over here is both, thank you very much. Lamby is one of two worlds and lives that way in peace. But, as much wisdom as Lamby almost certainly possesses, I think you’re right. He just wants more of your berries.”

#wickedswriting #chatzy #morbeckmoreproblems #morgan #a moment's rest #writing

[mikauzoran]

Marichat: Serendipity: Fifty Marichat and Adrienette Kisses: Kiss Thirteen

On AO3: Serendipity: Fifty Marichat and Adrienette Kisses: ...discreetly.

Chat Noir landed on Marinette’s balcony at exactly one o’clock, just as Alya and Marinette finished setting up the recording equipment.

“Mademoiselle Césaire,” he greeted cordially, giving Alya a polite, if not somewhat over-the-top, bow.

Alya bowed back playfully. “Chat Noir! Thank you so much for coming. My followers are all really excited for this.”

“Not at all,” he assured, waving away her thanks. “It’s my pleasure. Really.”

Alya gestured toward Marinette. “You remember my friend, M—”

“—Marinette,” Chat trilled with delight (as if he hadn’t just seen her the previous evening…or the one before that and the one before that), sweeping into a low bow fit for nobility.

On his way back up, he snatched her hand and brought it to his lips. “It’s always such a treat to see you.”

“You too!” Marinette laughed nervously. “Not that we see each other often or anything!”

“Of course,” Chat corroborated without missing a beat, charming smile never faltering. “And that just makes each meeting more precious.”

“Not that there have been many meetings,” Marinette added for Alya’s benefit, turning to her friend to assure, “I mean, we hardly know each other. It’s not like we’re friends or anything.” She chuckled in an “isn’t the very idea of me being friends with a superhero ridiculous?” manner.

Alya’s brow furrowed, a suspicious eyebrow slowly starting to make its way up the journalist’s forehead. “The lady doth protest too much, methinks.”

“What?!” Marinette choked, beginning to wave her arms wildly. “No! It’s not like that at all. I—”

Chat put out an arm and stepped between Marinette and Alya. “—If you’ll pardon me for interrupting, I can explain.”

“There’s nothing to explain,” Marinette squeaked, shooting her boyfriend a dirty look.

Alya grinned widely, ignoring her friend and focusing on the superhero. “You’re pardoned. Do go on.”

“Marinette is afraid that you’re going to discover that she and I are acquaintances and be mad that she didn’t tell you,” he fibbed fluently.

Alya looked at Marinette (who covered her face with her hands and groaned) and then back at Chat Noir, her eyebrow inching up to new heights. “Acquaintances?”

Chat shrugged nonchalantly, playing it off as no big deal. “I was out one night and spotted her on her balcony. I recognized her from some of the akuma attacks, so I went over to say hi, and she gave me some leftover pastries.”

Alya’s intrigued expression became a knowing smile. “And you kept coming back to see if you’d get free snacks again.”

“Guilty,” Chat sighed theatrically, tail and ears wilting before quickly bouncing back. “Marinette’s winning personality didn’t hurt matters either.”

“I’ll bet,” Alya snorted. “How about the fact that she’s not too hard on the eyes?”

Chat held up his hands in surrender. “No comment,” he replied, but his roguish smirk spoke volumes.

“The point is,” Marinette broke in, “I didn’t say anything, Alya, because we decided it was too dangerous for anyone to know I was sort of friends with a superhero, so you can’t tell anyone.”

“Yeah.” Chat nodded, backing her up. “I couldn’t live with myself if Papillon started targeting Marinette and her family to get at me, so I’d appreciate it if you kept our acquaintanceship under wraps, okay?”

Alya mimed zipping her lips. “No worries, guys. No one is going to hear about this from me,” she promised.

Chat gave her a grateful smile while Marinette heaved a gigantic sigh of relief.

“Okay.” Alya clapped her hands, getting them back on track. “Let me just run down to get my notes, and we’ll be all set to get started.”

They watched the aspiring reporter disappear through the skylight back down into Marinette’s room, and then Chat turned a concerned eye on his girlfriend.

“Hey, Princess,” he whispered, reaching out to run a knuckle down her arm. “You okay?”

Marinette shook her head, sinking back against the balcony railing with a sigh. “I’ve been dreading this interview all week. I wish you hadn’t agreed to it.”

“My Love, I’m a celebrity. This kind of thing comes with the territory,” he gently explained. “People’s safety sometimes depends on them knowing that they can trust me, so this kind of marketing thing is important. They’ve seen me destroy national monuments with a single touch, Marinette,” he stressed, running his knuckle back up and down her arm. “They need to be absolutely certain of who I am and what I would or would not do with that kind of power. Publicity events like this are opportunities for them to see who I am as a person and get to know me, see that I’m just a normal guy.”

“Oh,” Marinette breathed, all words feeling inadequate.

She had never stopped to think that her partner’s power of destruction could be something Parisians might worry about. Now that he mentioned it, it seemed rather obvious given that Papillon and Mayura used their Miraculouses for evil.

“I know you’re worried about Princess’s identity being exposed,” he acknowledged, “but that’s not going to happen, okay?” He ducked his head so that he was peering up at her, giving her his most reassuring smile. “I will always protect you.”

“My hero,” she chuckled softly, forcing herself to take a deep breath and calm down.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered with a wink. “I promise I’ll be discreet.”

Before she could protest, he surged forward for a quick kiss, pulling back just as Alya pushed the skylight open to rejoin them on the balcony.

“Okay. Let’s get this interview on the road,” Alya announced, not seeming to notice anything amiss as she pulled herself back up.

Marinette was certain her face was fuchsia, but that had been the shade of Marinette’s skin throughout the first year of Alya and Marinette’s friendship due to all the blushing about Adrien, so Marinette guessed that it wasn’t unusual that the florid state of her skin now hadn’t registered on Alya’s radar.

 The majority of the interview went fairly well. Alya asked normal, non-identity-revealing questions like Chat’s favourite colour, favourite school subject, favourite musician, and dream pet.

It turned out that Chat Noir was a dog person. He wanted three: a medium-size dog for normalcy’s sake, a gigantic dog so big that his future children could ride on its back, and a tiny dog so small that he had to worry about the giant dog eating it.

Alya got a kick out of that, but Marinette was too busy thinking about dog names and what her children with Chat Noir would look like. It turned out that they looked remarkably similar to the future children she had imagined having with Adrien.

Marinette’s favourite response was when Alya asked about Chat Noir’s favourite food.

“I actually have a friend whose mother is from Martinique,” he remarked, piquing Alya’s interest.

“My family originally came from Martinique!” she replied in delight.

“Oh, yeah?” he chuckled. “What a crazy coincidence! Well, my friend’s mom makes this amazing Colombo de Martinique, and I’m pretty sure it’s my favourite dish ever.”

Chat turned to the camera and explained for the viewers, “It’s a curry dish. Usually it’s made with lamb or chicken, but my friend’s mom makes a version with fish that I’m crazy about.”

Marinette made a mental note to brush up on her Colombo de Martinique cooking skills. Two years prior, after learning that Adrien loved Alya’s mom’s fish curry, Marinette had learned to make it, but ever since she’d given up on elaborate schemes to confess her love to Adrien, she hadn’t made the dish.

Perhaps she could trot out the recipe the next time Chat ate dinner with her family.

Marinette’s thoughts were quickly interrupted as Alya moved on to more personal questions.

“So, Chat Noir, all of Paris is dying to know about this mysterious ‘Princess’ you’ve been spotted with this past month. Can you shed any light on the situation for your fans?” Alya prompted, leaning in slightly, ready to pounce on the smallest clue.

Marinette tensed, a parade of nightmare scenarios zipping through her mind.

Chat didn’t seem phased at all as he agreed affably. “Sure.”

He turned to the camera and looked straight at the viewers. “First and foremost, I want to be clear with you guys: my girlfriend is a private citizen, and I expect you all to respect her privacy. Do not try to discover her identity. I’m not sure how far Papillon is willing to go, if he understands that love is sacred and some lines shouldn’t be crossed, but he may start targeting Princess and the people she cares about in order to get to me if her identity is discovered, so I’m asking you all to take this very seriously, okay? I love her, and I’m not going to be able to do my best to protect all of you if the woman I love is in danger. We need to work together on this, all right? For the safety of all of Paris.”

Chat looked back to Alya to find her subconsciously nodding. He smiled. “So. With the understanding that Princess’s identity and personal life are off the table, what specific questions do you have for me?”

Marinette relaxed a bit after that.

Chat Noir could be a bit of a rash goofball at times, but he had grown and matured over the past three years. She should have trusted that her boyfriend knew what he was doing. She should have trusted that he would never let anything happen to her.

Hadn’t he proven himself over and over again with every akuma he’d given his life to protect her from?

She should have known that her partner had her back.

Once secure in that knowledge, the anxiety faded, and Marinette was able to enjoy listening to Chat talk about how Princess had been the one to ask him out, even though they had kind of mutually affirmed their feelings for one another at that point. No, she did not know his identity. No, he was not afraid of her only dating him because he was a superhero because they had been friends for a while before they’d begun dating. Yes, Chat Noir did make friends with civilians he regularly ran into on his nights out.

Marinette was a little thrown when Chat Noir gave shoutouts to “Orpheus”, “Pretty Boy”, and “Kunoichi”. Apparently, he really did have more friends whom he visited regularly as Chat Noir besides Marinette. She was fairly certain that “Pretty Boy” was Adrien, but she couldn’t even begin to guess at the other two, and that bothered her somewhat.

There was so much she didn’t know—couldn’t know—about her own boyfriend.

Marinette zoned back in just as Chat Noir was finishing up his comments about how amazing Princess was, how kind and smart and fun and thoughtful, how in love with her he was.

She made a mental note to watch the footage again and maybe save a copy of that portion to listen to when she was feeling down about herself.

She wondered if he would still say those things if he knew about her affair with Adrien, but…at least it sounded like she was doing some things right. He felt loved and appreciated, and that was important. She just had to keep making up for her shortcomings by making him feel truly loved.

 “How was that?” Chat snickered as he helped to disassemble the lighting equipment, keeping an ear open for Alya’s return. “Not as bad as you’d feared, was it?”

Marinette shook her head as she wound up the extension cord. “No. You were right,” she admitted. “That…went really well. I’m sorry for not trusting in you, Minou. I should have known better.”

“No worries.” Chat easily shrugged it off. “Now you won’t be so nervous next time, so it’s all good. It turned out for the best.”

“How can you always be so optimistic?” she chuckled, shaking her head even as she smiled affectionately.

“I have good things in my life,” he informed with a broad smile. “It’s easy to be optimistic when you feel so blessed.”

“Oh, Minou,” she sighed, her own lips stretching even wider until he captured them in a kiss.

“Could one of you bring down the boom mic next?” Alya called up to them.

Chat Noir pulled away from Marinette just long enough to respond, “On it!” before diving in to steal yet another kiss.

#Marichat #Adrinette #Adrienette #Miraculous Ladybug #Miraculous Ladybug Fanfiction #Chat Noir #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Alya Césaire #Adrien Agreste #Kissing #Writing Prompt #Mikau's Writings #Serendipity: Fifty Marichat and Adrienette Kisses

[spartanguard]

(love will see us through these) Dark Days [CSRT; 2/7]

Summary: A century ago, the United Realms of Pomem had been a land of peace, prosperity, and magic. Until war tore the land apart, leaving behind cruel leaders and even crueler laws regarding the use of magic. And each year, the youth of each realm are subjected to a fight to the death, both for entertainment and to weed out anyone capable of wielding magic. In the 99th Magic Games, past victors Emma Nolan and Killian Jones find themselves serving as mentors, while Alice Gothel and Robyn West end up representing their realm. Everyone has secrets; everyone has something to lose. Who will win? Who will die? Just don’t forget: all magic comes with a price.

rated M | 7k words | part 1 | AO3

A/N: And here’s chapter 2 of my story for the CS Rewrite-A-Thon! (@captainswanbigbang​) Thanks to everyone who read and commented on the first part! And eternal thanks to the best beta ever @optomisticgirl​. Please don’t get too mad at me for the flashback at the beginning of this. Title comes from "Come Away to the Water" by Maroon 5 f/Rozzi Crane.

part 2: Come away little lamb, come away to the slaughter / To the one appointed to see this through

Twenty-three years ago

The falling rain should have been sign enough of what was to come. Nothing good happened on dreary, drizzly days—not since Mama had passed, at least. But all Killian was really concerned with was the way it was working its way through his threadbare jacket as he stood and shivered in the town square with his classmates. 

He was nervous, too—who wouldn’t be at their first Reaping?

Liam had tried to calm him that morning, as he attempted to smooth down the cowlick on the crown of Killian’s head. “You’re only 12, so your name is only in there once. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“What about you, though?” At 18, Liam’s name was in there seven times.

“My odds are still good; don’t worry, little brother.”

“Younger,” Killian muttered under his breath.

His brother’s words, right as they were, did little to calm him. The Games had a way of making the worst things happen. 

Killian’s heart rate picked up when the escort from Olympus reached into the bowl containing everyone’s names. The name he read out wasn’t familiar, thank goodness, and a guy from farther back in the crowd shuffled his way forward. His head was hung low; even if Atlantica was the reigning champion of the Games, and was generally considered to be a realm who did well in them, it didn’t mean that being Reaped was still anything less than a death sentence.

The kid was guided to the back of the stage, standing by last year’s champion, Milah Cassidy, and the escort turned his attention back to the bowl. Killian began to breathe deeply when he took out the next slip.

And then Killian’s heart stopped altogether.

“Killian Jones.”

No. No—it couldn’t be. Liam told him—his chances were so low—how? Just, how?

But it seemed as though his fate had been chosen for him, like always; no sense fighting it now. The crowd of kids his age began to part around him, and he straightened his spine and began to cross the short distance to the stage. But then something even worse happened.

“I volunteer!” 

Killian turned and stared at the shouting voice, to see Liam struggling against Black Knights who were holding him back. 

“I volunteer as tribute.”

He was once more stunned, speechless, and frozen in spot, as the guards let Liam go and he began to come to the front. Calm and noble—that’s how Liam always was.

But not Killian. His own fate he could have dealt with—but not Liam’s. As soon as his brain caught up with everything, he ran at his brother, who barely was able to brace himself for the impact of a gangly preteen slamming into him.

“Liam, no—you can’t; you can’t!” Killian cried in his ear; Liam would probably be just fine without him, but Killian—he couldn’t—he wouldn’t—

“It’s alright, brother,” Liam whispered, then somehow pried Killian’s arms off of him. Killian was too shocked to try to follow. He was vaguely aware of the Black Knights coming to stand on either side, but his gaze was transfixed on Liam as he took the stage.

“I’m Liam Jones,” he said, when asked for his name.

“Oh, then I bet that was your brother, wasn’t it?” the smarmy escort had said.

“Aye,” he nodded solemnly. The rest of the scene was blurred by Killian’s own tears.

He was vaguely aware, however, of being escorted by the soldiers into the city hall, where tributes were able to make their goodbyes. Killian was left in front of a door, and even though time was probably limited, it took a full minute for him to work up the nerve to open it.

In the small room, Liam was pacing, head down in thought—like he often was when trying to figure out how to make their last bit of food stretch enough for the two of them until they could afford more, or how to repair their roof, or one of the many problems that had been shoved onto his shoulders since Mama died and their father left.

He looked up when the door opened, though, and ran to Killian, pulling him into a tight hug.

“Liam, how could you?” Killian sobbed. “I don’t know what I’ll do without you!” 

“Shh, you’ll be fine.”

“But what will I do without you?”

“You’ll survive; you always have and you always will.”

For what seemed like eternity, Killian sobbed into his brother’s shoulder. It was great that Liam was so confident, but he certainly wasn’t. “Why did you do it?” he finally asked through hiccups.

Liam took a deep breath. “Remember what I’ve always told you: that a man unwilling to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets. This is what I want.”

“You want to die?” he snapped back.

“No, little brother—I want you to live.”

There was nothing more Killian could say to that, so they just held each other tight until their time was up.

“You’ll try to win, though, right?” Killian asked.

“Of course I will.”

Sniffling, Killian pulled off the chain that hung around his neck. “Here—take Mama’s ring, for protection.”

Liam took the antique—one of the few things they had left from their mother—and slipped it around his own neck. “I feel safer already,” he said, though Killian was old enough to know it was an empty platitude.

“I love you, Liam.”

“I love you too, little brother.”

Black Knights arrived to escort Liam to Olympus, and it took every ounce of reserve in Killian’s lanky body to not cling to him; but he followed as long as he could, and watched as Liam walked down the long hallway to the train depot, then out of sight.

He managed to hold it together until then, but the door leading outside had barely closed before Killian collapsed on a bench, sobbing again. What the bloody hell was he supposed to do? He had no family, no money...honestly, Liam should have just let him go and freed himself from the burden of a little brother.

“Is this seat taken?” An older voice startled Killian; he looked up, blinking through his tears, to see a vaguely familiar man standing over him.

“N-no; go ahead,” he stammered, then wiped his nose with his wet jacket.

The man sat down next to him and didn’t say anything for a bit; not until Killian had calmed down (which he’d really only done because he had company). But eventually, he spoke up. “It’s Killian, right?”

“Aye, sir.”

The man held out his hand. “I’m Nemo.”

Politely, Killian took it, and the name jogged his memory: Nemo was a past Victor, who he thought usually served as a mentor. “Aren’t you supposed to be going to Olympus?” he asked.

Nemo gave him a half smile, and there was sadness in his eyes. “Not this year. And it seems that you aren’t, either.”

“No,” Killian agreed in a small voice. 

“Forgive me if this is forward,” Nemo continued, “but I couldn’t help but notice your parents weren’t around today. They’re gone, aren’t they?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, seeing as neither of us have anywhere to be or anyone to be with, could I invite you to stay at my home for the duration of the games?”

Killian blinked; a Victor—who didn’t even know him—had just invited him to stay with him? “Why?” was all he could say.

Nemo chuckled. “I live alone in that big house, and I could use some company. Just until your brother gets back, of course.”

They both knew that promise was slightly hollow, and while pride and propriety should have insisted that Killian turn down the offer, he also hated the idea of spending the next few weeks (and however much after) on his own. “I...okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah.”

Nemo grinned, and stood; Killian wiped his face again and followed. “So, what’s your favorite food, m’boy?”

Looking back, there was no way Killian would have survived those weeks without Nemo. He made sure he had food; made sure he got his schoolwork done; and was there by his side each night when they had to watch the recap of the day’s events in Neverland. Nemo was the one who eased his fears on the first day, and all through the first week of the Games, as Liam managed to get into the top five; and Nemo was the one who held Killian as he watched Liam’s slow, painful, lonely death after a brush with the dreamshade plant.

Nemo was also there on the rainy day that the Black Knights turned over custody of Liam’s body to Killian when it came off the train.

“You can stay with me as long as you need, Killian,” Nemo had said solemnly after they buried Liam. Killian didn’t answer—didn’t even acknowledge the statement—he just...went with him. It was the closest thing he had to home anymore.

And he didn’t leave until the next time his name was drawn, six years later.

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇

Present

Every ounce of self restraint that Killian possessed was in use as he stood on the other side of the door—and had been in use for the past few days, ever since the Reaping. His tributes were probably terrified of him, or at the very least worried for their lives (more than they already were), with his cool aloofness on the train journey to Olympus, even if Ariel, his co-mentor, assured them otherwise. 

He’d just been trying to rein his raging emotions long enough to get here. 

But now no one was answering his polite knock, or the buzz of the door chime on the electronic keypad outside, though he knew they were in there—tributes weren’t given free run of the castle that served as home base for the Games, and it wasn’t quite time for them to get ready for the parade. So why wasn’t he getting a reply from the Sherwood quarters?

Losing his patience, he banged on the door instead. That should get their attention. 

Finally, he heard steps approach the door, and saw the green light on the peephole that let him know he was being watched. The heavy bolt unlatched, but it somehow sounded reluctant and unhappy—much like the reception he knew he’d get from the person on the other side. 

“What are you doing here?” Eloise asked, annoyed, giving him a stern look with a hand on her hip. 

“Where is she?”

“Getting ready.” Her tone was aggravatingly nonchalant, and had been as long as he’d known her. 

“No, she’s not; don’t bloody lie to me. Where’s—“

“Papa?”

In the room beyond, Alice was standing and staring at him, still in the dress she’d been wearing at the Reaping. He knew Olympus’s stylists would doll her up and make her fit their standard of beauty, but he took a long moment—hopefully not the last—to memorize how she looked now: curly blonde hair framing her face, wide-eyed innocence in her blue eyes, and wrinkles in her skirt from where she’d been fidgeting with it. 

“Alice,” he said on a breath, then dodged around Eloise to bring her into his arms. She wrapped herself tight around him as he hugged her close, cradling the back of her head like he had when she was a babe. 

God, would he ever get to do this again?

He blinked back the tears pricking the corner of his eyes and continued to hold on until she said, in a small voice, “Papa, I’m so sorry.”

Sighing, he stepped back, but still held onto her shoulder. “Starfish, what the bloody hell were you thinking? You know what all this is like.”

“I know, but...I couldn’t let him go, Papa,” she said, sniffling a bit. “It’s like what Uncle Liam did. Nicholas...he’s too young; his mother needs him. And I...well, I…”

“If you think for one second that no one needs you, there are two people here who can tell you that you’re sorely wrong,” he refuted, brushing a falling tear from her cheek with his thumb, while mentally cursing the fact that she’d somehow inherited his brother’s bloody noble streak. “Alice, if I lost you, I…” gods, he couldn’t even voice it. He just pulled her back into his embrace, vaguely aware of the tears soaking his shirt (and not caring one bit).

He felt an electric charge on his back, where she was gripping his shirt. “Breathe, darling; breathe.” The last thing they needed was her magic setting itself loose and making her an easy target. He’d seen her do some amazing things with it, but now wasn’t the time. 

“Uh, am I missing something here?” another young voice asked; over Alice’s head, he could see that the other tribute had joined them; she looked to be about Alice’s age, and also incredibly confused.

“This is Killian Jones,” Eloise introduced. “He’s the mentor from Atlantica.”

“Yeah, I know that,” the girl replied. “My mom always swoons over him. But why is he here? And...doing that?”

“Because—” Eloise started, but Alice interrupted. 

“Because he’s my father,” she explained, stepping away. “And you can’t tell anyone, alright?”

The other girl gaped for a long moment, but then closed her mouth and nodded. “Wow; these Victor families are full of drama, huh?”

“Something like that,” Eloise muttered. That was all they needed to say for now. “Now, is that the only reason you came here, or is something else on your mind?”

It was a good thing they’d never actually been in a relationship, because it would have ended in spectacular fashion. “Actually, yes. I’ve spent the last two days trying to figure out just how I was going to be able to focus on protecting the tributes in my charge, when the one I’m the most worried about is here.”

“What, you don’t trust me?” she threw back. 

In all honesty, he didn’t; there was a reason Alice spent so much time with him. Letting that on would only make things worse, though. “Let’s be frank, Eloise: you don’t exactly have the best resources here. But if anyone were to catch onto me helping you, we’d be found out.”

“Oh, like that even matters anymore. Look at where we are, Jones; it’s past time to be worrying about sordid secrets.”

She had a point there. They’d only kept Alice’s paternity a secret to keep her out of the Games; so much for that. 

“But,” she continued, “if you want to form an alliance, I don’t think we’d be opposed.”

He couldn’t handle how calm she was about this. “I can suggest it to my tributes and hope they take it, but you know I can’t force it. I’ll do my best, though.”

“See that you do.”

He couldn’t hold back the roll of his eyes this time, but instead of picking another fight, he turned back to Alice. “I’ll try to find you again before you leave here; I promise,” he told her, then kissed her forehead. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Papa,” she said, and threw herself back at him. He let her hold on as long as she wanted—until Eloise said it was time to go. 

He just gave Alice another kiss on the cheek, then left the apartment; he didn’t want to see the cool indifference on Eloise’s face anymore. 

Letting the door slam behind him, he crossed the hallway to the elevator, punched the button for the ground floor, and as the door closed, leaned against the back wall and stared at his angry reflection in it. 

If anything happened to Alice—anything—her blood would be on Eloise’s hands. And there would be next to nothing he could do about it. 

He hated—hated—that so little of his life was under his control. It hadn’t taken him by surprise—he grew up with Nemo, after all—but he still loathed the hold Olympus had on him.

At least he could get a drink; the bar in the reception area would be open downstairs. Perhaps he could get one (or a few) in him before he had to make nice with anyone else. He wasn’t even in the mood for another Victor right now, even though that’s where he’d most likely find sympathy. 

So, of course, that’s when the elevator slowed a few floors too soon. He groaned. 

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇

Emma was expecting an empty elevator when she rang for it, assuming she was the only one crazy enough to be heading down for parade stuff already. She could tell her tributes weren’t enthused with her inexperience and hoped that she could reassure them by arriving early. (Or, at the very least, shake off her own nerves.)

She was not anticipating running into a brooding Killian Jones. 

It took her aback at first—everyone knew who he was, Victor and citizen alike: the only person to survive being reaped twice. But seeing him up close in person was a bit of a shock. And honestly, he was even more attractive than he looked on screen, with his dark, tousled hair, neatly trimmed scruff, and bright blue eyes. 

Eyes that were now shooting daggers at her. “Are you hopping on or not?” he barked. 

Emma jumped, then scurried on; thankfully, he was headed down, too. The responsible part of her yelled that this would be a great networking opportunity, but the tense clench of his jaw and furrow of his brow told her not to say anything. The games hadn't even started; what was he already angry about? (Other than, you know, the entire concept. But they weren’t here to change the world.)

“Can I help you?” he growled, giving her a side-eyed glare; she jolted again at the realization she’d been gawking. 

“Sorry; it’s just...you're Killian Jones.”

He smirked back at her, but it didn’t reach his eyes—it looked almost rehearsed. “It’s always nice to make an impression.”

“I’m Emma; Emma—”

“—Nolan. I know.”

She just nodded; given how little time she’d spent in Olympus, she had no idea how well-known she was or was not.

“I also know that your mother taught you better than to stare at people.”

Wow, he was definitely in a mood, and it was making her bristle. “Yeah; she also taught me not to be a jerk to people you’ve just met. Didn’t yours?”

She regretted the words as soon as she said them; it was common knowledge that his parents were long gone. Emma didn’t exactly go seeking knowledge about fellow Victors, but when watching the games was mandatory, you picked up stuff along the way, even if he’d won several years before her. 

Briefly, fire gleamed in his eyes, sending a chill up her spine; the light glinting off the hook at the end of his left arm didn’t help. But then it dulled to something closer to resignation. 

“How did your parents do it?” he asked quietly.

“How did they do what?”

“How did they watch their only child march into the arena, knowing full well what it’s like in there, and that there was an incredibly high chance they’d never see you again?”

She swallowed; he definitely knew who she was, then. Where the hell had that question come from, though?

“I have no idea,” she answered quietly. Because she really didn’t—she hadn’t asked and she didn’t want to know. And the thought of ever having to do that was both impossible to imagine and her worst nightmare. 

He huffed and stared at the floor, shoulders slumped. It looked like he wanted to say something, but then a ding sounded as the elevator stopped. 

Killian pushed off the wall, leading with his hips, then took a few swaggering steps out of the lift. She started to follow, but then he turned back, still looking at the ground. 

“As you’re new, I should probably give you some advice,” he said. “It’s this: Don’t fuck up.”

And without another word, he headed off toward the bar. 

What the hell had that been?

Her magic started to lick at her edges in response to her elevated heart rate; she did her best to squeeze it back before leaving the elevator. 

But she was still mentally scratching her head when she reached the staging hallway for the parade; a line of chariots, each pulled by two sleek, white horses, was waiting for the tributes, though it would still be a while until the kids were done with the stylists and prep teams. Emma was never much for fashion, but was always curious to see what Olympus came up with—and was praying it wasn’t anything as bad as what she’d had to wear. Bark was not meant to be worn as a garment. 

Graham was already by their chariot, brushing one of the horses; they were the only ones there so far. “Hey,” she said casually as she walked up behind him, then looked for another brush so she could take care of the other steed. Nervousness was seeping back in and she needed something to do with her hands, lest an involuntary shower of sparks fall from them. 

He turned abruptly and pulled her close with his free arm. “Hello, darling,” he said softly, then pressed a kiss to her lips. She stiffened at first and almost recoiled until she remembered: everyone thought they were madly in love. And even if they didn’t have an audience, they knew better than to assume that no one was watching; the only place in the castle without cameras was each realm’s quarters. 

If she was being honest, that was a big part of why she’d avoided Olympus, almost as much as Henry was. Emma was not a talented actor; thank goodness Graham was. 

He at least gave her an apologetic look when he pulled back, then waved in the direction of the extra grooming tools. “Are the kids in good hands?” he asked as he went back to work.

“Good enough,” Emma shrugged, giving the other horse a gentle sweep of the brush. “I guess we’ll see in a bit. When do the other mentors show up?”

“Soonish,” he replied. After Emma’s games—which were only a couple years after his own victory—Graham had traded off mentoring with David every so often, so he wasn’t completely new; at least one of them had some idea of what they were supposed to do. 

“And then we try to make friends?”

“I suppose.” He peered at her over the neck of the horse; she averted his gaze by focusing on the one in front of her. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she lied, but she didn’t need to look up to know he was giving her a look of disbelief. “It’s just...is everyone like Killian Jones?”

“In what way?”

“I just met him on the elevator and he was...well, he was kind of a dick. I know not everyone is going to be how they seem from afar, but I thought he was supposed to be some charming ladykiller.”

“He wasn’t?”

“No; he was surly and told me not to, and I quote, ‘fuck up’.”

“He’s not wrong.”

Graham deftly dodged the brush she threw at him, laughing.

“Calm down; it’ll be fine,” he assured her, ducking around the horses to stand by her. “I haven’t spent much time with Jones, but he plays fair—I know that. So don’t let him get in your head. Let’s focus on getting through tonight first; alright?” He grabbed her hands and squeezed comfortingly; there was a bit of static at his touch, and she realized he was helping tamp down her magic—again. Fuck, this was gonna be hard.

“Alright,” she sighed, but Killian had really just been voicing her own fears. It wasn’t that easy to shake them. 

“So, were his eyes as blue as everyone says?”

She snorted and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Prettier than mine?”

“Eh, different kind of blue.”

He placed a hand on his chest and gasped in mock offense. So she tickled his side in response. Even if they weren’t romantically involved, he was still her best friend, and she was glad he was here with her. 

(But she wasn’t going to tell him the other thing she was thinking about: just how good it looked when Killian walked away. He might be an ass, but damn did he have one.)

They went back to brushing the already-gleaming coats of the horses, and Graham introduced her to some of the other mentors as they trickled in, even if she already had the general idea of who they were: Belle and Archie from Arendelle; Jasmine and Cyrus from Agrabah; Mulan from Erebor; Eloise from Sherwood; and Ariel from Atlantica, who was the polar opposite of her partner. Emma took an immediate liking to her—and the way Graham blushed when she placed a friendly peck on his cheek before running her bubbly self off. 

“I see that,” Emma teased, which just made him blush harder. 

“Piss off; she’s married.” Still—it was cute, but also a sharp reminder of what he’d given up when he entered the lie their lives had become. 

Thankfully, their tributes arrived then, to distract her from any further sulking. Tamara and August at least weren’t wearing actual wood this year, but when your realm was also known as the Enchanted Forest—and responsible for most of Pomem’s lumber production—it was hard to get away from either looking like a tree or a lumberjack. 

The stylists had gone with the former this year, weaving leaves through the kids’ hair and putting them in beaded brown jumpsuits. Not awe-inspiring, but not terrible. The tributes still seemed uncomfortable, though, and Tamara was clearly trying to avoid moving too much and damaging it. It was definitely the nicest, most expensive thing either kid had ever worn—something Emma tried not to think about too much, because she’d only get more upset at everything. 

They got the kids settled in their chariot and then headed to their seats in the stadium that held the opening ceremonies. An entire building that they only used three days a year; ridiculous. 

Misthaven’s escort, Tink, was already at their assigned seats and waved them over. For someone from Olympus, she was...tolerable. Possibly immortal, too—she’d been the escort when Graham won his Games, but somehow looked younger than Emma. Just another example of Olympus’s fixation on youth and beauty, probably, aided by their scientific advancements that bordered on magical (which was another irony Emma hated thinking about). 

“Don’t the tributes just look fabulous?” she gushed as they sat down. “Probably the best yet from Misthaven!”

“Yeah, I think so,” Emma halfheartedly agreed (which wasn’t saying much—and she was pointedly ignoring whatever that said about her own looks).

“Oh, the parade is always my favorite,” Tink sighed happily.

From Emma’s memory, it was only the least stressful part. But again: bark itches.

Graham continued to introduce her to people—even the new head gamemaker, Jefferson Hatter, who was in his first year of designing the Games—until the house lights went down, leaving just the ones on the track at the center of the stadium.

Overhead, the voice of Sidney Glass, perennial event host, announced the start of the parade, and then the first chariot appeared with the tributes from Agrabah.

Ideally, the costumes the tributes wore had something to do with each realm’s chief industry; as the primary supplier of energy for Pomem, the kids from Agrabah wore costumes that lit up. Not original, but it worked. Over the course of 99 years, Emma figured some ideas were bound to be recycled.

The rest of the realms followed, in no particular order. Next was Stormhold, known for its agriculture; then Arendelle, the technological hub of Pomem. The Misthaven tributes were fairly well received, but the most enthusiasm definitely came from Tink. DunBroch’s tributes were almost identical to Stormhold’s, given that they were just a different kind of farmer (livestock); and Erebor’s tribute to mining was just confusing. The kids from Atlantica were dressed like mermaids; Emma doubted their fishermen found too many of those nowadays. Oz almost always wore something green and military, this year being no exception; and Phrygia was stereotypically covered in gold, being both the richest realm and the supplier of luxury items (that obviously only went to Olympus).

Sherwood brought up the rear, which honestly sucked for them, being the poorest realm, and likely meant the parade would end on an anticlimactic note; it was all about the spectacle, after all. But this year—wow. For the first time in the parade, Emma was actually invested. The realm was known for its textiles, and finally, someone in Olympus had put that to use. The girls wore absolutely stunning gowns, with capes somehow floating behind them that seemed to mimic cottony clouds. The tributes were holding hands and absolutely beaming at the audience, who was lapping it up. Even the rest of the mentors, Emma noticed, were staring in rapt attention; hell, it looked like Killian was crying (maybe he wasn’t such an ass, then). 

“Well, that just complicated things,” Graham muttered as the chariot retreated.

“How so?”

“After a presentation like that, everyone is going to want to sponsor them.”

He was right, she knew. Which just made their job that much harder. 

She cut her palms with her nails with how hard she was squeezing her fists to drown the sparks.

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇

Alice’s heart was absolutely racing. To be fair, it had been like that pretty much ever since she stepped forward back in Sherwood, aside from when she was asleep. But now, during the parade? Faster than a rabbit.

Not because of the crowd, though that was indescribable.

Not because of her dress, even if it was gorgeous; Tiger Lily, their stylist, had done an incredible job.

And not because of the image of her mother on one of the stadium’s screens, actually almost smiling. That never happened.

No; it was because she was holding hands with Robyn. And Robyn was also smiling at her.

God, this was terribly inconvenient. But if they didn’t have a ton of time left, then she was going to enjoy it, even if she was still too embarrassed to let on her crush. She just really hoped she could keep enough control to not burn Robyn’s hand with the sparks of her magic.

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇

The first day in the tribute training center was done, and the Atlantica kids were waiting for dinner back in their quarters with their mentors. It was only the first day, he knew, but Killian didn’t like their chances this year. He’d never let that on to the teenagers, though; they were nervous enough as it was. Even in their lodgings, where they had the chance to relax and indulge in the luxuries that were standard in Olympus, they seemed on edge. Killian couldn’t decide, though, if it was due to the fact that they were being treated to more opulence than they’d ever seen before (although spartan by Olympus standards, the Tribute Castle was a literal palace compared to the seaside villages in Atlantica) or just the overall anxiety of the situation; he remembered feeling overwhelmed by both during his games.

It wasn’t that he didn’t think their tributes had what it took—the boy, William, was a decent fighter and clever, and the girl, Ursula, had a fierce streak that seemed to be a mile long. The whole point of the training center was to learn fighting and survival skills to use in the Arena. Most realms took advantage of it, and he could see that the kids were learning; but the tributes from Phrygia and Oz—who train year-round for the games, even though that was technically illegal—just used it as an opportunity to intimidate the others. Thankfully, Alice and Robyn were looking good, as well; it turned out Robyn was an excellent shot with a bow. (And, even better, Alice was managing to keep her magic under wraps.)

As they waited for the meal, Killian and Ariel began to discuss strategy with the tributes. Ariel was the first tribute he mentored who’d gone on to win. On the surface, she seemed sweet and demure; but when she had a trident in her hands, she was downright scary.  

“It’s not a bad idea to form an alliance early on. It can really help you get farther in the games,” Ariel said. “Were there any tributes you noticed today that you’d want to work with? We can talk to their mentors and set something up.”

“Actually, yeah,” William said. “The pair from Misthaven—Ursula and I talked to them a bit, and they seemed pretty cool.” Ursula nodded in agreement.

“That’s actually pretty smart,” Ariel said, looking over at Killian. “Misthaven is forest, we’re water; that covers almost every arena scenario.”

“Aye, that it does. Good thinking, Will,” Killian said with a small smile. “It looked like the pair from Sherwood had a pretty good grasp on things, too.” 

“Yeah, maybe,” Ursula answered, though she sounded less than enthused at the idea. Ariel cast him a very knowing look; she was one of the few people aware of the situation, and had spent several hours on the train giving him a good, long hug. He could say she was his best friend, but the truth was, she was really one of his only ones—though she didn’t let that hold her back from saying the same about him.

(They had once very briefly discussed the idea of more; but after he lost his first love, he was pretty sure his heart didn’t work that way anymore, and then she met a handsome, sweet fisherman named Eric and that was that.)

“Just let us know, and we’ll talk to the Misthaven mentors tomorrow, or whoever else,” Ariel told the kids. 

They glanced at each other, nodding, and Ursula said, “Yeah, we’d like that.” 

“It’s a plan!” she exclaimed, then turned to Killian. “Do you want to talk to them, or should I?”

A general feeling of shame washed over him. “Uh, you should probably do that. I’m not sure I’d be the best one to make a case.”

She crossed her arms and gave him another look that reminded him just how well she knew him. “What did you do?”

“What makes you think I did anything? You wound me, mermaid,” he threw back, using the nickname he knew she hated (but would never live down on account of her strong swimming abilities—skills that helped her survive her games). 

She just raised her eyebrows at him, unamused.

He sighed. “Let’s just say I got off on the wrong foot with Ms. Nolan and it’d probably be best if you headed that charge. I can handle anyone else.”

“Alright. I expect the full story later, though,” she warned, and likely only stopped persisting because of the arrival of dinner. Honestly, it was like having a little sister sometimes.

Down at the training center the next day, he saw his tributes approach the pair from Misthaven, and the little group stuck together, showing each other skills they had learned in their respective homes. He surveyed the rest of the room to see what others were doing (though it was a bit hard to distinguish them when everyone was wearing the same games-issued black top and pants). Phrygia and Oz were already in a pack, as could be assumed, and he watched Robyn continuing to work with an archery instructor; his brow furrowed when she nailed the center of the target. If she was forming a strong partnership with Alice, it was good; otherwise...he didn’t want to think about it. 

Alice herself was learning how to set snares with rope; he’d taught her how to tie all the sailor’s knots he could, so it was no surprise she was having success there.

“Well, at least that seems to be going good,” Ariel commented as she stepped up to his side. “Sorry they weren’t receptive to your idea.”

“It was a longshot,” he answered, a bit more resigned than he probably should have sounded.

“How do you think she’ll do?” A glance told him she was looking at Alice, too.

“Honestly...I have no idea.” More Victor’s children died in the games than won; Emma Nolan was definitely an anomaly. He’d love to be able to pick her brain, or Graham’s (he was Emma’s mentor, if he recalled correctly), but that might give away too much. 

“Well, she’s definitely resourceful,” Ariel continued. “If anyone can win out of sheer ingenuity and stubbornness, it’s her.” Despite his worry, he had to chuckle at that assessment; Ariel was probably right.

Movement at the other end of the room caught his eye; Emma and Graham had arrived. He nodded in that direction, saying, “Looks like you’re up, mermaid.”

She gently punched him in the shoulder. “Wish me luck.”

“You don’t need it.” If anyone could establish an alliance, it was Ariel and her effervescent optimism. 

She rolled her eyes at him, but smiled nonetheless and then headed over to their hopeful teammates.

In the meantime, Killian fixed his eyes back on Alice, and racked his brain: he had to find a way to help her win. He had to.

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇

Everything was abuzz in the training center in the hour or so leading up to the start of the Games. The interviews were done, tribute scores had been given, and the kids all said their goodbyes before being whisked away to the Arena, somewhere in the expanse of Neverland surrounding Olympus. 

The training center had been transformed overnight, almost magically; Emma didn’t even recognize it when she walked in. Gone were the weightlifting equipment and educational stations; while she wouldn’t exactly call it cozy now, it certainly had all the necessary amenities: food, lots of plush seating, and screens everywhere. Along one wall, the largest screen displayed a map of the arena, with glowing dots indicating each tribute’s location; they were all still in a perfect ring in the middle. The myriad other screens across the room were focused on each tribute, in addition to panoramas of the forested arena and its central lake. If it wasn’t about to be the setting of so much death, Emma might have found it beautiful.

Saying goodbye to Tamara and August had been tough; trying to keep them alive would be harder.

“We’ve got this,” Graham murmured, squeezing her hand in encouragement. As if the task ahead of them wasn’t enough, she also had to keep up that charade, too.

“I fucking hope so.”

He tried to give her a stern look for her language, but it didn’t last long before melting into a grin. “Well, shall we join our alliance mates?” he asked, nodding to his right.

Off to the side, Ariel and Killian were standing, chatting with each other. The proposal shocked Emma, but it was hard to say no when two experienced mentors approached like that. It was hard to say no to Ariel, too—especially for Graham.

But Killian...she still wasn’t sure on.

“Yeah, let’s do this,” she answered.

Ariel, unsurprisingly, greeted them with a huge grin and massive hugs. Killian offered his hand to Graham, giving it a firm shake, before turning to Emma. 

“I, uh, I owe you an apology for our first meeting, lass,” he said solemnly, eyes cast down. “Unfortunately, the Games have a habit of doing that sometimes.”

“I get it,” she answered. It was more of an apology than she had expected to get. “Think you can teach me how to avoid that happening here?”

“I can try,” he shrugged; that was probably a tall request on her part.

“Works for me. To an alliance?” She offered her hand to him.

He gently took it in his. “To an alliance.” Then, to her shock, he brought it to his lips and placed a gentle kiss on the back of it. She was definitely gaping again, but the intense way he was staring made it hard to look away. No wonder he had such a scoundrel reputation.

The moment was broken by an announcement: “Tributes, to your starting positions; the Games begin in one minute.” Sidney Glass was apparently ready; guess they better be, too.

They all turned their attention to the screens, glancing around to find their tributes. Graham quickly located theirs, which gave Emma a few extra moments to glance around and see what everyone else was doing. 

Ariel, too, was focused on the screens with Atlantica’s tributes, but Killian’s attention was elsewhere—at Eloise, oddly enough. The woman was staring back at him, then gave him a nod before looking up. Huh; that was odd—but Emma could worry over what that was about later.

“Forty-five seconds,” Glass called out, and the platforms the tributes were standing on rose up into the Arena.

“Thirty seconds.” The platforms came into place, and everyone, tribute and mentor alike, got their first view of the Arena. Emma saw lots of trees—perfect for a kid from Misthaven.

“Fifteen seconds.” Graham found her hand again; this time, she was the one squeezing—both to anchor her emotions and to quell the sparks of magic that were threatening to escape.

“Ten.” Her eyes began to dart around in nervousness—just like they had when she was the one standing on that platform.

“Nine, eight...” Graham’s eyes were glued to the screen.

“Seven, six…” So were Ariel’s.

“Five, four…” Killian’s were, too…

“Three, two…” ...but why was he looking at the girl from Sherwood? (And why did it make her think of the rest of their conversation in the elevator?)

“One.” Emma’s gaze darted back to her own screens and she clenched her fists.

“Let the games begin, and remember: All Magic Comes With A Price!”

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇

thanks so much for reading! tagging some peeps  @kat2609​​ @thesschesthair​​ @xpumpkindumplingx​​ @shipsxahoy​​ @amortentia-on-the-rocks​​ @mryddinwilt​​ @cocohook38​​ @annytecture​​ @wingedlioness​​ @word-bug​​ @distant-rose​​ @wellhellotragic​​ @welllpthisishappening​​ @let-it-raines​​ @pirateherokillian​​ @its-imperator-furiosa​​ @killianmesmalls​​ @sherlockianwhovian​​ @ineffablecolors​​ @laschatzi​​ @ive-always-been-a-pirate​​ @nfbagelperson​​ @stubblesandwich​​​ @killian-whump​​​ @phiralovesloki​​ @athenascarlet​​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​​ @snowbellewells​​ @idristardis​​ @scientificapricot​​ @searchingwardrobes​

#cs ff #captain swan rewrite a thon #csrt 2020 #my ff #the magic games #(love will see us through these) dark days

[myivfjourney]

Naps? Yes please!!

9/3/20

Ok, so it's been a few days since I've written - alot has happened!

Quick update to my last few lines in my prior post.

I got the "go ahead" from the doctor to begin stims..the TSH of 3.5 doesn't seem to be a current concern.

My husband got the job and signed his offer today ! Yay!

My meds didn't come on the Thursday like expected inspite being in the phone for 2 hours dealing with it. They came Friday after further investment of time.

Anyways...

Backtracking to last week of August...

I finished the last birth control pill August 24 and was so ready to move to the next step. I had so much back and forth phone calls with the specialty pharmacy that my meds came the Friday. I day before I needed to start them although my doctor and I confirmed the orders weeks prior. I was so upset. Had I not called to verify a few days prior it would have not made it in time. Always very people.

Anyways we begun stims on Saturday August 29th. My husband and I rewatched the videos to be sure we were "doing it right" ...we made it out the first night alive. Menopur stings ladies! But the good news is it does go away after like 1 minute.

I'm on day 6 of Stims right now and all I want to do these past few days is nap.

The stims have gifted me a small lingering headache and complete tiredness. YAY!..u really shouldn't have.

On the same day we begun stims I started spotting and by Sunday I had a heavy flow. Monday morning I couldn't wait to call and find out ...apparently its "withdrawal bleeding" from the birth control and also my uterus is shedding its lining. Since it measured 8" last time, I had lot to lose thus bleeding for 2 more days. I'm spotting today..still pink..but hoping it stops soon.

Last night I had to get 3 injections because the re-inject pen for Gonal would only give me a dose of 100IU since we've used 200 IUs each night thus far as my dosage (it comes as 900) ..but..the night before somehow when my hubby injected me, only 175 IUs discharged so I needed another shot of 25 to even out the 200. So needless to say two nights in a row I've had 3 stabs to the belly...how lovely! I've gotten use to it so its fine.

I visited the doctors office on Wednesday (yesterday) and looks like we're pacing well. They want to see me tomorrow again for further monitoring.

Can I just tell you about my left overies for a quick sec? I mean..I've already covered my periods so why not.

My left girl seems to be hiding out behind my uterus down under. So finding her is always a bitch. The nurse looked for a good few minutes before giving up. She then called in the doctor to look around for her. I waited about 5-8mins on the bed (on my period) after being poked around with the probe for several minutes. When the doctor came, in order to find her, I was asked to literally turn and lie on my right butt cheek while the probe was inside ...only then Ms. Lefty graced us with her presence....they got the picture they needed.. ( when he saw her I heard him count out to 10 but I didn't ask what it was..follicles? ) Gosh I hate this process. It's so gross. I wonder if it will be this hard when I'm going in for egg retrieval? I can't go on my right butt cheek under sedation...oh my God. The cramps that will follow...

I am hopeful for tomorrow's visit. I'm starting to feel very "lumpy" in the sides of my belly. Something is happening ...aka...growing!

The doctor didn't say anything about follicles yesterday so you bet your ass I'm asking tomorrow. I need to know what we're working with here. I was instructed to stay on my current dosage of meds until next visit.

Cheers to good news tomorrow. God knows I need it.

On a different note outside of IVF -

I lost my Job on Tuesday Sept. 1, 2020! My position was eliminated and I'm now a statistic of the wrath of Covid. I dont want to get emotional but sometimes I can't help but feel defeated. I need to find a sense of worth and value. I haven't spoken to my best friend or anyone about this process, my career downturn and how I'm feeling. Partly because I don't want to be pitied and treated "special" like a delicate lamb or something. You are my only outlet of expressing how I feel. The anonymity helps for transparency.

With my body not able to conceive naturally I've had to turn to science for my miracle....and thank heavens for science... while its a challenging process I was ..and still am..going to be strong and positive through it. But, things like losing the job you loved so much and the amazing benefits that it provides is a big hit. I had an amazing position with an amazing company...amazing compensation and worked with amazing people...and now its all gone. Officially on September 18 my coverage ends. Luckily my egg retrieval should be well before then.

My doctor will most likely opt for a frozen transfer (higher success rates) so that puts me into October and I feel like I'm in limbo. Do I still apply for jobs now knowing I have so many doctors visits still upcoming and when I get pregnant will I face any discrimination and not be hired?

I never heard back anything from the job interview last week btw. I must have applied to about 50 job postings at this point. No interviews and a few rejections but mostly crickets.

Am I worrying too much? 😕

Well you try going through Stims...tell me how you feel.

My hubby's position was also eliminated and so he was technically out of a job for a week. But his boss ( same company) before he got promoted reached out with an opportunity. He interviewed and got the job. So he's back reinstated with his company after 1 week and starts this new role (promotion with more pay) on Tuesday after the holiday. Crazy times I tell you.

Anyways...as usual I chirp away...more to come after my visit tomorrow.

Off to take another nap.....yawns!!!

#ivfwarrior #ivfjourney #ivf #ivfsupport #ttc #ttccommunity #ttc baby 1 #ttcsupport #infertility #infertility sucks #infertilitysucks #infertilitysupport

[ghostheadcanons]

Papas + Copia: Marriage Proposals

Anonymous said:

I am in LOVE with the headcanon you did on the s/o's Christian parents!!! Could you please do one where the papas and cardinal propose to their s/o? Like how they did it and their Christian parents reactions?

I’m so glad you liked them! Oh goodness....this is going to get long, lads! Let’s do it to it! 

Papa Nihil: 

You’ve gotten the talk from Imperator. You’ve been together with Nihil for a good amount of time. The two of you are very close. But lately, he and Sister Imperator have been having a lot of long, private conversations.

About you. 

“Cara mia? May I have a word?”

“Of course, Papa.”

He would call you away into his room, and you immediately wonder if something’s wrong. The normally-smiling Grand-Papa of the Ministry is frowning in thought.

“Cuore mio? Is everything alright?” you question, walking closer. 

He looks to you. “Yes, yes, everything is fine. I have just been thinking is all. Sit down, sit down.” Nihil pats the chair next to him.

You sit beside him at his table, watching him. 

He sighs. “Cara mia, I am an old man. My children are grown, and I am tired. I do not know how much longer I have in this life before I am called home by the Morning Star.”

He pauses, lifting his oxygen mask to his face to inhale deeply. You open your mouth to speak, but he holds up a hand. 

“...all I know is that I want to spend what I have left of it with you.” 

Your eyes widen. “Papa...?”

He fumbles in his pockets for a moment before producing a little black box. Inside is a simple, beautiful golden ring. 

“Will you marry me?”

You burst into tears, hugging onto him. He blinks, but smiles, returning your embrace with a chuckle.

“I will take that as a yes.”

Papa I:

He’s invited you out to the gardens today. Your favorite spot, the table under the willow trees, where it’s dark even on the sunniest days. 

He’s nowhere to be seen when you get there. However, there is a white candle glowing in the dim light. As you look at it, you notice that there are a trail of them, leading off deeper into the woods. 

Curious, you begin to follow them, into the darkness. 

Eventually, though, you reach a massive shrine, depicting a goatheaded man sitting cross legged. It has been covered in candles (with a bundle of dried herbs placed delicately in the middle), and in their flickering light you see him. 

“Beautiful, isn’t it? I have been cleaning it and leaving offerings here for the past few weeks. I wanted to show you this sacred place.”

Papa I is standing there, arms outstretched to you. 

“Lamb,” he begins gently. “You and I are aligned in our beliefs, our loves, and our dislikes. Never have I felt more in tune with another living being than I have with you. I ask you here, in the presence of Satan, to join souls as one. That we may never be apart, even in Hell.”

Speechless, you go to him, smiling wide. You finally answer him when you find your voice.

“Oh, Papa...I would love nothing more.”

His face splits into a smile as he takes you into his arms. It’s clear you’ve made him the happiest man in the world, in Hell or on earth.

Papa II: 

It’s been a wild week. 

Papa II had taken you to Europe to get away from work for a little while. A vacation. 

You’ve dined at the finest restaurants, danced the nights away in his arms, and even explored the strangest local sights available. You’ll never forget your private tour of the catacombs in Paris, where the pair of you had made passionate love in a room filled with skulls.

But all good things must come to an end. Tomorrow you will have to begin your return to the Ministry. 

Papa II holds you in his arms as you slow-dance to the song on the record. You’re in your hotel room, with a fantastic view of the city below. He holds you, soft, yet firm, as he twirls you lightly across the floor. 

When you come face-to-face with him, he cradles your chin in his hand, guiding you to meet his gaze.

In his mismatched eyes, you are surprised to see tenderness. So much tenderness. Your foreheads touch, with Papa II swaying the pair of you in time to the music as you look into eachother’s eyes. 

He doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t need to. The way he’s looking at you right in this moment, the fire and passion and care, says more than he ever could in a thousand lifetimes. 

He finally lets you go, but never takes his eyes off of you. 

You watch as he slowly drops to one knee, pulling a box from his pocket. Inside is a beautiful diamond ring. 

“Marry me,” he murmurs. 

“Yes, Papa, yes....!” your response is instantaneous. You pull him back into your embrace, kissing him fervently. 

Your smiling fiance is more than happy to kiss you back. 

Papa III:

You two have been going steady for a long time. Longer than Papa III’s ever been together with...well, anyone. Even the current men and women in his harem, and that is something everyone tends to whisper about. 

“Everyone be quiet!”

The third Emeritus brother always threw wild parties, but this one topped them all. Everyone in the Ministry was invited, and everything was extravagant and stylish. You and your paramour had been dancing in the middle of the floor. Many men and women both had tried to request a dance of their own, but to your surprise, he had shooed them all away. 

Tonight he only had eyes for you. 

It’s close to midnight. Now he’s clicking a fork against his champagne glass. Normally that wouldn’t be near enough to get everyone’s attention, but somehow it does, and everyone has quieted down and begun to watch him. 

“Thank you all for coming tonight! I’m sure you’re wondering just what all the celebration is for...” 

They murmur. You are also curious, but he had been very secretive about the whole thing. 

He holds up a hand and snaps his fingers. 

Suddenly the lights go dark, and a spotlight shines down upon the pair of you. Everyone (including you) gasps. 

“This party has been for you.” He takes your hands in his, eyes shining bright. “Everything I have done has been for you. You are beautiful, kind, clever, and have I mentioned that you’re very good with your tongue?”

If you weren’t so in shock right now you would have punched him in the shoulder. The last comment gets a few startled laughs before he continues. 

“Never have I met someone like you. You make me laugh. You make me smile. You make me tremble with anticipation of your next move...”

He murmurs the next bit only to you.

“...and you do not treat me like a fool.”

He slips something from his pocket. In one dramatic flourish, Papa III drops to his knees. There’s a loud gasp, and you put your hands to your mouth. When he speaks again it is loud enough so everyone can hear.

“Tesoro...will you marry me?”

The entire room is dangling on your response. You take a deep breath--you can’t say you haven’t thought about being married to this man. What a scandal this will be, what things people will say, what anger there will be for ‘stealing’ the most popular brother of them all...

You can’t wait to see it all. 

“Yes,” you whisper. 

The world is thrown into chaos as you come together for a kiss. 

Cardinal Copia: 

Ever since the pair of you started dating, Copia has come a long way. He no longer stutters when he talks to you, he has confided more in you about his past, and he’s even been downright suave when you’re alone. 

So when he asks if you’d like to go out to eat tonight looking almost as nervous as he did on your first date, you can’t lie that you’re a little worried. 

The pair of you dine at a little restaurant in town. It’s not the fanciest, but the food is good, and it’s nice and quiet there. 

You eat in silence for a little while. You try to make smalltalk, but the Cardinal seems oddly distracted tonight, nodding vaguely at everything you say. 

Finally, he sets his silverware down with a clink!

He takes a breath. “Topolino....”

“Yes--?” you begin, but he holds up a hand to stop you. Copia waves it a bit, indicating that he needs to get this out. 

“...Ever since I met you, I knew you were different. From the others, I mean. It has been so long that I’ve let anyone in...I’d almost forgotten how.”

He looks you square in the eyes. You can tell he’s wringing his hands beneath the table, but his gaze is resolute, and his tone is even. A wave of pride for his bravery and progress surges through you.

“I know that you and I...do not have forever.” He swallows. “I know our time is limited.”

“That is why I want to make the most of it.”

He sets a little black box on the table.

“I, Cardinal Copia, wish to ask for your hand in marriage. ...will you marry me, topolino...?”

“Oh, Copia....!” you cry, tears in your eyes. For a moment he looks frightened--had he done something wrong?? But as you take hold of his hands and nod vigorously, smiling widely as you do, you can see his entire face light up. 

You know he will live much longer than you will. 

But nothing would make you happier than to spend the rest of your years with him. 

BONUS! Your Christian Parents!:

Ha! Bet you thought I forgot about this in the wake of such a long ask, didn’t you? Guess again!

Papa Nihil sends your parents a gilt-edged card with an artistic representation of demons, inviting them to your unholy union. They send back a restraining order against the both of you. 

Papa I doesn’t send an invitation. Instead he’s signed them up for a few monthly satanist magazines for children. Who knows? Maybe they’ll change their minds.

Papa II writes a long and extensive letter to your parents, telling them what an honor it is to be marrying their child, and how proud they should be of you. It’s one last great big ‘fuck you’ to the pair of them. 

Papa III sends an invitation, but with a picture of the two of you kissing and feeling eachother up. Part of him hopes they actually show up to try and wreck the wedding, because it will be hysterical. 

Cardinal Copia sends a card, but it’s an ‘uninvitation’. After that shit they pulled when he met them? Like heaven he’s letting them come anywhere near you. Basically it tells them that the two of you are getting married. Congratulations! You’re not invited! ....on the back is a little picture of a smiling rat with the words ‘fuck you!’ written over it. 

In all cases, your parents are incoherent with rage and disown you immediately.

#ghost #ghost bc #papa nihil #papa i #papa ii #papa iii #copia #cardinal copia #christian parents #marriage #proposal #love #relationships #fluff #there's a wedding ask on the way! #just be patient!