#and then the last one is.. quite obvious i think. noose around her neck

[lottieurl]

shaunajackie + solaris by stanisław lem (1/?)

#yellowjacketsedit #96yellowjackets #yellowjacketsource #shaunajackie #part 1 cause i decided it looks better as its own thing but i have like 5 more quotes to use lmao #i spent way too much time deciding on placement of the text so let me just rant abt it #the idea is. first you see space around them and between them. TIME between them #and mountains both because of the space they remind you of #and in the show you immediately think of the hills and the snow #like that IS the reason #then they are close in the memory shauna sees but theres already a wall between them #jeff is what they are talking about #jackie is forced to stay with shauna in those memories jackie who was clinging to shauna so hard before it all fell apart #and then the last one is.. quite obvious i think. noose around her neck #she cant leave she made her entire life revolve around jackie built her life on her memory #i am being so incredibly normal whos gonna give me an award for being SO NORMAL #shaunajackie solaris #yellowjackets blogging

[transmalewife]

so back in my overanalizing pretentious fuck days I vaguely remember wanting to write a meta about the madonna whore complex in star wars costume. and while I still think theres a lot to work with there,

(like, a lot)

I'm just gonna focus on padme right now, specifically Padme's hair because something really interesting just hit me.

look at this for a moment

this is the most virginal imagery imaginable.

let's get the obvious out of the way and say the blue dress and shawl are almost on the nose references to the virgin mary (maybe a hint at luke being the real chosen one?). But more importantly, in so many cultures around the world, loose long hair, especially combined with flowers, is associated with young girls. there are countless traditions that dictate that women, once they get married or come of age, should wear their hair up, covered or short.

(this might be a good moment to disclaimer that I am very transgendered and irreligious and none of this analysis is coming from a tradwife mindset. it's coming from a 'this is the archetypes that exist in our culture being very clearly and skillfully referenced here')

her dress is made to look like flowing water, carrying flowers. in slavic cultures, on the summer solstice, young women would make flower crowns and throw them into rivers, so potential suitors could fish them out downstream and court them. They would also wear flowers in their hair on their wedding day, and after that, they would cover it with a kerchief. and those traditions still live on in some form in europe today. most girls in my class got their hair cut short after first communion. women still throw bouquets on their wedding day.

There are in universe explanations I could invent here, from the easy 'this is just naboo funeral tradition' to the political "they wanted to distance her from the secret marriage to spare her family the shame of the scandal" but i'm frankly not about all that. and now that i've noticed this, I can't ignore it. all throughout rots padme is shown with her hair down (partialy. will come back to that), and wearing long gowns and hoods. The virgin mary imagery remains in the cut of the velvet hooded gown, in the blue drape of her nightgown when she cries on the balcony, and the, also baby blue, nightgown she wears when anakin has his nightmare literally looks like 1950s sexy lingerie.

(Also, a note here that I'm not willing to let spiral into a tangent, is that she almost always, and iirc, only, wears blue when she's either on tatooine, or when it's just her and Anakin. And then in her coffin.)

We know, from lucas, from the costume designer and art director, of two costumes that were purposely designed to make her look sexy, romantic, seductive. The corset in the fireplace scene and the iconic lake house balcony dress.

That makes sense. Those are the scenes where she's falling in love with Anakin, but the corset is extremely restrictive both visually, (and physically, according to natalie portman.) She's wearing metal bands around her head, the scarf looks like a noose and prison bars at the same time, and her hair is pinned up tighter and closer that in any other costume (except maybe on mustafar). She's not allowed the freedom to live in the fantasy of their forbidden love. She's imprisoned in the conventions of her station, quite literally trapped by her clothing.

And while the lake dress does look very free and loose and open, which is what she's tying to let herself be, flirty even, her hair is still quite literally behind bars, (and that type of headwear repeats in many of her costumes) as are her neck and arms.

Worth mentioning that in the floral picnic dress, her hair, while the shape is quite obviously meant to reference Leia's buns, is still held neatly in place by hairnets. This isn't the typical imagery of a young woman enjoying her freedom, frolicking in fields of flowers for the last time before she puts her hair up and grows up.

Padme didn't get to grow up, because she was never a child. In tpm her costumes are heavy, royal, extravagant. they not only hide her hair, but her face and body as well. Because she doesn't really matter. The costume, the crown, her duty matters more than the child underneath. There's quite literally six more of her. (Leia goes through something similar, in that she only ever gets to let her hair down after a battle is won)

Thinking of the costumes in tcw for too long makes my blood boil so i won't linger too long, but the moment Padme takes off her wig to reveal long flowing hair underneath, implying that the short bob she wore for much of the show is also a wig, is incredibly important here. This is a girl who finally got one thing for herself. She got her summer fling turned secret marriage, the first thing in her life that isn't controlled by appearances. and the mask is starting to slip. she wants the freedom, she wants the dreamlike lakeside romance back. she's wearing a middle aged mom wig over her childish waist long curls.

The traditional, deeply ingrained in so many cultures in the world narrative of young girl with flowers in her loose hair, then braids, then cut short and/or covered with a scarf is entirely flipped here. We're introduced to her when she's barely a teenager, but already wearing the elaborate, heavy headgear of a medieval queen. Even when she's "undercover" as a handmaiden on Tatooine, her hair is up in tight, elaborate braids.

There are a lot of obvious east asian influences in her royal costumes, bordering on appropriation in some cases (like, frankly, the entirety of star wars) which I would not feel comfortable ignoring, but don't have nearly enough knowledge about them to properly explore their meaning and symbolism.

In aotc, she's 24, she's no longer a queen, but even when she's trying to act and look young, her hair is still pinned tightly up. Her gowns on coruscant are still elaborate and restrictive, but we start seeing her in more intimate situations, at home on Naboo, by the lake. (And she spends a good chunk of the last two movies in her pajamas)

I had originally written "she can quite literally only let her hair down around anakin" here, but on second thought, no. Not really. In the scenes I was thinking of, the scenes she's in a nightgown, her hair is loose and long, yes, but always in a half up half down situation. Even in her simplest nightgown, in the first ever pajama scene, the one in her apartment in aotc, a basic white chemise, without any of the capes and tiaras and lace we see on her other sleepwear, her hair is still pinned up.

She's at her most vulnerable, sleeping, literally acting as bait for an assasin, without any of her senatorial regalia to protect her, but her hair remains controled. (I could say something here about that being the scene where Anakin barges into her bed waving his lightsaber, but lets just keep things tasteful and move on.)

In rots is where we first see her hair actually loose for the first time, though it's still covered by the hood of the velvet gown. Her costumes become simpler, less decorative, to create a cohesive image with the entire galaxy becoming more drab and colorless as the war goes on, heading towards the fully grey hellscape of the original trilogy. And we see padme specifically in more intimate, personal situations, most of her screentime is at her home. She's growing up into her housewife role, but for her that means freedom. For her that means letting her hair down and sinking into the fantasy of running away to Naboo with Anakin and raising their 2.5 kids. But the first, and only time we truly see her with her hair fully loose and uncovered, is at her funeral.

another thing unworthy of a whole tangent here, is that corde dies with her hair falling apart, out of her updo. All the senatorial power that the costumes and the headdresses afford dissolves in death.

I could note here also that this is a weird way to emphasize the tragedy of a 27 year old woman dying in childbirth by associating her with youth. this is tragic regardless. the tragedy here is she never got to have that stage of her life. she never got to grow up, to be a mother. She remains, in anakin's memories, the 14 year old angel, the 24 year old rolling in the grass like a teenager, or rushing alongside him into battle without fear, and the wife in her sexy nightie waiting for him to come back from the war. In the galaxy's eyes however, she will always have been the strong queen, and the tragic martyr, taken before her time. Not a child soldier and a woman who died because she broke the rules and dared to fall in love.

Padme never gets the freedom of childhood. She only gets to let her hair down in death. Did she want it? Is it Naboo releasing her from her responsibility posthumously, or is is another denial of her freedom. She was a ruler when she should have been a girl, and she dies a child when she was ready to grow up.

#This isn't the 'there is no sex in sw' meta i mentioned this morning btw just another thing that has been languishing in my drafts #padme amidala #star wars meta #star wars costumes #star wars #mine. #id in alt

[blackbutlerfandomnerddomain]

Ebony Black

The ballroom floor was crowded with people dancing as the music play, many party goers buzzed from the cider or drunk off the party's atmosphere. It makes sense for it's a ball celebrating the turning clock of another year of age of one of England's most lovely women.

The very lady of the hour stands still staring out the large glass window of the ballroom, her long wavy locks of golden curls tied up in a gentle curled and rolled up with her long strain rest against the left side of her face, her ears wearing polished pearls much like the many rows around her neck like a tightly snug noose, her gown well kept and not wrinkled in the slightest as she wears her long elegant white gloves and her high heeled shoes peek out under the lace of the skirt just so lightly. Indeed, she has given up her childish short heeled shoes long ago since the whole rumor mill of her engagement cut and the criminal gossip around it. She still can't quite look at the newspaper articles without feeling sick now a days.

"Would you like to dance Lady Elizabeth?"

The voice of a man takes the maiden out her fogged thoughts, her spring green eyes looking to a blond man dressed in a military suit, a cocky grin on his face. With a meek smile, she shook her head, "No thanks. I'm alright right now." She watched as her smile fades as he walks away with a not so hidden scowl. With a sigh she muttered, "Busy bees the lot of them." "My my that's a sudden tongue." Elizabeth whips her head around to see a handsome man with long hair of silver that work well with his beautiful silver coin eyes dressed in fine white with shiny metals on his breasts holding a campaign glass in his black gloved hand. "Grey, hello again." She Elizabeth with a smile and a lighter tone of welcome in her voice for she truly means it as he was simply one of many who have been beside her and her family's side after the whole parade of madness that was the media and trauma.

"Happy birthday My Lady." Said he with a grin that shines, causing a giggle to escape soft pink petal lips. "Thank you so much Charles, you're so sweet." Though the gesture was sweet indeed, Lizzie indeed felt something amidst. "I believe I saw Edward go to the gardens by himself, sure is getting dark-" "I'll go check on him for you."

Lizzie giggles as she watches him hurry out after taking the bait like a bird begging for worms. The two have been painfully obvious for the last few months so it's only natural they see each other away wandering eyes.

She wishes she felt that way again...

As the clock chimes the next hour, Lizzie felt her power hit the bottom of the dance floor. She used to love parties but no they have grown dull. She used to love being a butterfly in center of attention, but now she hated the eyes on her judging her every move awaiting for her to burst. She used to lavish in the moment, but now she just wants to hide away in shame.

Shame of never knowing the difference of her fiance. Shame of "leaving" her fiance and his brother behind. Shame of not once accepting a proposal years later. Shame to have never...accepting that stoic handsome face sooner.

After the entire thing the Midford family worked together with the Phantomhive and Trancy family names as the Queen's Guard Dog and the Funtom business as per pleading request of Lizzie herself. It's honest decent. It distracts her mind and heart from the sudden shift of field. Not at her ex fiance or his twin brother whom she cared for just the same, but to a butler dressed in black with eyes a beautiful red bead color. Lizzie hates herself for thinking of her and him possibly being alone in the garden walks she does when she reads a case. She hates herself for cursing a kiss goodnight from him every night when she feel melancholy. And she hates always thinking on what he said that one day many months ago when he suddenly had to take a leave of absence, his words of confirmation of his much strong affection towards her despite him knowing he can't be with her due to his status as a butler but also as she and her family now know... a demon.

The door open suddenly, the room growing quiet with some whispering murmurs and stares of awe, the sounds of footsteps echoing across the marble floors polish in sparkles as many people stare.

A shadow appears out the ways of the crowd, a shadow of a tall man with hair dark as black combed back and the longer pieces tied back in a bright pink ribbon bow tied tightly dressed in a fine white attire with flares of red and blacks as if the elements were battling right among his skin, a elegant appearance he holds as he's dressed in jewels of many kinds and shiny items that seem like metals if you look closely, his handsome face perfect framed in the shadows and glow of candle lights and the night sky just outside the large bask windows including the large ceiling as his dark eyes shine in a wondrous awe.

With each step he took, his footsteps echo around and into Lizzie's soul as she slowly catches memories of the very man from his gentle smile and that warm glow of his red eyes.

Suddenly, he stops right in front of her and bows much like how a prince does in fairy tale books, his voice deep and gentle, "I am Sir Lord Banishes Calamities, I have came all the way from my homeland to wish you a very happy birthday, dear Lady Elizabeth. And, if you are so kind, I would like to wish you a birthday blessing in a form of a dance if I may so beg?"

Lizzie glanced to her family as her heart swell at the slight plea of his voice, she can tell they know very well who this man is, and she know well that they know her feelings of this moment. She had swore many years ago to never hide from her family again.

So, with a smile, she reaches her hand out and gently took the hand before her. Instantly, the feeling of everyone else has long since disappear from the room. It was just her and him, him and her. Together.

As they dance under the dark sky, Lizzie felt her heart swore in new heights. He may be a demon from Hell, yes, but tell me how she felt like she was in a new found Heaven when she's this close to him.

Her heart swoon more and more with each elegant spin and dip from the mysterious male before her, of course only he can add the flares of the countless fight dances they faced together.

"I must admit, you surprised me." She spoke softly, feeling a drunk flush cover her face in warmth of his senses new her's as her heart beats right against her breast so hard. Sebastian smiles down to her and spins her once more as he speaks low to her, "Well I did say I couldn't be with you due to my status of a butler correct? I figured me showing my status as Lord is more acceptable." Green orbs blink fast as she stares at him, her voice a squeak of shock, "You're a actual Lord?" The demon simple chuckles as he dips her, his face near her neck as if a realistic vampiric creature, the two can simply feel their souls connecting as one as they also hear a new sound...Two hearts beating as one.

Lizzie smiles softly to herself as she gently rubs the golden band coated in a rather large shiny diamond and two rubies and two emeralds on her thin finger. If she could go back and talk with that little girl who made a promise to hide her fencing and be cute and worthy of protecting for the sake of her 8 year old fiance she would happily tell her all the chapters of her engagement and married life of a wonderful man and give birth to their lovely daughter.

The same lovely daughter who stands so still out the largest window of the manor eyeing the road in the front of the courtyard pass the thick floral trees until a black carriage of two come to view. "Mama! Mama! They're here!" Pipped Bell, her seemingly mature appearance shattering into the form of a child in guise of a young teenage lady dressed in dark green as she runs down the halls to the door.

Lizzie giggled and hurried after after she hikes her skirt up to run her flat heeled boots against the floor.

"I feel so terrible. You and I just got wed and I will have to leave you alone."

Lizzie smiled to her new husband, both sitting on a picnic blanket with a bunch of beautifully adorable treats and tea sat ready before the two, the spring sun high above them as she swore a soft yellow gown with short heeled shoes of a pink color and her hair down her back while he wore a simple white button up and black pants with a yellow tie around his neck and dark red vest unbuttoned on his stomach area with his hands and feet bare with his toes buried in the cold water.

Her gentle arms wrap around his strong one and snuggled her face to his shoulder as she speaks, "It'll be alright Sebastian. Obviously you still have your duties as a butler of a Earl Phantomhive. Besides, we'll still see each other when we work on cases and you can visit as much as you may." Sebastian's eyes slowly scan away from his wife, he honestly looks...bashful?

"Yes but...what'll happen if you and I...have a child?"

Two hand held together as they watch the scene unfold of the children talking and bonding as always. Beside on Lizzie's left was Doll, Ciel, and Alois while on Sebastian's right was Hannah and Angela.

"Honestly, I still scratch my head at the idea of what things used to be." Said Doll after looking as Albert and Rachel make flower crowns and place them on both Brair's and Bella's heads. The blond girl couldn't help but giggle in response, "I couldn't agree more. But that's a good thing, yes?"

This is a part two of my previous fic, Angel Belladonna Cake which was written for @sebalizzie, @annoyinglyshinycherryblossom, and @nullb1rdbones

#black butler #black butler au #black butler oc #black butler next gen #sebalizzy #sebastian x elizabeth #charles grey x edward #edward x charles grey #doll x ciel #ciel x doll #ciel x alois #alois x ciel #cielois #doll x ciel x alois #alois x ciel x doll #hannah x angela #angela x hannah #black butler bella #black butler brair #black butler albert #black butler anthony #black butler rachel #SoundCloud #Youtube

[thatdoctorharvey]

Flowers?

All I have to say is; I’m sorry.

Kudos to @soft-bois-make-me-simp for assisting with the idea. Don’t worry man, we can collab on another story!

Please listen to this while you read this!

There were only three times that Harvey would remember enjoying flowers. He usually wasn’t one for them, not because he was allergic or anything, he just didn’t find the reason to desire them.

Roses are red

The day he first knew he had feelings for you. He always said it was the best day of his life. He will never forget that day; the day you brought him wine on his birthday. You two had occasionally spoken from time to time, but it was really nothing super deep. You had opened up to him about a few things that you hadn’t told anyone else but not super personal. Mostly just little quirks you hated about yourself. He remembered blushing every time as everything you named seemed to be things he liked.

“So, how about a birthday dinner tonight Harv? I’m sure you can’t remember the last time you had a real meal.” You offered.

He was reluctant to answer at first, not wanting to be a bother, but he did hate his current diet and knew he needed to change it up a bit, even if his stomach might not agree with the sudden change from pre-packaged meals to home cooking.

“That...Sounds nice. Thank you.”

And boy was it nice. It was quite obvious you knew that he needed real food because you made more than enough for him just to make sure he had leftovers. He almost felt bad but you had insisted he needed it. You both knew it would be gone tomorrow. You secretly knew, he -- as a man -- had quite the appetite and had held back eating as much as he could with you around.

You left late that night, but left behind some flowers you had grown on the farm. They sat in a vase on the table, right next to his radio equipment.

“Feel free to get a hold of me if you need anything Harvey. Doctors deserve to be taken care of as well.”

Those words never left him. “Doctor’s deserve to be taken care of as well.” You cared about him and actually wanted to make sure he was doing okay. As suspected, you two grew closer after that. He started to become a lot more anxious but never made a move. 

What if you only wanted to be friends? That would be super awkward…

Violets are blue

The day you gave him the bouquet, he cried. Never had he felt so relieved and excited at the same time. You like him. No, you loved him. You. The precious farmer.

“A-are you sure? I’m so much older a-and there’s so many oth-”

“Harvey. I’ve made my choice.” You kissed his cheek. “I don’t want anyone else. They just aren’t my type.”

Fifty shades of red his face was. There was no denying that for sure. He was a tomato and a strawberry at the same time.

He’s never hugged you so tight either. Even when you brought the pendant to him (he was more gentle then). He just wished the flowers in the bouquet didn’t wilt. Joys of having live flowers though.

That and every month, you brought him a new bouquet. Not the exact same one, but you had started growing flowers specifically to make bouquets on your monthly anniversaries. 

My heart is dead 

The bouquets continued, even after marriage. Now, you just added an extra day and made sure the bouquets on your wedding anniversary were extra colorful. It was how you showed him how much you loved him.

He adored this. A lot. It always made his day, even if the day was actual garbage. Coming home to you was always enough to make him happy, but coming home to a bouquet on the table, dinner being cooked, and the sound of you humming...Oh it just made his heart melt. Even after almost five years of it.

They always reminded him of the wedding -- the last time he recalled loving flowers. You had made sure your bouquet was the brightest thing in existence, jokingly saying you wanted the attention to be on that instead of your face. He still scolds you for that. Playfully of course.

I'm such a fool

He couldn’t recall when things started to go downhill. Things had been okay for so long that he didn’t see it at first. He knew you were busy so he never thought much of it when you would come home late.

Until you started coming home drunk.

There were times he would wonder where you were or why you were drinking...But for a while, he didn’t think to ask who you were drinking with. When he found out you and Shane had been growing closer, he got jealous. He knew you wouldn’t leave him, but the anxiety started to build. You were starting to pass out drunk on the way home or you and Shane would fall asleep at the bar.

Of course, he had to confront you about it. Not in a mean way, at least he thought he didn’t.

“It’s not okay for you to be doing that? Do you know how bad that is for you and how bad of an influence he is?”

Wrong answer.

“You don’t even know him. You just cared about making ends meet and didn’t really listen to him.”

Why did I fall for you?

He was grateful you had started to listen to him after that. You came home at night sober, but you began to distance yourself. In fact, you had begun to hang out with everyone but him. You stopped making the bouquets. You stopped giving him gifts. It soon came to a point where he felt like you wanted nothing to do with him. He felt empty and felt he had to make it up to you.

He messed up right? He could fix this...He had to.

I gave it all for you

Dinner every night was a pain, but he did it. He always made sure yours was hot, even when you came home at 1 am. He would be there, taking it out of the microwave. Dishes were always done. The house was always clean and very tidy. Farm was always taken care of. He really worked his ass off to make sure you were happy.

But it wasn’t enough.

You kept pushing yourself further and further from him. It eventually got to the point where you slept on the couch just to avoid him.

It was when he found the letter on your nightstand that he knew there was no fixing this.

So, knowing he wasn’t welcome, he packed his stuff and went back to his apartment above the clinic. Maru, who Harvey had been talking to about everything when things started to go south, helped him get settled back into his old home. She was the one who held him when he cried that night and she was the one who made sure he ate something before bed. She even told him to let her know if she needed to work more at the clinic, not wanting him to be pushed too much.

He was appreciative, but knew his work would be the only thing that would take his mind off of you.

Love around my neck starting to feel like the noose

The words lingered in his head for days. Every sentence filled him with hurt. What had he done wrong? Was he really that boring and unattractive? Should he have just given up at the beginning? Did you ever really love him?

Why did this happen to him?

He lost weight from his loss of appetite. He knew it was unhealthy, especially when people began to notice, but he always said he had started to work a bit harder to get physically fit and the results were starting to show. He didn’t want anyone to know how hurt he really was. Maru knew, and if it weren’t for her, he wouldn’t have eaten.

He numbed himself to relationships of any kind. He once was very close with his patients, now he just saw them as his next visit. Even with Maru. He only saw her as an employee.

All of the lies starting to feel like the truth

He began to drink. He knew it would hurt him more, but his heart hurt all the time. He had no one to turn to when he really needed to talk, as everyone was asleep by then...But not you. You were always awake. He would hear you stumble out of the bar, laughing with at least one other person. You were drunk too, but you got to enjoy your time. He didn’t.

“Why me?”

At the end of the day, bitch, I'm not feeling you

After so long, he began to get used to the sound of you going home drunk. In fact, it worried him when you didn’t.

It started as just one night, no big deal. But then two...three...seven...twelve…

People began to look worried. No one had seen or heard from the town’s dear farmer in nearly two weeks.

The search parties started. Being himself, Harvey made sure to go. Yes, you hurt him, but by God what he would give for you to just run back into his arms and say how much you love him.

You playing with my heart, you made me look like a fool

He hated that he had been the one to find you. There was no doubt in his mind that you were gone; your skin a gray/blue color and flies around you. What killed you, he didn’t know. Only an autopsy would tell him.

At least until he further examined you.

A rather large wound on your abdomen. It was much too big to be treated on your own, but by the looks of it, you had tried to stitch it closed.

...You died because you refused to go to him for help and bled out...

This, a tragedy, it may end up on the news

The funeral was a sad one. It rained that day. Hard. Everyone in town was there too. Everyone. You had grown so close to everyone in your time away from Harvey. They all cared so much about you and our death hit hard.

It was also at the funeral where he realized how bad he had messed up. You hadn’t just been getting closer to Shane, you were getting closer to everyone. They all said a little bit of the stuff you did for them, mostly just helping out with tasks and small favors. You had started staying with Shane at the bar because he talked more when he was drunk and you had started getting drunk with him because it helped him open up. You were just trying to help him.

And Sam. You were helping him learn how to play cooler songs on the guitar and even showed him a couple cool tricks on the skateboard.

Abigail and Pierre had finally begun to form a bit of a stronger bond because you had been helping them talk through their differences.

You had been doing so much and he basically said you were cheating on him.

So, there he stood, watching the casket be lowered into the hole, and then buried. Many tears were shed. Many. Everyone knew the town wouldn’t be the same without you there. Especially Harvey.

At the end of the day, I don't wanna be with you

It rained today too.

“You still looked beautiful that day.” Harvey said softly, arranging the bouquet in his hand. All the flowers were brightly colored. Not as bright as you would have wished, but he was trying his best. “The flowers just enhanced your beauty.”

He stood in front of the tombstone, a large frown on his face. It had been even years since you had passed now, and he wasn’t doing any better. He still cried a lot, but now, it was more just a feeling. He couldn’t bring himself to get over you.

He slowly set the bouquet down against the silver tombstone, making sure you would be able to see it from the heavens.

“Happy Anniversary (y/n). I’m sorry I wasn’t a better husband to you and I’m sorry I wasn’t there to save you.” He slipped his glasses off his face and fell to his knees, letting the tears fall. “I-I’m sorry! I’m sorry I didn’t believe you! I’m sorry I let my feelings take over! I’m sorry I couldn’t trust you! I love you so much!”

Loud sobs left his mouth, his tears blending with the rain as they fell to the ground. His heart, for the millionth time, shattered before him.

“Harvey?” A soft voice asked.

The doctor wiped his eyes and turned his head slightly. At this point, everyone had seen him like this. He didn’t care anymore.

It was none other than Abigail behind him, an umbrella above her head and a spare one at her side.

“Hey, it’s okay. We all miss her.” She said and handed him her spare umbrella. “We’re all worried about you too. You aren’t the same.” She sat beside him. “We all arranged something to help you. Come to the saloon so we can tell you, please.”

Harvey looked to Abigail, and then back to the bouquet. You wouldn't want him to be sad. You hated seeing him cry. Maybe this was a sign from you.

“...O-okay...Thank you...Just, give me another moment. I-I’ll be there.” He mumbled, trying to hold back sobs.

Abigail nodded and stood, letting him have a moment while she told everyone what was going on. Harvey sat there a moment longer, wiping his eyes to rid them of the tears. He sniffed once more before saying the same thing he did every year. The poem you had written for him. Part of it at least. It was a reminder to the both of you that he knew he messed up.

“Roses are red...Violets are blue...My heart is...is dead...I...I’m such a fool…”

The tears came back.

“I’m such a fool.”

#stardew valley harvey #harvey #harvey x reader #sdvharvey #stardew valley #harvey story #stv #angst

[imaginesandinserts]

Irreverent Pt. 38 - Miss Me

Title: Irreverent Pt. 38 - Miss Me Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Rating: M Words: 7380

Irreverent Series Masterlist

Working with another team was weird and uncomfortable. You'd never quite realized how many men there were in the Bureau. The BAU had always been almost fifty-fifty so you'd never really felt like the only woman save for the few months JJ and Emily had been away. Even then you'd had Garcia in your ear most times and it wasn't as though Hotch, Derek, Rossi, and Reid had ever once felt threatening or belittled you.

McKinney had put you on a local taskforce for the week while Hotch and the team went off to a case in Nevada. There was an embezzlement ring being conducted out of the back of various DC gentlemen's clubs and you had been asked to tag along and create a profile for the ring leader. From the second you'd arrived at the location where the taskforce members were set up, you'd been questioned at every turn. Every single thing you said, ignored. Every suggestion you made, brushed off. It had been like that all week. The only thing that made it bearable was being able to go home every night and hang out with Jack.

You have to call Mrs. Avery Thursday afternoon and tell her that you won't be making it home in time for dinner. You'd been at work since seven in the morning and all signs pointed to you being able to close in on the suspect. The team had been able to use a paper trail and using the details of the profile you'd created (not that you got any credit for it) had managed to tighten the noose. The arrest was quick but the interrogation lasted till late that night. Every single time you asked to be let into the interrogation room, your request was denied.

By the time you walked through the door, you had been on your feet for hours and couldn't wait to just crawl into bed. The house was dimly lit and you knew Jack would be long asleep. You'd have to apologize to Mrs. Avery for keeping her so late.

"You're home," Aaron's voice startles you as you closed the door. He's sitting on the couch wearing his pajamas, a case file in one hand and a glass of scotch in the other, reading by the single light in the corner of the room.

You can feel the tension leaving your body as he smiles at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Dropping your bag and toeing off your shoes you walk over to him, grabbing both the file and the scotch away and placing them on the coffee table, before climbing into his lap facing him and wrapping yourself around him.

He's a little surprised, but quickly folds his legs up to hold you closer, bringing his arms around you. "Rough week?" he asks his voice low and calm, as you burrow your head into the crook of his neck.

Later, you'd tell him all about the case and Agent Jones being an asshole and how much working without him sucked. Later you'd tell him that you weren't sure about what Jones was going to tell McKinney about your performance and that you're worried. He would remind you that not everyone knew how capable you were and that sometimes you have to get in people's faces a bit, even if they intimidate you. Jones trusted men more than women, but would respect you more if you stood up to him and called him out. He would remind you that you still had the best interview he'd ever seen and ask you where that girl was, the one that had left them all speechless. Later, he'd tell you how proud he was of you for venturing out and doing all of this on your own.

However right then, you only nod, so he lets you be, holding you tighter.

*------------*

You'd become friendly with McKinney's assistant, Gladys Prince, who liked her coffee to be a white mocha, thank you kindly. It was because of her, that the next day you arrived at work wearing a dress, red lips, and five inch heels which resulted in Emily asking if you and Hotch were about to do some boss secretary roleplay after everyone else left. You chose not to dignify that with an answer.

You had a feeling you were about to be pulled into a case today, based on Penelope being in and out of Hotch's office, and that was making you anxious. You were annoying Spencer with how erratically your fingers moved across your keyboard. He glared at you from across the way and opened his mouth to say something snarky, when Hotch called everyone up to be briefed on the case. Crap.

The words "Wheels up in 30" had never annoyed you quite so much. He couldn't have pushed this by an hour? You return to your desk to gather your stuff and you're just about to accept defeat, when there's a voice right next to your ear.

"Hello love."

You have to bite back your smirk before you turn around. "Clyde!" You quickly stand to greet him with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. You can see the slight surprise on his face as he takes you in, before he greets Reid, Derek, and Emily behind you.

"Clyde," Emily stands to meet him, "what're you doing here?"

"Oh just in the neighborhood. Thought I'd pop by and say hello to my favorite FBI agents," he smirks and winks in your direction, resulting in you giggling and tucking your hair behind your hair.

Derek comes over as well to shake his hand while Spencer waves and walks off to fetch JJ for the drive over to the airport.

"It's a shame you just got here," you say, placing a delicate hand to his arm. "We're about to fly out for a case. How long are you in town for?"

"I'll be here a week. Wrap up quick and let's grab drinks when you're back?" he asks, quirking an eyebrow in your direction.

You smile, biting your lip. "Definitely."

You all said your goodbyes to him and you walked up the stairs to grab Hotch and Rossi for the ride over to the airport.

You're sat next to Hotch in your usual seat as he wraps up the preliminary profile discussion on the plane, when Derek and Emily finally turn to you.

"So, what was that earlier with you and Easter?" Derek asks, with a glance in Hotch's direction as if to gauge whether or not he's listening.

You have to suppress an eyeroll. They'd been so very obvious with their curiosity ever since they'd watched you talking to Clyde. However, you didn't really feel like telling them quite so easily. Sometimes it's fun to keep people guessing. "What do you mean?" you ask, forcing your voice to be as neutral as possible.

"Oh come on, Y/N," Emily says from across you, "what was with the flirting?"

Wow Em, not like my boyfriend is seated right next to me. But sure, call me out for flirting with someone else.

You have to suppress a smirk at that, knowing Aaron's listening now even though his eyes are on the file in his hand. "Nothing wrong with a little healthy competition," you smirk, nudging Aaron with your elbow.

You can feel Aaron's internal groan at you dragging him into it. "Stop."

"What?" you ask him, thoroughly amused.

He looks up then, not at you but at Emily and Derek. "Easter's leading a joint taskforce between Interpol and the Bureau," he explains in his no nonsense voice that no longer works on you.  All  you have to do is call him Agent Hotchner and it changes instantly into the deeper, darker tone he reserves just for you. "She," he continues, "wants in."

What a spoilsport.

"You're okay with that?" Derek asks him.

You'd talked to him about Easter earlier - of course you had. He'd even helped pick out the outfit. He had been surprisingly alright with the tactic, which you hadn't quite anticipated. If anything you'd expected some sort of weird jealousy when you'd explained that you and Clyde had gotten to know one another during the time he was away. But of course, Aaron Hotchner was above such base emotions such as jealousy.

He has a small smile on his face as he finally looks in your direction. "I don't control her."

Yeah, okay. Tell that to the guy that practically ordered me to join him in the shower this morning.

Emily scoffs as though she doesn't believe that for even a second. "Bet you'd feel different if you'd seen her. Oh Clyde you're here! Of course we should get drinks."

You narrow your eyes at her. "I don't sound like that."

Derek and Emily exchange looks saying that they think you sound exactly like that.

"Is that really how you want to get the spot though?" JJ asks, apparently having been listening the whole time. Why any of you thought plane conversations were private was a mystery.

You look at her, seated across from Rossi, and scoff. "Please, people already think far worse about me. I might as well have it work in my favor for once." Which was definitely true. You'd been in the bathroom the other day and overheard some very defamatory things about yourself and Director McKinney. The man was married. As if! People needed to get lives.

Aaron tenses a bit at that. He knew your relationship becoming public had definitely been harder on you. The rumor mill was constant and even a professional environment like the Bureau wasn't immune to petty gossip.

"Do you think it'll actually work?" Spencer asks, flipping shut his novel. Apparently this was more interesting for everyone, even him.

Before you can respond, however, Rossi decides to put his two cents in. "Of course it'll work. Look at her with the dress and the fuck-me-heels. You really think any man in his right mind would deny her anything?"

You cringe and color at that. Rossi was basically the closest thing to a father figure you had at this point. A Hugh Hefner shaped father figure, sure, but still. The heels weren't even that bad.  

"Gee, thanks Rossi."

Aaron shakes his head in disapproval, turning back to his files, indicating to everyone that this conversation was definitely over.

He feels your hand against his arm and he turns to look at your concerned face. Are you okay?

He nods, but still tucks your hand into the crook of his arm before turning back to his files. He was content with the knowledge that the only man who actually got to see you in nothing but the fuck-me-heels was him.

*------------*

Rossi had been right. Who could deny you anything? Clyde had offered you the spot on the taskforce the second you landed back in DC. Which was great, because it had been the only assignment that you'd actually wanted. It employed your language skills, was interesting, and had the exact amount of visibility to help you move ahead afterwards. Plus, it didn't hurt that you felt very comfortable with Clyde despite his flirty attitude.

Once you'd actually gotten the job, you'd immediately told him you were with Hotch. Fortunately, he'd already known from his conversation with McKinney and had chosen you anyways. You could rest assured that he hadn't chosen you just because he thought he had a shot.

You'd spent three weeks away from the team, only flying back midway so you could be there for Jack's school play. You called Jack and Aaron nightly but it wasn't quite the same. Once this taskforce was over, you'd have to find something more local because otherwise, between you and the BAU team's cases, you and Aaron could easily go months without seeing one another and you didn't really like the thought of that. It felt too close to how things had gone bad with him and Haley.

When you landed back in DC, it was early morning but you knew that by the time you got home, Aaron would be at work and Jack at school. Deciding to surprise him and take advantage of having time off from the assignment with Interpol, you walked into work later in the morning.

"Hey, you're here!" Emily gets up to greet you, placing a quick kiss to your cheek, and the first thing you notice is her hair.

"Hey, you got bangs."

Misconstruing the surprised look on your face, she immediately asks, "Is it that bad?"

"No, sorry. Just surprised. It looks really good," you reassure her, reaching out and touching her shorter hair.

"Sugar, you're back!" You hear Penelope come up from behind you, tablet in hand.

"Hi Pen, long time no see." You'd missed her and the two of you had some tv shows to catch up on once you settled in.

"Come along my little defenders of the earth. We have a case," she says, drawing you all upstairs.

You walk into the briefing room and see everyone else already upstairs around the table. You quickly greet everyone hello and take a seat across from Aaron. He's wearing his grey suit that you love on him and the black tie which happens to match the black top you're wearing but you always tell him black is a cop out - and yet it's nice to see that some things don't change. He has a cup of coffee in front of him that you know is his third of the morning.

He smiles, pleasantly surprised, when he sees you. "Welcome back," he says, his voice warm and inviting and everything you'd missed while you were gone. Hearing his voice on the phone really wasn't good enough.

"Hey," you smile back, before noticing the new face at the table seated next to him. "Hi, I don't think we've met."

Aaron turns to the young blonde girl seated to his right, as if he'd forgotten she even existed. "Y/N, this is the new intern, Natalie Scott. Natalie, this is Agent L/N. She's also part of the team but has been away on another consult."

You rise and reach across the table to shake her hand. Natalie was model pretty with her long blonde hair, giant eyes, and sharp cheekbones with a skirt that reached mid thigh. That definitely is not regulation.

After the briefing, you were hoping to sneak a moment alone with Aaron, however Emily and JJ ask you to drive to the airport with them, insisting that they had some major catching up to do. You shoot Aaron an apologetic smile, conveying that you'd catch him later, before following the two of them and Morgan to the parking garage.

"Alright, so catch me up, what's going on?" you ask as Derek pulls out of the garage, expecting some news from Emily on a new guy.

JJ however is the one to speak first. "What'd you think of Natalie?"

You hadn't been expecting that question to say the least, so you simply shrug. "I don't know enough to think one way or the other," you reply, curious as to why she'd even ask.

"You should watch her," Emily says, leaning around from the front seat.

Your brow furrows as you look at her and JJ and then Derek. Derek is firmly keeping his hands on the steering wheel and looking straight ahead as though he wants nothing to do with whatever is going on.

"Why?" you ask, but you already have a bad feeling about this.

You watch as JJ and Emily exchange a look and have a silent fight about which one of them was going to speak. Emily loses, so she turns back to you to reply. "She's a little…friendly with Hotch."

"What do you mean by friendly?" you ask, now completely confused.

Emily and JJ together explain how Natalie would always bring Hotch coffee. How Natalie always sat next to Hotch, how she angled herself towards him all the time. How she'd reach across the table just to make sure that he got an eyeful of her if he looked up. With each example of Natalie's friendliness you can feel your eyebrows rising slightly higher.

You can tell they were looking out for you, however as you pause and really think it through, you realize that you're not overly concerned. It sounded like Natalie had a little crush on Hotch, which can happen of course. Of all people, you could understand someone having a thing for him. As long as she didn't actually act on it, it was harmless.

"I'm sure it's fine, you guys. Thanks for telling me, but I trust Aaron," you tell them.

You know they're not as unconcerned as you are but they let it go as you all pull into the airplane hangar. You grab your bag and climb the steps, eager to sit down next to Aaron and tell him all about your time away (the parts of it that weren't classified at least). When you get on the plane, you see that Aaron was sat in his usual spot across from Rossi. However, your seat is conspicuously occupied by the leggy blonde intern. You catch Emily throwing a look your way as if to say I told you so. Suppressing your eyeroll, you take a seat on the couch next to Derek instead - you didn't want to sit across from Emily and suffer through her looks the entire plane ride.

"His loss," Derek leans in to whisper to you, throwing a quick wink in your direction.

You shake your head, a smile finally breaking out on your face.

It was a relatively short plane ride to Orlando during which the team spoke through the case details and explored the preliminary profile. You found yourself a little distracted by the way Natalie seemed to always lean across Hotch to grab the files from someone, or the way she brought back a water bottle for him when she sauntered her way to the back of the plane. Now, she was asking him if he wanted a snack - apparently he'd love some pretzels if she was going to be grabbing them. You meet Emily's gaze, knowing she also saw that interaction, and you quickly look away, annoyed that you had let their words get to you. Shifting your focus back to the case, you read through the Medical Examiner's report on the two bodies that had been found, in an attempt to avoid staring at the two people who were now sharing a bag of pretzels. Apparently there was a pretzel shortage.

You volunteered yourself and Derek to go talk to the witnesses once you'd landed, knowing Hotch would want to keep Reid for the geographic profile and you didn't want to risk jumping the gun and asking Rossi what was up with Natalie. Emily and JJ were simply out of the question as they kept throwing looks at you, not at all subtly. Derek really was your best option. This way you could spend the majority of the day driving around and not have to watch as Natalie's long and shapely legs strutted around as if she was walking a runway. Who was that tall?

Derek - bless him - had picked up on your mood and very kindly changed the subject to your assignment and how you'd liked Paris. You'd spent a summer in Paris during college so you had spent your time off visiting old haunts and discovering new pastry shops. You'd managed to squeeze in a cooking lesson with a renowned pastry chef known for her pistachio croissants and were planning on making them when you return for the whole team. Derek was definitely excited about that.

The two of you had called in your findings throughout the day and met up with the rest of the team at the hotel lobby in the evening. You walk in to find everyone congregated together while Hotch is on a call. It looked like Natalie had been sent to fetch the room keys as you could see her speaking with the front clerk.

"I can't wait to take a shower. What's taking so long?" JJ was standing, leaning against Emily, the two of them looking worse for wear.

"What happened to you two?" Derek asks, handing you your bag that he'd carried over from the parking garage.

The two of them glance at one another and you can tell that whatever happened had to be embarrassing for at least one of them. JJ is the one to explain how they'd had to literally chase down a lead through downtown and that Emily had ended up tripping down a fire escape and falling into a compost dumpster. It seemed she hadn't taken well to JJ's teasing, as JJ was just as trash-covered and smelly as her. Your face scrunches up as you get a waft, and you quickly shift to stand across instead of next to them.

It appeared that Hotch had finished up his call as he was walking towards you, when he's intercepted by Natalie. "Sir, it seems the hotel booked us one room short and they're all out of extra space. But it should be fine. I won't mind sharing with you, if that's alright."

You are so incredibly grateful that you'd turned away from them and had only heard what she said to him. Your eyebrows are fully in your hairline and your jaw drops open. Both JJ and Emily's faces are a mirror of yours. You have to really force yourself to not turn around and react impulsively - telling her to go back to Whoresville would probably be crossing a giant professional boundary. However you might be warranted because who else would proposition their boss in that manner? If she'd wanted to simply be helpful and accommodating, why not offer to bunk with one of the girls? Her voice had been far too sultry to be even remotely professional. Your teeth are quite literally biting into your tongue and you know that you'll have angry crescent shaped marks in your palms from how tightly clenched your fists have become. The sheer audacity!

"Ms. Scott," Hotch's voice is cool, professional, detached, "will you please step aside with me for a moment?"

You can hear the sound of her heels against the marble floor as her and Hotch walk slightly away from the rest of the group.  Everyone is quiet and they're either watching you or Hotch and Natalie's interaction, which you refuse to turn and be a spectator to. It felt like giving away some power, for her to see you watching her in this moment. It was better to be entirely disengaged. You quickly schooled your face and relaxed your posture into one of unbothered indifference. They might all see through it, but so what? At least a stranger wouldn't be able to read what had happened just by the expression on your face.

"Here are everyone's room keys." Hotch arrives back with Natalie trudging behind him, and hands out keys to everyone but you. He has the key to your room in his hand. You don't look in Natalie's direction as you square your shoulders and follow Hotch's long strides down the hallway to your room. He'd kept the first floor one for the two of you, making it an easy central location for the rest of the team if need be.

"You can take first shower," you tell him, as he opens the door to your room and lets you in. They're the first words you've spoken directly to him that haven't been about the case since the briefing that morning. You can hear the slight edge in your tone and you know he can tell something is off as well.

Hotch only nods at you, before setting his bag down and heading off to the bathroom. As you hear the sound of the shower turning on, you force yourself to breathe in and out to help relax your mind and body. You're upset. You know you are. You're not sure how you feel about Natalie at the moment, aside from thinking her to be incredibly unprofessional. However you are still upset, and you come to the realization that its Hotch whom you're upset with. Hotch who had spent the past three weeks ignoring the signs of this girl's crush until it culminated in him being literally asked to bed her. Did he really ignore it though? Or did he enjoy the attention? Attention he wasn't getting from you, that's for sure. Hard to give your boyfriend attention when you're working in an entirely different country…

Aaron had watched you all day - from the moment you'd shown up back at work till the second you'd walked through the hotel room ahead of him. When you'd arrived that morning you'd been happy, cheerful, the promise of things to share radiating behind your gaze. He'd been happily surprised that you'd landed back ahead of schedule and even decided to hop onto the case with them. It would be nice to have you back - he'd spent the past three weeks really coming to terms with the fact that you were not on the team anymore. Sure you helped when you're around but he knew that if you got pulled into your other assignment, that would take precedence now. He didn't begrudge you that, despite how much both him and Jack missed you while you were away.

However, on the plane, you'd barely looked his way. Of course the intern girl had taken the seat next to him, and he couldn't be rude and ask his twenty one year old new employee to go sit somewhere else. Once you'd all landed, instead of sticking around the precinct you'd been away all day and he couldn't help but feel that something was off. Something had happened between the time the team had received the case and the plane ride to Florida and he couldn't possibly imagine what.

Then, of course, the intern had stepped out of line. She'd asked him to share a hotel room with her as though he wasn't her superior and it wouldn't be entirely inappropriate. Though, he had to admit, based on her body language she wouldn't mind him being inappropriate with her. He had had her step aside and explained to her that the hotel hadn't been one room short - that you and him were in a relationship and would be sharing. That what she'd said was inappropriate, however he would ignore it and pretend it didn't happen. The girl had been barely apologetic, not meeting his eyes. Instead, she had looked over at the group - at you - as though you had personally wronged her. There wasn't much to be done about that. If she continued to be this way, he'd have to ask Strauss to place her on a different team.

However, it was really you who his mind was invaded by as the two of you walked down the hallway and to the room. He hadn't had you to himself all day and he was looking forward to catching up, saying hello properly. However, the edge in your voice when you spoke gave him pause. Something was still wrong and he couldn't for the life of him imagine what it could be. Maybe something was going on with JJ or Prentiss. They had wanted to talk to you about something urgently after all.

He'd gone to take a shower, hoping that maybe all you needed was a moment to yourself, however when he exited you'd quickly brushed by him and shut the door to the bathroom behind you. He changed and got into bed, carrying the files from his bag with him. He'd made it through a reread of the Medical Examiner's report when you exited the bathroom, your towel wrapped around you. He watched, a little apprehensively, as you pulled out clothes from your bag and then unwrapped the towel from around you. Your skin was pinked all over from how much you'd scrubbed it, your hair still dripping wet. He found his eyes watching a single drop of water as it fell from your hair, trailed its way down the side of your neck, over the swell of your breasts, only to be covered by the little blush nightie that you slipped on. He hadn't seen you in three weeks and he could feel himself get uncomfortably aroused as his eyes followed the sway of your hips when you went to grab a bottle of water and then pushed yourself up onto the desk, facing him. Your face was composed as you took a small sip, your eyes unwavering in their appraisal of him.

"How long has she been flirting with you?" you finally ask, setting down the bottle of water and looking directly at him.

Aaron's face betrays his puzzlement at the question. You were undoubtedly asking about the intern but he couldn't imagine why that would even matter. "A while," he answers hesitantly. Were you jealous? He couldn't imagine that to be the case - not with you and especially not over the intern.

"Why did you let it go on for so long?" Your words are accusing and yet your voice doesn't change from its even cadence.

He's unsure of what to say and ends up blurting out the first words that come to mind. "Are you jealous?" He immediately regrets even voicing the thought as your eyes flash with the promise of a reckoning.

"No. I'm upset." You take a small leap down from the desk and walk over to him, standing at the edge of the bed. "I am upset, because instead of shutting her down immediately when you noticed her behavior, you allowed it to continue to the point at which she quite literally asked you to fuck her in front of the entire team." Your voice trembles ever so slightly and your jaw is locked into place. "She must have been given quite some leeway if she felt it was alright to do that."

Aaron's not sure what to say. He had let it go on too long, but it wasn't because he enjoyed the attention. He had never been on the receiving end of such blatant advances from a relative stranger and he'd felt uncomfortable assuming anything untoward, even though he'd known. How could he not? The intern was utterly transparent.

He's quiet for a moment as he watches your hands start to fidget with the fabric of your nightgown. Had he known how upset you'd be by this, he'd have shut her down immediately. He could hear the hurt in your voice and understood the betrayal you must have felt, thinking he was somehow enjoying the attention of some young girl. That was hardly the case.

However, before he can reassure you of this, he sees you place a knee on the bed and quickly straddle him, hands on his shoulders for support. He conceals his surprise incredibly poorly. He's half hard and he knows you felt him as your eyes lock on his and you grind yourself against him torturously teasing him. Your lips meet his in a bruising, punishing kiss, teeth biting his lower lip and drawing open a moan, making way for your tongue to harshly explore him.

He instinctively moves his hands to your waist to draw you in closer, and that's when you finally move away, your eyes swirling with fury, hurt, and something else that makes a knot start to coil in his stomach.

"No." You reach down and move his hands away from your waist and up towards the headboard. "You obviously didn't miss me. You don't get to touch."

How could you possibly think he hadn't missed you? He was half hard from just a look at you. He opens his mouth to contradict you, but you cover his mouth with yours again, drawing a groan from him. Pulling back, you fix him with a firm gaze. "I don't want to hear what you have to say, either."

Aaron is now impossibly hard, his pants tenting uncomfortably as his hips rut up into you. He nods, agreeing to follow your rules - for now at least. He tries to keep his hands away, focusing instead on the pleasant weight of you on top of him. The way your breasts press against him and the way the silk of your nightie feels against his stomach, causing a flurry of butterflies to explode there. Your touch tonight had been sharp, demanding, focused only on getting to whatever end you have in mind.

Your lips trailed down from his lips to his neck, biting and sucking in a way that tests every amount of self control he has. He knows you're leaving marks and is grateful that you still have the presence of mind to focus your attention to parts of him that will be covered by his shirt collar. Your hands brush his arms, his chest, his stomach - causing every muscle to tense and flex under your agonizing touch. You're slow and deliberate with your attentions, as if each kiss, each lick, each bite is designed to drive him insane.

Your hands reach the top of his waistband and he tilts up, helping you push the garment down his hips, revealing his weeping cock at full mast. You don't give him a moment's respite as you move to position yourself over him, using his shoulders as leverage. You lower yourself on him excruciatingly slow - the warm, wet, velvety feel of you encompassing him entirely. He groans, loud and deep, unable to contain himself, as you bottom out completely. You hadn't been as wet as usual and he can tell the stretch is just this side of painful for you from the wince on your face as you settle onto his lap and the way your short nails dig into his skin.

He looks down and sees how your nightgown flows around your hips, draping over his lap and covering where the two of you are connected in a manner he finds incredibly erotic. He finds himself focusing on the movement of the fabric as you push yourself up, your lips attaching themselves to a spot right on his collarbone. The need to touch you is overwhelming and he finds himself forming fists with his hands, his nails making crescent shaped marks in the skin of his palms, to keep himself from reaching out.

You're breathing heavily against his ear as you ride him and he can tell you're stifling every natural sound that's begging to be released. You didn't want to give him the satisfaction. You were only interested in chasing yours.

It won't be long for him now, not with how tight you are and how your walls have fluttered around him every time. He can feel your growing need based on the pace you're setting for yourself - you're furiously chasing your high and he can tell you won't reach it. Not without some help.

He surprises you by grabbing your face and forcing you to look at him. There are unshed tears in your eyes and the frustration is clear in your face. You open your mouth to say something - likely to tell him off for touching you. He doesn't care anymore. Fuck the rules.

"Sweetheart, let me help, please." His voice is unbearably gentle as he speaks, his hand warm against your cheek. But no. He didn't get to do this. He didn't get to - the thought dies in your head as he kisses you - soft, gentle - a complete contrast to how you'd started the night.

You pull away, still determined to simply use him. Punish him by not letting him touch you.

He can feel the fight in your body and see the stubbornness in your posture. But he couldn't let you not finish. Not when he was so achingly close. Not when it was so desperately what you wanted. So Aaron decides to try something he never has before.

"Sweetheart, let Daddy help you."

The result is instantaneous. You still entirely. Your breath stutters. He feels your hands tremble against him. Your eyes - your eyes widen and look at him. You blink and for a second he has no idea what you're thinking. Then they open agonizingly slowly and he can see that your warm, welcoming eyes are entirely glazed over. Gone are the unshed tears, replaced by something that seems entirely, wantonly, lost.

"Daddy's going to take care of you," he repeats himself, moving his hands to circle your waist. There's no fight, no resistance. He lifts you easily and lays you down on the bed, before rolling over on top and positioning himself at your entrance. You look so pretty - soft and small under him - your eyes trained only on him and your pink lips forming a small circle. His mouth meets yours as he pushes in, drawing the first audible moan from you all night. It is like music to his ears. He reaches down on the right and finds your thigh, grabbing it to wrap around him. You instinctively mirror yourself on the other, both legs wrapped loosely around his hips as he thrusts into you.

"You take me so well, sweetheart. So good for me." His voice is like syrup, sweetly dripping down through you.

His hand reaches between your bodies and finds your clit, his thumb circling it and drawing sounds from you that he'd only had in his dreams the past three weeks.

"Such a good girl."

His other hand finds your breasts, working your nipples into tight peaks, pointing through the silk of your clothing. He can't help himself from taking one into his mouth, the fabric cool against his tongue as he licks and bites you through it. He sees your eyes roll backwards before your head tilts away from him.

You're entirely mindless, floating on a cloud ever since Aaron took control. The drag of him inside you is painfully euphoric. Every touch ignites a fire and you can feel your orgasm growing - a crescendo in your body that completely takes over as your toes curl and your back arches, pushing your breasts even more into his mouth.

You're far too sensitive as your arms cling to him, every nerve entirely aflame as he finishes within you not a moment later. His hand never lets up against your clit and as he takes your other nipple into his mouth, even through his own orgasm, you feel yourself clench once again, overwhelmed by him. Owned by him.

He collapses on top of you, his weight pleasant and welcome against your boneless body. You can feel his seed spilling out of you and you can only guess at how entirely depraved you must look. He slowly rolls off of you, pulling you with him.

Later, when you're both clean and tucked back into bed, his hands playing with your hair and your legs entangled with his, he asks softly, "Was that alright?"

You can feel his hesitancy and uncertainty, and you have to keep yourself from falling asleep against his warmth. You want to be honest with him. "It was," you say slowly. "I'm not sure if I'll ever say it, but I didn't mind you saying it." Actually saying it felt too close to admitting the very real trauma from your father's reign of terror.

He nods understandingly.

"You know that the intern doesn't mean anything, right?" he confirms. You should know that. He knows you know that.

"I do. I just, got scared for a minute. Being away is harder than I thought it would be," you admit.

He hums, pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand. The two of you fell asleep properly for the first time in days.

The next morning, Aaron was on a phone call with the local lead detective when you finished getting ready, so you indicated that you were headed to the breakfast bar, hoping to secure coffees and a muffin for you both. He nods and waves you off, knowing you'll fight off whomever to secure the last blueberry muffin for him.

You quickly grab two coffees and the last two blueberry muffins, before making your way to the table where the rest of the team - save for Rossi and the intern - were already sat.

"Someone had a good night." Only Emily could see through the layers of concealer on your neck.

You shake your head disapprovingly, but the large smile on your face gives you away, as both JJ and Derek join Emily in her teasing. Even Spencer joins in, if only for a moment.

You all quiet down quickly, however, as you see the intern approaching. You'd already resolved to be nothing but polite to her. She hadn't known you and Aaron were together - the two of you were relatively lowkey about the entire thing. Maybe her approach had worked for her before.

That resolve quickly crumbles as she comes to speak to you, however.

"You're not better than me, you know," Natalie spits out as she stands across from you on the other side of the table.

You have to force yourself to stay calm and not react, however your lack of an immediate reaction appears to encourage her.

"You were just like me - trying to sleep with the boss. So you don't get to sit there and think you're somehow better."

You could tell she'd spent the night researching you and Aaron - digging up any and all dirt she could on the two of you and your relationship. You look at her and there is a part of you that wants to be upset and go off on her - really put her in her place. However, you'd once been her age and in a place where you thought that was the only way to move ahead. While that might work sometimes, it had to come with boundaries. She'd crossed them.

You let out a deep breathe, knowing that the rest of them are just itching to take her down a peg but they know you'd prefer to fight your own battles.

"Natalie, you're young and impulsive. What you did yesterday was stupid. No man is worth ruining your reputation over - especially not a man who's a stranger to you."

She's quiet, surprised by what you've said and the lack of swearing and name calling involved.

"Yesterday you propositioned your boss in front of people who will all one day soon be running the Bureau. You will need their help and their support in moving ahead. In their eyes, you are the intern who asked her boss to sleep with her in front of witnesses. What exactly do you think they think of you?"

You see her shrivel at your words, her posture slacking as the truth of what you're saying resonates with her.

"Now," you continue, "I will do my best to forget everything that transpired here. The day you knock on my door, it will be as though it never happened. However, I can't make promises for anyone else."

With that, you've spotted Aaron walking over, so you quickly rise and grab your drinks and muffins to meet him halfway.

Aaron sees you walk over, and takes in the quiet at the team table. The intern was standing incredibly still. He sees the her walk off to grab coffee and the team return to normal. He had a feeling Natalie Scott would have to go. He'd give her a good recommendation to any other team, but he could tell - especially going off of the daggers Prentiss was glaring in the young girl's direction - that this wasn't quite the right fit for her.

You approached him, blueberry muffin successfully in hand, your face glowing. Taking the muffin and coffee from you, he presses a quick kiss to your hairline, warmth blooming in his chest.

#Criminal Minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds reader insert #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x you #hotch #hotchner x you #hotchner x y/n #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch x y/n #daddy hotch #irreverentseries

[scribbles97]

Left Behind -- Chapter 27

In which John is not wrong.

PART 1 / PART 2

Chapter 22 / Chapter 23 / Chapter 24 / Chapter 25 / Chapter 26

For all he found his IR suit comfortable and good to work in, there was simply something about a well fitting suit that just felt right. The crisp edges, smooth lines, and sharp folds just felt good once he fastened the buttons and pulled on his jacket. 

 As much as he knew the tie completed the look, it was something he could do without. It was tight and constricting around his neck. Like a noose ready to be tightened as soon as he made the wrong step. Hugh had assured him that he would learn quickly, that everything would be fine even if the board were scrutinising him and comparing everything about him to his mother. 

 Hugh had sworn he wouldn’t let him fail. 

 For all Scott trusted him, he wasn’t sure that it was something Hugh could control. 

Looking in the full length bathroom mirror he knew the man he was seeing was himself. Yet, a part of him felt like a fraud, a boy in his father’s suit, a child playing dress up. He knew nothing about running a business, had never really had the interest to learn. All he knew was that it was what gave them the money to fly state of the art ships and live on a private island in the middle of the Pacific. 

 Maybe the papers were onto something when they called him a spoiled millionaires son. 

 What had he done to earn that money? What had he done to earn the right to spend that money?

 “I hope you’re not standing there questioning every little detail of our lives, big brother.”

 He jumped at the voice, eyes breaking away from their reflection to look at the image of his younger brother stood in the doorway of the ensuite.

 Stood in the doorway of Scott’s ensuite wearing his own suit, star spangled tie included. 

 “John?”

 “You’d best hurry up or else we’ll be late.”

 He frowned, turning to face his brother properly, certain that he had heard him right but not sure what to make of the statement, “We?”

 John waved his hands at him, “Yes we. Now where the hell are your shoes?”

 Scott had to roll his eyes at him, “You sound like mom.”

John folded his arms and raised a ginger eyebrow, entirely the echo of their mother whenever she was trying to hurry one of them along to one thing or another. Scott was sure his younger brother knew exactly what he was doing, but whether it was an attempt to cheer him up or an attempt to get him moving, he wasn’t sure. 

 “I know.” John nodded, gesturing back to the bedroom, “Now, shoes?”

 Scott sighed as he brushed past him, shaking his head as he went to retrieve his shoes from the box they had been delivered in late the previous night. He paused as he looked at the label, designer, expensive, the best leather substitute money could buy. 

 There was a suit shop two blocks down from the offices, a small family run affair that Dad had always sworn by and had taken each of them to for a new suit at one point or another. Since then their changing measurements had always been kept on file, ready for just such an occasion where they might turn up in LA with little more than the set of clothes on their back and the need for something much much smarter. 

 Spoiled didn’t even begin to cover it. 

 John’s huff was loud in the room, and Scott could practically feel him rolling his eyes.

 “We’re not spoiled Scott. Stop putting it in your head that we are.”

 “But--” He started to protest, looking to John with a frown, “Do you know how expensive this suit alone cost? Never mind getting it tailor made overnight.”

 His younger brother was more the echo of Dad as he pulled the ends of his trousers up as he sat on the foot of the bed, right next to the shoe box. 

 “I do, because I went and picked it up and paid for it.”

 He wanted to snap at him with how obvious it seemed to be, they threw their money around like it was nothing and--

 “And gave Carlos enough of a tip that he could take the rest of the month off if he wanted and afford a trip to Europe if he so chose.” He picked up the shoes out of the box and shoved them towards Scott, forcing them into his hands. 

 “And besides, it’s not like any of us don’t work, is it? You three are doing your bit to save the world, Alan won’t be far off joining you all. And did we not each choose a charity for the business to donate to each month when we hit our first million?”

 Scott couldn’t help his scoff, “You make it sound like a family thing already.”

 John’s sigh was exasperated, making Scott look up from tying his laces. 

 “It is Scott. There are effectively four sections of the business, and not by accident. Aeronautics, astronautics, aquanautics, and engineering for all three of those. I’ll give you a prize if you can match the five of us to the areas.”

 Well sure, he knew that much about the business and the work they did. He just couldn’t say he had ever realised it was intentional though. 

 “Tracy Industries started out in the design and engineering of jets and planes, Dad wanted something to go fast in after the air force and Mom built it for him.”

 He knew that too, he very vaguely remembered his parents tenth anniversary when Mom had presented the designs to Dad as part of her new business venture. 

 “I remember.” He nodded, going back to tying his laces.

 “I mean, you were always going down the same road as Dad, fast planes were all you ever wanted to fly.”

 “We always said if IR hadn’t been a thing I’d have gone into the air force.” Scott agreed softly, straightening the hem of his trousers over his shoes. 

 “Space was the next obvious step, Dad and Uncle Lee went to Mars, and I had my fascination with the stars.” John continued, “Of course, engineering was always a part of the business because of what we did, but it was Virgil’s suggestion to take on apprentices after that guy Imari at high school.”

 Scott vaguely remembered Virgil’s outrage when one of his closest high school friends had been rejected from college because of his grades, despite his practical abilities in the field. 

 “I guess by the time Gordon was old enough to show an interest in swimming Thunderbird Four was already a thing, but we didn’t really break properly into that market until he started at the academy you know? He had a lot of input on the equipment we were using back then, spearheaded a lot of changes.”

 That, Scott didn’t know. He had been so wrapped up in his new role as pilot of Thunderbird One whilst he had noticed the changes happening he had never really questioned them or considered where they had come from. 

 Picking at the hem of his jacket he shook his head, “How come you’re bringing all this up?”

 John’s voice was equally soft and quiet as he shrugged, “I overheard Mom and Dad talking one night, saying about what the business was, who it was for.”

 Scott knew the motto by heart, their business was for everyone, as open, accessible, and sustainable as possible. They gave every person that walked through the door a chance to work to their full potential. 

 “Not everyone.” John stated gently, “That might be part of the company values, but at the core of it, at the very foundation of the business. Mom was thinking of us. Dad wanted her to get us more into it as we got older, take us to meetings and all that stuff.”

 Scott raised an eyebrow looking across to John, “How come she never did?”

 John snorted, smiling as he shook his head, “When did Mom ever force us into anything? If none of us showed a direct interest in what she was doing in the office, she was never going to chase us to go with her to board meetings and all that crap.”

 Scott couldn’t say he had ever truly thought about what did go on in all those meetings Mom took. Not until those last few days, not until he had been thrust into it and realised, yes, he really did want to know. 

 “Did you ever go with her?”

 John nodded, “Once or twice, it got harder when I joined NASA, but I kept in touch enough to know the gist of what’s going on.”

 The guilt gnawed more. 

 On top of studying for some of the hardest tests in the world, his little brother was also keeping tabs on a business Scott had never even thought twice about. 

 “You were focussing on the other side of things, you took over the commanding role of IR when things got too busy for Mom,” John nudged him, “Would you stop feeling guilty over it?”

 He sighed, looking across at him with a shake of his head, “I should have some idea of what’s going on. I mean, you know more than I do.”

 John pulled his sleeve back, glancing at his watch as he hummed softly and stood from the end of the bed, “And you told Lord Creighton-Ward that you wanted to learn. Which is why I’m coming with you.”

 “To teach me?”

 John smirked and shook his head, “To learn with you. You’re not doing this on your own big brother. Share the burden, okay?”

 Taking a breath, Scott nodded and stood. 

 John had some idea of the business. That was something. It was better than the blind fumbling along alone. 

 It was simply an added bonus that he could tell John to shove off when needed. 

 “I’m not going to wear the tie.”

 John was smirking as he shook his head, reaching for the bedroom door, “Didn’t for a minute dream I could persuade you to.”

 Scott grinned as he followed him to the door, hesitating as John pressed his lips together and his eyebrows dipped. 

 It was a face Scott knew well, something the younger had always done whenever there was something in his head that he wanted to share but wasn’t sure how to. 

 Scott had learned the hard way that sometimes it was better not to push the face. 

 “I was hoping I could persuade you into one thing though,” John started, “I do already have all the qualifications and licenses.”

 He knew John had multiple qualifications and licenses, all in ridiculously intelligent subjects. Which of them might relate to something John needed to persuade him about though, he wasn’t quite sure and it was enough to make him pause as he watched John. 

 “What?”

 “I’m joining the Alpha Team, Scott.” He stated, “Let me take over space operations for Thunderbird Three. I have more space hours than you, Virgil and, Gordon combined.”

 Scott eyed him, frowning as he shook his head, “You have a job at NASA.”

 John looked down as he shrugged, “Which I quit.”

 He had to look twice, blink again, and shake his head to make sure he was hearing things right, “You what?”

 “You heard.” John frowned, almost pouting at him, “I’m joining the team Scott. Lee and Val are gonna be focussed on Mom. You need more hands.”

 It wasn’t the time to be discussing it, they needed to be in the lobby in five minutes. By rights he knew he should have already been there.

 John hadn’t exactly left him much option though.

 “We have beta team to run space ops, they have Little Lightning.”

 Thunderbird Three’s little sister was almost everything the red rocket was, simply smaller and more compact. Whilst Three had space to carry pods and additional equipment, her sister was more a recovery vehicle, able to reach the same depths of space and pluck those in need out of vacuum. 

 “Which can only do so much, Ridley and I discussed it. She agrees we need Three available as much as Lightning.”

 Scrambling for an argument he grabbed on to the only thing he could find, “You’d need training.”

 “Nope.” John smirked, “Mom let me quietly keep up on IR sims. I’m probably more qualified than you to fly that ship.”

 Just like that the rock he had been hoping to cling to fell away, sending him tumbling with it. Checking his watch again he huffed and shook his head, not happy with the idea of another younger brother being in the face of danger but not able to see another way out for the time being.

 “We’ll discuss this later.”

 John’s smirk was too smug as he gestured for Scott to lead the way, “Sure. We have a business meeting to get to.”

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfic #Thunderbirds 2015 #Scott Tracy #John Tracy #scribbles writes #Left Behind Part 1 #Left Behind Part 2 #Left Behind Part 3

[ranma-rewatch]

Episode 19: Clash of the Delivery Girls! The Martial Arts Takeout Race

It has been a heck of a week for me, how about all of you? But now it’s time to sit down and watch some Ranma 1/2, and this time we’re digging into season two, known here in the US as “Anything-Goes Martial Arts”. I actually do think I remember this episode, at least a little bit, though whether I liked it or not has been lost to my decaying neurons. Time to form a new opinion then, see you next paragraph!

I’ll be honest, that turned out better than expected. But before I get into that kind of stuff, let me talk about what happens in the episode. Sadly, starting with Season 2, they’ve added a little recap thing to the beginning of every episode. It’s the same animation and voice acting every time, just meant to catch up the viewer on the premise of the show. I hated it when I was younger, and I hate it more now. I have a hard time articulating why, it just rubs me the wrong way.

From there, the actual episode begins with a flashback to when Ranma was a baby, and his father carried him on his back in a martial arts pilgrimage. That turned out to be a bad idea, because at one point Genma was starving in an inhospitable wilderness. He did run into someone with food, and that someone also had a daughter around Ranma’s age. This man only agreed to share food with Genma in exchange for taking Ranma, so he’d have an heir to his school of martial arts. With pretty much no hesitation, Genma agreed, but later stole Ranma back when the man wasn’t looking.

It cuts to the present from there, where Ranma and his father are fighting over some pickles. This is interrupted when the man from the opening, Mr. Daikoku, shows up in a fancy car with his now teenage daughter, who is in a ceremonial bride’s dress. He hasn’t forgotten about the promise Genma made, and is ready to take Ranma to marry his daughter Kaori.

But Soun Tendo isn’t about to just let that happen, since Ranma is supposed to marry Akane. During the conversation there is a lot of bickering between all of them, much of it from Akane and Ranma about them even really being engaged, but Kaori can tell that Akane actually likes Ranma more than she says, and so challenges her to a contest for Ranma’s hand. There’s a Martial Arts Takeout Race going on soon, and the winner of that gets one year’s worth of ramen.

Even more than making sure Ranma and Akane get married, the chance to get all that free food nudges Soun and Genma into accepting the deal. It quickly turns out that may have been a bad idea, since Kaori removes the robe to reveal she is a powerful martial artist, specifically a master of Martial Arts Delivery.

It’s a chaotic race from there, but the long and short of it is that Kaori pulls out a bunch of secret techniques to try and win, including one that numbs Akane’s leg and another that strangles her neck with noodles until she forfeits. At that point, Ranma is seriously considering jumping into the fray to help, even though he’d sworn not to use his curse to enter the race. A nudge from his dad forces Ranma into water though, and from there Ranma and Akane work together to help her win. The Daikoku’s accept the defeat, the family has a bunch of ramen, and all’s well that ends well...at least until another man shows up claiming that Ranma is supposed to marry his daughter. Wap wap.

So, there wasn’t a ton of plot to speak of, but on the whole I quite liked this episode. First of all, it had a wacky energy to it unlike anything in the first season. The Martial Arts Gymnastic competition was the only thing that came close, but this episode from beginning to end moved at a quick pace, with lots of jokes, smooth(er than usual) animation, and a whole new over-the-top martial arts school. Not everything about it worked for me, some of the jokes felt like duds, but then there’s the Ramen Round-Up Noodle Noose, Akane skateboarding, and the fact that Genma sold Ranma for a single meal.

I am kind of sad I literally just did a Character Spotlight on Genma last episode, I should have waited. This is perhaps the first time we’ve really gotten a chance to see just how awful a father Genma can be. I love everyone’s reactions to the news of the trade as well, and Genma doesn’t even really have a defense for it. The interplay between him, Soun, and Mr. Daikoku was also just enjoyable.

Kaori Daikoku herself is also something interesting. Anime-only or not, she’s the first rival for Akane who was also bequeathed to Ranma by his father in the past, though she won’t be the last. Once she was in the fight, Kaori actually worked pretty well, for a single-episode character. I actually like her character design, and as silly as all her food attacks are, she uses them with a kind of ferocious glee that gives her a unique aura, even if she’s still not a particularly deep character.

It’s me, so I also have to comment on how much I liked the Ranma/Akane stuff in this episode, whether it was Kaori noticing that Akane doth protest too much, that Akane was actually arguing for marrying Ranma at one point in the big kerfuffle, or the ending tête-à-tête between them (though the shipping fodder there was a dub only line). Something about the teamwork they used to win at the end was adorable too.

As for my negatives, the big one is that, well, in any scene with a big crowd (and there were a few), the random people looked really bad. Or rather, they didn’t match the art style for the rest of the characters in this show, they felt like they were from a different show entirely. Another small one is that there was no opening theme, and that sucks because I was looking forward to covering it, but I’ll have to wait for it to actually be used in an episode. Other than that, my only other minor issues were the aforementioned jokes that didn’t land for me.

If it wasn’t obvious before, I am vibing with this episode. Not completely, but i was very unsure going in if I’d like it at all. It captured a kind of energy that I hadn’t realized I was missing, and was generally interesting enough that I’ll put it at #6 on my rankings, just above the second part of the Dr. Tofu mini-arc, and right behind the second episode, where Kuno was introduced.

Episode 7: Enter Ryoga, the Eternal ‘Lost Boy’  

Episode 12: A Woman's Love is War! The Martial Arts Rhythmic Gymnastics Challenge!

Episode 15: Enter Shampoo, the Gung-Ho Girl! I Put My Life in Your Hands

Episode 9: True Confessions! A Girl's Hair is Her Life!

Episode 2: School is No Place for Horsing Around

Episode 19: Clash of the Delivery Girls! The Martial Arts Takeout Race

Episode 6: Akane's Lost Love... These Things Happen, You Know

Episode 13: A Tear in a Girl-Delinquent's Eye? The End of the Martial Arts Rhythmic Gymnastics Challenge!

Episode 17: I Love You, Ranma! Please Don’t Say Goodbye

Episode 16: Shampoo's Revenge! The Shiatsu Technique That Steals Heart and Soul

Episode 8: School is a Battlefield! Ranma vs. Ryoga

Episode 11: Ranma Meets Love Head-On! Enter the Delinquent Juvenile Gymnast!

Episode 4: Ranma and...Ranma? If It’s Not One Thing, It’s Another

Episode 5: Love Me to the Bone! The Compound Fracture of Akane's Heart

Episode 1: Here’s Ranma

Episode 3: A Sudden Storm of Love

Episode 10: P-P-P-Chan! He's Good For Nothin'

Episode 14: Pelvic Fortune-Telling? Ranma is the No. One Bride in Japan

Episode 18: I Am a Man! Ranma's Going Back to China!?

Season 2 is here and there is so much more to see! We only had a break from her for two episodes, but next week is the start of a new arc that unveils the return of the amazon Shampoo, with “You Really Do Hate Cats!” What does that have to do with Shampoo? Well, you’ll just have to see next week, won’t you? Tschuss!

#episode 19 #Clash of the Delivery Girls! The Martial Arts Takeout Race #ranma 1/2 #ranma saotome #akane tendo #genma saotome #kaori daikoku #anime analysis #anime rewatch

[spacemilkies]

Could you do a Ben Hargreeves request where the reader and Ben dated and were in love before he died and the readers always been there for Klaus so they're like best friends but the reader doesn't know that Ben is with Klaus after he dies since he wants her to be able to move on even though he's always gonna love her but obviously it comes out? Like fluff flashbacks to them being happy and in love. I love your writing btw!

title: the wheels go round and round

pairing: ben hargreeves x reader; platonic!klaus hargreeves x reader

summary: 

the three of you were like a three-wheeled bike

but then you lost a wheel

its a good thing most bicyles can run on two wheels …

right?

a/n: bless the day to umbrella academy. after months of drought, it rained down 5k+ words on my soul

hope you like!

It was more than just an itch.

When describing the sensation of feeling the departed, Klaus had always summarized the connection to an itch.

But it was more than that.

It was a whisper at times and a shout at its worst.

It was both the burn of a cigarette and the sharp punch of frost.

Klaus no longer just enjoyed life because since the day he was born, he’d been destined to share it. Whether it be someone’s brother, mother or aunt.

He couldn’t simply exist without the obligation of presenting himself as a window to those who have departed. They were tethered to him, mere specters unable to indulge in their own whims.

But more often than not, Klaus felt like the collar was around his own neck. The hallucinations tightening around his throat like a noose.

It was suffocating.

Until the few times it wasn’t.

The moments where Ben was on one side,

and you were on the other.

“Please … Klaus. Not tonight.”

Had he had the energy, Klaus would have rejoiced. In the sea of hell, submerged in a pool of souls, hearing his dear brother’s voice was like breaking the surface.

Regrettably, at times he’d been too deep to begin with. The rapid ascend cracking his chest with aches and muddling the shores of his mind.

Or perhaps it was just the cocaine.

‘Twas all a blur at this age.

Except for his brother.

Klaus had been convinced that his brother’s multiple appendages had followed him into the next life, where they finally joined into one.

One string enough to define the parameters of life and death.

One potent enough where Klaus could almost feel the warmth of his finger tips.

No, this was definitely the cocaine speaking.

Shuddering past the residue, eyes fixated forward despite the obvious request for his attention. He learned long ago that it was much easier to escape the allure of desires that were not his own this way.

Of course, the notion worked better with strangers.

“And what exactly did I promise, dear brother?”

He knew.

Ben only sought him out for two things: loneliness and you.

And the two were often more intertwined than independent.

The phantom steps weren’t quite as soundless when the familiar gait in his memory coupled with reality. With his head bowed, Klaus only allowed himself the view of the restless sneakers planted in front of him.

He would account for deniability for just a little longer. Just until the fog lifted.

Yes, there was one plus to his powers.

No matter how much his brother wanted to launch him into kingdom come with the flick of his very murderous friends, there was just no true density to his physical wants.

“Klaus were going to be late. The recital starts in less twenty minutes. “

And in the other side of town, Klaus recalled groggily of the event he wasn’t suppose to remember. Not only would he be pushing the limits of his rather shallow physicality, but he would also suffer to the sharp keys struck in cohesion to whatever dated classical piece chosen for the night.

He could still hear the thundering notes of the last one echoing off the sides of his skull.

The agony of the preservation of music.

“Klaus!”

“Fuck!” Scrambling to his feet, the disheveled man shakily reached for the wall for balance. A few of his trivial belongings clattered to the street below. At least they were disposable now, there was no way he’d be able to make the trip back down again.

Beyond the determination, there was a hint of sympathy in Ben’s gaze. Despite being forever frozen in time by passing, Klaus felt like he was still growing despite the absence of aging. That and Klaus always had a soft spot for his sixth placed sibling.

Well, shit, there went his small window of deniability.

Smoothing his hands down the tattered and grimy black of his clothing, Klaus snuffed audibly as he looked down the alleyway.

“Well let’s get going then.”

____

“Fucking cmon, man.”

Klaus let out a quiet groan of disgruntlement when he peered around the corner once more. Much like like last three times, funding his brother just as ensnared with his significant other.

Despite his warnings, neither of the couple had kept things chaste. He’s managed to get more than an eyeful of Ben’s wandering hands and exposed skin.

Keeping a timer was a futile attempt.

They were too young to die.

Practically skinned alive by their father for sneaking out again.

Getting caught for it again.

All for love.

Teenage reckless love.

Counting upward, skipping a few useless numbers along the way, Klaus finally decided on a limit and turned back to the pair with a stronger resolve.

“As distastefully envious I am of your abrupt jump from bases so quickly, I’m afraid you’ll deny me the opportunity to try the same in the future if we don’t get going,” he emphasized with a pointed look at anything but the two flushed individuals.

Ben let out an equality frustrated huff and you laughed in turn.

And Klaus…,

Poor Klaus was just ready to end it all.

Ben drew you in close once more for a quick snog, one teetering close to another endless makeout fest without his brother’s grunt.

“Alright, alright. I’ll see you tomorrow, after your classes?”

Your face scrunched in thought, before clearing with recollection and you shook your head,” I have practice tomorrow evening.”

Ben’s bottom lip pulled downward at the thought, but you quickly remedied it with a peck on the cheek and a suggestion.

“But maybe, we can meet at night? At the cafe?”

The question was directed more towards the lingering Klaus, who rolled his eyes.

The gesture met by silence.

Seconds ticking into minutes, until he couldn’t take it any longer.

He threw up his arms in exasperation.

“Fine, you little miscreants. I swear if you two drag me through a teenage pregnancy. I will kill you both and drag your souls into my bedroom to view a true the horrors of entangled lovers.”

_

“Ugh, I don’t know.”

Rubbing sleepily under the droop of his eyes, Klaus was willing to bet anything as long as it got him back in bed before noon. If someone told him something like friendship was such a binding contract, he would have gladly done without it.

The remaining option of pure solicitude and his family be damned.

Anything less would have had him in bed still.

“Look, Ben will love anything you get him. He’s easy like that,” he quipped around a yawn.

What he didn’t mention was how frankly any of them would take a grain of salt if it came as a gift on their names-day.

Who knew being born without an identity would come without the rest of the joys in the world. But with everything else denied, what was one more traumatized shard of a misplaced childhood.

When he finally returned to reality, he found you standing just under him, your nose barely bringing the line of his shoulder. You were watching intently, in a way that could only be described as expectation.

Ah, you’d said something else hadn’t you?

God, he was just making this much longer for himself.

What did Ben even like?

Surely under all the endless screaming and turmoil Klaus had been present enough to at least learn something impertinent about his brother.

All of his siblings mumble of wants.

A proper life.

A real family.

Friends.

Bringing together all two of his lingering brain cells, he squared his shoulders with a posture of authority. “A music book.”

To his suggestion, your nose twisted into a look of pure disbelief.

Oh, you unfortunate clueless little doll. If only he had the time to introduce you to the chaotic world his brother had created to express his undying love for you.

“A music book, because he likes to understand you. You and that complicated, beautifully musically-inclined brain that he’s so obsessed with. Poor boy is tone deaf, but if he can keep up with you literately, then he’s a happy monkey.”

His lips pulled at the joke that went over your head with no reminiscence.

All that mattered was that his brother would be happy.

You would be sated.

And he could get his ass back to sleep.

Klaus felt like something worse than a train had plowed into him. Which was ironic, because he couldn’t think of much else that would leave his body wriggling in agony.

Just the effort needed to part his eyelids felt like shouldering the weight of cinderblocks. The trials of it all would have been much more terrifying had it only been the first occurrence.

Fortunately, or supposedly unfortunately given his state of health, this was far from the first time that he’d found himself plastered to his brother’s couch. His impromptu visits were really beginning to affect the integrity of the upholstery, he mused as he picked lethargically at the dried flakes of his own spittle.

Not even on his best day could Klaus recall exactly where they’d drug him from this time. He tended to only bare the scorches of hell not the memories of it.

A low rumble of thunder tickled at his consciousness, and his body managed to comprehend the action to find the available window perched just east of his grungy nest.

To find only instant regret as the bright rays began the thrall if his punishment.

No storm then.

Then what was- oh.

“The parents are arguing,” He sang alone and off tune to the accompaniment of two voices just beyond his reach. Despite its size, their cute little kitchen managed manifest acoustics only found in the hazy mists if his shower.

“He needs to go to rehab, Ben! This is getting ridiculous.”

“Rehab isn’t going to cure the voices. “

Understanding the horrors behind why Klaus was such a dysfunctional mess had done nothing to deter your efforts to provide him with solace.

More often than not he found himself drug to recitals and practice performances where you felt the noise would help to overcome the screams.

It may have been a nicer sentiment should he have control of the playlist if songs. He was more likely to fall asleep and face his maker than find peace.

Indirectly he found himself observing Vanya on more than one occasion, however, a Samaritan token that he hoped he could cash in at some point in the future

“So were suppose to just let him keep doing this to him self. “

Oh bless your soul.

Klaus shoulders rolled in a crooked dance as his hand touched the three places out of order to a religion he had no experience dabbling in.

May the big guy or women upstairs truly gift you for your heart.

“Baby, it’s not that easy…”

Well, gift you more than they had when they wrapped Ben up and presented him to you.

Klaus wondered if you recognized the veteran you were when it came to keeping the real monsters at bay.

“You think when this is all over … think I could marry her?”

The question was asked so causally that Klaus nearly inhaled the paper roll balanced between his lips. Ben, this little rascal, hardly missed a second as he reached over to take a puff for himself.

A slow dazed smile curled at his lips, his mind floating up and away in chase of the cloud.

All the while, Klaus nearly died from an abrupt pneumonectomy.

“Sorry, I’d like to dissect this first. When what’s over? Sorry to break it to you, but those powers aren’t going anywhere.”

That was a long dead dream amongst all the siblings. This was their life and they just had to adapt to make the best of it.

Funny, he couldn’t remember if he’d heard that from mom or dad.

Frankly, their mother was an autonomous robot programmed by their father, so he supposed they were one in the same.

He shudders at the visage.

Ben took another long drag before handing the joint back, letting the smoke settle in him before releasing it out into the world. He was becoming such a professional, Klaus almost wanted to cry.

Rolling his head back, Ben caught his brother’s gaze, the same languid grin still plastered on his lips,” I mean the old man has got to die at some point right? Then we’d be free.”

Except the old geezer just couldn’t seem to find the bucket to kick. Klaus had to wonder if he was even born with one.

Maybe that’s why he took everything from them, because he lost his bucket. Since he had to suffered it was only right that he did.

Scoffing, Klaus fell back into the cushions of the couch. Their father dying would just be one nightmare for another to him. While his other siblings lived their life, he’d be the unlikely bastard still hearing dead old dad.

He waved his brother to continue,” So dad dies. He has no more control. Enter your bride to be. What could go wrong ?”

“They could say no.”

The taste of rejection was familiar and thick, a viscous emotion that was contagious in all the worst ways. It was an airborne virus, a bacterial infection- a stigma embedded into the very walls they grew up in.

They’d spent their whole lives being discarded from the inside. How would they handle the same on the outside?

Well Klaus certainly didn’t think that Ben deserved that.

“You’re an idiot. Of course they would say yes.”

And when that lazy smile brightening with the energy of the sun, Klaus thinks, yeah it’ll be alright.

___

Except it’s not.

It’s the opposite of okay.

___

“Did you know he wanted to marry me?”

Klaus looks up in surprise, though somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he shouldn’t. You were equally as expressive as you were aware. To be honest, you had to be to keep up with them.

Just because they were a danger, didn’t mean they weren’t inherently surrounded by it as well.

As fate brought about.

Ben always made sure to keep you on your toes. Scolding you when your back was turned to the happenings of the world. It was done out of love, to protect you from what you couldn’t see.

Your defense when he wasn’t there.

So of course you’d been primed to pick up on little mannerisms and peculiarities. Lately, when the two of you were alone, wrapped up in your lovers nest, Ben often lost himself to his own thoughts.

But naturally that wasn’t enough to support the little investigation.

No, you needed evidence.

The little box hidden behind the bookshelf was more than enough to close the case.

You still had it.

Unsure of what to do with it now. It didn’t seem like a family heirloom, but what did you know ?

The touch of your own hand stroked fondly over the fingers of your left, a quirk of a sullen smile twitching halfheartedly.

“Yeah, I knew. It was so easy to tell with him.”

Ben’s manifestation came as easy as a whisper yet felt like the heavy side of an iron hammer. He hovered between the two of them, uncertainty rooting his presence just short of reaching you.

His face twisted at the sight of your solemn agony as you picked apart the memories of your life together.

“Every recital I kept wonder if that was going to be the day. “

Klaus could only watch it play out, no plausible intervention available in his capacity to offer comfort. The wound was still so fresh and deep with all of them. The two of you together were just barely managing to keep the gape from tearing wider.

“Then I realized, that wouldn’t be his style. He’d probably try to stick it in a milkshake then freak out when I went for a spoon.”

Ben’s broken laugh cracks his chest, rattling like a case of skeletons. Klaus is glad you can’t hear it, the torment of its sound would only plague his nightmares.

“I would have said yes without a ring.”

When Ben reaches for her, Klaus can’t help but do the same. The urge feels like his own, physically, but when his brother lays his hand atop the pile the warmth doesn’t feel like it’s coming from his own body. At the touch, it sparks an array of emotions he’d only once viewed through a one way mirror.

Now he was the window.

Too bad it was already broken.

“I would have said yes to anything.”

____

“Every time. I know you say you’ll see me again, but damn, you really surprise me, Klaus.”

When Klaus draws you in for a hug, its more than instinctual. Its not an ambient desire.

Its a whim of his own, something that he takes his own personal comfort in.

His.

So maybe he’s a little disgruntled, when a third pair of arms joins the embrace.

And maybe, he’s a little smug when you only respond to his warmth, and his alone.

Call it his own payment.

Grinning, you brush away the damp fringe from your flushed cheek. You always called performing a rush. He thought living with Vanya would help him understand that, but it seemed that music lover’s were truly just one of a kind.

“Tell her how amazing she sounded.”

Ben encroaches on the moment again, and Klaus grits his teeth to bare the grin as he recites the words. Sometimes he wonders if he you can hear his voice as well as he can. The two of you always had such a special connection.

It was a shame that death had to be the one thing that built a wall between you.

With a sigh that could double as exhaustion, you leaned back on your heels. The adrenaline of the recital was finally wearing off. All the long nights and endless dance of fingers across the keys had waned down to this moment, and now it was over.

For now at least.

Give or take a few weeks, just short of a month or two and you would be back at it again.

“So … you look … good?” You winced at the delivery but prided yourself on how it didn’t come out sounding like an interrogation. It was so difficult to properly voice your worries when it came to Klaus.

So much had changed over the years.

You thought you would be able to function without the third wheel.

Most bikes ran on just two after all.

But Klaus seemed to need that third wheel in a capacity that you just couldn’t understand. Frankly, there were a lot of things you didn’t quite comprehend and you had practically dated a superhero.

But with Ben it had been not easy but simpler in all the ways that came natural as being together.

Klaus was the opposite in more ways the one.

Yet so explicitly streamlined down the single reason that he wasn’t alone.

He was never really alone.

No matter how often you tried to fill the space with your presence, some skeleton from the past managed to draw him away.

You think thats the one thing you hated most about the house he grew up in. Despite all those people, it had been voided from so much love that it got to the point that he’d let anything in.

And now he didn’t know how to close the door.

He was getting so weathered just standing at the entrance, taking whatever was thrown at him.

Klaus managed his usual exaggerated grin, and you made no comment of how it drooped a the side. “Oh, but thank you my dear. Truly, here I thought no one would noticed how I walked straight off the runway to make it here on time.”

Laughing came easy, even when it was forced.

“Well, I appreciate it. I really do, Klaus. Everytime.”

Klaus lifts his shoulders and let him fall in his own quirky way,“It’s what he would have wanted.”

“Still wants.” Ben’s words drift like a breeze.

You reach for his hand, meaning every word as they cross your lips,“Yeah, well, he had a great brother.”

There was no denying that your friendship had fractured from being on the receiving end of the blow that was Ben’s death. Things weren’t quite as they were, lacking the instrumental piece that his ghost couldn’t be to bridge your worlds.

But it wasn’t broken.

Ben wouldn’t allow it. He kept Klaus alive, pushing him to remain conscious and aware of the world. Even if his brother’s motivations were selfish demonstrations of his own agendas.

At the end of the day, Klaus retained your friendship.

And in a world of apparitions, it was nice to reach for something and have it met half way.

“Yes, thank you. I’m glad he can hear that and my efforts are for naught.”

Ben flittered between the two of you, instinctively drawn into your orbit. Klaus tried not encroach, but unable to not watch as Ben tried in vain to grasp the wisps of your hair. The intentions phased through you without your notice yet Ben’s look of complacence didn’t falter in the slightest.

It’s what he wanted for you after all.

Your blissful unawareness would be necessary for you to properly prefers in a world without him.

Even when he was still there to watch your steps forward.

“We should treat her to her favorite cafe.”

Ben was back at his side, flickering in and out of space with ease. The question snapped Klaus out of his revere and he found himself answering audibly in reflex,“Oh yes, with my limited funds.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion,

“Sorry?”

Klaus waved you off, not having to explain in detail for once or come up with an exuberant tale to mask his insanity. “Oh, not you.”

Your eyes flashed with recognition. Apart as you were, you weren’t as accustomed to Klaus day to day demons. The man who was once a constant in your life managed to fade to the background without your say so. You knew he was doing it out of his own attempts to shield you. 

With Ben, you were a proper team, one that could at least attempt to maintain the forlorn sibling. But alone, it felt like you were a mere spectator.

“Is it getting worse? I mean its, always worse right?”

“Not… always,” he trailed off.

“Klaus you cant keep drowning them away the way you are. Its not healthy.”

This really wasn’t how he planned for this evening to go. But you were a lecturer at heart and consequently he was your favorite subject. He had resist the urge to make a face when Ben hummed in agreement. “I know that.”

He looked up at the touch of your hand, trying hard not get to far swept into your altruistic stigma. Without Ben around, he’d managed to do a better job of dragging you into his mess rather than allow you to pull him out.

You were just too helpful.

Always loaning money or your couch to rest on.

Just attending your performances hardly felt like a redemption to all your kindness. Ben certainly felt that way. In Klaus defense, he never lead a very virtuous life to begin with. Besides, wasn’t the point of all this for you to live your own life?

Ben had died, leaving you two to reform a friendship in his absence. Sure, it was the squeakiest wheel but it turned.

You had just as strong of a hand in keeping him afloat.

“Then act like you mean it. I know its not fair for me to simplify something so difficult, but you just have to cut them out.”

Klaus wondered if he’d imagined the hitch in your voice or if Ben had noticed it as well. Your gaze had lowered as you delivered into your speech, hiding away the true emotions festering beneath. Klaus didn’t know what he would do if the sniffling began. He was oh so terrible when it came to managing emotions that were not his own.

Who was he kidding, he hardly had a reign on those.

But you continued on. Your stance growing sterner with every word.

“Let the past go.”

“Forget about them.”

“Move on.”

They were the same words regurgitated from Ben’s own request to see that you moved on properly after his death. He hadn’t wanted you to remain stuck on his ghost, remembering what had been and constantly reimagining what could be.

More importantly, he wanted you to let go of him completely, so that you wouldn’t seek him out in Klaus.

Klaus always found it odd how you never showed any addition resistance to Ben’s ‘dying’ request. Not that he expected you to declare vengeance. But you knew, he was a walking window to the world of the dead. Knew that if he tried enough, he could manifest Ben back to you. But you never asked.

You just smiled and nodded.

Ben pretended to be unaffected, tried to convince himself that it was what he wanted. But Klaus knew he was hurting from the lack of contact. Yearning to use the advantage only his brother could provide.

Wanting.

Needing.

It just wasn’t fair.

“Even Ben?”

Ben was in front of him immediately, his face hardened in the event of Klaus breaching their deal. But Klaus was done with the suffering, tired of making everyone around him feel it too.

At one point in their lives, they were all happy.

And it was time to stop acting like Ben’s absence was the end of it all.

“Ben…”

Klaus expected more tears. Something of a sort of production of dramatics that would call attention to your private moment. He certainly had the theatrics in him to do so. But you were just … quiet. As if hearing Ben’s name aloud had stripped the sound from your voice.

Ben looked at him with chagrin, mouth already moving to berate Klaus’ impulsive decision,” Look what you did- all our progress.”

“I didn’t want to! I just-”

“Ben, its fine.”

The silence that followed was deafening. It took them both a moment more to realize which of the pair you’d called out to. And with such confidence. You’d just included yourself in the conversation as if you’d been there from the start.

As if you’d-

“You knew…”

Klaus somehow managed to add more foundation to Ben’s fractured words. The weight of the realization suddenly splintering the mirage you’d all built together to keep the world spinning. You’d all contributed to the great tragedy in which no one was truly happy.

“That you could see him?” Your shrug was lopsided. The weight uneven as you offloaded your own demons. “Klaus, you can see everyone. Of course, I figured you would seek out your own brother.” You said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Like there were idiots for thinking otherwise.

In a way they were.

“But you never-”

” -said anything?” You interrupted with another sluggish shrug,” Ben made it pretty clear that he didn’t want me to know. The least i could do was respect those wishes.”

You’d do anything for Ben.

Even forget.

Or pretend to, at least.

What would you be, if you couldn’t meet his last request.

Frankly, it was all too much for Klaus, his body shaking with misplaced laughter as the situation settled within him. You truly knew them- knew them both better than they knew themselves. They’d presented a game and got played by it.

Ben was fairing slightly better, daring to even smile a little in muted pride. Klaus finds himself thrown back in time, the same feeling of trespassing establishing within him when Ben reaches out with a phantom hand to stroke your cheek.

Swallowing around the barrier, Klaus narrates helpfully,” He’s uh- stroking your cheek. Or trying to at least.”

For some reason you all laugh, your accompanied by bringing your own hand up to touch the side of your face. You’d managed to find the right cheek without either of their guidance. Not that anyone was surprised anymore.

“I’ve missed you.”

Oh how Klaus wished you could hear Ben. Something you could all agree on. But he played his part, being the voice needed to maintain the connection,” “He misses you.”

When you open your eyes, your gaze is more watery than it had been before,” Yeah, I’ve missed you too.” 

Klaus is caught off guard when your hand extends out, fingers flexing. At first he thinks you’d dared to try to reach for Ben, hopeful for a missing touch. But instead he finds your gaze trained on him, your touch as warm as he remembers.

“I knew I could rely on him to keep you alive. “

Ben chuckles fondly,” Damn right.”

You sigh audibly through your nose, giving Klaus one last squeeze before letting go. “Honestly, this is great. I felt so weird trying to pretend like he wasn’t there. Seriously, you two share one brain cell. As long as you’re functioning, it was safe to assume Ben wasn’t far.”

The jib was popular joke of yours when Ben was still alive. The two brothers were a mix of mischief that you rarely managed to keep up with. Together they were a duo, but the three of you were more than a trio.

A unit that sheltered each other from the harshness of reality.

“I’ll take you up on those parfaits now. Maybe a hot chocolate with a shot. I know you’ve got something on you.“

Klaus was going to end up with whiplash by the end of the night with the way this conversation was going. You departed from them with a promise to return as quickly as you could change, leaving the two siblings floundering in place.

“I know I said this before, but your fiancé is strange.”

The way Ben smiles reminds Klaus of the day he decided that he was in love with you.

Ben didn’t even try to correct him.

“Yeah, but we like them that way.”

#Anonymous #the umbrella academy imagine #klaus hargreeves imagine #ben hargreeves imagine #ben hargreeves x reader #the umbrella academy oneshot #klaus hargreeves x reader #umbrella academy writing #the umbrella academy headcanons

[wardofwinters]

Walk the Plank? For the Uncreative

Okay, warnings first. Death, lots of character death. Minor torture described, nothing too graphic. If i missed anything please let me know.

Okay, so I’m bribing a friend to not torture me with angst by writing angst myself. (also i didn’t bother to edit properly cause it’s 2am and I’m doing this now so be nice please)

They picked the topic, it is a pirate au! Marinette is on a trip for her apprenticeship, a minor one that the rest of the class is headed to as well. She never thought she’d be relieved for a pirate attack, but the interruption couldn’t have been better timed, nor better led.

Hello! I welcome you to this wonderful story. I’ll start us off as all stories do, with introductions.

I am your lovely narrator, and I am here to tell you the story of an

Meet Marinette, isn’t she cute? Marinette is a darling, she holds a unique power of sirens, rarely seen. She can sing things into existence. She’s a sweetheart though, in her last year of schooling to become a seamstress. You’ll grow to love her. Though her power holds little bearing in this part of the story it is something to remember.

Now then, lets start our story, not from the beginning, that was a very long time ago, but from middle.

You see, Marinette and her class are heading on a lovely sea trip. They’re getting short term apprenticeships in the city of Belthavese. They will be on a beautiful ship and travel for two weeks to the city to start their apprenticeships.

Why, you should see how excited Marinette is, babbling on about the things she’ll learn. And she will learn a lot.

But let us watch first as Marinette puts on her clothes for the day of departure. A lovely ensemble that she made herself, all of her clothes are handmade. And of course, she adds her ever-present red pearl necklace, given to her by her dead fiancé.

Out the door she goes, hurrying to the ship to leave.

Marinette made it to the boat, just in time. Her companions are already present, bags in hand as they board the ship. She hurries after them, sticking to the back and ducking her head, garnering little attention.

Sadly, young Marinette did not flaunt her lovely appearance, nor did she announce her presence in any way. Though her beauty was still noticed if the gleam in the blonde nuisances eye was anything to go by.

The final preparations were done by the crew, everyone packing their things into the joint sleeping area, kindly separated by gender.

Now the ship leaves, and our dear characters begin their journey. Not all will make it to the end, some will be lost forever, some will turn to a new course, and even others will learn valuable lessons that they will remember for the rest of their lives.

And now our story begins, filled with betrayal, love, and death. Pay attention dear readers, this story will only be told once.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng was not enjoying the trip so far. You see, she was stuck in a room with Lila, Lila did not like Marinette.

This meant that Marinette’s time on the ship was very uncomfortable, there weren’t many places for a young girl to hide after all.

She did stay away as much as possible though, enjoying her time speaking to the workers on the ship, getting inspiration for new designs, the sea was very inspiring. By the third day of the trip though she noticed that she was being watched.

These eyes were not the eyes of a friend dear readers, but nor an enemy. Neither were they neutral eyes. What they were, was uncomfortable. Young Marinette was in a different sort of danger, and there was no way to escape it.

You see, one young boy on the trip had decided that he loved Marinette and wanted to be with her. Unfortunately for him, Marinette harbored no feelings for him, she had no intention of betraying her Fiancé just yet.

This boy had the misfortune of loving one who would not return it. He did not take the rejection well.

Marinette was very kind in turning him down, but he insisted. Demanding that Marinette accept his affections, he pushed her against a wall, her hands covering her stomach, and the threads there.

We can never truly know how this would’ve played out, if he would’ve backed down or if he would have been forced back, for at that moment a new problem appeared.

“PIRATES!”

The boy, son of the head of fashion one Gabriel Agreste, spun around hurrying out to stare in horror at the sight of the ship heading their way, a snarling black figure on dark green background.

The ship was aiming right for them.

Now dear readers let us pause to take stock of the situation.

Adrien Agreste standing useless in full view of the approaching ship. Marinette hidden behind some crates where she had just been pinned. The other students scattered, and now rushing around to hide. And the crew frantically trying to change courses and get away.

How do you think this will play out? I doubt you can truly know how it does, it was a shock to everyone.

But now let us resume.

Marinette was frantically untying the threads holding her corset in place, tugging them out and wrapping them in her hand. She drew a short dagger from under her skirt and pressed against the crates, waiting.

The thump of the boats scraping together echoed. Then silence.

‘Thump’

‘Thump thump thump’

‘Thump thump’

Boots hit the deck, and a moment later the sounds of fighting started. What sounded like a flute played in the background as the pirates dueled the crew.

One pirate started past the crates Marinette was behind and she acted. Her thread whipped out, revealing the weighted end that had been decoration just a minute before, the pirate went down instantly.

She darted forward, knife sliding into the arm of the next pirate, blood welled up. She yanked it out harshly and flicked her thread out once more. The pirate collapsed as well.

She twisted around the next one, using her knife to deflect the blade, blocking would never work for her, another flick of her thread and she tightened the noose. The new pirate sank down slowly.

She leapt aside as a sword took the place she had just been, she had trained for quite a while, she was a fierce fighter and had honed instincts. Instincts put to use as she used her thread to block his strikes, spinning it like a shield. She flicked her knife up and caught it delicately. She reared her arm back, checked the balance, and threw. It slammed into his throat, a fatal hit.

She turned to the next target only to feel herself shoved forward, slamming into the pirate who instinctively grabbed her. They both froze, his gaze flicking over her shoulder in confusion for a moment before his sword went to her neck. She was caught.

He dragged her to the other classmates, only missing Lila and Adrien. The students huddled together, but Marinette was kept with the pirate, a sword to her throat.

These pirates were not dumb by any means, they underestimated her at first, but they wouldn’t again.

She heard the click of boots behind her, a figure stalking past, the hat on his head displaying his status as Captain. The dark green cloak announced his identity though, Sea Demon.

The scourge of the sea for the last four years, he came out of nowhere and wreaked havoc on his opponents. A deadly fighter and a cruel man, he was not one to face off with. Poor Marinette had no choice though, she had earned his ire.

Now readers let us pause once more. Our darling Marinette is trapped, her weapons now removed and held in a deadly grip. The class is caught, though one more is being brought forward as we speak. The captain is present, and very angry. Marinette’s only protection is her wit and her hands.

Perhaps it is a good thing luck was on her side, though really, she was the only one that day that Lady Luck smiled upon. Not a surprise really, she is mine after all.

Now we resume, as the captain checks his injured crew and pauses over the dead one.

He turned and spoke to another crew member, frowning when he heard what was said. He turned now, to face Marinette.

It is never good to hold his attention.

He stalked over to her, only one eye visible with the eyepatch.

“You’ve been giving us trouble little miss.”

Now let it not be said that Marinette is not clever, but she is also stubborn. This is not always a good thing.

“No more than you’ve been giving us.”

The dangerous captain frowned at her, his fingers running over the hilt at his side. His gave slowly studied her from top to bottom. Then paused and focused on her neck.

“Where-“

“Oh! It’s horrible! Marinette shoved me out of my hiding place, she said she wanted me to die!” Lila began sobbing, “She’s working with the pirATES!” She collapsed into Alya’s arms, crying.

Now let it not be said that Lila is clever, she’s not, she is a filthy liar though if that balances it out.

The pirates knew that the girl was not working for them and had in fact taken multiple of them out. They were visibly unimpressed by the liar if the looks on their faces were anything to go by. I couldn’t help but agree with that sentiment.

The captain on the other hand didn’t even glance at the sobbing girl, or the glowering figures, his gaze was locked on the girl in front of him.

He reached forward and fingered a strand of her hair, “I haven’t seen this shade in quite some time.”

“Honestly, like it’s not obvious Marinette is working for them, look at her, she’s practically throwing herself at them.”

Alya wasn’t that smart either you see. Marinette was very obviously held in place with a sword at her throat, I suppose the definition of throwing oneself at another has changed over the years.

“Where did you get your outfit?” The captain tugged her hair, drawing her gaze back to him.

“I made it.”

“Oh,” His gaze swept over her again, “Do a twirl.”

She scowled as the one holding her stepped back. She was not his toy-thing.

“I’m good.”

“Let me rephrase that,” He motioned to one of the crew members, the navigator of Marinette’s ship, a pirate put a sword to his throat, “Do a twirl.”

Marinette wasn’t about to let the man be killed, he had been very kind to her during the trip and taught her many things. She twirled.

His eyes narrow, “why don’t you sing us a song as well.”

“No, but leave him alone, he didn’t do anything.”

“no? all right.” He glanced at the pirate holding the navigator, the navigator fell dead to the ground, red slowly bleeding out from beneath him.

Marinette froze, my poor girl stared in horror at the dead navigator, hands rising to cover her mouth, tears pricking her eyes. “Why” She croaked

“Look at her, so selfish. How dare she pretend to care when she’s helping the pirates.”

Alya doesn’t know when to shut her mouth, but her comment did not help little Marinette, she drew in, staring in horror.

“Perhaps we could try again little pearl,” Marinette flinched at the nickname, “Sing us a song why don’t you?”

The pirate grabbed their chaperone, Bustier, and placed the blade to her throat.

Marinette took a shaky breath and opened her mouth, “I am not a stranger to the dark,”

Now dear readers, let me explain to you the power of a siren’s song, even a half siren. It is a coiling thread that embeds in your mind, enter-twines your thoughts, enchants you. You are not aware of time passing, you’re not aware of your surroundings, you’re not aware of your actions.

The sirens song is dangerous because you don’t realize it’s there until it’s gone.

Marinette finished the first verse and closed her mouth. The group around them slowly woke up from the enchantment and the captain smiled.

He stepped closer, “Hello Marinette,” his gaze had softened, “It’s been a long time.”

“what? Who-“

The Captain lifted the eye patch and smirked, “member me?”

Now Marinette recognized this man, for he was someone she knew very well. And he was dead.

“You’re Fe-“

“Hush love,” He murmured, “No sharing.” He tugged her closer, fingers brushing her cheek, “I’m glad you’re doing well.”

“I- You- I’m glad you’re-“

“Traitor! How could you, siding with them!”

“I can’t believe- She’s- oh no- She’s gonna kill us!”

The captain rolled his eyes.

Do you understand who the captain is yet dear readers? No? Well, you’re close to the answer regardless.

“What do you want with Marinette?” A girl dressed in a yellow and black dress stared fearfully at the captain, who stared back coolly.

“I’m going to bring my fiancé with me of course.”

“WHAT!?”

“Marinette you-“

“How could you-“

“Traitor-“

“You really are with them!”

“I can’t believe we brought you-“

“You led them to us-“

“Marinette… That’s…” Kim stared slack jaw at the captain, of course Kim knew him, he was there when they got engaged.

“Yeah” she whispered.

The class surged forward, only to stop when the pirates leveled their weapons.

Juleka and Rose shrunk to the back, hiding from the angry Pirate Captain.

“Are you going to hurt Marinette?” Chloe demanded.

Felix turned away, “Separate them.”

He faced Marinette, “Just one moment love, I need to deal with the trash.”

“Fel-“

He cut her off with a shake of his head, “Do you trust me Pearl?”

Now Marinette loved her fiancé with all her heart, when he died a part of her died with him. To see him here, alive and well… she didn’t know what to think. He killed a man in front of her, she was afraid, upset, and in dire need of a break. But my poor Marinette would not get one just yet. But for now she must agree, he wouldn’t hurt her at least.

“Don’t hurt my friends.”

He nodded, “You’re friends will be fine.”

Another pirate stepped forward and pulled her back, “With me Miss.”

She let him pull her back, staring wide eyed as her fiancé stepped forward.

“What do you think Miss?” He was facing Bustier, who swallowed nervously.

Of course, she should be nervous, the Captain is ruthless to those that hurt who he loves.

“I think Marinette should be with us. She’s my student and we don’t know you. She needs to behave and stop-“ She flinched as the Captain stepped forward, his shoes clicking.

“Do you know what I think?” He placed a hand on her back, nudging her forward, “I think you’re a cowardly teacher who said nothing when your student could’ve been in danger. You’re attitude towards her shows that you don’t think very highly of her, you are simply viewing her as a responsibility.”

He stopped at the edge of the deck, “My Pearl isn’t responsible for keeping you afloat.”

He shoved her, watching disinterested as she fell to her death.

He turns back to the class, studying them thoughtfully.

You see readers, the class made a very big mistake. Though I am pleased with the result, my dear Marinette might not be. But this is necessary, the class learns a valuable lesson. You don’t anger the Pirate King.

“And you, what do you think of all this?”

Max pushed his glasses up, then realized they were missing. “Ah, of what?”

“Of the sea. Of pirates? Of the magic of the waves as they pass by.” His eyes hold a dangerous gleam, you cannot see it so you’ll have to imagine the danger lurking in his eyes.

“Magic is only for the evil, the sea holds no magic and-“ he was cut off as ashes brushed from his hand. “Wha-“ He froze, his breath catching as his skin flaked away, darkening and breaking to pieces bit by bit. “No, what” his breathing quickened, “Please, no, what’s happening, ah, sto- plea- I can’t, it bur- mercy” He stumbled forward, eyes blurring with tears, “Wait” he croaked as his throat blackened, “Plea….” He collapsed into a head of ashes.

“I- I like the sea” squeaked a voice, Nathaniel stared with wide eyes and a pale face. “Um, and I- I think that- uh, Marinette should be… um… should be safe…”

“Hmm, she should shouldn’t she.” He turned away from Nathaniel.

“Well I don’t think so! She’s just acting.” Alix sniffed and turned away.

Now readers remember, the class isn’t very smart. Have some patience with them, they only have half a braincell and they donated it to Nathaniel just then.

The Captain shook his head and motioned to one of his crew, “Why don’t we see how good of an actor you are. See how alive you can act from the figure head.”

The pirates grabbed her and strung her up, hanging by her hands off the stern, she screamed and kicked and swung, a morbid figurehead for the ship.

“It’s okay Lila, we’ll protect you.” Sabrina comforted Lila gently, staring nervously around them.

The Captain barely glanced at her, motioning to an excited looking pirate that gleefully yanked Sabrina away, ignoring her cries. “Let’s see how that brain of yours works, girlie.”

Ivan pulled Mylene back when Felix stepped towards her.

“You won’t touch her you monster.” Ivan glared at the captain, clutching Mylene closer.

“Oh? I won’t? Hmm, so tall, you must always be there for her. Such a shame if you just weren’t.” He turned to the pirate next to him, “What do you think Marcus? Should we see just how far he’d reach for her?”

“Don’t you-“

“I think that’s an excellent idea Captain.” The pirate stepped forward with a thoughtful look, “Help them get more… centered.” He smirked.

The Captain turned to Nino only to stumble when he was hit across the back with a board.

“Run guys! I’ll hold them off! Marinette get out of here, I’ll protect you.” Adrien had returned.

The Captain snarled though, drawing his sword. “You’ll regret that.”

He darted forward, blade flicking out and catching the boy on the arm. He yelped and dropped the plank, stumbling back a second too late as his face got nicked by the blade. “AH”

The Captain lashed out, blade slicing across Adrien’s face, it dripping blood. He stepped forward, slamming the pommel into Adrien’s nose. Breaking it neatly.

Nino cried out and lunged forward, the Captain spun, his blade flashing down, and Nino screamed. His hand coming up to grab at his ear, or, where his ear had been.

Alya screamed, rushing to Nino to help him, grabbing a knife from the ground to attack the Captain with. He deftly blocked it, knocking it out of her hand and, ignoring the scream from Nino he brought his sword down on Alya.

She crumpled staring at her hands in shock, that quickly grew to horror as she saw them lying on the ground. “Nononononononono-“

The Captain kicked her back and spun to block Adrien once more, two quick strikes had Adrien moaning on the ground, deep gashes on his arms and the cuts on his face still bleeding.

The Captain turned to see Lila trying, and failing, to sneak away.

You’ve got to give them points for trying readers… or well, no you don’t.

He moved over to her, “You seem like a great annoyance, vilifying my fiancé like that. Why don’t I show you what I do to liars?” He sneered at her, exchanging his sword for a dagger and leaning forward.

I won’t bore you with the details dear reader but suffice to say she won’t be lying any time soon.

Now we shift, as the Captain, Marinette’s fiancé named Felix, led his love to a room. He insured that she had her own room on the ship, his ship. He has a lot of work to do if he wishes to regain her trust.

“Was that necessary Felix? Did you have to-“ She looked away.

“It was Pearl, I’m sorry you had to witness it though.”

“Why… why did you…”

“Leave?”

She nodded.

“I did not want to Pearl, I wanted to stay with you. My ship did sink, but that was because pirates attacked. They took me… I simply came to rule them. I thought it merciful for you to continue believing me dead. This life isn’t… it isn’t something you’d enjoy. I will drop you and you’re friends at the next port.”

“No!”

He jolted, “What?”

“I- I don’t want to be separated yet… Please I just- I just want… I want to stay with you.”

“Marinette… I don’t want to keep you here, you would not enjoy the things we do.”

“But I don’t want to leave! Ill sneak back on! You know I will!”

He sighed, “You would.” He stared at her, “Very well Pearl, you may stay. But when you decide to leave we will drop you at a safe port.”

“All right. I can- I can agree to that.” She smiled shyly.

He bowed, taking her hand and kissing it, “Sleep well my love. I will endeavor to earn back your love.”

I leave you with this now, my chapter coming to an end. Perhaps next time my love will share.

#Walk the Plank #Felix #Pirate au #marientte dupain-cheng #tw #trigger warning #maybe #im just being safe #character death #lots of it #and suffering #some torture #i might continue #might not #anyone can pick it up if they want #narrator view #adrien salt #don't like don't read

[justfangstvdto]

Open Coffin | Chapter 24: “All´s Fair and Karma is a Bitch”

Pairing: Kol x SalvatoreSister!Reader

Chapter Summary: A surprising return sets the reader and Kol on a path of no return..

Warnings:  canon-divergent lore (it'll make sense when you read it, I promise) this one is also mostly focused on Kol, angst, typical tvd violence, so much dialogue, canon divergence

Word count: 4389

Tags & Author Note at the bottom. Feedback is welcomed and appreciated.

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Recap:

What’s going on?”  Is all you could manage to bring out before you grab the couch again, this time covering the floor before you with a steady stream of blood. It feels like you’re drowning in your own blood.

With your brain in overdrive, you feel your vision declining the more blood is coming out of your mouth, before suddenly everything engulfs into black, as if someone flipped of a light in a dark room. You fall back against Kol unconscious, blood dripping from the corners of your mouth.

“What did you do?!” Kol grits through his teeth, as he scoops you up in his arms to lay you down on the couch behind him..

“Not a thing. She brought that on herself.” Mae shrugs without a care in the world “But this is only the beginning…Say goodbye to the Y/N you know and love. She won’t be the same when she wakes up.”   

“Speak. Now!” Kol demands. If she´ss not cooperating soon, Kol will resort to deliciously brutal alternatives, no matter if you claim that she’s your friend. He doesn’t care.

“Patience.” Mae says, her voice layer with a tick of annoyance “But first, I have someone here who is dying to talk to you.”

Kol straightens up, as the sound of heavy boots echoes in the hall. He couldn’t see the person’s face at first due to the blinding sunlight, but when he finally does, all he wants to do is run for his life….

“Surprised to see me?” Klaus smug smile evokes many feelings in Kol, but surprise? No, Kol is not surprised in the slightest. His brother has always managed to get what he wants, the way he wants. Of course, he would find a way to cheat death.

He looks at his older brother, then back to the couch, stepping in his line of sight. Maybe he would focus his rage on him instead of you. But that's might just wishful thinking on his part.

“I'm pretty sure you went up in flames..” Damon Mutter, not quite believing his eyes.

“Oh, I very much did. Quite unpleasant, really. But my dear Maeyra used her vast resources to secure my well-being.” He says, moving his attention to Kol  “Cat's got your tongue, brother?”

“Well, brother, I´m not particularly surprised to see you,” Kol replies.

Using the word brother remains to be more of a dismissive term, and Klaus knows that. And he also knows that Kol´s statement is a lie, he didn´t overlook the obvious surprise on his brother's face. However mischievous Kol remains to be, he has always been a bad liar.

“Can we, uh get back to how you´re even here right now?” Stefan says “We drove a stake through your heart.”

“You?” Klaus scoffs, dismissing their involvement to nothing but a coincident “You, gentlemen,  were nothing but a pawn - an accessory if you will- to Y/N´s Shakespearean thirst for revenge.”

Stefan quirks his eyebrows up before letting them fall back to their usual resting position. He could reply to Klaus statement verbally. He had things to say about him, he just isn't sure he wants to waste time bothering.

“I knew you couldn´t be trusted.”  Damon says, averting his words to Mae “Y/N always did have poor taste in friends.”

“Congratulations, you got me. Boohoo.” Mae sighs, before giving Klaus a pleading look   “Would you mind? ”

Klaus smiles and vamp-speeds towards Damon standing nearest and snaps his neck, before quickly moving on to Stefan who couldn't even register what was going on before he too was engulfed in blackness.

“Now, that's better.” Klaus dusts off his hands,  “All talk those Salvatores. Well, except for one. “

“Look, “Kol says, having more pressing matters to attend than useless platitudes, “I´d love to chat about whatever this is, but I have an unconscious girlfriend covered in blood back there, so would you mind buggering off. Your betrayal is not on my to-do list today.”

“Betrayal?” Klaus laughs, fake offended “Don't be so dramatic, brother. Maeyra and I merely joined forces because you couldn't keep your girl in line.  She helped me lift my curse, I felt obligated to help her. After all, what's worth dying for if not love?”

Love...Kol could not even begin to associate that word with anything his brother does. It makes him sick to his stomach. Or perhaps it´s the worry about your current condition- either way, he senses a veil of danger in the air. Danger that feels different, blood curling and cold.

What if she's right and you won't be the same. But what if-  

He pushes the thought aside. If they want to lay their secrets bare for once, he’ll bite their bait.

“Curse?” He asks “What curse?”

“It ain't a curse exactly, but you know, it's six of one, half dozen of the other,” Mae says as she walks further into the room, going straight for your unconscious form. She reaches out, but Kol's firm grasp on her wrist prevents any contact.

“Hands off. “ He warns and everyone knows he'll only warn once.

“I could say the same. “Klaus says, the usual charismatic and boastful s voice nothing but a dangerous whisper.

“Oh, so much Testosterone…” Mae sighs under her breath and pulls her hand free from Kol and heads for the bar. The next bit requires booze. And a lot of it.

Kol follows her every move, while also keeping tabs on Klaus. He's unsure who out of them will screw things up first or who’ll drive him to insanity- whichever comes first.

“Long story short, the magic I once possessed was stored away in here before I became a vampire.” She says and brushes over the scar on her face “The sacrifice of an original was the ultimate source to overpower the protection spell. It was the only way to retrieve said power, alongside rare ingredients I've gathered for the last 100 years. This spell was supposed to set my magic free. But someone must have intercepted it. ”

“Wasn't us.” Kol shakes his head and judging by the look on his opposer they don´t seem convinced. “I never heard of a spell like this. And magic drains away during the transition, how would you retrieve it?”

“Because my magic was hidden away before I was turned,  it wasn't lost like yours was. See it as a loophole, no magic drains away if it's undetected.”

Kol read about witches hiding their magic in objects, but never in themselves.

“And what about Y/N? She never had powers.”

“Turns out Momma Salvatore had powers of her own. Weak power but enough to pass it on to Y/N. After her birth, she chose to hide her magic within her. She wanted to tell her when she was older, to give her a choice, but she died before she could do so.”

“And do tell, how do you know this?”

“I might have stolen her diary a few centuries ago. Apparently, everyone in this family is keeping diaries.” She shrugs before rummaging around in her bag, “It's no use to me now if you want it, it's yours.” She slides the worn leatherbound book over the table.

“Now now, love,” Klaus says and leans towards her as if he's sharing a terrible secret “don't skip the best part.”

“Y/N is in transition, fighting a battle in her mind that either leaves her with vampire advantages and witch powers or…” She says, and hesitates for a second “well…..dead. “

Kol feels like someone tightened a noose around his neck. If you look close, you could see the perfected mask of pretend crumbling down and ram emotions taking over. And Kol's first emotion is always its anger.

He digs his fingertips into the leather, and slowly drags his eyes off the carpeting and states at his opponents, ready for torturing the truth out of them if he has to.

“Before you go all Dexter on me, there is a way to help. But you ain't gonna like the cost.”

Klaus turns his head at her words, quickly shaking his head “Out of the question. I will not allow it.”

“Tell me.” Kol demands “Tell me what we have to do to save her.”

There's no question that Kol will do whatever it takes.

No matter the cost.

--------

Kol had forgotten how much he used to enjoy watching the sunrise. The light streaming into the living room is bold and free for anyone who cares to open their eyes in the dawn and watch the world awake.

Even when the world was drowning in grief and hardship, the sky remained beautiful. It always gave him hope that if the sun keeps rising, so could he.

Even though his name alone represents darkness, he always found it humorous when the rising sun would shine a light on his bloody indiscretions committed during the dark hours of the day.

But none of that matters, it hadn't mattered since he stumbled into his life. He doesn't need the sunrise anymore, he sees the light beneath the darkness on his own now. And he wonders how much good it´ll do him when-

A knock on the doorframe interrupts his thoughts, and he turns his head towards the intruder.

“Still nothing?” Stefan asks, and Kol shakes his head.

Stefan, alongside his brother, woke up in the midst the preparations to ensure your survival. They demanded answers as they do, but soon realized that the cost, however great it is, must be

The only opponent of said plan was, to everyone's surprise,  Klaus.

“The cost is too great, brother. Let her fight on her own.” Is what he said. Of course, his brother would only think of himself if he were in his shoes. Kol didn't expect anything else. Nonetheless, the plan was executed all the same, with or without Klaus approval.

“It will work, I assure you.” Kol says,  the tone in his voice, less confident than he intended  “But I have a favour to ask. Do not mention it when she wakes up. She won't accept it”

“I won't. Damon won´t either, I´ll make sure of it.”   

Kol nods his head as a silent thank you. Stefan attention bounces around the room, looking at the couch, then back to Kol, before he clears his throat and steps further into the room.

“You know I, uh. I wouldn't know what I would've done if she-”. He pauses, “Just.. thank you for helping. “

“Don't thank me yet. Y/N will-… you know how she is. She'll take it out on you when she learns the truth”

“I know. “Stefan sighs and looks over to the couch, suddenly remembering why he stepped into the room in the first place. “Uh right.. I found this upstairs. She's gonna need it” He reaches into his pocket and hands Kol your daylight ring.

Promptly, Kol reaches for your hand slides the ring on your fingers with care, holding onto your hand afterwards.

“I hope you can forgive me someday.” He says, his voice faint as a whisper.

He didn't care if Stefan - or anyone else for that matter - heard him.

“I´ll uh,” Stefan clears his throat “I´ll give you some space. Got some things to take care of anyway. My number is in Y/N´s phone, call if you need anything.”

Kol knows he should say something, a thank you perhaps, but he lets Stefan walk away against his better judgment.

---

You were out cold for another hour, the only sign of life was your shallow breathing and the occasional wincing. And Kol remained a wreck. He tried pacing the room to calm his nerves, he tried reading and drinking - nothing helped.

So he waited and waited. Then just as the hand of the clock strikes another hour, your hand that's resting on the sofa balls to a fist and he sees you sit up, breathing heavy.

“Darling?”  He asks wearily, rushing to your side. But He's met with nothing but silence. “Y/N, talk to me.”

“I'm fine, I just…what fuck? I feel like I’m.. honestly, I feel like I’m high on something. Everything feels more vibrant and.. weird.”

Kol smiles and thinks back to the time where he first tapped into his magic it felt like he was surrounded by buzzing energy, ready to be He´d count your reaction as a good sign that the plan worked.

“What's wrong?” You ask, not having missed the worry on Kol's face. “What did I miss?

He has absolutely no idea how to tell you the news without either setting you off to everyone involved, presumably raining hellfire upon them, or…….. actually no, that's his main concern, So he starts with your new and unexpected powers instead. How your mother had witch powers and hid it within your bones. And how the induced sleep intended to kill you but you fought through it. Of course, he left out everything else it intels.

“I think I’m gonna pass out. Witch powers, really? Me?” You scoff,  dragging your fingers through your hair, “As if I didn't have enough problems just keeping myself in check, now witch powers too? How long do you think before I accidentally set something on fire? “

“Not a chance. I will help you take control.”

“You teaching me control? We’re so screwed.”

Kol can´t help the confused look on his face, as he scrunched his eyebrows together and glances at you with concern.

“Hey, I'm kidding. But you should´ve seen your face. “

Kol sighs and it bleeds over to a smile, before disappearing completely. He had a job to do.

“There’s something else, two matters in fact.” Kol continues “But first..what do you say we make good on our promises? Travel the world, just you and me.”

“Do you even have to ask? Of course, I'm coming with you” You reply “Now tell me everything. “

----

His confidence held up for about 5 minutes before all your emotional stability went out of the window. Once he passed explaining that Klaus is alive and well, he moved to Mae´s indiscretion

Of course, Kol failed in his attempt to keep you calm. By the time he explained his agreement with Klaus and Mae´s..indiscretion, you were out of the door, tracing her down.

Kol said you should let it go, you were lied to, it wasn't your fault- but your trust had been shattered and you have a score to settle. 

“What the hell?!” You yell at her, your voice bouncing off the outer walls of the Mikaelson Mansion. You knew she wouldn´t be far.

“Hell's right here.” She says, before she´s met with your balled fist. She tumbles back, and laughs  “Whew! The infamous right hook. You still got it. “

“You´ve been working with Klaus all this time? After everything, he did to me, to Kol?"

“We all do what must be done, and I've done nothing more than profit off of your anger.”

“Do you even hear yourself? Profit of my anger?” You huff, not bothering waiting for an answer “How could you? Klaus ruined my life and everyone´s life he ever touched! How could you protect him? I had him, Mae. I ended this for all of us.”

“And what did it get you, huh? Did you feel better? Did driving a stake through his heart relief you of the pain he caused? Revenge means nothing, and it will give you nothing.    Your foolish scheme would have been the end of us, and honestly, you should be thanking me.”

“Thanking you? Are you fucking serious? You sided with my enemy!”

“I saved your life. And you have powers now. That´s a gift, a freedom I searched for decades. You better start being more grateful.”

“I didn't ask for any of this! I don't want them and I don't need them.”

“Well, you got ‘em. And you gotta to use them or they'll eat you alive. Literally.”

“I know all about it.” You brush her off.  Kol told you that the powers demand to be used or they´d claw at your skin until there's no skin left, 

“Just tell me how long you've been working with him." You continue "Then I’ll do the part where I tell you to go to hell, before we go our separate ways.”

“Shortly after you jumped ship, and joined Kol in his efforts, Klaus came to me asking for assistance and we made a deal. He would do anything he can to rid me of this curse and I will help him set his werewolf powers free. And protect him if anything goes south.

“I´m sorry, is this the point where I'm supposed to sympathize with you? Because that's not gonna happen. “  

“You might if you let me finish. “

“You know, I actually thought your efforts were noble when I first joined your community. I thought, hey finally something with purpose, something to make up for what I've become. And now I find out everything was a lie? Just another power play with me as the main act? And for what, more power than you already have?”

“Now do get off that high horse of yours. You ain't the saint you externalize either.” She snaps back but quickly regains her stellar demeanour  "But it ain't about power, it never has been. It's about being myself without having a part locked away. I deserve that freedom, no matter the cost.”

You almost have sympathy with her, but the fact that she has been lying to you pretty much ever since you´ve met melts any and all sympathy you had.

“But you broke my trust to get that freedom. I trusted you and I don't trust anyone.”

You could count on one hand the number of people that you genuinely trust, and she was on that list once upon a time.

“Let’s be frank, we never trusted each other.”

“We both know that's a lie. But if you're gonna stand here and explain it away, so be it. I have somewhere else to be.” You know full well that she's just trying to relieve her guilt, but you won't have any of it. Not anymore  “This is goodbye, Mae. If I find anyone coming after me, I'll kill them.”

With that, you turn your back on not only her but all the time you've spent trying to give her the benefit of the doubt. You actually thought you could trust her again.

“I know it'll mean nothing to you now,” She says, but you keep walking “but you will always have a home in New Orleans. No matter what happens or what you think of me, or my actions - you are always welcome.”

“Whatever.”

-------

Back at the house, you didn't think twice before packing your bags. Kol told you about the deal he made with his family; You both leave town, leaving Klaus in peace from now on. That's the price to pay for killing him or well, failing to kill him.  But if the past hours have taught you anything, is that if you´re presented a way out of a dire situation like this, you shouldn't hesitate. Maybe leaving town will finally give you the chance to leave all of this behind.

Perhaps everything you´ve done has finally let you here.

“All packed up, huh?” Stefan says from the doorway.

You look up and smile at him before turning back, throwing a t-shirt into your suitcase “Yeah. No idea where we´re going just yet, but I guess we're just gonna pick a place and go.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“You sure you don't want to join us? There´s enough space.”

“I would but I, uh, we have some things to figure out here.” He says and you nod, zipping up the suitcase in front of you.

“Come on, let me help you with that.” Stefan offers, and grabs the handle, disappearing out of the room before you can protest.

Downstairs, you´re greeted by Damon´s presence, having just come back from some kind of business in town.

“You're leaving already?” He asks as you descend the stairs.

“Don't tell me you're sad about me leaving?” 

“Maybe.”

“Maybe, huh?" You look back at Stefan behind you, quirking an eyebrow "The old Damon couldn't wait for me to go. What happened to him?“

“That Damon got his ass kicked and almost his head blown off by his little sister. I got rid of him.”

“About that.. “ 

“It's fine.” He waves it off. 

"Still, I´m sorry."  "But hey, we´re finally parting on good terms, who would've thought?”

“Wait for him to screw it up,” Stefan says and cocks his head towards Damon.

Damon grimaces a fake laugh, before reaching out and pulling you into an unexpected hug “You take care, little sis.”

“Oh god, don´t call me that, weirdo.”

“I'll call you whatever I want, weirdo.” He replies "Where´s your scary boyfriend?" 

Squeaking tires and loud music diverts your attention and you open the door, just in time to see Kol pulling up on the driveway.

“Right there.”

“You've got to be kidding me. Who is he trying to be, John Cusack in Say Anything? Not with a boombox over his head but with obnoxiously cheesy 80’s music?”

“Chessy?! Pft no taste. “Stefan mutters.

“If he's gonna turn that shit up, “Damon says  “I’m gonna punch the radio until my ears stop bleeding.”

“What did you say?!” Kol yells over the music, having just rolled the window down “I'm afraid I can't hear you?! Must be my old age. “

Damon groans “Just go already. I can't take it.”

“Fine, I'm going.” You approach the car, opening the passenger side, throwing your suitcase in the back before hopping into the passenger seat.

You lean out of the open window, looking back to your brother's, as Kol turns the ignition back on “Don't open the door to strangers, stay out of my room and don't call me unless you really have to. Actually, no don't call me at all.” You give them a wink before giving Kol the go, and he floors the car, driving away with squeeking tires.

Stefan and Damon remain behind and wave goodbye from the entrance to the house. Once you're out the driveway and out hearing distance, their smiles fall and worry spreads over them.

“She´s gonna hate us when she finds out.” Stefan says, chewing on the inner corners of his cheek “You know that, right?”

“Yup.” Damon nods “We're officially the worst brothers in history.”

“Yeah..You think she's gonna find out before...you know?”

“It´s Y/N, what do you think?”

“Yup, we´re screwed.”

Damon sighs and claps him on the shoulder “Royally screwed, little bro. Royally screwed..”

----

The road out of Mystic Falls is smooth black river in the dying sun. The sort where you'd follow them wondering if they'd ever cease to wind their way through nature.

You´re propped up on the hood of the car, legs crossed and soaking in the last rays of the sun. You asked Kol to pull over the car to savour this moment of leaving town, instead of just driving past the sign.

It reads "Leaving Mystic Falls" …  it's like music to your ears.

It was always the plan to travel the world together, to show Kol what he has been missing, and today, finally after hardship, murder and pain, the day has come. You wanted to leave this place for weeks now, but something, be it the ugly green hue of the sign or Kol´s unusual silent manner made you question your choice even just the tiniest amount..

“Who would've thought we're actually leaving this town behind for good?” You say, slipping your hand in his that's resting on his thigh before bathing in the sunset. “ Riding into the sunset even, how perfect is this? “

“I know,” Kol says, staring at your intertwined hand, rubbing his thumb over your skin.

You look over and instead of a beaming smile, you see his head hanging low.

“Hey, you okay?”

“Of course.” He says and lifts your hand, chasting a kiss on the delicate skin “Just...thinking about where to go first.”

“I don't care where we go. As long as you´re here, I have everything I need.”

“Let's not waste time then.” He says, and jumps off the car, throwing the keys towards you “Do you want to drive first? You've been eying this car ever since we left.”

“You know you're the only one I’m eyeing here.”  You reply, “Okay maybe the car as well.”

Kol laughs and finds himself tracing the cars shiny exterior in an exaggerated attentive manner “She's almost as beautiful as you.”

“Did you just...compare me to a car?”

“Your beauty knows no bounds, darling. Not even mechanical ones. ”

“Okay that's enough, get the in the car, Romeo.”

He laughs and you swear you never heard anything more heart-stoppingly beautiful.

You turn the volume up with a flick of the nob attached to the vintage radio and put the gear in drive, before flooring the pedal, leaving the town sign in the dirt.

Kol looks out of the passenger window, watching the trees fly by in motion and he feels an unfamiliar feeling settling in his chest, he could only describe as contentment.

He’s free. Finally.

And so in love.

And his life had 6 months left to run……..

A/N: Whew..on a scale from 1 to 10 how much do you hate me for the last sentence?  :D 

This is the last chapter before we have our  season finale or book 1 finale or whatever you like to call it. So prepare yourself for the next chapter, where we finally find out what exactly the price was for the reader's survival.

But I am so curious to know what you think! Any theories, criticism or any feedback are incredibly appreciated!!

Open Coffin Tags:  @shadylittlewonder @thegoddessofvampire @newurleans @originalbish98 @acourtofhopeanddreams @bonniebird @imnoaingeal @vaniileiinkeks  @relmi-llorrac @piercethepottorff @maliae14  @5-seconds-of-animals @the-geeky-engineer   @rock-n-magick @flymeawayworld @givemesomehybrid @mikealsonlover @nuteller28 @fandoms-fandoms-everywhere99 @drkplum @fandooomqueenforyou @free-the-fangirl @clockworkballerina @twisted1ginger @superwholocksociopath474   @pacifyprincess@mustachio1616 @thealyana @sandyclaws @unicorntrooper @buckysummers @sanity-is-overratedxp @akshi8278 @lunna-star-8 @graysonmalfoy @woodworthti666 @elenavaldez02 @lilulo-12 @selmasemlan @thelostallycat @characterobsessed @cococola-cocaine @crazyinternetgirl @tvdplusriverdale @-thatgirloverthere-  @alwxadria345 @trymexo @mizzezm @willieshakesqueer @spunky-89 @putyourherohaironstefan @xxdragonagequeenxx @thegingerthatwaited @shootingstarsaretearsofheaven @hinata7346 @controloffandoms

#kol x reader #kol mikaelson imagine #kol mikaelson #tvd imagine #the originals imagine #open coffin #the originals #the vampire diaries

[asimbelmyne]

A Forget-Me-Not in the Fork in the Road: Chapter Two

Fandom: Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi

Pairing: Kylo Ren/Rey

A03 Link

Summary: He’d wait at the fork in the road almost everyday, tethering his horse to an old apple tree beyond the fence row, biding his time until he’d catch a glimpse of her hair in the distance, the swish of her pale dress, or the dying echo of her voice on the breeze, taunting his ears. She didn’t expect anything less.

A/N: This is going down a path I didn't think that it would take. Kylo is clearly a huge ass in my story, and believe me, Rey isn't going to handle his bullshit without giving a little in return. It would go against her character to do otherwise. I don't know if I'll change the rating, and I don't know how things are going to progress. Regardless, I'm having quite a lot of fun in the meantime! This is definitely out of my comfort zone.

Rey's hatred for Plutt had grown in the span of a few moments, curling around her heart, preventing any form of rationality from finding its way in. Her capacity for forgiveness had always outweighed her distaste of cruelty, but he had forced her hand. His behaviour had become intolerable, rivalling the look in Ben's eyes when she had questioned the reality of their acquaintance for the first time, defying every rule she had been taught out of contempt for his stature in life. She wanted to scream at him for being so unreasonable, but Plutt wore his conceit like a badge, acting under the assumption that he had lived long enough to do so, allowing the look on his face to vocalize everything she knew him to be feeling. Her anger was irrational, bursting from beneath her skin like an explosion, one she could no longer repress without becoming a flaming mess herself. Plutt had done enough to warrant her anger. He stood several feet away on purpose, occupying the entrance to his mill like a stone sentinel, preventing her from getting in. His height was imposing, but not enough to deter her wrath. She should have known he'd resort to something like this after Ben's candid slip up, but Rey refused to acknowledge how serious he'd been in the face of her captivity, gripping her wrist as tightly as a noose, fearing the inevitable. Ben's hunger for ambition had always been particularly unnerving, but she didn't think he'd ever go out of his way to consume her too. His family hadn't made much of an effort to conceal his true nature. He was a ghost, a name whispered in warning, and a shadow instead of a person. She should have turned on her heel the moment he had appeared in her life.

Plutt nearly smiled in light of her fury, but his face was too withered to display any emotion other than annoyance, as if she were nothing more than a speck of dirt trapped in the sole his shoe, entirely undeserving of his notice. Rey wanted to punch him in the face, demanding he let her stay in an attempt to salvage what remained of her life, but she knew he'd rather die than be humiliated by a woman her size, a woman with nowhere else to go. Her plight in life was crippling. Ben's face appeared in her mind like a mirage, a fictitious delusion that continued to infiltrate her thoughts no matter how hard she fought against it, destroying everything she had worked so hard to achieve on her own. The memory of his stare was unwelcome, a constant reminder of his selfishness, the feverish glint that had seeped into his eyes upon seeing her, and his pride. Plutt's expression confirmed Ben's involvement in their standoff, snapping the redundancy of her life, something she had grown to rely upon. Without the added benefit of belonging to someone, she was nothing but a woman, alone in the world.

"You can't do this," Rey said, seething with rage.

Plutt merely laughed, folding his arms across his chest in a display of pure disregard. "I already have! I can't say that it's been fun, but you don't concern me anymore."

"Did he put you up to this?" she demanded, barreling headlong into his space. "How much did he pay you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You're lying!"

"Says who?" Plutt hissed, gipping her chin hard enough to cause pain. "A nobody? Don't fool yourself into thinking I give a shit. You're a pain in my ass, just as pathetic as everyone else in this godforsaken hellhole. You've overstayed your welcome."

Rey flinched, swatting his hand away in disgust. His eyes were alight with something she refused to name, glittering in the space between them like a black hole, bordering on regret. She had always done what he had asked of her. She had been a valuable asset to his industry, willing to work long hours with little pay, possessing little wealth in life. If she left, someone else would take her place. She was expendable, another cog in Plutt's clockwork, a piece of a puzzle so large, few had ever seen it in its entirety. The anger she had been harbouring for Ben flared anew. He would never understand her role in life because he had never experienced it for himself. They'd always be at an impasse, close enough to peer into one another's lives without actively taking part, dipping their toes into a surface so opaque, they could hardly fathom what lay beneath. Rey liked to imagine Ben's existence as being somewhat boring, composed of activities she'd often make fun of, activities she'd never end up doing herself. His ideas about her responsibilities in life were clearly unrealistic. Plutt's hand strayed near her face and she eyed it warily, waiting for the inevitable collide.

"He's ruined you," he told her softly, and for once, she looked up at him in surprise.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said, but he merely laughed.

"Look who's the liar now?"

Rey stumbled around the bend, lifting the hem of her dress well above her ankles. Her confrontation with Plutt had ended badly. He had never been particularly considerate as a person, but his final words continued their assault long after she had left him alone, bothering her far more than she was willing to admit. Ben lived in a place beyond the restrictions her status in life had forced upon her, a place where he could do whatever he liked without consequence. His decisions had often been fickle in nature, indicating how little he cared about other people in light of his own problems, but his neglect, his lack of empathy for her situation in life, contradicted everything she thought she had known about him. He was capable of feeling things beyond selfishness, beyond the impenetrable cage he had trapped himself in, yet his desire to have her usurped everything else. Rey could see it in his face, how he had hidden himself in the bushes on purpose, blending into the foliage like the apples he enjoyed eating so much. He smiled upon seeing her, pleased that he had caught her in such an awkward situation. Every time she took a step in his direction, he'd catch a glimpse of her hair tumbling down her back, free from its intricate prison, coiling around the base of her neck and into the plunge of her bodice. Rey was aware of how she appeared to him. She looked desirable, wet from walking around in the rain, flushed red from anger, and completely furious, forgoing decorum in a vain attempt to keep her dress from getting muddy. He had ruined her life.

"You're a monster," she hissed, speaking loudly enough for him to hear. "You know exactly what you've done to me!"

"Ignorance is bliss. I thought you had realized that by now."

"What do you take me for? An idiot? Our relationship is far from being socially acceptable and I refuse to pretend otherwise!"

A frown appeared on his face, but it didn't linger there for very long. He stepped out from beneath the tree, close enough to count the freckles spattered across the bridge of her nose, joining her in the rain. There was something off about him and she couldn't quite put a name to it. The smile she had seen earlier felt like a ruse, put in place to honor the very pretences they had grown to rely upon so much, a ruse she hated more than his expressive eyes. Rey knew that Ben had closed himself off from everyone else, retreating somewhere deep inside of his own head in an act of self preservation, protecting what remained of his heart. While his mouth said very little about how he really felt, his eyes didn't lie. His displeasure with her words had become obvious, emanating from behind his gaze like an inferno, a searing accusation that rivalled the anger he had kindled inside of her soul. The look in his eyes bothered her, and she hated it. He deserved to feel degraded, forced to acknowledge the severity of his actions and their impact on her life, mirroring everything he had made her feel. His selfishness spoke louder than anything he'd ever say out loud.

"I saved you," he said darkly, clenching the fabric of his pants between his fingers. "I saved you from a life of needless suffering, a life you clearly didn't want."

"You destroyed everything that made me a person, Ben!"

His dark hair fell between his eyes, exaggerating the anger that burned from within, growing larger and larger like a seed in its infancy. His fury had been a thing of legend, a weapon of mass destruction few experienced without crumbling a little in the process. Rey knew what he could do to her if he so desired, but she didn't care. Her life had been difficult. His anger was as transitory as ripple, a stream she'd easily cross if things got out of hand.

"Don't give Plutt too much credit," he said, looming over her. "You were a person long before he forced you to work for him."

"What would you have me do then? Work for you?"

"I'd have you right where you are, beside me. That's all I've ever wanted."

Rey sighed in defeat, brushing his hair away from his eyes. He leaned into her warmth, kissing the inside of her palm. The sensation of his mouth stifled her anger. She allowed her hand to slip across his jaw, sinking her fingers into his dark hair, moving close enough to feel his heat. Her fears had come true. He'd never say it out right, but he didn't need to, not to her. His feelings were as obvious as the colour of his eyes, dark, alluring, and hot, coiling around her heart like a noose. His mask had slipped, but he was too enamoured with her to slide it back into place. Their acquaintance endured because he had never seen her as anything but his equal. He enjoyed hearing her stories and opinions, admiring the sound of her voice alongside his own, free from everything they had been born into. He was completely and utterly himself when they were together, and she didn't hate him for it. She disliked his penchant for cruelty, his vivacity for life, and how he continued to act as though the entire world were his to control and his to preside over, ignoring the rules that dictated their lives and what they were supposed to do with them. She refused to adhere to his warped perception of who they could become in light of what they already were. Her grip on his hair tightened, but his discomfort was lost in favour of her own thoughts.

"You live in a world so detached from mine, that it would be shameful to debase yourself just to be with me. Is that what you want?"

He leaned forward, pressing his mouth against hers so lightly she could barely feel it, but the intent behind his kiss spoke volumes. "Yes," he said, folding his hands into the curve of her spine. "I'll drag you down with me if I have to."

"I won't go easily," she said, trying to pull away, but his fingers were insistent, rooting her to the ground.

"I don't expect you to."

"Then why bother?" she asked, but his mouth had found the curve of her jaw.

Her grip tightened once again, enough to elicit a pained groan from his lips, but he didn't seem to care. He continued to wander, mapping out the column of her throat with his tongue. She wanted to pull away, abandoning his touch and the warmth that came with it, but she couldn't deny her feelings. To do so would be hypocritical, ignoring everything she had seen in him and in herself, and she didn't think he'd forgive her for that. He knew her far better than she would have liked. Every time his lips found her skin, her inhibitions began to fade away, bleeding into the background until his mouth, hands, and body took precedence over everything else. He was unraveling her, pulling at her seams, leaving her naked and vulnerable beneath his hands, trapped like a deer in headlights. His fingers found the spaces between her ribs, trailing up the length of her body, coercing a sound from her throat he hadn't heard in weeks. She arched into him, gripping his hair so hard he swore out loud. His kisses tasted like rain, open-mouthed and sloppy, stifling her anger entirely. The urge to run filled her to the brim.

"You owe me a song, remember?" he told her, digging his fingers into her hips.

The look on his face was shameless, but his eyes were sincere.

#rey #ben solo #kylo ren #rey x kylo ren #rey x ben #reylo trash #reylo fic #chapter 2 #Star Wars Fic #the last jedi #historial AU #A03 #a03 fic #reylo fanfic #reylo fam #in process #fanfiction

[soldatrenard]

The Moon Disciple

To Whom it May Concern:

Death doesn’t strike fear in my heart: the unknown does. The idea that I’ll never truly know the point of life nor will it ever be solved is unfair. No shining light of wisdom will grace me with its knowledge. If we give our lives to these teachings, shouldn’t there be a tangible divine presence? We can convince ourselves of internal enlightenment, but I need the grace of god bestowed upon me in an actual form. Selfish is what you may think of that request, however; hasn’t everyone looked up for guidance and been unanswered? We’ve spoken to men and women representing an entity, but they are simply providing their own opinions of guidance. We can justify what we think are signs from above but that doesn’t mean they really are. Here I am in my final moments, and I doubt my body will be found within the first week of my bittersweet end. A big joke considering what pain has followed me throughout the years.

Should I take it personal? There are those who have never experienced turmoil or adversity in their lives, yet I have been struck down time after time. My family was taken from me. My brother, my sister, and my father were all killed in a “tragedy.” A god damn joke. Not to mention, my mother didn’t have the chance to meet me as she died during my conception. I don’t even want to talk about her. Not my mother, but the love of my life. Trust me, there’s simply not enough time to explain (I’m trying to kill myself). It’s as if everything in my life was crafted to push me to the edge. I can’t help but ask: why? The people I considered friends abandoned me because I refused to gift them money from the settlement. I mean, isn’t ironic that I become rich due to the death of my family and all it did was push me towards seclusion. People angry that I didn’t want to throw them a bone. As if I owed them because they had to deal with my moping and crying.  

I stopped leaving the house, I quit posting on social media, and I don’t answer the phone. After a while, everyone forgets you exist. I still follow them and look at what they post, but no one tries to interact with me. They think I’ll go on a tirade about how depressed I am and even if they did listen, they wouldn’t believe me because I have a lot of money. I wish I could buy my way to happiness but company that is paid for is not company you’d wish to have. Sure, I’ve paid for drugs, escorts, and uber eats but those aren’t contributing to my well-being. Fleeting moments of euphoria that aren’t helping me move past my depression. I never got a pet because I worried what the hell would have happened to the poor thing. It just doesn’t make sense to me that I would be consumed with this kind of thinking. How can anyone be scared to have a pet? Regardless of how you feel about the things I’ve said, no one should be feeling the way that I am nor should they experience the hardships I have endured.

That’s the gist of it, and now that you’ve been given the cliff notes: I’ve fashioned a noose and my agony will soon come to an end. It’s been a shitty run. I look forward to seeing the gates of hell because at least I’d know there was some truth to the testaments. If some greater power wants to intervene, this is your...Page Break

A knock echoes throughout the house as I almost finished my death note. I’m a bit pet peeved by the transgression to be honest. I will admit it is a bit ironic considering the last words I wrote, but I hope it isn’t the Mormons because you can take that intervention back, God. I drop the pen and decide to answer the door. I open it and to my surprise; it’s a beautiful woman wearing a pants suit. I’m either being sued, or I am about to be surveyed. With the door slightly cracked as my eyes glare out towards this stranger, I ask, “Who the fuck are you?”

Taken a bit back by my bluntness, the stranger simply asks if I’m Andrew Purdy.

“Yes, I am, so who the fuck are you?” I reply.

A bit ruffled but still maintaining composure, she says, “I’m the director of Project Ascension, the global initiative to colonize the planet Mars.”

I must admit, I wasn’t expecting that. “Okay, and your name?” I ask.

“Melissa Munoz”

I turn my head and ask out loud, “Alexa, who is Melissa Munoz?”

In the background you hear, “Melissa Munoz is best known for her pioneer work in the field of Astronomy. Graduated from Harvard University in 2030, she is currently the director of Project Ascension. Would you like to hear more?” Man, smart assistants, what would we do without them?

“No, thanks.” I respond to the device as I open the door fully.

I’m either being pranked in such a radical way or this is some wild attempt for a donation. “What would someone like yourself be doing here in Palm Springs?” I ask, but quickly follow up with, “we aren’t flying any rockets out here.”  

“I understand that this is unannounced and a bit odd, but I’m here because I need your assistance.” She explains.

Of course, a fucking donation. It’s always money. But why would the director be doing this personally? I mean, she is a beautiful woman and that can work on most people; however, isn’t she supposed to be running this space program and not knocking on doors?

“Let’s say this is true, what do you want? Money?”

“No, we want you to join the Initiative.” She grabs a hold of my hands and looks me straight in the eyes as she says, “I can explain the details if you invite me inside.”

There’s always a reasonable doubt granted to those in most situations. Where the unexplainable seems to be the only logical answer. There are times where the unbelievable takes over what we perceive as reality, and I have arrived at that moment.

“Thanks, but that’s a hard no.” I pull my hands away and close the door on her face.

I hope I didn’t hit her with the door, but you must be a bit dramatic in order to scare off people. Hell, most of the time you only need to speak your feelings to get someone running. Although, it doesn’t seem like Melissa got the point as I hear her knocking at the door again.

I walk towards the center of my living room where I have a noose hanging from the ceiling fan. Ignoring the barrage of knocks at my door, I had hoped for a quiet demise but at this rate; my body won’t be discovered too long after my death now. I put the noose around my neck and get up on the chair. I’m not scared, and I feel at ease. Anyone fighting internally with living or dying would be showing signs of contemplation at this moment, but I’m more concerned about the pounding at my door. Now that I’m considering how feisty those knocks are sounding, I’m not too sure I’ll be able to properly kill myself. Am I about to make this woman a hero if I try to kill myself in this moment? As I dangle from the roof, is she going to peek in through my blinds and attempt to rescue me? Complications are not what I need right now. Can’t a guy die in peace?  

“Well, shit.” I remove the noose and walk back to the door. I open it, and Melissa had an intensity written across her face that made me believe she would have done whatever it took to get back inside.  

I move aside and welcome her in.

I invite her to sit on the couch. Of course, she notices the noose above my head as I sit in the chair under it.

“Would you like a drink?” I ask.

There’s a look of concern on her face that indicated to me that she wasn’t interested in a drink, so I say, “Just tell me what you wanted to so we can go our separate ways.”

She regains her composure and answers with, “Each country in the world was tasked with choosing an individual that would represent them on Mars.” She looks back up at the noose then back at me, and states, “The United States chose you.”

I almost stood up and put the noose around my neck at that moment. It was that absurd to me. Why in the hell would I be chosen for this project? Especially by Uncle Sam and the animal brigades.

“I don’t see why or how that is the case.” I respond. “I mean, what do I look like Neil fucking Armstrong?” I mean, an already trained astronaut in comparison to me is night and day.

She unconsciously nodded in agreement. She acknowledges how outrageous it all sounded by her expressions alone, but she adjusts herself before continuing, “No, you’re not; however, you are the one they specifically picked.”

I can’t help but scratch my head. I mean, I know that’s not what actual people do when they’re befuddled but this is strange enough to make me do that.

“How did they come to this terrible conclusion?” I ask.  

My utter confusion must paint me out to be a dumb ass in this situation as the next set of words were spoken to me as if I was being addressed by a first responder after being involved in a car crash.

“You were chosen through a raffle that utilized the nation’s consensus, and I know that you may think you’re under qualified or not the right fit for this role.” She pauses to emphasize, “Given your current situation.” She glances back up at the noose then back to me and continues, “However, we want normal citizens to participate in this initiative.”

“Why not get an astronaut? It seems like the obvious choice.” I’m generally curious on this part.

She smiles as if that’s the key question she wanted me to ask, and says, “We already have conclusive evidence that these brave astronauts can endure and live in space.” She stands up and continues, “This initiative isn’t for these specific people, it’s for the population of the world.”

She stands up from the couch, “This is bigger than us.”  

She walks towards me and knells down. She grabs me by the hands (again) to further her point of, “The planet is becoming unsustainable and there will be a time where we will no longer live on Earth.” She lifts my hands up which forces me up from the chair. “You can be that person in history that takes the first leap in settlement on a new planet.”  

“I don’t think I can.” I claim as I pull my hands away.  

I walk towards the window that opens to my front yard and stare out, past the robust mountains and lines of palm trees, towards the densely cloud filled sky and say, “I couldn’t even handle life on this planet.” I turn to her and ask, “How could I be one of the first to live on another?”

“It’s perfect if you ask me.” She optimistically states before bluntly saying, “Why die here in your living room when you can die making history?”

The reasoning isn’t far fetched. It’s true that I could die and not be given a second thought, but I could die with a purpose if I did this. I could die outside of tragedy. Avoiding the same fate as everyone else I held dear in this life; although, I am concerned by how sure Melissa was with my imminent death.  

Science tends to step in during all my crises of faith, but isn’t that how it normally is? The contradictions to one another as one is based in belief while the other is in facts. I haven’t felt this way in a long time. The ominous feeling when contemplating life after death. Short of breath, lightheaded, and willingly thinking of an unknown shrouded in mystery for over an eternity. We fill ourselves up with ideals of a new beginning as if we are the keepers of our own fate; however, we are merely heading to a cobblestone grave or more likely a plaque plastered on a wall of death. I was perfectly fine killing myself in this moment, but something inside me has changed. It isn’t the reasoning or my will to live (just to clarify). It is a sensation that beckons to me through all this. It feels me with warmth, and it is continuously moving up from my feet to my head. A sensation that, I dare say, feels divine.  

Melissa patiently waiting for me to respond. There is a drive and determination to her that is far more attractive than her already stunning features. She has her arms crossed, and she smirked at me when I made eye contact with her. There are people in the world given far more than the rest of us. This woman was meant to be someone, and she was given all the tools to achieve that. Although, I can argue that people often throw these opportunities away. Whether it be for love or for a misguided passion, we make choices that hinder our development just as I have in life.

If I’m going to commit to this, I’ll have to assess her reasoning for being involved. “What inspired you to join the cause?”

“I have to warn you, it may sound pretentious.” She warns before continuing, “I was blessed to be born into wealth, and I have used that wealth to experience life in a way most could only dream of.” A look of shame filled her face as she finished that sentence. “I came across people of all cultures struggling to survive.” She looks at me and asks, “you know what I did to help these struggling souls?” “You made their lives better through donations?” I respond.

Her eyes look glossed over and she takes a deep breath. “I did nothing for those people.” She states. “I never gave them the light of day or even processed how much of a struggle it was for them to have basic necessities.” She sits down on the couch. “All these places were vibrant and filled with bustling workers, yet I never stood there and understood what their days consisted of.”

She pats the couch for me to sit next to her. I do to push her to continue, “I never gave it a second thought until I started to witness change in these regions. Forest fires, sea level rising, fracking, water sources being contaminated, and the displacement of these cultures.” She takes a deep breath, “If you’re living in a suburban home like you are now, these shifts in our ecosystems have created emergencies that are not easily resolved.” Guilt written across her face as she states, “It wasn’t until the virus outbreak that pushed the world to create a solution to humanity’s problem: can we viably survive if the world becomes inhabitable?”  

It is obvious that world is strained as the world’s oceans begin to acidify, and natural resources are beginning to disappear. I can’t help but make light of the situation given her stature, “Okay, so you got into aerospace science because your privileged life showed you the amount of misfortune most undeveloped civilizations experience as you vacationed?”

She wasn’t too keen on that assessment as her guilt filled face shifted to one of anger. I ease up with, “Look, I get it.” I continue, “You could have chosen to ignore it like everyone else in a position of mass wealth, but you were inspired and became a leading professional in your field.” The tension lessened at that point, but I had to ask, “Why did you come here yourself?”

I feel like I haven’t looked so intensely into someone’s eyes in quite some time, and she hasn’t broken eye contact with me at all. I’m like a child avoiding the inevitable as their father hovers above them with questions on why the chores weren’t done. I’ve been setup to do this task and even though I should honor it, I have my reluctance. She gazes into my eyes like a siren beckoning a sailor and simply states, “The importance of you accepting this invitation is critical, and I could not risk letting someone else fail at recruiting you.” She grabs my hand again. “You were destined for this, so please don’t pass on the opportunity to solidify your place in history.”  

I sit there silently as I contemplate my decision. When I was a kid, I always dreamt of going into space. I expect most had those kinds of ambitions, but the reality of that feat is most of us will never have the opportunity. You can put a fishbowl over your head and pretend to be important, but you’re more likely to kill the fish it housed than make it to space. Now, however, I could be the one paving the way for these kinds of fantasies to become a reality. I can transcend the expectations (some already placed on me) and create a new reason to continue my life.  

“Is there some kind of evaluation that I have to do?” I sigh as if being forced into this project which I will admit; I felt bad being rude to her that I couldn’t say no after that moment.

Her eyes lit up as she knew the hook had finally grabbed hold as my bitter end appears to have been postponed for now.

She explained to me how the Moon was chosen to test the technologies that will be used to colonize Mars. Through those tests, they built and established a space hub on the Moon which will be used to help transition civilians from their life on earth to their radically different existence. Everyone will be required to help maintain the facilities as they become adjusted to the confines of space. Once everyone becomes adjusted to this new kind of living, we depart from the Moon to Mars to do what has long been written about in SCI-FI movies and books.      

It’s strange how it all occurred but let me assure you; the weeks leading up to my departure were less than stellar. We talked about the procedures I would undertake in order to join the initiative. I signed a contract that I didn’t read because it would have taken hours to go over it. They explained the required tests and time of deployment, and the details sounded like a routine check-up for when someone joins a softball team and that’s about it. Melissa carried the same professional tone throughout her visit, and I was told everything was arranged for me in advanced. Even if I decided not to join, I have the feeling I would have been forced to go one way or the other. Melissa wholeheartedly believes in the decision that I am the only one meant for this. Why exactly? I couldn’t say, it is a bit perplexing; however, so is quickly deciding to postpone a suicide for a suicide mission. I’m told I’m not expected to die, but I can’t say I was thoroughly examined after seeing the doctor and other goons place in front of me.

The doctor I saw was more of a pediatrician. I’m certain I could have had my blood drawn with the butterfly designed kid’s needle if I had asked. Guy looked like an infomercial actor that mishandles the popcorn during the introduction. I could have looked in the mirror and gave the same prognosis: I am a complete mess. Not enough exercise, not enough water, and not enough in general. What did any of these people expect? I was on the brink of suicide, but they’re determined to shoot me into space like the test monkeys before me. I clearly should have failed these checks. I mean, I saw the notes the guy took, and they weren’t in favor of me. Oddly enough, this imbecile approved me. It was at that moment that my mind became consumed with conspiracies. The idea that I may not have a choice in this matter is becoming a real thought of mine. It’s as if I’m in the Twilight Zone, I’m being pushed through the floating door in-between time and space against my will. I’m hesitant to where it is leading, and I’m beginning to question everything. The only reason I’m continuing is the fact that others are legitimately involved in this project, so it isn’t a hoax itself: where do I fit in it?

I had to visit a training facility and do some exercises in front of an employee from the Ascension group. Outside of Melissa, every person that I met from the project was not friendly with me. If this was grade school, I’d be the kid with his head in the toilet and covered in shit.  Have you ever been snared at from various people under different circumstances? I made sure to shower before attending any of these mandatory tests, but it seemed more like a roast than a legitimate procedure. Side comments about my stature that maybe they didn’t think I could hear or perhaps they hoped I would hear it. The experience has left me intrigued.

A bit unusual to admit. I’m not seeking penance for sins or indulging in self-loathing. I’m seeking the truth. Clearly, these people have a bone to pick with me. It goes back to my first encounter with the organization, why would did Melissa personally meet me? Is it because she’s the one who wants me to go? It would be near impossible for me to back out now. As soon as I signed the contract, it became a media frenzy. They wanted me to appear on late night shows, be interviewed by the papers, and to represent my nation, but I didn’t want to do any of it. Luckily after I botched an early taping of the tonight show, they advised me not to make any more appearances. To be honest, none of what I told you matters outside of Melissa. It gives you an indication of what to expect and who I am, and this is to show that I never should have been involved in Project Ascension. Although I considered myself unfit for the position, it wasn’t until my departure to the moon that I realized I had made a grave mistake. My departure from Earth to the Moon will go down as a historical moment of misfortune. 

#storytelling #chapter1

[imtheswanqueen2010]

Golden Warmth

Summary: Inspired by Panic! At The Disco’s Far Too Young To Die

Dan and Phil have been friends, and peasants, for as longs as they can remember, only having each other to get through life and living in a country strictly governed by a cruel King. On one unfaithful night, Phil's life turns upside down, as everything he'd ever known changed suddenly, and he was forced to run away, but, luckily, he had Dan by his side. Now, with little to no money and having to make it as far away from the village they lived as possible, Phil is trying to understand his feelings and finally be happy, while being aware of the threat that "they" could come after him anytime.

Read it on ao3

Word Count: 16.5k

Warnings: Anxiety, anxiety attacks, physical violence, rape/non-con, suicidal thoughts, suicidal attempt, internalized homophobia and religious conflict

Author’s Notes: after quite some time writing this, it’s finished and i’m so proud!! thanks to my beta @spookysonofabitch​ and @phandom4ever​ for their art ALSO GO CHECK OUT THEIR OTHER WORKS THEY’RE PRETTY GOOD. it was fun participating in the pbb and maybe i’ll join it next year again, just hope i don’t make them suffer as much as i did again :))

Everything was golden and it all seemed so perfectly fake; how could such a beautiful life be possible? Well, at least, not for Phil.

All Phil had ever known were monochrome colors, a life full of melancholy, sad expressions, tiredness and never getting anything back for everything he’d ever given; except for the warm shade of brown of his best friend’s eyes. And he was lucky to see those eyes every day for seventeen years; Phil could never get tired of them. Actually, he could never get tired of Dan; the boy was like his personal salvation, making him hate that life a bit less.

“This may be one of the most beautiful days I’ve ever seen,” the boy lying right next to Phil said in a soft tone, a genuine smile on his face that quickly faded. “But even a day like this can’t be perfect.”

The sky was somehow a mix of orange and pink, but its reflection made everything golden. The crops looked as if they were worth a million pounds and so did the lake that lay in front of them. It was so hot and it looked like there might've been a bit of hope for both of them, the way the sun brightened up everyone else’s day was magnificent; a miracle, some may say. And did they need more days of pure happiness, where nothing was bad and everyone was just there, living.

Phil turned to face Dan and he stopped breathing for a moment, Dan looked like a sculpture lying in the sun’s golden light, each one of his features engraved impeccably. When did Dan even get like that?

“Nothing lasts forever, but days when the sky looks like this will always come around, no matter what, Danny,” Phil answered.

“That was beautifully cheesy.” Dan laughed and turned to Phil. “But stop calling me Danny!”

“You’ll have to stop me then, Danny.” Phil laughed, his tongue sticking out. That was a honest bit of happiness, if only they could have that all the time.

But it wasn’t possible to achieve such happiness where and how they lived. They could only pursue that, but, deep down, they knew that just wasn’t realistic. And their time there, lying in the sun and feeling the grass under their back was running out, they should get back soon, they didn’t want to meet the consequences of them staying there ‘till longer than the sunset.

“It’s getting late, we should head back,” Dan said. The boy got up quickly, Phil, however, didn’t want to move from there.

He was so comfortable there, lying as if time didn’t exist and he could appreciate everything that surrounded him. Now going back to the village and trying to survive wasn’t an option, Phil could easily give all of that up, he’d already accepted the fact that nothing would ever change in his life, that it would always be the same as ever; he’d find a wife, have a couple of kids and that would be it.

Then why couldn’t he just give up?

“Hey, Philly, stop daydreaming, let’s go,” Dan whispered softly, as if any word would cause Phil any harm, because, really, they would.

Dan helped Phil get to his feet and they started making their way home in utter silence, but it wasn’t that kind of awkward silence, because words weren’t necessary for Dan to comfort Phil when his friend was sad, which happened more often than not.

“Do you ever think about joining the rebellion?” Dan broke the silence.

Phil shuddered; he didn’t want to dwell on that in that moment. “Yeah, but I don’t think I would.” He looked at his friend and was met with a confused look. “Don’t get me wrong, I hate the monarchy too, but I don’t think I’d be the most suited person to join them, I can’t do anything.”

“Yes, you can, Phil. You’re smart, but you’re just too pure to join them, that’s the truth,” Dan commented and they both chuckled.

“What about you? Planning on joining them?” Sadness was so obvious in Phil’s tone; he thought about how he was be so easy to read.

“Probably. You see, we both know there’s not much for anyone who lives in the village, we’ll have the bad same lives as everyone, or even worse. And I don’t think there’s any sense in doing that, but you already know that.”

Phil did know about that. Dan was constantly talking about how he needed to do something important with his life, Dan needed to do something that said he was here and that he left his mark on the world. Phil didn’t think like that because he knew that was unrealistic, how could someone like them do such a thing? But his friend didn’t think life could make any sense without a meaning.

“And I think if I join the rebellion I’ll have a purpose in my life, something to fight and live for.” Dan paused and thought for a second. “Even if a die at some point, I’d be dying so that people can have a better life in the future, and that’s what matters right?”

Dan looked away and Phil didn’t answer, did he really need to though? Well, he didn’t even know how he could even respond to that.

“But you wouldn’t be there,” Dan said.

“You'd meet new people, Dan, you know that, right?”

“Yes, but they wouldn’t be you.” Dan gently elbowed Phil. “Who would listen to my deep thoughts at night? Or keep me company?”

“Fair point.” Phil chuckled.                  

They were getting closer to the village and the sky was almost pitch black, but they knew the path to there, after all, they had gone to that corn field since they found it ten years ago, so that wouldn’t be a issue.

“When does your mom get back?” Dan asked. That was a touchy subject, but he wanted to check on Phil.

“She said she'd get back next week, but she wasn't entirely sure.”

“I see,” Dan said, almost a whispering. “Have you ever wondered where she goes? Or have you at least tried to ask her?”

“C’mon, Dan, of course I have, but she never told me anything and always got mad when I questioned her.” Phil looked behind him, as if he was waiting for his mother to appear from behind a tree. “I remember this particular day, I think I was six and I tried to follow her to wherever she goes. I ended up walking in circles and then I was back home ‘cause she realized I was following her. I got lectured that day.”

Dan laughed briefly and fixed his fringe. “What do you think she does? Got any theories on that?”

“I’ve speculated lots of things before, but, honestly, as long as she is okay and makes some money, I don’t care about what she does.” That wasn’t exactly the truth, because Phil cared a lot about what she did for a living, but she had guaranteed him that she was not doing something wrong and that she was not getting hurt.

“Great.” Dan scoffed at Phil and the boy did nothing but stick his tongue out. “Um, have your heard of a girl from the village, Michelle?”

“I have, why?”

“Heard that she’s into you.” Dan’s tone sounded sort of strange, but Phil couldn’t quite read it, so he just ignored it.

“And?” Phil chuckled and he realized he was almost at home, oh no. “I’ve talked to her before, but she’s just… I don’t even know, I just don’t like her.”

“C’mon, she’s not that bad.”

“Are you trying to make me into her?” Phil amused Dan. They both laughed out loud and they were near Phil’s place. “So, this is it.”

“D'you think we meet again tomorrow?” Dan asked, but, this time, Phil sensed some kind of desperation in his voice.

“I don’t think so; I’ve got things to do, sorry.”

“Okay then, bye.”

Dan came closer and hugged Phil and time stopped for a couple of seconds. Phil wished he could just stay there forever, feeling all that warmth and affection that he always craved on every cold night, when he was all by himself in the dark. Dan was his favorite person, not that Phil knew lots of people, but, even if he did, Dan would still have been the only person he would ever need.

Phil watched as Dan made his way to his house, his silhouette fading in with the darkness around them; there were no lamps around the village and only the light from candles inside the houses lit the street. When his friend was already gone, and probably home already, Phil knew that he was all by himself now, and the time had come, a look in the mirror confirmed that: he looked worse than he’d ever been; his dark fringe was all messy and the bags under his eyes were so deep, as if he hadn’t slept for ages, which was true, he was so exhausted but he couldn’t bring himself to sleep.

The dark-haired boy felt drained, physically and emotionally drained, how could he keep on living like that? Was that even living? His thoughts were interrupted as soon as he walked into his room and saw the noose hanging on the ceiling and a chair opposite it. He hadn’t killed himself last night, but how long would Phil last? Maybe a day, or a week, months or years perhaps, but, right now, he couldn’t take it anymore.

Phil stood on the chair and put his neck around the noose. He just needed to jump and everything would be over. Nothing would bother him and he wouldn't feel any emotion ever again. Phil could do it and it was the right thing, right? It would be quick and then it would all be over. His right foot was hanging in the air now, yeah, he was going to do it.

What about all the questions he would never know the answer to? That didn’t matter. And all the little things he would never be able to interact with again? That also didn’t matter. Phil stepped a bit forward and the noose was getting tighter around his neck.

But then he made a silly mistake: he thought about his mother and Dan, the only ones who could ever love him. What would happen to them after Phil died? What would be the consequences of him taking his life? Was it worth to take his own life just to see two other people he loved taking theirs? And, even if they lived after Phil’s death, nothing would ever be the same and it would be his fault. Just the thought of his mother or Dan finding him, dead and hanging in the air, sent chills up his spine.

“’For I know the plans I have for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.’,” Phil mumbled as he took his neck off the noose and sit on the chair, feeling numb and staring at the noose. “Pointless devotion.”

He spent some time sitting there, minutes, or maybe even an hour, staring at that thing that could’ve been the death of him, and wishing that some kind of miracle would happen and turn things around. But Phil was nothing but a simple peasant, who was doomed to a live an annoyingly bad and normal life. So he did the only thing he knew exactly how to do: he went to bed and, for the first time in weeks, but with dry tears in his eyes, Phil slept.

The sun was bright up in the sky, illuminating everything and waking up everyone. Unfortunately, that single night of sleep wasn’t enough to make Phil feel refreshed and he needed more sleep, or, at least, a day in bed doing nothing at all; but he had things to do, important things, and he couldn’t let down one of the people that was one of the reasons he didn’t kill himself last night.

When Phil finally mustered his courage to get out of bed, he knew he’d lost the opportunity to start his day early and then he’d be able to get home sooner, and now he felt like an even bigger fail for doing that. There’s really no hope for me, thought Phil, though things might just keep getting worse. He was also aware that there were people living in worse conditions than him, which made him feel even worse.

He started his day eating way less than yesterday; Phil didn’t want to eat anyway, but he still needed to eat to maintain his body, otherwise he would collapse soon after finishing doing everything he was going to do. Then he made his way to the crops behind his house, and, thankfully, the crops were ripe, even though that meant he’d have to spend hours harvesting them, but that would make some money, maybe even more than enough.

Finally, after almost four hours, he was done harvesting and now he had to go to the village center, where everyone sold their goods and usually met up for an event, and, as no one could never get near the palace, they’d also usually announce something in the center, where all peasants could do no harm to the nobility or the royal family. Phil gathered all fruits and vegetables and started walking towards the center, it was only a ten-minute walk from his house to there, but he already felt worn out so he was slightly slowing his pace.

The center wasn’t a beautiful place, but it was the most organized place in the village, of course. It was basically a big circle, and it worked almost like a fair, there were people who sold things and people who bought things; the richest people in the village used to live nearby. There were some royal guards just to make sure no one would ever try starting a revolution right there or something, or, at least, that’s what they were supposed to do, but they always wound up picking on someone or maybe even beating them up just for fun. Phil tried to avoid them, but it was impossible: he had to go through them to get to the center.

“Look up; I need to see who you are,” Nathaniel, one of the guards, said. Phil looked at him and his hands began to shake, but he had to try and stay calm, sell the things, and go home. Easy. “Thought you were dead, Lester. It’s been ages since you’ve last come here.” Nathaniel smirked as he talked to Phil, and the boy flinched. And the guard was right; when Phil’s mom was around he would do anything, sometimes even overwork himself, to escape going there and seeing some specific guards.

Nathaniel was tall, even taller than Phil, he had a dark skin, a beautiful shade that looked like the sky late at night and his hair was black and very curly. Nathaniel, as well as all the other guards, was a handsome man, and he seemed so polite and righteous, but he was everything but that. Although everyone knew what the guards did to some specific people, they would never say a thing out loud, too afraid of what could happen to them.

“Yeah.” That was all Phil was able to say.

“Go on then.” Phil stepped forward but then Nathaniel grabbed his arm. “Will we have some fun later? We’ll let you decide what you want,” He whispered.

Phil quickly unleashed himself from the guard and ran to a corner far away from the guards. He leaned against the wall and tried to control his breathing, but he didn’t accomplish that. The dark-haired boy felt the tears in the corners of his eyes and just completely sat on the ground, sobbing all alone. What was it that got him like that? And why did he have to break down all the time? Phil was just so weak and could barely keep it together.

After a while, Phil was able to convince himself that it was okay, he was okay and he just had one thing to do; so he grabbed his bag, which contained all the fruits and vegetables, and walked towards a table.

“Hey, Will,” Phil said, trying his best to sound like he hadn’t just cried, but it was inevitable. He was sure the look on his face couldn’t hide his red nose and puffy eyes.

Will was a nice old chap, a simple merchandiser and he paid very well, or perhaps he just liked Phil. The boy had known William since he was little, back when he’d come to the center with his mother once in a while, but then, after a certain day, it began and Phil stopped going there. Will was like a grandfather for Phil, sometimes he’d go to the Lester’s house and just hang out with Phil, teaching him things and playing games with him, as if the dark-haired boy was the only kind of family he’d ever had.

“How’ve you been, kid?” Will answered. He looked at Phil and his expression changed quickly. “To avoid seeing them again when you go back home, go through the woods, behind Ransom’s house. It’ll take longer, but you will be fine, okay, sea boy?”

It was impossible for Phil to not smile at the nickname.  Will started calling Phil “sea boy” when the old man told Phil about the ocean, all the animals and plants that inhabited it and how beautiful it looked when the sun reflected on it on summer. Then, Phil just got even more curious about the ocean and always wanted William to take him and his mother to the beach. He was so interested in the sea that he found the corn field with Dan, where there was a lake that the two boys loved.

“Here you go,” Will handed Phil the money. “Now, be careful and get home safe.”

“Alright, thanks for everything.” Phil smiled.

Phil counted the money and thankfully, it was more than enough, actually, even more than more than enough; he’d have to thank Will for that later, but now he was focused on getting back home and then just lying in bed contemplating his lack of strength and will to live. The boy walked over to Ransom’s house, which was located almost on the end of the village and belonged to a man who hadn’t left his house in years, some people said that he’d died, but no one never confirmed it; and then he found a path behind the probably dead man’s house. It looked like no one had gone through there in years, the grass was very tall and Phil couldn’t see much far ahead because the path curved and then all he saw were trees, but he began to walk anyway.

He knew he would get home late and even more tired than he already was, which was bad, but then he’d have basically nothing to do on the next day and would be able to spend the whole day in bed, or maybe hang out with Dan and forget, for some hours, that he had to exist and be a functional member of society, instead of just a boy joking around and having fun with his friend. If only I could spend the rest of my life with Dan, Phil thought, no, no, no; that’s weird and not possible. Then Phil remembered another problem: if he didn’t off himself, where would he find someone to be with him? Could he do that? He could ask Michelle to hang out with him another time and give her a chance, but would he be happy by her side? Well, that was a question for another time because right now the dark-haired boy just wanted to go to bed; and, thankfully, he was almost home.

It was such a tiring day, but the sky looked so beautiful that it made Phil smile, and he wished he could see what’s it like up there, maybe travel to the stars; and, if they were right, he could ask Him why, just a simple “why”. But, for now, he was grateful to know that even if there wasn’t a reason to everything, nature would always remain as the most fascinating aspect about living on Earth. The sea, the sky, the plants, the animals, human beings; all part of nature, all stunning in their own way. Perhaps not everything had to have a meaning, just like his life.

The key to his house fell of Phil’s pocket and he collected it quickly, while sighing, and wanting to lay down anywhere, even in the street, he wouldn’t mind it. But there he was: standing in front of his home, still alive, breathing and somehow, kind of sane. Today he wouldn’t need the noose, not now when it was permanently wrapped around his neck, making him feel sick and half-dead. Phil unlocked the door and, at the sight of black hair, he was taken back. She was sitting on the floor, looking like a mess and sobbing out loud. The dark- haired tripped and almost fell down, but she caught him.

“Philip! I thought you were dea—” She held his shoulder tightly, but then pulled him into a hug. “I looked for you all over the village and when I saw that noose in your room I just—I—I assumed you had—”

She couldn’t even speak, and Phil began to cry as well, if only his mother knew what happened last night and why he didn’t do it. But Mrs. Lester looked so hysterical, she seemed like she wanted to say something important and had to do it quickly. The woman interrupted her crying and controlled her breathing, and then she looked at Phil and the boy saw bravery in her eyes; he knew that same look from before, every time his mother came back home after days of being away, she had that same look.

Phil thought she was going to argue with him and lecture him, but she pulled him into a hug and began to cry again, although that wasn’t the same honest crying he heard before. In a quick movement, she pulled his head to her shoulder and began to whisper in his ear.

“Now, child, I need you to listen to me and pay attention to what I’m gonna tell you, it’s very important.” Phil could feel how tense she was. “I’ve planned something revolutionary and I’m about to do something extremely dangerous. I need you to go, run far, far away from here; and then live. But, if they ever find you, be careful and do what you think it’s the right thing; I’ll always be proud of you, no matter what, okay?” Mrs. Lester really wasn’t crying, but her voice broke a little at the end.

“Mom, I—” Phil pulled away from her, but then she pulled him back into that hug.

“I’m not finished.” The boy didn’t need to look at her to know that she had that stern look on her face. “When I pull away, I’ll hand you some money and you’ll go away; find a path that no one knows and go through there, no one can know about this; now you understand why I’m whispering.

“I’ll probably never see you again, Philly, and I’m so, so sorry, but you need to know that I’m doing this for you, and for the future. I hope you can understand and forgive me one day, I never wanted things to turn out like this, but it’s necessary. I love you, my boy.”

She pulled away, handed Phil some money and began to caress Phil’s cheek. The dark-haired boy was crying, but his mother wasn’t, Mrs. Lester wouldn’t breakdown now that her son was about to go away forever. If that was it, the last moment they’d share together, she wanted Phil to remember her as a strong woman, who did everything for her son, which was true. And, even if he never discovered all the reasons for her behavior and why she was doing what she was doing, Mrs. Lester would be okay with that, because if Phil finding out about his life meant that bad things could eventually happen to him, her boy could be “blind” forever.

“I know you want out,” she spoke very softly, but every word cut deeply into Phil’s heart, he wouldn’t forget a thing about their last moment. “But I also know you want someone else more than you want out, so go for it, Phil; achieve happiness. What would be the point of me doing anything if you weren’t going to end up happy?”

Phil didn’t quite understand what she meant, but, deep inside, he knew and was happy that his mother approved and was supportive of it, but it just wasn’t possible, right? It couldn’t happen and there was no way it could ever work. But he longed for it, and, even though it wasn’t going to fix every problem he had in his life, it would mean his happiness, which was more than he deserved, but exactly what would give him have a meaning; a reason to wake up every day think that he wouldn’t go anywhere because of that special one.

“I think I should get going,” Phil said, his voice sounding so low he wasn’t even sure she’d heard him.

“It’s about time.” Mrs. Lester nodded and let go of him, but only after wiping away his last tear.

The boy turned to the door and went out, but this time, it was forever. He was never going to see that village, his house or his mom again, but that hadn’t settled in his mind yet. But, now, he had something more important to worry about: where would he go? No one could find him and he had to go as far away as he could go. Phil quickly remembered the way to the corn field, and how no one besides Dan and him knew about it and how it could lead to anywhere, really, he lived in the countryside, so the village boy could end up going to a big city.

And through his secret path he went, trying not to freak out, otherwise he wouldn’t even make it too far.

But, thankfully, it didn’t take long to get there, seeing as now Phil was running in the corn field; adrenaline forcing him to go further and further and making him feel more alive than he’d ever feel; Phil felt every heartbeat, every tired muscle of his body aching, but he had to run. Did he even have another choice? And, also the boy didn’t want to let his mother down; it would actually make him feel worse emotionally than he already felt. Phil couldn’t quite focus on his surroundings and it was so dark that the boy nearly fell three times, he couldn’t distinguish anything out there, and he just kept running anyway.

As he ran, the dark-haired boy noticed a silhouette floating on the lake, which scared him, obviously, after all, who could be there, knowing that only Dan and Phil knew about that place, on the lake, at night, after the village curfew? It could be anyone, and his mom warned him about “them”, so, reasonably, he should keep running; ignore whoever was there and keep moving, or he’d have to deal with whatever were the consequences of checking who that was.

But Phil’s curiosity overcame his fear.

The boy walked over to the body and he realized they weren’t floating, in fact, they were drowning. And Phil, being the good person he was, wanted to help, regardless of who that person was; after all, they might also help him, and did he need someone’s guidance right now.

Now, he wasn’t the strongest person, but maybe Phil could pull them out of the lake, and they were on the water, so the body was supposed to be lighter. It would be easy and wouldn’t take too long, or maybe Phil wasn’t thinking straight and that was the worst thing he could do at that moment. But when did he ever think straight? The boy didn’t even think he was straight, for God’s sake.

There was no light nearby and Phil didn’t quite know where he could and couldn’t step, and any misstep would cause him to probably drown as well, which was something he couldn’t afford. So he peered over the person to check how tall they were and try to calculate how far he would have to pull them, but then he noticed their body, their curly hair, and he recognized their outfit: Phil gave Dan that shirt a few years ago, the most special and the only gift Phil had ever given someone.

The dark-haired boy stopped breathing for a moment. That couldn’t be Dan because then, if that was really Dan, Phil would…

Phil was officially freaking out, that was Dan. His mind kept going “it’s Dan, it’s Dan, it’s Dan, it’s Dan, help him! You have to get him out of there, otherwise he’ll… ”, but the boy was paralyzed, he didn’t want to believe, he didn’t want that to be real; Dan couldn’t die, he was the only thing Phil could hold on to, right now more than ever; and that was the truth. The sound of Dan coughing made the dark-haired boy come to his senses and realized there was still a chance to save his friend before he choked to death.

He rushed to Dan and tried to pull him, but it didn’t work, instead of being lighter, the boy drowning felt so heavy; so Phil decided to try again, but this time he’d pull even harder. Phil was willing to rip his arms in half if it meant he would save Dan.

This time Phil realized there was something pulling Dan down, the other boy had his foot wrapped around something that kept him underwater, and he wouldn’t get out of there if he wasn’t released from whatever was trapping him. The dark-haired boy didn’t even think, he just acted and jumped into the water; despite of how dark it was, how cold the water was, and how tired and weary he felt. Phil traced down the side of Dan’s body until he reached his foot, but he needed to breathe. He went up and then down into the water again.

It felt surreal, being underwater. Life was just so easy when there wasn’t any noise around, when everything could end as fast as it had begun. Maybe joining Dan wouldn’t be a bad idea.

No, it was a bad idea and he couldn’t let his friend die. There was so much at stake; he wasn’t going to do it. Instead, he dipped and untied the rope around Dan’s foot, which was pretty tight around it, freed him and finally emerged with Dan, and, thankfully, he was still breathing, somehow.

“What on Earth were you doing Dan?!” Phil said under his breath.

“Oh, I was just trying to become a fish,” Dan answered, breathless, if Phil didn’t know Dan for such a long time, he wouldn’t be able to make out any word Dan said. “For fuck’s sake, Phil, what did it even look like? I was trying to kill myself, obviously.” At that point, Dan was basically clinging onto Phil, as the dark-haired boy had his arms hanging around Dan’s shoulder, which had his arm around Phil’s waist. “But what the hell are you doing here?”

Phil tensed and Dan stopped walking. Could he know about what Phil’s mother told him? Should Phil even tell Dan about it? Was that even a good time to tell him? Probably not, Phil thought, and decided to change the subject. “Are you okay? What happened? Why were you drowning yourself, but, like, on purpose?”

Dan rolled his eyes, but then his face changed and he looked away from Phil. “I—I—I don’t know how to explain it, Phil… I can’t put it into words, I—” He paused and tried to control his breathing, but it didn’t work and he was almost hyperventilating. “I don’t feel real and there’s no meaning in my life, there's nothing. So why waste years and years wondering and questioning, knowing I’ll never find an answer and feel empty forever, if I can just put an end to it all? Feeling insane—”

Dan was crying and Phil just felt his heart compressing, emotional pain almost turning into physical pain. And the worse part of that was the he didn’t even know exactly how to process that; no thoughts, no sentences, no words, he couldn’t explain the pain, he just felt it, and that was the worst part.

Phil tried to hug Dan, but the boy backed off and finally faced Phil, but he just looked incredulous, as he’d described. “You haven’t answered me.”

“Sorry?”

“What are you doing here?

Phil tensed. Couldn’t they talk about that later? Did they really have to do that now, after everything that they’d been through on that day? “Oh, nothing. Just wondering around, you know.”

“You’ve always been a terrible liar. And you’re all tense now that I questioned you.” Dan had a point and he was not going to change his mind, the boy wanted answers. “Why are you here, late at night, and just happened to find me?”

“I was following you.”

“No, you weren’t.”

“How’d you know?”

“Not only was I checking to see if there was someone behind me, but I’ve also been here for a long time, and no one came to help. I know you would’ve helped as soon as you saw me.”

Phil sighed, there was no way he could convince Dan otherwise. But he didn’t want to put Dan in danger, more endangered than he already was, and, to be quite honest, his mind was in overdrive, so Phil would try to make him go away. “Go home, Dan. Stay safe and don’t do anything that might hurt you.”

“Oh, yeah, right, as if. You saw me nearly drowning and you think I’m just gonna go home and keep living like nothing happened?” Dan shouted and scoffed. He pulled away from Phil, pulled the other’s hand to his and started walking. “I’m going with you to wherever you’re headed.”

“No! Dan, please!” Phil stopped and was facing Dan, his hands holding the boy’s shoulders. “You can’t go with me; I don’t even know where I’m going. I don’t even know what I’m gonna do or if I’m gonna survive…” Phil really should’ve thought about lots of things before he just rushed out of his house, but now was not the time to think.

“Okay, but I know for sure that if you don’t let me go with you I’m going back to that goddamn lake and fucking kill myself.” Dan shouted, sounding high pitched at the end. “It almost seems like you don’t even care about me, Phil.”

“Listen to me, Dan.” Phil placed his hands on Dan’s cheeks and looked him in the eyes. “I do care about you, seriously; I care so much about you that I didn’t off my—” He wouldn’t tell Dan. Maybe if things were different, he would tell him, or, perhaps, that night wouldn’t have even happened. “So do that for me, go home for me, live another day for me; don’t give up for me. I’ll be back tomorrow, don’t worry. You’ve still got—”

“I can’t, Phil! Don’t you understand?! I can’t do that, even if it’s for you.” Even though the boy was enraged, he didn’t move an inch. “And don’t you dare lie straight to my face like that, I know you’re not coming back!”

“Okay, you’re coming with me then,” Phil said, finally giving in to Dan; after all, he couldn’t let the boy all alone after he’d witnessed.

They started walking towards north, where Phil thought whoever “they” were wouldn’t be able to find them, and, if they ever did, the boys would be nearing the frontier of what one day was “Scotland”. Phil was walking too fast and Dan just couldn’t keep up, but he was anxious that someone would just come out of nowhere and they would be the people his mother warned him about. The two of them walked in silence, but they kept looking at each other, clearly worried about how the other was doing; considering that both of them actually had no idea of what happened to one another.

“Will you tell me what’s going on now?” Dan asked. “And, please, slow down, this is too much exercise for me. It’s not like we’re running away from something, or is it?”

“Um, a—Actually, yes, it is.” Phil hesitated. “We’re running from ‘them’. And, no, I don’t know who they are, or what do I have to do from now on, but I thought that it’d be better if we went to the north, for now.”

“Wait, are you really running away from some people, with no plan, like this?” Dan stopped Phil, who was getting really annoyed at that point.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Man, I should’ve really killed myself,” Dan mumbled.

“Hey, don’t say that!” Phil tried not to imagine if he got to the lake too late and Dan was already dead, but that thought alone was enough to make him shiver. “Also, you were the one who wanted to come with me, I told you to go home and stay safe, I never wanted you to get involved in any of this.”

“Phil!” Dan cried. “This is reckless! And you’re not telling me the full story, so you better tell me everything right now or I’ll drag you back to that village with me.”

Phil looked at both sides, just to make sure there was no one other than them there, and told Dan about what happened previously.

“But do you believe her?” Dan asked.

“Of course I do, she’s my mom, Dan.” Phil was astonished. “Also, how couldn’t I believe her after everything she’s done for me?”

“I don’t know, but that sounds like some crazy made-up story. Are you sure she hasn’t lost it?”

“Dan!”

“Sorry, it’s just that… That’s unbelievable, you know.”

“Yeah, but we can’t just go back now; both of us can’t, you know that.”

“C’mon, we can totally go back there and pretend that we’re still obnoxiously happy instead of this,” Dan responded, and turned sad at that exact moment. “Believe it or not, I’d rather keep running away from that place forever, never knowing where to stop, than going back.”

Phil was about to say something when he tripped over his feet and nearly fell with his face flat on the ground, but somehow Dan was quick and caught Phil by the hand.

“You OK there? You’ve been tripping over your own feet your whole life, I swear to God!” Dan chuckled. “If you keep tripping over everything one day I might not be there to catch you.”

“Good thing I won’t let you go anywhere but my side,” Phil said in a rush. “I mean, someone’s gotta be there to save me, yeah?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Dan intertwined their fingers, which made Phil’s heart suddenly do that flippy-over thing, but he ignored it, and they kept going north; two boys walking to somewhere, without any plan, carrying heavy pasts on their backs, and trying to hold on to last trace of hope for a better life, maybe. A life where they weren’t alone, or, at the very least, one where they had a meaning.

The months flew by, seasons changed, and Dan and Phil made their way up north. Somehow they were able to get there, but they thought they weren’t going to make it because they didn’t have much money to spend, they were on their own for basically the first time in their lives, and they hadn’t had much experiences, so it was all new. As expected, they faced some casualties, like someone stealing some money from them, all the nights they had to sleep on the ground because there wasn’t a campsite, having to eat even less food than they usually ate because they were running short of money. But, in the end, they made it; they settled in a village northwest, almost at the frontier. It was little, there weren’t many people living there, but, luckily, they were able to get jobs and even buy a house for themselves. Of course, it took them a lot of time to achieve all of that and get to the north, and they were still struggling.

But Phil knew that things had gotten better when he left the house feeling sort of free, a new sensation he had never felt before, and it felt so good; or when he caught Dan smiling for no reason, seeming more chilled and, perhaps, happier. The two of them worked at different places, at different hours, and were almost constantly working, but they always found some time to be together, they needed each other’s presence, it was reassuring, for some reason. They’d go to different places around the village and spent all their time alone, which they both would usually spend recharging, actually together. Dan and Phil were closer than they’d ever been, and that felt great.

In one of those nights they found a place that wasn’t too far away from the village, but it was distant enough so that they’d could find some peace, like the corn field they found years ago in the old village; they kept their tradition. They were both tired, but going there for maybe an hour or less was worth it because it was just so special to them. The two boys were lying side by side on the top of some hill, looking at the sky.

“Who’ve thought that eight years later we’d still be doing this?” Phil asked.

“Wow, Phil, that’s the cheesiest thing I’ve ever heard.” Dan chuckled.

“It’s supposed to be cheesy!” Phil said as they both laughed.

They fell into comfortable silence for a while and Phil was already lost in thoughts. He felt confused, something seemed kind of off, or maybe it was just him being weird again.

“I still can’t believe that we made it,” Dan whispered and scooted a bit closer Phil.

Phil didn’t say anything, after all, they did make it, but he felt like something was missing; it just wasn’t enough. But what was missing? When would he feel whole? When would he feel like that life was enough? The boy had escaped from the place he dreaded, he had a steady job, a house, and was living with his best friend, someone who knew him better than himself. And now maybe there wasn’t enough air in the world because Phil felt like he was suffocating, he felt trapped and he needed to go away from there. He was freaking out and sure that anyone who had a quick glance at him would know that.

“Phil?” Dan said, he hadn’t looked at Phil yet. But then, when he turned to the boy lying next to him, Phil was silent, but he was shaking so much. “Are you okay? What happened? I—”

“Get me out of here, please,” Phil struggled, but managed to say.

Dan swiftly pulled Phil by the hand and they went to their house. They walked in silence, but Dan was constantly looking at Phil, searching for a sign of what was happening. Phil, on the other hand, was trying to avoid Dan’s stares at all costs, he just wanted to fade away; but he had to calm down, he didn’t want to make Dan worried, that was unnecessary, and he was too polite to say anything about his state. It took only ten minutes to get home, but for the dark-haired boy, it felt like an eternity.

“Here, sit,” Dan said, “I’ll get you some water.”

And Phil was left alone for two minutes while Dan went to the kitchen. He had to calm down, breathe and move on before Dan got back, but it was hard, it all came flooding back and he was so afraid; Phil hadn’t forgotten about what his mother told him about “them” and he lived thinking that they’d eventually come someday and all this happiness, this limited slice of heaven, would end. What scared him the most perhaps was what could happen to Dan, after all, he was doing so well and that made him feel so good; Phil couldn’t let anyone take that smile off Dan’s face. When the boy realized, his friend was back with a cup of water.

“Phil, talk to me, what happened?” Dan asked.

“I’m okay, don’t worry,” Phil answered. “I just felt a bit light-headed for a moment, but it’s fine now.”

Phil smiled weakly and he knew that Dan wasn’t convinced, but he saw the tension on Dan’s shoulders drop along with a sigh and that was enough for him.

“Sorry, I was just so worried about you,” Dan said, sitting next to Phil on their couch. “But is everything really fine now?”

“Yes, Dan, and I’m sorry I worried you.” Phil gave Dan’s shoulder a little squeeze. “But were you that worried about losing me? That’s adorable,” Phil teased.

“You know what? I’m never worrying about you ever again.” Dan elbowed Phil and they both started laughing.

“Well, if I had died you could’ve sold me for some money.”

“C’mon, you’re cute I could’ve made lots of money by selling you,” Dan said and immediately regretted it. “Wait, no, that’s not what I meant, I—”

“Then I’d make even more money if you died,” Phil said and winked. He got up and left the room: a playful smile on his face and a different feeling, something new, bright, colorful, and, honestly, terrifying.

A few days after Phil’s panic attack and Dan’s not-so-subtle slip, there was a change in the atmosphere, something was definitely different between them, and Phil was enjoying that; he even thought that he’d finally get what he always wanted. He actually didn’t quite know what that meant, that sudden slight difference in the way Dan would talk to him, because Dan expressed himself better with words, and the change in his own behaviour towards Dan, seeing as Phil usually expressed his feelings with gestures rather than words, because words were meaningless and people could fake them, but you couldn’t fake an act of love; he knew that. Phil learned that from his mother’s sacrifices.

But, for some weird reason, Phil didn’t think Dan was faking anything, or maybe he just wanted it all to be true.

That was always on the back of his mind, but tonight he had a chance to forget about that for a while, all of the people who lived in the village were gathered at the biggest house there to get to know and bond with each other. The hostess was a nice woman and everyone that lived among them seemed nice, so Dan and Phil decide to go to a “social event” for a change, at least this one time, Phil had insisted. The house was almost not big enough for everyone and there were about forty five people, which made both of them feel a little bit anxious, but they knew they were going to be fine having each other by their sides.

“Hey, so I know that we came here to meet everyone and be sociable, but can we just grab some food and sit in the corner?” Dan asked and Phil just chuckled and nodded, that was so Dan.

So he decided to go along with Dan’s new plan for the night and went to grab some drinks and something to eat. He saw people meeting each other in a corner and then some people listening to one guy playing the guitar while the other sang a nice song in the other end of the room. No one seemed to be paying attention to Phil, which made him relax a bit. He turned around and saw Dan sat down on a sofa staring at him, and, when he noticed Phil was looking at him, Dan chuckled and looked down and Phil forgot how to breathe for a moment. He started walking towards Dan, but then suddenly a girl came out of nowhere, even though he was sure there was no one near him, but he must’ve been distracted. They almost bumped into each other and Phil lost his balance.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry, let me hold that for you,” the girl said and grabbed one of the plates Phil was holding. “Are you okay?” She placed a hand on Phil’s shoulder to stabilize him.

“Yeah, I guess,” Phil said. “But you don’t have to apologize, I should be paying more attention, I didn’t even saw you.” She handed Phil the plate. “And thank you for getting this.”

“No problem, but um—I actually wanted to talk to you, I’m Valorie.”

“I’m Phil.” He held out a hand to greet her, but she gave him a peck on the cheek, and Phil just stood there awkwardly.

“Sorry! We greet people like that where I’m from, it’s a habit I’m trying to kill.”

“No, that’s okay.” Phil chuckled, trying to make things less embarrassing, but he was sure it didn’t work, even though the girl didn’t look sorry at all.

“So,” Valorie started talking again, and she somehow made every word sound so exciting; she radiated energy. “I know that you’re quite new in the village so, you know, if you need help with something, or just want to talk sometime, you can stop by anytime! I live in that little yellow house near the lake, it’s impossible to miss it.”

“Um, yeah, okay, alright.” He made some effort to keep it cool, and seem relaxed, but Phil just wanted to get as far away from here, he wasn’t good at this social thing. “Thanks, Valorie.”

“You can call me Val.” Val winked and then went away.

Phil just stood there for a few second trying to process what had happened. Did she flirt with him or was he reading too much into that conversation? Either way, she seemed nice and he was glad he met someone, after all, that was why he decided to come to this event in the first place, but that still left a sour little taste in his mouth, something about interaction didn’t feel right. Phil decided to ignore whatever that feeling was, he could overthink later, right now there was just one person on his mind, and that was becoming quite a habit, one that scared him, but it was also comforting in its own way, exactly like the one who crossed his mind.

His eyes scanned the room for Dan and found the boy in the same place, but he didn’t have the same look on his face anymore, he had a different glow about him, something rather dark, which confused Phil. He knew Dan didn’t like this kind of things, he thought this was just an act, it didn’t actually mean anything and it was just something made up for appearance, but people were having fun, and the boy said he would too, but only if Phil was there with him; keeping him company, making him laugh and feel secure, the two of them on their little bubble, as it always had been.

But something had changed and Phil knew Dan wouldn’t be able to enjoy this night anymore.

Dan noticed Phil’s stare and walked over to him. “Can we go home? I don’t really feel like staying here anymore.”

“Okay. Let’s at least say goodbye to the hostess and—”

“You can do that, I’ll wait outside.” Dan spun and left, but he also left Phil there, who felt like he had missed something. Seeing Dan like that just made it all worse.

Phil said goodbye to the hostess, Valorie, and even to some people he was briefly introduced to, then went outside to find Dan. He was leaning against the wall, perhaps looking at the moon, but probably lost in his own thoughts, as Phil could almost see the engines twisting on Dan’s mind. He found himself trying to interpret each and every one of Dan’s features: the way his dark hair was curled, and how Phil always thought it would look even better if it was black like his; the way black suited him, and how Phil liked teasing Dan about just wearing black, even though he secretly loved that; the way his figure looked like it was perfectly sculpt, and how Phil couldn’t take his eyes away from each and every inch of Dan; and last, but also probably the thing he loved the most, the warm shade of brown of his eyes, and how Phil thought they always reminded him of home.

It was funny how home was directly connected to Dan, maybe it was all because of him. Phil could try and make some sense out of that, but then Dan finally realized he was standing there and offered Phil something that appeared a “sad smile”. Reason immediately slipped out of Phil’s hands, being replaced by something he couldn’t yet comprehend.

“Let’s go, I can’t stand all this socialization around me anymore,” Dan said and that sounded so shallow.

They walked in complete silence, but this had been strange, it wasn’t the usual comfortable silence, or the occasional glances exchanged between them, or the inside jokes they would make to make each other laugh and forget they were outside and doing sort of an exercise, like walking. Phil knew Dan was tense, he could almost feel the suspense in the air; he didn’t like whatever the hell that meant. But, unfortunately, the dark-haired boy couldn’t bring himself to ask Dan what was that all about. Phil was overthinking everything he’d done in the past 24 hours.

When Dan and Phil got home, Dan went straight to his bedroom and Phil followed him, then finally spoke up:

“Dan,” Phil said softly. He leaned against the door frame and watched as his friend laid on the floor without facing him. “What happened? Talk to me, please.”

Dan just replied with a groan.

“C’mon, Dan, I just want to help. I hate seeing you like this.”

Dan just silently sighed.

“If you don’t wanna talk about it, that’s okay; but let’s do something together so you can distract yourself. We could even bake something, you know it’d be fun!” Phil said, trying to make it sound exciting so Dan would at least face him.

Again, it did not work. So Phil just stood there, waiting for a response he knew would never come, but while he did that, he was trying to find a reason to Dan’s sudden behavior, even though he usually wasn’t reasonable while overthinking.

“Is it me? Did I do something?” Phil asked, his voice dropping. This time, Dan flinched. “Well, I’m sorry for whatever it was I did then. I—I’ll be outside.” Phil didn’t bother hiding the annoyance in his voice.

Even though it was kind of childish, he slammed the door and went out of the room. Phil wasn’t even actually mad at Dan, if anything, he felt hurt. He had gone and messed up something once again, but this felt even worse than anytime he had ever messed up, probably because this was about Dan. The boy still didn’t know what that meant, now everything was about Dan, or maybe everything had always been about Dan, he didn’t know that as well; but he felt like he should know what  his feelings towards Dan were. Phil never liked labels though, and, thanks to the monarchy that ruled over them, people used to label him and everything around them, causing both of the boys to hate labelling anything.

So should he actually name whatever was his relationship and feelings about Dan?

Footsteps grew closer and Phil never really got the answer to that question. He turned around to see Dan standing behind him, and before Phil could even ask Dan anything, Dan began to talk:

“You wanna know what you did? Okay. You fucking saved me and you keep saving me every day. And I’m not even talking about the day you pulled me from the lake.” Dan was gesturing and talking so fast that Phil was trying his hardest to keep up. “You, Phil Lester, are the reason I kept waking up every day since when we lived at that damned village ‘till this day! We live in a terrible world that I’ve never had any intention of staying too long, but then I’d see you and everything would go away. I’d make you laugh and I wouldn’t hate myself as much as I do. I’d look at your eyes and I’d just get lost in them; I literally could go swimming in them.” Dan chuckled and a single tear rolled down his cheek. Phil was just standing there, partly shocked, but he held a tender smile on his face. He tried to say anything, but Dan went on:

“And you’re so beautiful, you know that? People are always looking at you, but little do they know the amazing personality you have, you’re basically an angel. An angel who steals my cereal, but still.” They both giggled. “You’re my best friend and my favorite person, and, believe me, I’ve spent quite some time denying my feelings but I’ve been meaning to tell you all of this since that day in the corn field, but then I hadn’t been feeling good all day and, out of nowhere, that girl was talking to you and did you even realize the way she was looking at you? And then I thought she was flirting with you and I got jealous, which just made things even worse and I started thinking and I just wanted to shut down and go away from that place and, even though I hadn’t even talked to anyone, I felt so exhausted, but you already know that; I’m such an introvert, but that’s okay.” Phil nodded and Dan now had multiple tears falling down his face. “I just— Do I sound too soppy? I don’t know, but I just wanted you to know that you’re so amazing, Phil. You saved me, emotionally and physically and, to be completely honest, it’s always been you and it’s always been me falling for you and I don’t want that to ever change.”

Phil couldn’t find any words to express what he felt, he’d never be able to put into words everything about how much Dan meant to him; so he just grabbed Dan’s face and pulled him closer, locking their lips for the very first time. Dan was taken by surprise, but he leaned in anyway. It felt like they should’ve done this before, because they both felt passion, desire and longing. The moment was so wrong, but perhaps there wouldn’t have been a better time. They pulled apart and Phil had his hands around Dan's neck while the other held Phil’s waist.

“Guess you’re stuck with me now,” Dan said and the two boys shared a laugh.

“I still can get rid of you, don’t forget that.”

“Yeah, but then whose cereal will you steal, Lester?”

“I’d have to start buying mine; so I think I’ll keep you for now.” Phil decided.

Dan and Phil kissed again and Phil felt whole for once, as if the never-ending void that lived in him wasn’t that much of a void now. And just by looking at Dan he felt warm, like he belonged with the other one. The dark-haired boy couldn’t actually see himself with someone other than Dan, and now that was okay, because Phil knew he felt the same. Did something other than Dan really matter at that time? He was taught that the only men he could ever be devoted to were Jesus and God, which Phil thought was a pointless devotion, but when he was about to end his life he was thinking about Dan and his mom. Now he knew better, Phil could see how stupid he’d been; true love was the only kind of devotion he’d ever practice.

The next day Phil woke up feeling warmth, but this time it was different, there was someone next to him. For the first time in a long time, he smiled. Having Dan so close next to him was great and now he could get used to that, waking up every day with the only one who could make him happy, someone who brought color to his life: the most beautiful shade of brown, he could stare into those eyes all day long. Phil was dwelling so much on what happened last night, after all, it was basically a dream that had finally come true, that he didn’t noticed Dan was awake and now was facing him, or, at least, trying to, seeing as he was drifting between sleep and consciousness.

“Ugh,” Dan simply said, sighing. His curly hair was all messy and falling down his face, but Phil swore he’d never been so adorable.

“Good morning to you too.” Phil laughed. He fixed Dan’s fringe and placed his hands on Dan’s cheeks, caressing them.

“Why are you all happy right now? You’re usually a beast when you haven’t had your coffee.”

“After everything that we’ve been through and last night, don’t you think I deserve to be happy now?”

Dan smiled softly and leaned in for a kiss.

“I know, and I’m happy too, which, yeah, I know, is a surprise.” They laughed and kissed once again. “I’m happy for us, but you better go and make us breakfast before I start thinking and fall into another existential crisis.”

Phil chuckled and made them breakfast; and as he felt that today was a special day, he made them pancakes, something they hardly ate because the ingredients were often expensive where they lived. Dan and Phil had breakfast in bed together and it ended up being a three-hour breakfast, but it was the best one they’d ever had. They both felt bliss, finally everything was in its right place, and that was sealed with a kiss, or many kisses, in fact. The sun peeked through the window and illuminated Dan, which made his eyes brighter, almost golden. Seeing his eyes in that way took Phil’s breath away for an instant.

“Dan, you know we have get up at some point, right? We’ve got things to do,” Phil said. He didn’t want to leave the bed though; he’d never experienced such comfort and he wasn’t ready to leave, not yet.

“No, we don’t. I know you don’t have to work today, and neither do I,” Dan replied. “We don’t have to act like functioning humans today.”

“Actually, we do. There are some foods on sale today that we should go out and buy.”

“But is it actually worth it? We’ll have to get up, dress up and go out just to buy more food?”

“Are you really refusing food? I thought it was the most important person in your life.”

Dan laughed out loud; for some reason, he loved when Phil quoted things he’d said in the past. “That’s true, but Phil—” Dan whined.

“I can go on my own, don’t worry, it won’t take long.”

“Alright, I’m coming with you.”

“But I just said that—”

“Don’t say anything or I might change my mind.”

“Okay, just don’t take too long to get dressed.”

“Did I sleep with you to be bullied for things I can’t change about myself?” Phil laughed at Dan, sticking his tongue out and Dan just shoved him; He frowned, but it didn’t quite work because he was trying not to laugh at himself. “I have to change my outfit at least three times before going out, you know that! Do you have any idea of what I go through when clothes are different shades of black and don’t match?”

“Wow, that’s a tough one. But take your time then, goth model.”

“Shut up, rat,” Dan said playfully and smiled in a way that he only did when he was around Phil.

After half an hour, and Dan changing his outfit five times, they went out. Something seemed wrong, like as if something was out of place, and the fact that it was strangely sunny just contributed to that. There were more people outside than usual, and Phil knew for a fact that it wasn’t just because there was food on sale. He could hear someone shouting somewhere near them, but he couldn’t make out any words. For some weird reason, that was making him anxious, and, and, as they got close to a crowd, he just wanted to disappear because Phil felt like all eyes were on him.

“Hey, are you okay?” Dan asked.

“Yeah, it’s just… Does this seem strange? I mean..” Phil was going to answer, but then he saw it: a flying object, people sometimes called it a helicopter, but it was a royal one. What were they doing there? “Wait, isn’t that a royal army unit?

“Well, yeah, it is, but what are they doing here? They’ve never come here before, I didn’t even think they knew about this village,” Dan replied calmly, but then he just looked very concerned after a moment. “Did they find out about us? Phil, what if they've come for us? What will they do? But they weren’t here before and I don’t think anyone would or could tell them, even though—”

“Philip Lester! If anyone knows Philip Lester, please, indicate us where he’s currently at, or bring him here!” someone shouted behind them.

Dan and Phil turned around to the voice, which happened to belong to a royal guard, and both of them paled instantly, why were they looking for him? What had Phil done? And Dan was right: it was impossible that someone saw them and told the kingdom about it. Phil felt so accused of something he didn’t even know what was about and the pressure was making him feel sick, he felt like everything was closing in on him. He clinged on to Dan’s hand, and he was sure he was smashing it, but he almost didn’t feel it, as if it was a hallucination, fake.

“We’ll give a hundred pounds to whoever finds or bring us Philip Lester first!” the guard shouted.

Phil wanted to run, get as far away from there as possible, but he just couldn’t, he felt as if he was paralyzed, frozen. It felt like everything was about to happen again, but he didn’t want to run away anymore. The boy finally had everything he’d ever wanted, he’d barely experienced happiness and they were going to take it away from him, or, at least, that’s how Phil’s mind was processing everything. He couldn’t lose everything they’d worked so hard to put together, he couldn’t lose their home; he was sure he had finally found his place in the world, and he couldn’t lose. But above all of that, he couldn’t lose Dan.

He almost lost Dan some months ago, and now this? It must’ve been God’s way of punishing him.

Dan grabbed his arm and began to pull him through the crowd, but somebody stopped them before they could distance themselves from everyone. A man pulled Phil close to him and screamed, getting everyone’s attention.

“I found him! Phil Lester! Here!” the old man screamed. Phil didn’t even know him and he was trying release himself from the man’s grip, but he was too strong and able to keep Phil in place.

“Thank you, sir,” the guard answered. The unknown old man pushed Phil towards the guard, who handed the man some money.

“Now, what are all of you looking at? Go back to your miserable lives!” another guard screamed before helping the first one grab Phil.

Both of the guards were strong, even though one of them was shorter than Phil, so he was trapped. He tried to break free from them, but it wasn’t working, and another guard came into the scene. He was somehow able to take a quick glance around and then realized there were more guards than he’d seen, and perhaps there were actually more of them than the usual, or necessary. As if all of that wasn’t weird enough.

Phil was now being dragged by three guards to the vehicle. He screamed and begged people for help, but no one moved an inch. Everyone just watched, all of them seeming to afraid to do anything, and some of them looked like they felt for him, but he knew, deep down, no one could save him now; the monarchy had control over the guards, and every single person on their country knew better than to against something the monarchy owned. And, still, the rebellion was a thing, even though they’d been quiet lately.

All of those people were making Phil more unstable, he could feel his whole body shaking and he just wanted to disappear, fade away, if possible. But he couldn’t find Dan anywhere, and that was his biggest worry at the moment. His eyes searched through the crowd, but Phil couldn’t locate the boy anywhere, and he should’ve found him already, Dan was way taller than most people, but that familiar face was nowhere to be found.

“Stop fighting, stop resisting, or we’ll make this way worse for you now and when we get there,” one of the guards whispered in Phil’s ear.

He had no choice but to obey, and so he did.

But they did still shove Phil into that “helicopter” thing.

Looking through the window, the last thing Phil saw was someone tall with a perfect figure he knew all too well being absorbed by the sea of people, and then he met Dan’s eyes, but they weren’t that warm shade of brown he could stare at all day, no, they were cold and Dan seemed so far away, out of reach. Phil watched his… What did Dan even mean to him? Probably too much to put into words and he really didn’t feel like labeling their relationship; so Phil watched his Dan blend in with all of the others and their little village.

There were two guards escorting him: the tallest one was a woman, she had light brown hair that matched her eyes, and looked like she could and would kill Phil at any given chance, and the other one, the shorter one, was a man, he was bald and looked like he could be in his late thirties already, but still looked very intimidating. Phil wanted to try anything to escape, go back to Dan; he actually wanted to crack the door so he could just fall out, he didn’t even care if they were flying or how high the chances of him ending up dead were, he had to go back. But Phil knew that, if he did manage to escape while still breathing, their punishment would be way worse than anything they’d done by that point. And he just couldn’t do it, both death and Dan would have to wait a little longer.

Therefore Phil just stared down at the land below him, maybe admiring, or just really trying to communicate with every living thing down there about how hopeless he felt. After what might’ve been an hour or so, everything was blurry and he couldn’t tell if it was because that thing was pretty fast or his eyes tearing up.

Suddenly the vehicle stopped and Phil found himself in the palace. Confusion drowned him, along with despair. His time came to an end, he’d done nothing wrong, right? He thought he made sure no one saw Dan and him. But maybe Phil was wrong and they were going to kill him. The guards sitting in front of him were completely quiet, they hadn’t said a word during the whole time.

“What are we doing here?” Phil asked. They didn’t answer, just got out of the “helicopter”.

The guards opened the door and gestured for Phil to get out. The man and the woman led him the way and he thought he was going to freak out right there, his mind was running with all sorts of thoughts, and they all involved Dan. And, even if that wasn’t the case, he couldn’t bring himself to calm down, everything kept adding up, but nothing made sense! Perhaps the weirdest thing about this was that the guardsmen didn’t ever bother bringing a royal vehicle for their prisoner, after all, Phil now felt like a prisoner, which was probably correct, because they’d often bring people to the castle as prisoners for plenty of reasons; but that kind of vehicle was only meant for the King.

If they didn’t kill Phil, he was sure his own body was going to do it anyway because he was out of control. And then he saw it: among the guards protecting the castle was Nathaniel, one of the guards that tormented Phil back in the village. The boy instantly froze as the curly-haired guard smirked when he caught Phil staring at him, he also nudged some other guards that used to pick on Phil, who just wanted to hide and cry somewhere else far away from there.

Maybe if someone did want to kill him it’d be better than having to go through whatever all of those guards would make him do.

“Keep moving,” the woman said, loud and clear, but she dragged Phil into the castle anyway.

The castle looked magnificent from the outside, so, as expected, it looked ever better from the inside. The massive walls were extremely decorated with paintings of former kings and queens and pretty places, a big red and black rug was extended until the staircase, lots of plants where placed everywhere and the enormous red curtains covered the windows and fell to the floor, just like the back of princesses’ dresses. Phil noticed that almost everything was golden or had some kind of golden detail, which made him sick; for some reason, that felt so wrong, he felt so wrong and intimidated just by being there. That woman kept dragging him, and her grip on his arm was really hurting, he’d have a bruise later. They went upstairs, where everything was equally golden, and she locked him in a room, leaving him all alone, and there was no way he could get out of there. That was probably the biggest room, the King’s room, and that Phil could tell. But the King was nowhere to be seen, which was really weird.

Something definitely was off and that was making him even more anxious. The King was, indeed, getting ready to kill him, that was it. They were going to take him to court and do it like they always did in the stories his mom once told him: they were going to hang him in front of bad people and then move on with their lives, while the person’s loved ones would go insane trying to find out about what had happened. Even though the room was huge, Phil felt like all the walls were closing in on him; everything felt wrong, he felt as if he would combust if he made contact with anything in that room and he couldn’t stop the tears. He kneeled down, shut his eyes and brought his hands to his ears, but there was no sound, it was completely silent. He was so weak, he’d let everyone down, and by everyone he meant his mother and Dan; also, speaking of Dan, what would happen to him? What if they caught him too? Phil wouldn’t be able to do anything and then—

And then someone opened the immense doors, making quite a noise that made Phil flinch. He opened his eyes just to see two people, an old asian couple, a man and a woman, looking down on him.

“Are you alright?” the man asked in a soft tone, revealing he had a french accent.

“Sorry?” Phil answered unsure, still shocked that the man bothered being nice to him.

“What happened, love? Did they treat you badly?” It was the woman speaking now. She kneeled down in front of him and took his hands in hers.

“Yeah.” Phil’s mouth was dry and he was so embarrassed, he must’ve looked like a child.

“I can assure you that they will be punished for that,” she informed him, then stood up. “We have to take you to court now; is that okay with you or do you want to be alone for a few minutes?”

Delaying his death in order to be alone for a few minutes, or ending it all quickly? Both options were terrible, but he couldn’t stand one of them, he wanted all the voices to stop for good. “I’d rather go right now, let’s get this over with.”

“Okay then. Follow us,” the man said and the three of them exited the room.

Going to the courtroom felt like an eternity, Phil just kept walking, following them and having in mind that that was it; there was no going back now, every step could be the last and he was a dead man walking. At least, he’d die a little better knowing that he’d saved Dan and made him happy, perhaps that was enough. And he was happy too, even though he was about to die, Phil knew he was happy. He could hear some voices and they were growing louder and he knew they were getting closer to it, a quick glance at the couple’s face confirmed that.

Now they were in front of another pair of immense doors. He just hoped Dan would continue to live his life and be happy.

Phil closed his eyes, held his breath and walked into the courtroom. When he opened his eyes, everything was exactly how he’d expect it: a room full of people, all of them whispering and looking down on him, and a spot in the middle where he was supposed to stand, right before the King’s throne; but, once again, the King wasn’t there. He couldn’t hide his curiosity and whispered to the woman next to him:

“Isn’t the King supposed to be the one to kill me?” Phil asked.

She didn’t say a word, just shook her head in a way that only him would’ve noticed. Phil just stood there, quiet and confused, after all, it didn’t make any sense. If he wasn’t going to die, what was he there for?

“Philip Michael Lester,” someone behind him started to talk. He turned around and the voice turned out to belong to a tall woman, who was just entering the courtroom. “Welcome back.” She smirked and he just expected her to pull a sword out of the nowhere and end his life.

“‘Welcome back’? I��ve never been here before,” Phil answered.

“You belong here, Philip.” She walked towards him, never dropping her gaze, and stood right in front of him. “You’re the King’s only child, and we’re all glad we finally found you. We’ve been looking for you for quite a while now, you know?”

Phil jumped at those news. He wasn’t the King’s son, he was just a poor Norhern boy, nothing more than that. What did they want him for anyway? Why were they looking for him? Were they ‘them’, the people his mother warned him about? It was too much to suddenly take in. Phil opened his mouth to ask a million questions, but the woman started to talk first:

“We’re aware that you may be confused, but we need you take what’s yours for right; you have to become a King, our King.”

“Wait, no. That can’t be right.” Phil turned around and just stared at the ground, startled. “And, even if I really am the King’s son, why should I become the King right now? Where is he?”

“The King is dead. Your Majesty was killed a few months ago by terrorists and since then we’ve been looking for you.” Phil was trying to speak again, but she shut him down before he could even start. “The only reason we’ve never looked for you before is because the King kept all of the records about his life hidden, so we never even knew about your existence.”

“What about my mom?” Phil was able to ask.

“What about your mom?”

“We were poor and she wasn’t a Princess or something like that, she’s never even set foot to this place! How am I suddenly the heir to throne?”

“Your mother dated the King, your father, when they were teenagers. You’re right, she was poor and she wasn’t a princess, but he brought her to the castle and gave her everything she needed. According to the information we have, she was pregnant and he used to hit her, so she ran away to protect you,” the woman explained.

Everything was adding up, it made sense, but he just couldn’t believe it, Phil didn’t want to believe any of that was really true. And his mom might’ve killed the King, who apparently was his own father, and that was the “revolutionary” thing she was talking about some months ago. She might as well have been already dead by then. She told him about all of this, how was that ever supposed to be good for him? A few hours ago he was with Dan and, even though they had to sort out all kinds of problems in their lives and their relationship, he had it all; for a brief period of time, Phil Lester had all he’d ever wanted.

Phil obviously wasn’t religious, but if any kind of god wanted to free him from that despair, he would take it. It all went back to that devotion concept he had, not only was it pointless, but it was also draining.

“Now, we’ve got work to do, Lester.” she broke the silence. “Sorry, Your Majesty .”

By the time they were finished checking all documents and making him sign all sorts of papers, Phil was exhausted, physically and emotionally. Maybe the worst part of it had to be him having to actually sit in the throne, it felt so inappropriate, he’d never asked for all of that, that “royal” life. It was over the top, a completely golden throne, decorated with more golden adornments. And all of that gold was making him sick, it looked twisted, but the worst part was that everything was golden, it didn’t matter where he looked at, it was golden.

Phil was led back to the King’s room, now his room. He couldn’t even believe that belonged to him now, he didn’t need a giant room, servants, a big castle, a throne, or a crown, he didn’t want it, but he had no choice. The room had a balcony that had a beautiful view, nothing but a pretty landscape, but Phil didn’t bother going over there, he feared he’d jump from the balcony and hit the ground, making that landscape his deathbed, throwing his body from up there as if it was as light as a feather, but, deep down, he knew his heart was so heavy it’d pull him to ground in a second.

Loads of footsteps flooded the hall where his room was located, Phil supposed it was the guards, doing their now designed work to “protect” the King from anything that could be considered a threat to the monarchy, which consisted of Phil. He wasn’t worried about having people guarding his door while he slept, it did sound a bit creepy, but he could deal with that, but, then, when someone unlocked his door and came in the room, Phil was indeed worried.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to be here,” Phil said, trying his best to sound tough and make the person go away.

“Well, I don’t think you’re supposed to be here, Lester.” Phil quickly recognized the voice, the one he’d never forget; it was Nathaniel. “Mind if I stay the night? I’m sure you don’t.”

“I actually do, Nathaniel. I’m gonna tell them you’re here and—” Phil stopped mid-sentence when Nathaniel grabbed his waist and, using his other hand, shut Phil up.

“You won’t call them over unless you want three guys inside you, instead of only me; it’s up to you.” Nathaniel’s lips brushed Phil’s ear and it felt like someone had set fire to it, it was dirty. “And you’re not gonna tell anyone about this, it’d make no difference, and they’d accuse you of lying, being paranoid, or something like that. Yes, you are the King, but down there there’s a room full of people that don’t want you on that golden throne and would use anything against you to kick you out of here.”

As if this day couldn’t get worse, now he knew he was completely alone in the castle, no one would defend or save Phil. They didn’t even want him as a King, so there was no point in fighting for anything. Even if he did manage to escape from that place or that moment, they’d kill him.

Nathaniel pushed Phil into the bed and trapped the King using his whole body. Phil remained still under his grip, sudden numbness washing over him for a split second, before everything felt like it was so much and he couldn’t bear, couldn’t push through it.

Death seemed so much better than anything Nathaniel was going to do to him.

“Now, why don’t you turn around and swing those hips for me?” Nathaniel whispered in Phil’s ear.

But the now King stood still, he didn’t even breath; he was afraid, not brave. Phil felt the tears pricking his eyes and Nathaniel smiled creepily. And, even though he was paralyzed, the guard held his arm tightly.

“Are you ever going to turn around or do I have to do that myself, huh, rat?”

Phil opened his mouth to answer, but then he heard the nickname and was immediately reminded of Dan, and that was his breaking point. Although Dan usually called Phil “rat” as a term of endearment, that nickname had just been said with so much disgust, making it all even worse. But where was Dan? Would he come for Phil? Was Dan thinking of him? And, above all of that, was Dan okay? He feared for Dan because he knew what the boy was capable of. Phil was so caught up in his own thoughts that merely felt Nathaniel violently turning him around so that he faced the mattress. Phil’s body might’ve been there, but his mind surely wasn’t.

The King was furiously woken up by six or seven guys, including Nathaniel. He hadn’t even opened his eyes and they were already all over him, beating him, hurting him. Phil didn’t bother opening his eyes anyways, seeing their faces always made the whole experience worse, so he just tried to focus on something else, and all the memories from last night came back.

Someone hit his stomach, leaving him out of breath for a second. Last night, Nathaniel choked him until he almost fainted.

Another person slapped him twice, or maybe that was caused by two people. Last night, Nathaniel had already left marks of his hand all over Phil’s body.

They banged his head against the wooden headboard, which damaged his jaw the most, making Phil spit blood and a teeth. Last night, Nathaniel banged him against the wall, pressing Phil’s body so hard against it that he was almost sure he’d be able to walk through the wall after some time.

Last night, Nathaniel hit him with his belt until he was bleeding. Phil now opened his eyes for the first time this morning and met Nathaniel’s face, seconds before he hit Phil in the back of the head with his gun, knocking him out.

For once, darkness felt like bliss.

Phil woke up for the second time that day, but this time he was greeted by more familiar and friendly faces: the couple that took him to court yesterday. They looked surprised and intrigued, but Phil could tell they felt for him. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how bad he must’ve looked, the whole experience alone felt like hell, something sempiternal, as if it’d never end, he’d just have to keep suffering eternally. The King tried to sit, but his whole body was hurting, every inch, from top to bottom, and he realized he was going to be less functioning than usually.

“Don’t even move, just sit still, Your Majesty, we’ll get some help,” the man said and exited the room.

The woman sat beside him and ran her fingers through his hair, carefully, as if even his hair would break at the touch. The King realized he didn’t even know their names, but he was already fond of them; they were one of the very few people that had ever taken care of Phil, and that mattered more than anything.

He felt like screaming, trashing his room, thrashing every one of them, hitting his head so hard against the wall so maybe he’d learn something, and crying because it all felt like it was his fault. But Phil didn’t do any of those things. He could barely talk, he’d screamed a lot in the past twelve hours or so; he couldn’t get up, and his arms would hurt so much it wouldn’t be worth it, maybe he couldn’t even throw a cup so that it’d mess up the room, let alone beat up some people; his head already hurt like hell and all those voices in his head were torturing him; and the tears just wouldn’t come, no matter how hard he tried to cry.

“Is there anything that would make you feel better?” the woman asked. He could sense the worry in her voice, but she spoke so slowly, the words melting as she talked.

“Yes.” He could barely speak, but managed to say a word, just to regret doing so; firstly because of how it hurt and what it took him to say such a little word, and also because of the danger, oh, yes, the danger.

Phil couldn’t tell them to find Dan and bring him to Phil, no matter how much he wanted and needed Dan. They could do things to him too, maybe even worse, if those guards found out what he meant to Phil. He wanted to complicate Dan, but his priority was to keep the boy safe. So he shook his head in denial, hoping the woman wouldn’t ask any questions, but then he suddenly had an idea: Phil could send Dan a letter; it was an easy, harmless, and fast, way of letting Dan know he was okay and everything that was going on.

“Do you think I could send someone a letter?” Phil asked, almost sure he that she wouldn’t have heard or understood him if she wasn’t so close.

“Yes, we can provide you everything you need, but do you think you can write with that arm?” she asked.

“Probably not,” Phil answered.

“Well, unless you wanna send a handwritten letter, there’s another way to write a letter, and you won’t even have to move your arm,” she said.

“I can’t thank you enough,” Phil whispered unintentionally.

“You don’t have to, Your Majesty.” She stopped for a second. “You don’t deser—”

“Please, call me Phil.”

“You don’t deserve any of this, Phil, and this place is horrible. I can’t imagine how all of this, all at once, must be for you. I’m so sorry.” She stood up and walked to the door, but stopped before leaving the room. “But, tell you what, I believe there’s a place waiting for us after this, where everything’s golden and you’ll be happy, we’ll all be happy.” The woman went out, leaving Phil broken and all alone in that massive room.

She better be wrong, Phil thought. He couldn’t do this twice, going through all the suffering again, and living without Dan once again. Phil also couldn’t stand all the gold anymore, now he hated that color with a burning passion, the King blamed everything that had gone wrong in his life on it. Give me happiness; what I’ve always longed for, give me Dan back, Phil thought once again, hoping anyone besides him would somehow listen,or give me death, there’s nothing else left for me anyway.

By the night, the King had written the letter, using some sort of technology he didn’t know, but that was very useful considering his situation. He didn’t have to do anything but pressing some buttons on a bright screen, then one servant printed it and gave it to some guard, one Phil had never seen before, which was a relief, and she went out to find Dan and give him the letter, following the address Phil provided her.

While the guard was gone, the couple sent some people to take care of Phil, and, somehow, they did manage to make him a little better. His voice was better, he wasn’t as sore as he was in the morning, his wounds were clean and covered with bandages, which made him look like a mummy, and he could move around, kind of. They also dressed him nicely, gave him a white floral suit, with pink and golden details, and a long golden cape. He also had a crown now; but, seeing as they hadn’t had the time to make him his own crown, this was his father’s one, so it was too big and too heavy for him. Phil felt so wrong once again, but he couldn’t do anything to change that, he’d have to accept it.

Phil was looking in the mirror, trying to grow used to seeing him all dressed up like that, when the guard returned. She told him she delivered the letter, but she didn’t found Dan at the provided address, he was actually very far from the village they used to live, joined by a bunch of people, some of them with their faces covered. He asked her if he seemed okay and if she’d done anything to the other or him, she said Dan seemed almost numb, and completely changed when she mentioned, only to him, that it was letter from Phil, and that she’d just given him the letter and came back.

Now, watching the sky, and sat on his golden throne, Phil hoped Dan was okay and that he would find a way to send a letter as well, following the instructions Phil gave him. He tried getting lost in the stars, counting them over and over, but he could only picture Dan’s face in them, he couldn’t stop thinking about him. Was that fixation? Or maybe neurosis? He knew it wasn’t neither of those, but Phil didn’t want to admit what he felt for Dan when they weren’t going to be able to see each other in a long time, perhaps never again.

All of his thoughts were interrupted when someone suddenly started shouting and he heard rushed footsteps coming from upstairs. Phil was immediately startled, it could be one of the guards looking for him, and there was no one nearby, another prove that no one wanted to keep him safe, so he wouldn’t be the King, but he’d be useless and defenseless again. He dug his fingernails deep into the throne, hoping it’d serve as shield against anyone or anything that tried to get close to him. Then a familiar silhouette came running down the hall, towards him. The King would recognize him anywhere, at any time, and probably in another life, so he got up and started running to Dan.

They met right in the middle of the ballroom, where the throne, paintings, and all the golden futile expensive furniture were located, and just hug each other, it felt like time had stopped and nothing mattered anymore. Phil couldn’t and didn’t want to feel nothing but Dan, he wanted, and, somehow, he had to have him closer, as if that hug just wasn’t enough. Therefore, Phil kissed Dan, feeling like he’d just gotten back all the happiness he thought he’d lost.

“I never really thought that you’d come tonight; actually, I told you not to come, Dan!” Phil said. “But are you okay? How are you? You have to—”

“We’ve got to go, Phil, now!” Dan said in a rush. He was still his energetic self, but this was different, and scared Phil in every way possible. “I had no idea, I had no idea, I’m so sorry.” Dan was now shaking and looked like he was in the verge of bursting into tears. He hid his face in his hands.

“What are you talking about? Dan, please, calm down!”

“I didn’t know you were the King, so I joined the rebellion, and turns out they killed the King, the other one, and are coming to overthrow the monarchy,” Dan paused for a split second and looked right into Phil’s eyes. “They’re gonna kill you, Phil, we have to go right now, please, c’mon!”

Dan pulled Phil by the hand, but the King stopped. He couldn’t wait any longer, Phil had to say it out loud, this was his chance, and they’d enter a new chapter in their life, now that they were running away from all of this forever. He pulled Dan closer and started to say, very carefully, making each word sound how much he meant it, but that probably couldn’t happen when there were so many irrational and unexplainable feelings:

“Dan, I lo—” But Phil stopped mid-sentence when something hit him from behind.

It hurt so much, the King had never felt so much physical pain in his life before; even when he’d overworked himself, it never hurt like this. Time and space seemed to stop together and maybe he was falling, but he couldn’t tell, and, luckily, someone grabbed him. Phil stared into the warm shade of brown of Dan’s eyes, and he knew Dan was screaming something, but he couldn’t hear it. He was hit with an overwhelming feeling of tiredness and just wanted to close his eyes, rest a bit, but Dan’s grip on his body and on his face kept him awake, but not for long.

Phil rolled his eyes and looked at his surroundings.

Everything was golden and it all seemed so perfectly real; how could such a beautiful life be possible? Well, at least, not for Dan and Phil.

#phan #phanfic #phanfiction #phan au #phandom big bang 2017 #leleletizinha's fics #talent.txt

[sunbrights]

fic: blood from a stone

fandom: danganronpa characters/pairings: fuyuhiko character study, with guest appearances from marshmallow fuckboi, games mom, and sparkle justice herself. background kuzupeko, if it is your jam. rating: t read on AO3

He has to step around Koizumi’s corpse to get to the roadside door. He can’t risk stepping over her; the pool of blood around her head is still oozing wider, and his shoes are fine, white Italian leather. If they get even a smear on them, the jig is up. That shit never comes out.

Peko is the only reason he’s still spotless. She’d taken the bat before he could, cut in from behind, and now Koizumi’s blood is splattered on her instead of him, like flecks of paint on her skin. She doesn’t flinch from it, or try to wipe it away. She just leaves it, like it was meant to be there.

Half of him wants to kick through the puddle like it’s water and he’s a brat with no rain boots, until he’s just as stained as she is.

He doesn’t do that. He steps around the corpse, and jerks the door open. It’s a clear, bright day, and his eyes sting before they can adjust. Damp, salty air from the ocean scratches at his face.

He crosses the threshold, and stops.

There’s this stupid, girly ruffle on the bottom of her swimsuit. It’s tied into bows on either side of her hips. They don’t have to be bows, he assumes, a plain knot probably would have done the same job, but they are. That’s how she decided to tie them.

He keeps looking at them.

Shit like that is exactly the sort of thing she’s always quietly gravitated toward, something his parents never quite beat out of her, no matter what they did. On anyone else it’d be borderline plain, but on her it sticks out, cute and feminine and delicate. She must have picked the swimsuit out for herself at the supermarket. He didn’t even know she had it, before today.

She bends, and hefts Koizumi’s limp body into her arms. Blood smears on her chest and neck and biceps. It must be lukewarm by now, and thick; a coagulated clump of it sticks to her collarbone. She meets his eye over her shoulder, and stares at him expectantly.

He can’t move.

It’s not that he didn’t know there would be consequences. It’s that in the moment, when it was his anger and his grief and his revenge, the consequences didn’t matter.

She doesn’t tell him again to leave. He’s already outside. She looks at him like she’s memorizing him, eyes bright and searching, and then she sets the clean edge of her elbow against the inside of the door.

It slams in his face.

*

He leaves.

He just leaves her there.

He watches his feet to make sure they stay on the pavement. The whole thing’d be pointless if he left footprints in something as stupid as dust or dewy grass. Out here, in the sunlight, he can see better how the dirt from all these back-ass island roads has been clinging to his shoes, dark smears near the soles.

That’s the problem with white leather. It gets grimy no matter what you do.

Souda and Hinata corner him in the parking lot outside the diner. Souda sticks his finger in his face and rants at him about a bunch of shit that doesn’t make any sense, and Hinata keeps looking at him with this pinched, confused sort of expression.

A sluggish, stupid corner of his brain realizes: they don’t know. Of course they don’t. Why would they? They’re civilians going about their day; they don’t have any reason to know when something in the underbelly has gone south.

They will know, though. Mioda and Tsumiki have beach towels and sunscreen, when they walk up. Souda is making some kind of pathetic plea for an invitation. They’ll go to the beach house eventually, and even if Peko isn’t still there, Koizumi will be. It’ll start again. Hinata and Nanami and all the others will pick around for clues. There’ll be a trial.

Whatever plan Peko says she has, it only ends one of two ways: either he’s dead, or she is.

He feels dizzy, like he’s been standing in the sun all day and his brain finally cooked inside his skull.

Mioda and Souda are loud enough that it gets Hinata and Tsumiki to look away from him, just for a second. He should be using this interaction to think about how best to leverage it later, that’s 101-level shit, but his head is too hazy for him to focus like that. Souda has said the word “coincidence” about four times in a row.

He can’t listen to this anymore. He can’t be here anymore. It’s like his whole body is running on autopilot, and the next time his brain checks back in, he’s already halfway back to the hotel.

It’s a ghost town. Literally: every time he wakes up in the morning and every time he comes back in the evening, he has to look at fucking Togami’s empty fucking cottage sitting across from his. It’s like it’s staring him down. It burns the back of his neck when he goes to open his door.

Togami got what was coming to him. Koizumi, too. Their mouths wrote checks their asses couldn’t cash, and they paid the price for it. That’s it. That’s the way the world’s always been for him, and that’s the way it is for all of them, now. If they can’t catch up, they’ll die, and anybody who’s taken this long to figure that out deserves what they get.

He fumbles with the lock. His keys clatter to the ground, loud in his ears.

“You’ve gotta be— fucking kidding me.”

Bending down makes blood rush unsteadily to his head, and all at once it’s like the rest of his body throws in the fucking towel. His legs turn to jelly. He can’t feel his fingers. His stomach turns over, and he gulps at air to try and keep his breakfast down long enough to shove his keys in the lock.

(Damp, salty air from the ocean only makes the feeling worse.)

The door falls open, and he slams it behind him, just in time for his knees to give out. He hits his tailbone on the way down, and can’t find the clarity to care.

He stays there, for a long time.

At some point, the monitor over the window buzzes to life. Monokuma lounges in his chair, sucking on the same shitty cocktail he always is, and grins into the camera.

“A body has been discovered!”

*

She had no right to interfere.

She had no fucking right.

All the shit from the prep work he did is still laid out on his desk. The stack of paper, the pens, all the discarded drafts of his letter to Koizumi.

(They’re crumpled and strewn in and around the trashcan; his first few tries had been aggressive, nonsensical messes. He’d let too much emotion through, both in the language and in the handwriting. It’d been obvious. Pathetic.)

He rifles through the pile, looking for anything. He doesn't know what. When he can't figure it out, he starts hurling things on the floor instead.

It was his responsibility. He had a plan, a goal, a strategy, and she had to go in and fuck everything up at the very last second.

For what?

For the clan? For duty? For the fucking noose around her fucking neck that he’s had tied to his pinky finger his entire life?

There’s nothing here. It’s all blank notebook paper and smeared ink; he doesn’t even have the stupid envelope to show for it, anymore. He doesn’t know what he expected to find, other than a record of his own bullshit, and now he can't stand looking at it.

“Goddamn— fucking— piece of— shit!”

He drags his whole arm across the desktop. Everything scatters, the whole damn lot of it, but there’s nothing cathartic about pieces of paper floating to the floor. He kicks the leg of the desk for good measure, but there’s nothing in that either. Just noise, grating on his nerves.

Late afternoon sunlight streams in through the slats of the blinds. A glare from somewhere flickers in the corner of his eye, insistent, annoying, until he finally turns around.

His heirloom paper screen gleams at him from the corner of the cottage. Twin dragons twisted together, fangs bared, gaping jaws ready to swallow him whole. Massive. Powerful. Ancient.

His throat aches, pain like burning, like he’s swallowed molten lead.

He charges it. He flings his arm out, his knuckles collide with the wooden edge of the frame, and the whole thing just collapses, like it’s nothing.

It is nothing. It’s paper stamped with gold leaf and shoved into a frame. All that expense and history, and a couple of elaborate dragons aren't doing shit for him now. They’ve never done anything for him ever. They just stare at him, an ostentatious show of everything he’s supposed to be, and everything he isn’t.

Peko has one, too. Hers doesn’t have the same level of detail his does; it’s a tiger on a plain background, all elegant curves and empty space. It’s beautiful, but ferocious. A perfectly designed instrument of death.

He kicks the edge of the frame so that it skitters across the floor. Dirt from the bottom of his shoe marrs the delicate paper corner.

What a fucking joke.

*

The doorbell rings.

Then it rings again.

Komaeda hems and haws on his doorstep. (Whoever let him out of his makeshift jail cell is a fucking moron.) “I wonder if he’s really here,” he says, too loud to just be talking to himself. “Nidai-kun said he was, but…”

The doorbell rings third time. When he still doesn’t answer, the bastard starts knocking instead. “Hey!” he shouts, the syllable drawn obnoxiously out. “Kuzuryuu-kun! Are you home? I’ve got an important message for you!”

“Get lost, asshole!” Fuyuhiko shouts back. “Unless you want me to put you in the fucking drink!”

Komaeda just laughs. “There he is. The rest of us were starting to get pretty worried, you know. I mean, up and disappearing like that, especially after what happened to Koizumi-san… People might start thinking something happened to you, too.”

He rattles the handle. Komaeda’s not dumb enough to think the door will actually open; Fuyuhiko knows intimidation when he sees it.

“Anyway,” he goes on. “Would you mind coming out here for a second? Monokuma’s asked everyone to gather at the airport.”

“Yeah,” Fuyuhiko answers, “I do fucking mind. Learn to take a damn hint and fuck off.”

“Is that hinting? I'd hate to see what it's like when you're direct.”

“I said fuck off!”

Komaeda isn't deterred. He never is, the creep. “I know,” he says, sounding delighted. “And I hate to insist. But, like I said, this is coming down from Monokuma himself. I’m worried there might be… consequences, if you don’t come.”

“How stupid do you think I am, motherfucker?” Fuyuhiko snarls. “I’m not fucking around. Back. Off.”

“Alright! Alright, alright. There’s no need to get so angry about it…” Komaeda sighs. There’s a thump when he leans back against the door. “Although, I probably should have known better than to think someone like me could fool someone like you with such a flimsy lie. After all, that’s what your talent is really about.” Fuyuhiko can hear the shit-eating grin on his face. “Isn’t it?”

He waits for an answer. Fuyuhiko won’t give him the satisfaction.

“Did you know we found footprints outside the beach house?” Komaeda asks.

Fuyuhiko clenches his jaw.

“I have to admit, it was a pretty incredible clue. We’ve taken great care to preserve them, since everyone else seems to think they must belong to the killer. There’s only so many ways out of that place, after all.” There’s an oozing quality to his voice. It makes Fuyuhiko’s skin crawl. “What do you think?”

His heart rattles in his chest. “Why are you asking me?” he says over it. “The fuck should I care?”

Komaeda clucks his tongue. “Ah, right. How could I forget? This doesn’t have anything to do with you.” He raps his knuckles against the door, a cheerful half-tune. “I’ll leave you to it, then. See you at the trial, Kuzuryuu-kun.”

*

He tries to remember. He forces himself. He closes his eyes and puts the photo front-and-center in his mind, as stark and bright with color as it’d been that first morning he held it in his hands.

Her skin is white, drawn and drained. There’s blood on her scalp, and it sticks her bangs in a matted clump against her forehead. It’s brighter than she is, spilling from her nose and mouth, splattered down her front.

It’s her, but not her. He could never imagine an expression like that on her face, slack with pain and fear. He still can’t. Trying makes her features go vague and unfamiliar, like it’s a different girl tossed on the floor of the music room.

Has to be.

Must be.

His brain serves up the only actual memory it can find: her outside his dorm room the day of the entrance ceremony, with her chin high and her grin lopsided. “You better work your ass off,” she tells him. “‘Cause I’m up next, and I’m not gonna go easy on you.”

She never stops giving him shit the whole day. Her smile is big. Her eyes are clear and focused.

Her skin is white.

There’s blood on her scalp.

He tastes copper. He’s biting down too hard on the inside of his cheek. He doesn’t stop himself.

Fucking coward.

Face it.

He’s seen it before. If that bullshit game is real, he’s seen the photo already, so why the fuck can he not fucking remember?

If it’s real, he needs to remember.

He needs to know what it felt like when that bitch Satou’s skull cracked under the weight of his swing. He needs to hear her scream. He needs to watch the color drain out of her face from a hole in her fucking head. He needs to see the fear trapped on her face forever, frozen in rigor mortis, like her, like his sister, like Natsumi.

Instead, he only has the sickly stink of Koizumi’s blood cooking in the hot air of the beach house, and Peko’s arm behind the bat. There’s no satisfaction in it. There’s no grim understanding of justice served. There’s just nausea, boiling, threatening the bottom of his throat.

Maybe if he remembered, it would’ve felt like it meant something.

Maybe then he could’ve done what needed to be done on his own.

Maybe then he wouldn’t have hesitated.

Maybe then—

*

The doorbell rings. “Kuzuryuu-kun.”

It’s Nanami. He can hear her clearly through the door, almost better than Komaeda. She’s always fucking mumbling, but now suddenly she decides she wants to speak up. “I was hoping we could talk, if you have a minute.”

He has his head in his arms on the table. He’s been staring at a knot in the wood for the past fifteen minutes. He doesn’t say anything.

She doesn’t ring again. She doesn’t hound him like Komaeda did. But she doesn’t leave him alone, either; her backpack scratches against the door when she sits down in front of it. “That’s okay,” she says. “I understand. You’re in a lot of pain right now… probably.”

Probably. She says probably like she knows shit about anything. He lifts his head enough to glare at the door, and bites at his sleeve to keep his mouth shut.

“I saw the pictures,” she says. “I’m sorry about what happened to your sister.”

Fucking Koizumi. She didn’t even have the basic decency to destroy the pictures, or at least hide them somewhere the amateur detective club wouldn’t find them. Natsumi deserves better than to have her remains plastered around like that, a piece in some stranger’s bullshit puzzle.

“But I’m not here to talk about that,” Nanami says, firmly. Brooking no argument, like he was even going to bother. “I don’t know what happened between you and Koizumi-san. I don’t know if you’re the one who killed her. But… there’s one thing I do know.”

Nanami had barely even registered on his radar, before today. She’s a wishy-washy, air-headed wisp of a girl. But now, sitting outside his cottage talking at him through the door, she finds some kind of conviction: “This has to stop.”

She’s dumber than he thought she was, if she thinks any of this is going to stop now that it’s been put in motion.

“I don’t want to lose anyone else. But there’s no turning away from this, you know? It happened. It happened, and now we have to move forward. Finding out who killed Koizumi-san is the only way we can do that.”

It’s the most words he’s heard Nanami say in a row since he met her.

“I don’t want anyone else to die,” she goes on. “I don’t think you do, either. But… nobody can do this by themselves, right? The only way we can stop more killings is if we work together, right?”

She waits.

He doesn’t say anything. There’s nothing to say. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about or who she’s talking to, bottom line.

It doesn’t stop her from trying. “... What do you think, Kuzuryuu-kun?”

She keeps waiting. She waits a long fucking time. The silence isn’t even awkward— it just is, framed by the rush of the ocean in the distance. He grinds his knuckles into the table, hard enough to hurt.

Eventually, even Nanami breaks. “I see. That’s your answer, huh?” She breathes out, slow, the same way she does everything else. He thinks maybe he hears her smiling. “It was a lot to ask this time, maybe. Thanks for listening anyway.”

She stands up, but her voice gets closer, like she’s nose-to-nose with the door. “The class trial is going to start soon,” she tells him. “Whatever else happens… If you decide to change your mind, we’ll still be here. That’s a promise, you know?”

She walks away.

*

When they were kids, Natsumi put Peko in one of her own yukata for festival. She’d dressed Peko up like a doll, pinching and tugging and pulling until she was perfect, and then made her spin in place in the middle of her bedroom.

That memory rises to the front of his mind without any effort at all. He’d been standing in the corner. He’d complained that they were taking too long.

It was a deep purple yukata. There’d been a pattern of delicate white birds on it, swooping up from her feet to her elbows. He remembers Peko doing an extra turn just to see the bottom skirts swirl around her ankles.

She’d been thrilled. Excited. Delighted. For once, a little girl allowed to play dress up.

All three of them were still young enough that none of them saw the problem with it. Natsumi had posed with her, fan open dramatically over the lower half of her face, and demanded his opinion.

“She should wear it,” he remembers saying. “It looks better than that grimy one Mitsuya gave her.”

Peko hasn’t been that girl for— years. But she’s still part of her, deep down. He knows that. He’s seen her reach trembling hands out toward stray dogs on the street, when she thinks he’s preoccupied. He’s seen the stupid little bows she tied on the bottom of her swimsuit.

He wants to remember her like that. Smiling, almost shy, face warm with eager excitement. Not stiff-backed and empty, splattered in blood with the word “tool” in her mouth.

He grinds the heels of his hands into his eyes.

No.

Shut the fuck up.

Stop.

It’s not going to end like this. It won’t. He refuses to let it.

(The memory ends the same way they all do. His old lady found out, and nearly twisted Peko’s arm off dragging her away. He’d shouted and cried and stomped his feet, and it hadn’t changed a single damn thing.)

*

He pulls out his handbook, and swipes through the list of rules.

Rule #8: As a reward, the surviving blackened will be forgiven of their crime and allowed to leave the island.

Technically, he’s an accomplice. Without him, there’s no method, opportunity, or motive, and that’s half the whole fuckin’ shebang right there. He’s just as culpable; any court worth its teeth would put him away, too.

Is there a rule for that?

If the class picks the wrong person, who gets to leave? Is it just Peko?

… Or could it be them both?

He swipes backwards.

Rule #7: If the blackened is not exposed, the remaining students will be executed.

His heart hangs in his throat.

“Hey,” he says to the empty room. He sounds like shit, even to himself. “Monokuma.”

It doesn’t take even a full second. There’s a flicker in his peripheral vision, and then Monokuma is just there, one delicate round paw against his snout. “Didja call me?”

Fuyuhiko jumps. He can’t help it. It’s fucking creepy. “Can’t- Can’t you use a goddamn door?!”

“Sure,” Monokuma says, conversational. “But today’s special. This is the first time you’ve ever called me for anything, you know. I said to myself, I said, leap on the opportunity! It could be an emergency! Drama! A thrilling-but-adequately-foreshadowed plot twist!” He pokes at one corner of the upended screen with his foot. “PS, this place is a total pig sty. Do you have no shame? And after I went to all that trouble of putting these cottages together for you, too…”

His nails are cutting into his palms, even as short as they are. “Will you shut the fuck up for five seconds?” he grinds out. “I…I got a question for you.”

Monokuma hoists himself up onto the table with both paws, and sticks his button nose right in Fuyuhiko’s face. “Oh yeah? Does that mean you’re finally ready to play with the rest of the class?”

“It’s one fuckin’ question,” Fuyuhiko snaps. “Don’t cream yourself over it.”

“Okay. So what’s the question?”

Information is the most powerful weapon he can get. Once he knows the answer, he’ll be able to plan his strategy better. He’ll know what’s the best case scenario, and what’s the worst.

Monokuma won’t lie. Not when it’s more entertaining for him to tell the truth.

All Fuyuhiko has to do is ask.

“What’s the matter?” Monokuma jeers. “Tool gotcher tongue?”

He’s being baited. He doesn’t care. The word still trips some switch in his head that makes his chest split and his ears ring.

Monokuma’s seen everything, up till now. He knows everything that’s happened. It’s all a sick joke to him, a game, a source of twisted fucking entertainment. Fuyuhiko’s here pouring over rules, and Monokuma’s there in the background, laughing.

(He’d grinned at him like that yesterday morning, too, both paws clutched around a plain, manila envelope. “Congratulations!” he’d cooed. “You’ve earned the ending prize!”)

“Get out,” he says between his teeth.

Monokuma’s laughter soars. “Ohhhhh nooooo. And after I came all the way out here, too! Was it something I said?”

“I said get out.”

“Fine, fine. Sourpuss.” Monokuma presses both paws to his snout, like that will suppress the lilting giggle. ”Oh well. Not like it matters to me. Besides, I think you already know the answer to your little question, anyway.” He leans over the table on stubby arms. Up close, the cutesy, stylized design of his face looks dead and emotionless. “Don’t you?”

Fuyuhiko lunges at him. It’s stupid, impulsive, and pointless; Monokuma dances out of his reach and leaves him strangling empty air.

“I’m gonna do you a favor,” Monokuma tells him, picking at the shiny points of his claws, “and let that one slide. Just this once.” He tilts his head toward the door. Fuyuhiko can only see the manic left edge of his smile. “We need you at the class trial this time around if it’s gonna meet its full potential. So don’t even think about trying to skip out again.”

Then he disappears. Like that, like it’s nothing. There’s no flourish or puff of smoke or slow fade-out. He’s there one second, and then not the next.

Fuyuhiko’s handbook is still face-up on the table.

Rule #7: If the blackened is not exposed, the remaining students will be executed.

He slaps his hand over it to turn it off. It clatters to the edge of the table, and he’s almost disappointed it doesn’t crack open against the floor.

If Saionji goes down, Peko walks free. That’s all he needs to know.

Anything else after that is just details.

*

In his mind, when the cottage is quiet, she listens to him. She runs. She finds some unknown beach on the other side of the island, free from Monokuma and the trial and ghost of Koizumi Mahiru. She slips the noose his clan tried to tighten around her throat. She escapes him and all his stupid fucking choices.

Everything after that, the hows and wheres and whats, gets hazy and unimportant. Even he’s not childish enough to think it’ll actually happen.

Peko’s yakuza, too. She won’t just roll over and accept defeat, even if he begged her to. (Even now, after he already has.) She’s been out there fighting this whole time, and what’s he been doing? Sitting around throwing a fit and making a mess, like a goddamn child.

The least he can do is pull himself out of his own ass long enough to fight alongside her.

The monitor over the window buzzes to life. Monokuma is mugging for the camera, he assumes. Fuyuhiko has his back to it.

“The hostility of fresh blood! The insanity of a contest of wits! The class trial is finally raising its curtain!”

He picks himself up, and goes.

#fuyuhiko kuzuryuu #peko pekoyama #danganronpa #kuzupeko #kind of #tbh i was ready to scrap this whole thing a week ago #so i'm pretty flabbergasted to be posting it #but here it is! #amazing what some time and prompt fills will do #also: more flower fills coming soon #thanks to everyone who sent them! #sunwrites

[krakenator]

Chapter 11 aka “Welcome to Chili’s”

SPOILERS are sprinkled around extremely liberally for The Property of Hate

Masterpost here

Oh damn alright that answers my earlier question of “what will cause RGB to make like a cuttlefish”. He can fiddle with his colors at any time, but he’ll fritz and settle on colors after power surges as well

And he DODGES the black button question. Look at that anxious cane fiddling!

White knob handles color, black knob brightness, he’s just shown that the white panel opens to adjust brightness/saturation/color… is the black button just plain off?

“I lose you I leave you” is such a damned lie lmao

Let’s see what kind of Stuff people trade here!

Moments manifest as clocks, har-har

I’m in love with the borzoi vender bc I love borzois they’re such ridiculously ethereal dogs

Don’t like your current eye? Trade it for a better eye!

or you dont care about eyes, just revenge-feelings

Kisses of varying flavors, all shaped like X’s

STOP RIGHT THERE crimincal scum. RGB stole a farewell kiss (HAR HAR). But seriously, does the Market have law enforcement for this kind of thing?

I’m sorry but my shit fandom brain see’s discussion about trading body parts and my mind immediately goes to Skulduggery “lost his original skull when sleeping and replaced it by winning another one in a poker game” Pleasant

Incidentally ALSO a story about a standoffish dapper non-human taking a young girl on Adventures

uh oh

Lmao he ends up dropping his cane in panic

I love the movement in this panel. RGB just scooping her up with one arm

Goodbye New Suit we barely knew ye

RGB’s able to fine tune his pallet extremely specifically for just 3 sliders

This might be my favorite interaction in the entire damn comic

CAREFUL RGB YOUR ATTACHMENT IS SHOWING

I love how RGB decided “you know what i like what that quick camouflage did for my trousers, I’m going to coordinate my upper half to match it”

Interesting visual and sound effect- we saw a character swap out heads earlier without that CRACK. Considering Assok’s had trouble twice now with static cling to RGB’s face, is this an electric spark of sorts?

I like the detail that Watcher only speaks in one word sentences

God but that cane is convenient. What I wouldn’t give to have possessions that are impossible to lose

I love RGB quietly, actually checking in with Assok after accidentally knocking them off Hero’s head

And now for something completely different!

WHOLESOME ASSOK HUG

RGB’s starting to poke her towards her epiphany about the Make Believe

As a someone who spent a long time being a short person that’s such short people talk RGB

Dude I skimmed over Dial’s dialogue this page last time because, really. Look at it. So lets actually read this sucker

Oh shit Dial actually mentions the Elastic Valley way before we get there ourselves

He’s got to what now. TOby is there on a JOB? Someone put him here on PURPOSE? I thought he just ended up there and was so surly to every fucking thing and everyone passing by was like “ok u can stay there rudepants”. What’s he on watch for?? Unless it’s far more punishment than it is useful assignment

Bad puns, go to jail

Oh shit does Watcher have another pair of eyes on his wings? Damn! For a guy with 4 eyes he sure is not very helpful at his job later on!!

Hooo does his boss make Dial nervous. Lookit that stutter and devolution to muttering

When Dial says TOby took his eye off things, is he referring to letting RGB+Hero pass by (how would he stop them)? Is it that the wind blew him over and blocked his vision (THAT IS LITERALLY NOT HIS FAULT)?

And what the hell has TOBy done to defy Hate previously? What does he have opinions that Hate/Dial would have him change his mind about?

See you space cowboy…

And because I can’t make up my mind on what to meme here: “mm whatcha saaay”

A thought on Dial’s design… his head says “ON AIR”. Later we know that Hate can listen in on him. D’you figure he ever makes himself “OFF AIR” other than when he sleeps?

Now this little here combined textbox gives me some thoughts…

I haven’t paid attention to the color of character text beyond Hero’s voice getting eroded by sand, but… boxes can be any color and shape, its not uncommon for characters to have separate fonts, but words themselves? Only ever black and white. Now this could be for the sake of no eyestrain against backgrounds, but... consider the dichotomy TPoH is building up over its story

white in this comic is associated with bad things quite often. Lies, [-----], Hate’s realm. The blinding, scorching, destructive light of the unmasked Sun. meanwhile, darkness hides the Market from danger, and nighttime is tied intrinsically with dreaming. in fact, we JUST had an entire chapter dedicated to framing the Dark as good, protective, and aligned with trees and water, other positive entities

For a minute I got all excited because Dial and the Butterfly both have white text, thinking “oh, my god. do all Hate-aligned characters have white text?” this gets jossed pretty hard by Julienne’s white text, as well as Cell and Tailor.

but while THINKING on that, I jumped back to Storytime in chapter 10 and check this out: the moment RGB starts his story, text is suddenly white. Most of it continues to be in white… except for these two sentences

AND CHECK THIS SHIT OUT: THE TEXT COLOR/SCENERY CHANGE COLOR TO THE FIVE COLORS OF RGB’S SCREEN. HOW DID I MISS THAT??

(flips table) WHAT DOES IT ALL MEEEEEEAN

… y’know, the only character to have a white bubble color for their speech is RGB, who speaks in black

He’s both. He’s NEUTRAL.

Considering my talent for creating OCs but chronic deficiency in building coherent and decisive stories for them, they’re all probably wandering this Market and world right now. at the very least most of them have spent a DAMN long time here before becoming realized (im so sorry guys im trying)

The ones that are complete as themselves but their stories are unstarted/uncertain? That’s like. most of them. whoops. maybe this will be the kick in the pants i need

But on a brighter note: Fosters Home for Unfinished OCs

BUT by the rules of this world, RGB doesn’t have a story… yet this is his story.

Assok’s newest position of travel is adorable and im dying

Y’know… Hero and RGB have very different ways of solving things. A little obvious, but- RGB’s solutions are always convoluted, require multiple steps, and are a little ridiculous. Or, he at least FRAMES them as complex. See: Click escape, train escape, entire scheme to find a Hero to right the world. Hero’s far more straightforward but her solutions are also more, like… sensible than RGB’s if that makes sense. If it was just RGB up on the burning heart his plan would have probably involved more "im very intelligent” and pizzaz, while Hero went for the comparatively simple “lets zipline” (versus RGB’s upcoming Click escape clusterfuck)

All of which to say, I got thinking on that with RGB being like “it’s a very complex topic I can’t possibly boil it down to anything smaller” and Hero describing what the Make Believe acts as in one word

So if this worlds objects come from the sea, the sea is connected to other worlds? And it was confirmed early on that ‘stuff’ and ‘thought’ are basically synonyms- these foreign objects can exist in the Make Believe because they’re infused with enough Stuff!

Hero and presumably all of the other Heroes came from outside the Make Believe… they are not unrealized characters, or they didn’t start out as such. To exist here like this, they must then be imbued with enough Stuff/Thought… if we specify Stuff as equivalent to creative thought… by jove! I’ve hit on (another) theory!

Haven’t all past Heroes been artists? Julienne is a dancer, Melody a musician, Dial works radio, Ticker is a craftsman, and Tailor works with textiles. TOby and Assok don’t have anything obvious, but if I was Hate, I’d turn puppeteers into motionless dolls and empty-voiced sock puppets.

oh yeah, and Click. betcha he was a toymaker

I wonder what kind of artist Hero would grow up to be? She clearly draws, we saw her work taped to her bedroom wall

Of note… RGB is also an artist. It looked like that alternate human-self we glimpse later was involved with TV production, or perhaps script writing.

Tfw your ex walks past and doesn’t even hesitate like wow Magnus be a stone cold bitch like that

also like how his speech tail loops around his neck like a noose upon seeing Maggie

ALSO, that conveniently timed mention of hands when giving examples of what makes Stuff valuable in the Market- the nostalgia and undertones of regret are strong in this one

(watches this character die) oh jesus Christ. (looks at list of decommissioned ocs) ... oops

So this is what it looks like when a character dies… what does it look like when one is realized

do you like puns? want some more quality RGB roasting? like clothes shopping? the next chapter is for you

#tpoh #the property of hate #tpoh time with Gill

[rise-above-the-grave]

red string (will be your noose): chapter 2

Read Chapter 1 on tumblr   on ao3   on ff.net

Read Chapter 2 on ao3   on ff.net

trigger warnings: rape/non-con (semi-explicit), torture, violence, language

I am lying on a bed, and that bed is soft.

That is the first thing that I know upon regaining consciousness.

The second is that I do not hurt.

I open my eyes. The ceiling is white where it stretches above me, though the edges of the rivets that hold it together are cast in shadowed relief. There is light, but it is dim and grey, like twilight or like dawn. I am not sure which.

A breath, deep and careful. A movement of my hands, light and just as careful. The pain remains mysteriously absent.

I sit up slowly. Again, I am shocked to discover that I feel no pain. Each breath is easy and effortless; each movement, of muscle and skin, is unstrained and done with little more than half a thought. It is novel and strange, after having been so long the lover of agony.

The walls of a Starfleet sickbay look back at me when I look around. They are pale and unassuming, with darkened displays and computer terminals built into corners at eye height. Stands and trays of medical equipment wait at hip-height along the pale walls, beside the beds that lay empty in twos and threes beside and across from me.

It is just like every other sickbay I have been in.

Somehow, though, it looks different. I do not know why.

Movement. And then there is a figure in the doorway. I turn my head and look at her, and am met with the sight of red hair and blue eyes and a face that will broke no argument about the nature of beauty. She is dressed in Starfleet medical's blue, with a pale lab coat drifting from her shoulders.

"It is good seeing you awake, Captain," the doctor says. She comes to a halt by my bedside, and from the depths of her left-hand pocket she pulls forth a medical tricorder. It beeps when she opens it, and beeps again when she scans me with the small nodule she holds in her right hand. I hold very still.

"Where am I?"

It is a silly question, asked by invalids and the confused, and I know that as soon as it leaves my lips. But I have nothing else to ask, and I want to ask a question. And, I realize, when she looks up at me with something that is not quite pity, and not quite sympathy, but is something in between, that I may be both invalid and confused.

"You are on the Dawnbreaker," the doctor says. Her voice is as kind and cool as it was when she first spoke to me.

I nod. I have heard the name Dawnbreaker before, in the shuttle that took me and Kathryn from the prison.

Oh, God, I think, or say, or moan. Kathryn.

The doctor—I realize I still do not know her name—looks at me with some concern. I think I may have spoken aloud after all.

"Who are you?" I blurt out. The question that I want to ask—that I need to ask, with every cell of skin and bone—sticks in my mouth, behind my teeth, and will not form on my tongue.

The doctor lifts one arched eyebrow, as if she knows that that was not what I had intended to ask. "My name is Dr. Beverly Crusher," she says. "I am the chief medical officer on the Dawnbreaker."

I swallow. The question I want and need to ask sits heavy like clay in my mouth. "My—" My voice fails. I look at the walls, and at the ceiling, and for an instant all I see is cement floor and blood and, from the corner of my eye, hair that is only half a shade away from blood.

There is a hand on my shoulder, gripping tight. Then a voice. "—ain. –ptain. Captain!"

I blink. Drag in a shuddering breath.

The doctor's worried face climbs into view. She is looking at me with blue eyes wide with concern, and a mouth that speaks my name again, and then again, with increasing force. I shake my head, and shiver from her hold, and see that her hair is redder than hers ever was.

"I—I." I have never stuttered before, and now I find that I have done it twice. I cannot calm my heartbeat, nor the trembling in my hands. I wonder if this is some effect of medication, or if I have suffered permanent nerve damage.

"Easy, Captain Paris," Dr. Crusher says gently. Then there is more movement, and I feel the tip of a hypospray against my neck. It hisses, and cool serenity spreads into my fingers. "Sleep, now," she murmurs. "There will be time for questions later."

When I wake again, the lights are yellow rather than grey, and the doctor has been replaced by a young, dark-haired boy. He smiles at me when he sees me open my eyes, and he sits straighter on his perch on my bed.

"Hi," he says. His voice is high with youth, and his eyes are as bright blue as Dr. Crusher's.

"Hi," I say slowly in return. I do not know what else to say.

"Mom was worried," the boy says.

I frown. I do not know what to do with that information.

The boy sees my confusion, and takes pity on me. I can see it in his open face—though it is not the kind of pity I have already begun to expect. "She asked me to watch you," the boy tells me. He says it so matter-of-factly that it seems like nothing else could be more obvious. "She was afraid you might do something both of you would regret. And she thought that a child, like me, might help keep you from flashbacks."

He says it all with the air of a young child repeating what he has heard. But beneath that there is the carefully guarded tone of a man who knows exactly what it is he says. I am struck with the notion that this child is far smarter than I am, or ever could dream of being.

I blink at him, and then push myself up into a sitting position. "Is that right?" I ask.

The boy nods. "Yes."

"So who is your mother, then?" I ask.

"Dr. Beverly Crusher," the boy says. There is a great deal of pride in his voice when he says this. "And I'm Wesley."

I smile. "Nice to meet you, Wesley," I say. "I'm Captain Owen Paris. But you can call me Owen."

The boy smiles in return, and then shifts forward on the bed so that, when he extends his right hand, I can reach it easily with my own. "Nice to meet you," Wesley says, and gives my hand a small shake.

"Nice to meet you too," I say.

There is an awkward moment of silence. Wesley looks as if he wants to ask me something, but I suspect what he wishes to ask me has been forbidden by his mother. I suspect I know what the question is—or, at least, what it will be about—and because I do not want to talk about it, I leave the boy to stew in his own silent musings.

At last, Wesley heaves a sigh, and when he looks up at me his face is broken only by an easy smile. "My mother says you're a Captain." He pulls a face. "And you just said that you were one as well. I really should listen better." This last part he says to himself, and I cannot help but smile at the undercurrent of childish irritation. For all his big words and complex sentences, he is just a boy—and he reminds me, with a sudden pang, of my own son.

Tom.

It is the first time in what feels like an eternity that I have thought of him. Those first days, I had thought of him almost constantly; he had been my life-line, the one fixed point in the galaxy that I had clung to to give me strength in the face of the Cardassians and their laughter and their pain. But then, as the minutes had begun to last for hours, and the hours for days, I had thought less and less of him.

It was too painful, then, to think of my son—my bright-eyed, bright-laughing son, who was all that was good and just and right in the galaxy.

Now, though, I think of him again. I wonder what he and Theresa, my wife, have been told. A shuttle accident is usually the standard cover story; of the reported number of shuttle accidents, there are, I suspect, only half as many crashed shuttles. Or perhaps Starfleet Command had gotten more creative. Perhaps they had told Tom and Theresa that a mission had gone wrong, and Ensign Janeway and I had been trapped in a collapsed mine while trying to rescue the last group of villagers…

Ensign Janeway.

And suddenly, everything falls into hard, sick reality.

Kathryn.

I look up at Wesley. He is watching me—watching my face, watching my eyes, watching the way my hands have tightened on top of the blankets that cover my lap—but he does not jump when my head snaps up. He only looks curious.

I, however, am burning. "The woman who came in with me," I say, too quickly. My words tangle, tumble out of my mouth in a ruinous pile between us. I take a deep breath. "The woman, Ensign Janeway. Do you know how she is?"

Is she alive? I want to ask, but find that I cannot.

Wesley's clear face brightens. "Mom says she'll be okay. Though," and here he frowns, and his eyes grow a distant sort of glaze for a second before clearing again, "she says that she's going to have permanent vaginal scarring, due to the tools used during the initial surgery."

I stare, dumbfounded, at the boy. I am horrified, mostly, but there is also confusion, and a sense of something too big and too terrible to bear hanging over me. It lies in the words scarring, and permanent, and vaginal—

And suddenly I am gasping, and the world is closing in on me in a thousand shades of white and black and red. I am everywhere, and I am nowhere, and I am sitting in the bed of the Dawnbreaker and I am standing shackled to a pole in a Cardassian prison cell. I am cold, and hot, and I can see the Cardassians laugh as they come again, and again, and again in the body of my Ensign.

The boy is yelling. And sobbing. And begging, "I'm sorry," first to me then to the woman who rushes in at his cries. "I didn't know," I hear the boy say, through her screams and the laughter and the roar of blood in my ears. "I just told him what you said in your report on Ensign Janeway, and—"

And then there is the snick of a hypospray against my neck once more, and I slide into blissful, blessed sleep.

~*x*~

When I wake again, I find that I am no longer on the Dawnbreaker. In fact, I am on no ship. The sub-audible hum of a ship's engines is absent from my bones, and there is sunlight—real, golden sunlight—drifting in through a window to the right of my bed.

I sit up slowly. Like before, I find myself startled by the absence of pain at the movement. There is only the stretch of new-grown skin, and the pull of new-knit muscle. The sunshine is warm on my face, and when I draw in a careful breath, I taste the salt of the ocean and the cool decay of an autumn breeze.

The floor is cold against my bare feet, the air cool through the thin hospital smock that covers my nakedness. For a second, as my legs take my weight for the first time in time uncountable, my knees threaten to buckle. I sit quickly, the hospital mattress sagging beneath me—and then I push myself upright once again, and this time I take a tottering step forward and do not fall.

I am in San Francisco. The city's skyscrapers look down on me as I stare up at them, the windowsill hard beneath the palms of my hands. I look to the left, toward the bay, and in the distance I can see the dome Starfleet Headquarters.

I wonder, briefly, when I will be summoned there. An empty pit yawns in my stomach at the thought, and I push it away as I turn from the window and back towards my bed. I do not want to think of that—do not want to think of the consequences and fallout of my actions these last days and weeks.

The door opens when I am two steps from my bed. An Andorian nurse enters, looking kind but busy, though she comes to a quick halt when she sees me standing. Then she clucks, a distinctly matronly sound of disapproval, and she bustles forward to usher me the last few feet to bed. I let her fuss over me for a second, and before I can glare her away, she steps back and pulls a padd and medical tricorder from a pocket on the inside of her white nurse's coat.

She scans me, and records her findings. I am silent. I want this nurse to like me; nurses, I have discovered during my stints as an invalid, are the lifeblood of hospitals, and it is them one should go to if you have a request, or want information. The doctors are professional, and competent, and well-educated, but it is the nurses who keep the place running, and the patients alive in all but the direst of emergencies.

"The doctor will be in soon to talk with you." The nurse smiles at me, and I smile back.

"Thank you," I say, "Nurse…"

"Mianni," Mianni says. She rests one of her hands on my shoulder for a reassuring instant, and then she breezes toward the door. "Please remain in bed until the doctor has a chance to speak with you," she says, turning just before exiting. "Much of your skin and muscle tissue is still in the final stages of regrowth, and no one wants you to go and tear it."

I laugh. It feels false on my tongue, but I see her smile widen at the sound, and so I do not choke on it. "Thank you, Nurse Mianni," I say. "I'll bear that in mind."

When she is gone, I settle back against the pillows behind me. I hope that the doctor comes soon. I do not want to be alone with my thoughts for too long. They are too loud, and too silent, and sometimes both at once, and though the feel of the sunshine on my face and the taste of the salt breeze on my tongue does much to ward off the stone walls of the Cardassian prison, as the silence stretches into minutes, I hear again, and then again, and again, her screams.

I must drift off, for I am startled awake by the sound of the door opening. I sit upright too quickly, and feel the muscles around the right side of my ribcage squawk with pained protest. For two seconds I cannot breathe—and then I feel a cool hand on my back, straightening me from where I slumped forward and helping me to decompress my ribs. I drag in a long, shuddering breath, and then another, and then the pain is nothing more than a fading memory.

When I look up, it is to see a young human man standing beside my bed, looking at me with what can only be concern.

"I'm Doctor Samir. How are you feeling, Captain Paris?" he asks. His voice is a cool, rich tenor, and it reminds me of the rich loam of my wife's flower garden. He is tall and skinny, though well-muscled, and sports a neatly trimmed beard that frames his pointed jaw. His skin is a dark tan, his eyes onyx, and I find myself trusting this man almost instantly.

"A little sore," I tell him honestly.

Dr. Samir laughs. It is as cool and rich a sound as his voice. "I am not surprised," he says. "We regrew more than 70 percent of the tissue on your back, and even fifty years ago we may have needed to replace seven of your ribs with artificial bone."

I cannot help the shock that I feel ripple through me. "That bad?" I ask. My voice, I hear, sounds very small.

Dr. Samir nods. "We almost lost you," he says. He is deadly serious.

"But," I begin, before trailing off into stunned silence. I shake my head. "I felt fine," I finish at last, weakly.

Dr. Samir sits down on the edge of my bed, close to my left foot. "Adrenaline can do miraculous things for the body," he says. "And you were lucky," he adds. "If the rescue team hadn't gotten you out of the shuttle as quickly as they did, you likely would not be here to tell the tale."

I look at him. Blink. And then the pieces slot together. The official record must state that it was a shuttle craft accident after all. And, apparently, not even my doctor knows the truth.

I want to scream.

I do not. Instead I merely nod, and say, "Truly." It sounds hollow, and I wonder if Dr. Samir will notice.

If he does, he does not comment on it. He merely stands, and looks at a padd he takes out of a pocket—I wonder, off-handedly, how many pockets doctors and nurses have in their coats—and then turns to me with a smile.

"You will have a physical assessment in five days. After that, we'll be able to better determine how well you are healing. I will warn you though," he says, "you will likely be here at the hospital for at least ten days. This will enable us to more closely monitor your progress, as well as start the intense physical therapy that will be required to retrain many of your newly grown muscles how they're supposed to function."

All I can do is nod. Everything feels very distant, and very terrible.

"I see here," Dr. Samir goes on, "that there is a note requesting that you meet with a psychologist upon regaining consciousness. I will notify Starfleet HQ, and I presume someone will be sent out in the morning."

He smiles at me. "Is there anything else you would like to know?"

I look at him, then down at the sheets covering my legs. "Ensign Janeway," I say after a moment of trying to order my thoughts. "How is she?"

I hear Dr. Samir pause. Then he says, carefully, "Her prognosis looks good. She is out of the proverbial woods, and we hope that we will be able to bring her out of the partially-induced coma in the next few days."

My entire body stiffens. The muscles and skin on my back tingle and then burn, and my side cramps. My knuckles turn white around the sheets that I clench between my fingers.

"Coma?" I ask. I still do not look at him.

"Yes," Dr. Samir says. His voice is quiet and sympathetic. I think I hate him for it. "She woke once in transit to the hospital, and Dr. Crusher was forced to place her in a medically-induced partial coma to keep her from hurting herself."

My hands, if possible, clench tighter. "Will she be okay?" I ask.

Dr. Samir hesitates again. "I do not pretend to know what happened in that…shuttle accident," he says. I realize, for the first time, that he probably knows just as well as I do that "shuttle accident" is code for "classified" as often as not. "What I do know," he says, "is that right now it is up to her."

I nod. "Thank you, Doctor." I am sincere, though my voice does not sound it.

There is a long beat of silence. Then Dr. Samir says, "If you need anything, do not hesitate to ask one of the nurses."

I nod again.

"I will see you in a few hours."

A third nod.

Then the sound of the door opening and closing behind receding footfalls.

I do not look up. All I can see are the sheets, and my white knuckles, and the memory of her blood seeping across the floor.

~*x*~

Two days after waking on Earth, I visit Kathryn.

She is still unconscious, her body hooked up to monitors set into the walls, her eyes closed and her body almost unnaturally still, save for the slight rise and fall of her chest as she breathes. She is pale, and her red hair has been wound into a tight braid that falls over the pillow beneath her head.

Looking at her, I feel sick.

The last time I had seen her, she was naked and covered in blood. Now she is small, so very small, swaddled in blankets and technology that reads her heartrate, her oxygen levels, her brain patterns. And she is blessedly, blessedly clean.

Seeing her is at once reassuring, and terrifying.

I sit by her bed for an hour, before a nurse finds me to lead me back to my own room. That night I dream of the Cardassian cell, and of the braided leather thongs that ripped my back to shreds, and I lose track of where my screams end and hers begin. Mianni wakes me, and then holds me steady as I retch into the toilet in the small, attached bathroom. She brings me a sedative, and after that, if I dream, I do not remember it.

When I arrive at her room the next morning, I find that I am not the first one there. Admiral Edward Janeway already sits in the chair I had sat in the day before. His head is bowed, his hands clasped together with elbows on his knees, and I cannot help but think that he looks as if he prays.

I wonder what it is he prays for.

I wonder if it is the same that I have prayed, now, every night since waking here.

He jumps when I clear my throat, and spins quickly in his seat to look at me. When he sees who it is, his eyes go hard. One second they are more blue than grey, a calm sea beneath a spring sky—and then they are cold, grey stone. His lips harden into a thin line, and when he stands, I find that though he is shorter than I am, I feel that I am looking up at him.

"Captain Paris," he growls.

"Admiral," I say.

The moment of silence that follows is painfully long and excruciatingly tense. I want to turn and flee; I want to step forward and punch him. A thousand thoughts tumble through my head, but not one of them slows for long enough that I am able to grab it. So I simply stand there, under Admiral Janeway's angry look, and wait.

"Did you want something?" the Admiral asks at last.

I swallow. "Only to see how Kathryn is doing."

I realize, only too late, that I have used her first name when I should have used her rank or, at the very least, her last name. Admiral Janeway's glare grows sharp—sharp enough that I am surprised it does not cut me—and I see his fingers curl into a fist by his side.

"I think you should leave," he says at last. His voice is terse and unforgiving.

"I think you're right," I say.

I back out of the room, and then turn and all but flee to my own. It is only when I am safely back in my own bed that the anger and hurt come.

Do you think I wanted this? I wish I had asked.

I would have traded places with her in a heartbeat, I wish I had said.

You have no right to treat me as if I'm the one who hurt her, I wish I had told him.

I have died again every moment since it happened, I wish I had never realized.

But there is only empty silence, and I do not see Admiral Janeway again until the hearing.

~*x*~

My family comes to see me on the fifth day.

Nurse Mianni tells me in the morning that Theresa comm.'d to say that she and Tom would come in the afternoon. I tell her that I wish she had stalled them for another day at least; I am still wobbly on my legs, and am exhausted from the physical therapy, and waspish because Kathryn has yet to waken.

After lunch, I take my leave of my room and make my way down the hall to Kathryn's. I expect I will have a couple of hours before my wife and son make the trip, and by the time they are gone I am sure that Admiral Janeway will be back from Starfleet HQ. He spends most nights at Kathryn's side, which means I spend most afternoons with her.

Ever since the awkward exchange with Admiral Janeway, I have been careful to time my visits when he is not here. So far as I know, none of the rest of her family have come to see her. I suspect that her father is behind that. I, personally, am grateful for it; if more of the Janeway family visited, I would be even more cautious and wary than I already am. I do not think I want to know what Gretchen Janeway would have to say to me, whether she knows the truth behind the "shuttle accident" or not.

The room is empty when I arrive. I sit in the chair pulled up to Kathryn's bedside, and I watch her eyes flicker restlessly under her eyelids. I wonder what she is dreaming of. I suspect it is nothing good.

The afternoon is beginning to wane into evening when I hear a voice at the door. It is high, and young, and angry, and it is a voice I know well.

"Dad?"

It is Tom.

I turn in my chair to look at him. He is standing in the doorway, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, and as I watch, his expression slides from shocked relief to stormy anger. He shoves his hands deeper, and his eyes flash as he takes a step into the room.

"Wow." Tom's voice is as hard as flint, and just as dangerous. "Don't tell me you forgot Mom and I were coming."

"Tom," I say, because nothing else will come to mind.

Tom snorts, and rolls his eyes. He does not speak, but he does not need to.

"I lost track of time," I say. It is not a lie, but it feels like one.

"Yeah," Tom says. "Sure."

"I'm sorry," I say.

Tom rolls his eyes again. "Right," he says. "Well, Mom's waiting for you in your room. Maybe you'd actually like to see her."

I open my mouth. I want to say that I wanted to see him more than anything. I want to say that seeing him is the best thing that has happened to me in more than three weeks. I want to say that I love him more than anything in the galaxy, and that he is the reason that I held onto my principles and my pride until all but the very end.

But all of the words jumble, and then stick in my throat, and I say nothing.

So instead I stand, stiff and slow, and make my way to the door with one last glance down at Kathryn. She is as still as ever, and though I do not want to leave her, I know I must. Tom watches me watch her, and I feel as if a private moment has been intruded upon—but then I push that notion away. He is my son, and Kathryn is not my daughter.

I pause two steps out of the door, and turn to look at Tom still standing where he had rooted himself. The tangle of words parts, and at last something, something comes forth.

"Thank you," I say, "for coming today."

"Sure," Tom says again after a second—but this time he says it differently. He offers me a slow, wary half smile, and I try to smile back at him. I do not know if I succeed.

Then I turn and make my stiff, slow way down the hall back to my own room, and to my wife.

~*x*~

The hearing takes place the day after I am released from the hospital.

Three admirals and a Federation judge sit on a raised dais before the podium behind which I stand. Admiral Janeway is not one of the three, but he and another admiral, as well as a young woman with a transcribing padd, sit in chairs along the wall.

The questions are simple and the answers concise. Admiral Corus leads the hearing, asking me to recount the series of events that led up to our capture, asking what transpired during the interrogations, asking what I revealed to my Cardassian interrogators. I answer as readily as I am able, and as honestly as I can make myself be.

At the end of it all, it is a formality more than anything. They pronounce me blameless, and state that I am fit to return me to active duty as soon as the doctors clear me. I nod, and thank them, though the words taste like ash on my tongue.

Admiral Janeway stops me on my way out of the courtroom. I stop, stiff and silent, and look at him with fidgety concern. I have no idea what it is he wants to say to me.

"They're taking Kathryn off of the sedatives tonight."

Regardless of the fact that I did not know what to expect, I am surprised to hear this. "I am…" I hesitate. "I'm glad," I say at last.

Admiral Janeway's expression is painfully neutral. "I thought you would like to know."

"I did. I do. Thank you."

Admiral Janeway does not say you are welcome. Instead he merely nods, and then turns and strides away.

I was never close to Admiral Janeway. We were cordial, and we had worked together on a project some four or five years ago. But nonetheless, as he walks away without a backwards glance, the edge of ice that tempered his voice still ringing in my ears, I feel a hollow sense of loss. I had always respected him, and liked him from afar—and Kathryn was, in many ways, even now, like the daughter I had never had.

Watching him walk away, I feel as if I have lost both of them.

~*x*~

I do not see Kathryn again before departing Earth. The Al-Batani waits for me in orbit, and when the doctors clear me for duty two days later, I receive orders to escort a Vulcan ambassador back to his homeworld.

I do not see her again until the aftermath of her father's and fiancé's deaths.

I will remember wondering if I was a curse to her.

I will also remember wondering if I was a blessing.

She is the daughter I never had. She is the officer I had always dreamed of my son becoming.

But still, even years later, I wake from nightmares where I see her blood seep across a stone floor, and hear her screaming and begging for mercy.

fin

#owen paris #kathryn janeway #edward janeway #beverly crusher #wesley crusher #fanfic #seren writes #rape tw #violence tw #guys guys guys it's dONE #which means i can post nemesis fic tomorrow!!! #also i hope you enjoy #and if you give it a read i'd love to hear your thoughts #<3