#and you cannot inventory and witness your way through your own life.

[xxflyingwiththestarsxx]

I think I just need to delete tumblr and tiktok off my phone for a bit, but I don’t want to.

I don’t want to try and put effort into getting better. I don’t want growth. I don’t want to expand my horizons.

All I want to do is curl up and die smoke some weed, play some video games and forget that the world is burning and humanity’s on the verge of being fucked. (And not in the fun way)

#personal #ignore or don’t i’m not the boss of you #i just - it just - I don’t know where to go. or what to do. #i have to be actively involved and participating in my own life #and the last time I actively participated in something #was 1875 #… that’s a joke #it was probably sometime in middle school or drama class in high school #and even then #not in the last two years. #active participation is not something i’ve ever been good at #i am an observer. #i do not do #i witness. #i inventory. #and you cannot inventory and witness your way through your own life.

[firewoodfigs]

Hi!! Could you do "It was a hospital bed, and A slipped in carefully to lie beside B all night" for a Royai fic from that prompt list? Thank you!! ❤️❤️

hello anon!! thanks for the prompt aaaah I had a lot of fun toying with it in between work and the other shenanigans that have been cropping up this week <3 I hope you don't mind the somewhat unusual ending ahaha I dimly recall writing a few other fics indirectly responding to this prompt (here and here!) so I wanted to try something slightly different from my usual fare 👉🏻👈🏻 part of this was also originally from a two-shot I'm working on, tweaked to fit the prompt hehe. I hope you enjoy!!! 🥰

                                       +++++

Riza can think of a million reasons why hospitals are awful.

First, the food. She’s not sure if it’s as nutritious as they make it out to be; there are times when she wonders if it’s even edible. She’s had worse, of course - hospital food isn’t as bad as ration bars - but she’s quickly getting tired of eating plain yoghurt and bland porridge every day, for every single meal.

Second, the stench. Riza hates that every inch of the place smells like a victim of obsessive cleanliness; she has to resist the urge to upchuck every time the door opens and the smell of chemicals and antiseptic filters in like an unwanted guest.

Third, the fact that she’s sharing a room with a man who, at this point, is behaving more like a cat on hot bricks than a disciplined soldier is quickly driving her insane. She’d readily agreed to be his caretaker, of course; Riza doubts there’s anyone else capable of dealing with his antics and ever-growing anxiety. But after hearing him sigh and toss and turn in his bed for the fifty-eighth time that night (she’d counted, because she was bored out of her wits, and there was nothing else she could do other than sleep or stare at the ceiling, per doctor’s orders), Riza decides she’s just about had enough.

She looks at him from her bed. He’s presently engaged with twiddling his thumbs, thinking out loud.

Riza sighs and rises from her bed quietly. She brings the IV stand along with her - an unnecessary inconvenience - and carefully slips into his bed once she’s made sure that the tubes and wires connected to them are tangle-free.

“I never pegged you as an opportunist, Lieutenant,” he murmurs, despite her best efforts to be discreet. “Sleeping with your commanding officer while he’s blind?”

“You could always court martial me later, sir,” Riza deadpans. “Now scoot over.”

Luckily, he obliges without much retort. 

“Your wish is my command.”

Riza huffs. She adjusts the thin, scraggly piece of linen that the hospital justifies as a blanket - another downside of this shitty place - and makes sure he’s probably covered, warm.

“Three words,” she mutters.

“Eight letters?”

“Twelve, actually.”

Roy raises a brow. “What could it be?”

“Would you like to wager a guess, sir?”

“Not really.”

“You’re an idiot,” she says. Roy laughs, and it’s a tiny little sound that is so discordant with his current mood, but it’s at least genuine. “Now go to sleep.”

“Alright, alright.”

He stops fidgeting, for a while. Riza closes her eyes and attempts to fall asleep - and she actually does, for a while - at least until she hears the sheets rustling again, the movement and tension coming from beside her. She groans softly.

“You should sleep, sir.”

She feels him stiffen. Roy smiles sheepishly, looking right through her like she’s not there. It still unnerves her how this is probably going to be their new normal: him without his sight. Her as his eyes.

“Sorry.”

Riza frowns. An apology is not the answer she wants. What she wants is for him - or them both, actually - to sleep and rest and properly recuperate so that they can have a speedy recovery, so that they can get out of here as soon as possible.

“Bad dreams?” she asks, because it’s the exact same thing that’s been haunting her. (She’s lucky her throat makes it impossible for her to scream or kick up a fuss; she’d hate for Roy to stumble blindly through the room in what he probably thinks is an act of chivalry and/or heroism.)

He shrugs.

“Then and now,” he offers. His smile fades, and he lapses into an unexpected moment of vulnerability. “Hard to differentiate between day and night nowadays, too.”

And because Riza doesn’t know what to say, she simply brushes her knuckles against his.

Roy returns the gesture, drawing indiscernible patterns on the back of her hand with his bandaged one.

“Well, it’s almost midnight now, sir.”

He lets out a small laugh, but it’s painfully hollow.

Riza shifts slightly. It’s a bit of a tight squeeze - hospital beds are clearly not meant for two persons (or anything inappropriate) - but it doesn’t bother her all that much. She just wishes there’s more she can do, to comfort him. Make him feel a little less gloomy.

“It feels like I’ve been sleeping for years.”

“If it helps reduce the incidents of you falling asleep during office hours, then you should get more sleep now, while you can.”

Roy turns, like he’s searching for her, even though there’s not much closer she can be at this point. He exhales shakily. She feels his hand trembling against hers, and responds with a gentle caress. (She knows he’s still feeling guilty, probably berating himself internally about their predicament, about what transpired beforehand. And to be fair, there’s a part of her that’s still angry about all that's happened underground. They’ll probably have to talk about it, at some point, but probably not now — not when they’re both still drugged up and only half-lucid.)

“Humour me, Lieutenant.”

“What?”

“I can’t sleep,” he confesses. Dimly, Riza notes that his voice has taken on a somewhat petulant edge — like a child complaining about their bedtime, but she doesn’t comment on it. Being nearly bedridden for a week is enough to drive her nuts, too. “I’ve tried counting sheep and all that shit, and it’s just — it’s not working.”

Riza sighs. She’s tired, yes, but she’s also aware that she’s probably not going to get any sleep at this rate. She tries to think of ways to stave off his restlessness. Reading is one — she can probably bore him into sleep with a Xingese recitation (she’s gotten pretty good at that lately), but she’s technically not supposed to be talking much. Alcohol is another, but neither of them are supposed to be drinking (and besides, the only form of alcohol available in hospitals isn’t meant for human consumption). Maybe chess, then. She’s not particularly keen on playing a game of chess, now (because she just wants to sleep), but she thinks it’ll help exhaust some of his boundless energy.

“We could play a game of chess, if you want. Breda was kind enough to drop a vinyl board here in the afternoon.”

“I can’t see —“

“I’ll tell you where I move my pieces.”

He frowns, clearly not liking the idea. “You’re not supposed to be talking much, Lieutenant.”

“I’m fine,” she insists, turning to pour a cup of water for herself before continuing. “I won’t have to speak much — unless you’re being a nuisance or a cheat or a fraud.”

He laughs. “I’ll be none of those things, Lieutenant.”

“Good.”

She sets up the board on his bed and helps him sit up. Riza lets him play white.

“It’s your move, sir.”

“You’ve made yours?”

“No. You’re playing white.”

“Tough. It’ll be more embarrassing if I end up losing.”

Riza smiles. “Well, we don’t know that yet, sir.”

He opens with pawn to e4. She helps him move his pieces and parrots her movements back to him. Pawn to e4, too. Pawn to d4. Same here. A closed game, not quite like his usual aggressive style of playing.

Riza watches as he frowns with intensity. It’s probably more a test of memory than strategy for him at this point. She wonders if there’s a way he can adapt to chess, to the military’s utilitarian (and frankly unsympathetic) demands now that his sight’s impaired.

(Life is so unlike chess, Riza thinks, in spite of Roy’s silly metaphors that postulate otherwise. The rules are never fixed, and the universe is always rife with uncertainty. It’s not like chess, where you can predict your opponents’ moves if you get good enough. Neither of them had expected that he’d be here right now, losing sleep and contemplating life over a chessboard while blind.)

He clucks his tongue, reciting a series of movements from memory. The Blackmar-Diemer. Riza smiles indulgently.

Still as aggressive as ever, sir.

Of course.

The game quickly becomes a round of blitz, and though he manages to open his lines and mount a rather decent attack, it’s clear that he has trouble recalling after the eighteenth move. It's still an impressive feat, though. Better than the average layperson.

“Check,” Riza announces, conversationally. Technically, she’d had the advantage, both on the board (and in real life). It shouldn’t really count, and besides, checkmate isn’t her objective — it’s to get her commanding office to sleep.

“Well-played,” Roy hums. He’s strangely still in his bed as he closes his eyes, rubbing at his temples — presumably to ease off an oncoming migraine. It happens a lot, when he’s in deep thought, when he’s over thinking. Thinking too much for his own good. “I need to work on my recall, I think.”

“I think so too, sir.”

He laughs, but the sound is again empty, foreign. It is so at odds with his usual smirks and unbridled laughter (when he’s laughing at someone else, or a joke made at somebody’s expense), like there’s an ache beneath the surface that she cannot reach.

Roy turns slightly, bumping into his dethroned king as he adjusts himself on the bed.

She blames the sudden, uncharacteristic urge to cry on her drugged-up system.

(Riza doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to how uncommunicative his eyes are. He’s always regarded each and every one of his subordinates with respect and meaning and gratitude, but he’d simply looked over the unit as if taking inventory when they had come by earlier.

But she’ll make do, Riza thinks. She has to. She’s always known him in a way nobody else has, in a deeply intimate way, like a book she’s memorised by heart.)

They fall silent for a few minutes. His lips part a little - she knows  he’s about to say something - but it snaps shut again, like he can’t bring himself to say the words.

Riza simply waits for him, like she always has; holding onto his held breath like it's the last thread of hope. She leans into his touch a little closer than necessary.

I’m right here, even if you can’t see me.

Roy smiles.

“I hope I won’t forget your face, Riza.”

#royai #royai fanfic #royai fic #sorry my lunch break is almost over so I gotta go back to work LOL but I will come back and edit this later AHAHAHAH #my new brand is 'excessive usage of chess metaphors' and man. it shows....... #lovely anon <3 #have a great week anon!!! mwahmwahmwah!!!!!! #reblogs and comments are always appreciated :")

[sharkbait77]

The Sun Sets With You

Chapter Five: Just A Man

Summary: A simple yet despondent farm life suddenly sparks with new hope when an unusual traveler makes your town his latest stop and brings with him intriguing and promising viewpoints and no one to share them with. Until he meets you.

Pairing: Ezra Prospect x f!Reader

Rating: M

Warnings: Fluff! (It's getting cute y'all!), death of a parent, grief, smoking, food, Silas🤢, a little sad Ezra in this one

W/C: 4k (made it a little longer to make up for the wait! 🥺)

A/N: We are back! I'm so so so sorry this took so long to get out! What can I say, life happened & kept knocking me down & I couldn't find the strength to write for this fic. I'm still not even completely happy with this chapter, but after reading it so many times, I think it's okay lol a huge thanks to everyone for being so patient & lovely to me ♥️ okay, I'll shut up, hope you enjoy!

Series || Main || Taglist || AO3

Chapter Four || Chapter Six

~MAY EIGHTH OF EIGHTEEN SIXTY-SEVEN~

As the days and weeks passed, Ezra finally felt comfortable enough to join you and Pa for meals at your family table, sitting and eating quietly until responding to a thought or question of Pa’s. It felt nice. It felt…warm and natural. As opposed to the slight coldness you’ve felt sitting with Pa, without your mother. Though it was still as quiet as your meals alone with your father, the silence now was more comforting.

You realized shortly after that last evening under the tree with Ezra what exactly ails you when near him, why exactly your pulse quickens and you feel heat flush your neck and cheeks. It was a startling conclusion, given that you have been inexperienced when it comes to the term ‘love’, outside of the love you felt for Ma and Pa. This, with Ezra, contrasts immensely.

It had caught you off guard, a small infatuation with the man that you realized must have taken hold of your heart from the first moment you met him, when you simply could not remove your eyes from his face. You now find your eyes lingering on his features longer, learning the curve of his smile, the fine wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, memorizing the tone of his voice and his laugh to be replayed in moments of silence.

It’s strange; a simple emotion that you had witnessed your whole childhood into adulthood from your Ma and Pa, an emotion you carry in your heart for each of them, though the way you experience it now, the strength in which it has grasped onto your very being – and so suddenly – has been enough to make the room spin whenever you lay your eyes on him. The idea of taking a husband has never been one of priority. Up until now, at least.

“Many thanks for the delicious meal, miss. I am grateful you have welcomed me into your home as such,” Ezra says as he stands, helping you take the soiled dishes to the wash basin.

“You have always been welcome, Mr. Prospect. I am glad you now feel comfortable joining us,” you say with a gentle smile, looking up at him as he approaches you with the dishes. You catch a faint hue of pink spreading across his sun kissed cheeks.

“Would you care for a pipe, Mr. Prospect?” Pa calls out as he sits in his chair by the fireplace, beginning to pack away tobacco in his own pipe.

“I very much appreciate the offer, sir, however I do not smoke,” Ezra replies kindly as he turns away from you to face Pa and you begin washing.

“Good man; do not start the nasty habit until you become old and worn as I am now,” Pa jests.

“I only see a wise man, years of strength and kindness the only evidence that you have lived a wonderful life thus far,” Ezra compliments and Pa releases a hearty laugh.

“As I said: ‘old’,” Pa replies and both Ezra and you laugh along.

The genuine and natural lightheartedness of the conversations Pa and Ezra shared tonight warms your heart and you realize tonight has been one of the few nights you’ve smiled so freely, so frequently, since Ma’s passing and you strongly sense her spirit surrounding the three of you. Almost as if you could hear her laughing along with you all.

Although a feeling of sadness lingers in your heart that she cannot be here physically, you remember Ezra’s kind words and let them ease you. The comfort you feel wash over you leaves you pondering if it’s a sign of acceptance from above, from Ma, that she welcomes Ezra’s presence amongst you and Pa.

“Can I be of any assistance, Sunflower?” Ezra turns and asks quietly, out of earshot of Pa and addressing you by his personal endearment he has bestowed upon you.

“Thank you for offering, Ezra,” you reply just as softly. His given name had nearly slipped from your lips on more than one occasion tonight, but you felt it best to remain coy in front of your father. “I’m nearly finished now.”

“Perhaps tomorrow night. I will not miss my chance then to be of service,” he smiles and the inside of your cheek stings from the bite you dealt to keep from grinning widely. “I will take my leave for the night. The lovely beasts I room with will be missing my presence, I fear,” he says, loud enough for Pa to hear as well and Pa chuckles at his statement.

“Always a pleasure to have you for dinner, Mr. Prospect,” Pa says and stands to shake Ezra’s hand. “Daughter, would you be so kind as to walk Mr. Prospect to the door?”

“Yes Pa,” you nod, abandoning the soapy dishes for the time being and you wipe your hands to dry on your apron as you head towards the door with Ezra.

Pa smiles again in Ezra’s direction as he walks past and takes his seat once again, watching the flames dance and flicker. Ezra opens the door, allowing you to walk through and step on the porch and he follows suit, shutting the door behind him.

“Shall I walk you to the barn?” You offer.

“No, Sunflower, I would prefer you to stay. The dark of night may carry with it many dangers lurking around the corner.”

“All the more reason I should walk with you,” you grin, wrapping your arms around the wooden support post as you watch him step down into the dirt.

“Then I would intend on escorting you back here and we will only find ourselves repeating the action for one another until daybreak,” he chuckles. “Until tomorrow, dear Sunflower.”

“Tomorrow,” you smile and nod. “Good night, Ezra.”

“Good night,” he bows his head in farewell and turns on his heels to head toward the barn. You linger a moment longer to assure he is well on his way, waving when he turns back to steal another glance at you.

You take a deep breath to calm your galloping heart and turn to walk back inside, Pa sitting quietly as he continues smoking. You head back to the wash basin to finish the chore, rinsing, drying, and putting away the dishes before heading over to sit next to Pa, grabbing a new book from your small collection.

You decided to leave Alice’s Adventures In Wonderland to read with Ezra under the tree and the image of the two of you lying in the grass as you read to him brings a contented smile to your face. After quite a bit of comfortable silence, you feel the curiosity inching through your brain like an insect and decide to give in to the itch.

“H-how are the crops faring, Pa?” You ask while picking at the corner of your book.

“They grow fine,” Pa replies simply. “Each and every week another inch to their lives added.”

“And… Mr. Prospect has been much help?” You continue carefully.

“Oh yes, he has taken on the majority of the labor. We are blessed that he sought to help us.”

“Yes,” you smile softly as you lower your head slightly, gathering the courage to continue the conversation. “And… How do you feel about… Mr. Prospect?”

“What do you mean, child?”

“The townspeople think him...odd.”

“They must reflect on themselves before passing that judgement onto an innocent man. Especially the four hens, as you like to call them,” you giggle and look up at Pa, a slight smirk hidden beneath his thick, grey beard as he lets out a deep chuckle.

“Yes, but… What do you think of Mr. Prospect?”

“Why the curiosity, daughter?” He asks, though no irritation is found in his voice; instead, a light-hearted tone, one of knowing. Knowing why you insist on finding out his opinion.

“Merely curious, Pa,” you say quietly, just loud enough for him to hear over the crackle of the fire.

“Hm,” he hums as he inhales smoke through his pipe, taking his time to retrieve an forthright answer from his mind while you gaze at him in anticipation.

“He is an honest man. Good and kind. A hard worker. I believe he is fit to be a lawful husband to any girl who seeks his affection,” he finally says, looking deep into your eyes and his words go straight to your fast beating heart.

You catch the smile on your face growing, evident in the strain you feel across your cheeks and you put your head down to face the book in your lap.

“That's nice,” you reply once you've cleared your throat and regained control of the muscles on your face.

“Yes. Yes it is,” Pa smirks as he inhales another puff from his pipe.

~MAY TENTH OF EIGHTEEN SIXTY-SEVEN~

Today is as exhilarating as the rest; you attempt to sort through the inventory of the shop, taking note of which supplies are dwindling while also marking down new items the townspeople have requested, such as candles and playing cards for the children. As you walk toward the back of the shop, beginning your count of products there, the shop bell dings and you hear boots stomping from whoever has stepped through the door.

“Just a moment, please,” you call out to the customer from over your shoulder, hoping not to lose track of the count in your head.

“Please, do not rush, Sunflower,” a gentle, familiar voice replies and you feel your heart thumping faster in your chest now as you turn quickly, inventory be damned.

“Ezra,” you greet the man standing meekly at the front of the shop. He takes a few steps forward to meet you beside the counter. “What brings you to town? Is there anything I can help you with?”

“Oh, no thank you, Sunflower. I needed to send a letter off at the post and thought that my day would be much brighter were I able to visit you as well,” he says with a soft grin and you lower your head to hide the bashful expression on your face.

“Well, my day has brightened now, too,” you reply, gaining the courage to look up at him again, the apples of his cheeks reddening. “I trust you were promptly taken care of then?”

“Yes, Mr. Williams is a kind man,” he nods. “The elderly woman who works there as well – she is quite the conversationalist,” he releases a soft laugh.

“Ah, yes. Mrs. Williams,” you shake your head. “She actually does not work there, just adores to be in the center of it all,” you jest and Ezra chuckles. “I do hope she was not too overbearing.”

“Only slightly,” he shrugs. “After you and your Pa, her and Mr. Williams have treated me the kindest since my arrival.”

“Oh Ezra,” you share a perturbed look. “I am truly sorry for the way the town has behaved.”

“Sunflower, you have no reason whatsoever to apologize for the actions of others. Unfortunately, this town has not been the most unpleasant I’ve come across. I was very lucky to have found you. And your Pa,” he rushes the last phrase and you smile knowingly, his mouth curving slightly as well.

You open your mouth to continue the conversation, the innocent coquetry between you, yet no sounds are released from your mouth before the shop bell dings again and you sigh at the interruption. You turn your head and your racing heart, caused by Ezra’s presence, races faster, only in anger now.

“And what do we have here?” Silas’s booming, uninvited voice resonates through the shop. “What business could a queer like you have to conduct in town?” He looks at Ezra and you step in front of him.

“I told you not to call him that, Silas.”

“It does not seem he’s made any purchase,” he says, making a show of looking in Ezra’s hands for any paper bag. “Yet he is allowed to stay and converse while you toss me in the dirt.”

“Go away, Silas.”

“Sunflower-” Ezra calls gently from behind you, unable to finish his thought.

“‘Sunflower’?!” Silas laughs. “She does not need a freak to endear her, not when she has a real man. Like me.”

“Silas, he is more of a man than you could ever hope to be,” you spit out.

Of all the times you had the opportunity to speak your mind to Silas, you held back. Though, now that it is directed to Ezra, you feel that innate protectiveness for him wash over you again, no matter the cost or consequence.

“You dare say such a thing to me, girl?” Silas takes a menacing step forward.

“She is not a girl and you will not speak to her as one,” Ezra moves to stand in front of you now. “And I do believe she has requested for you to take your leave.”

“And exactly who will force me out? You?” Silas puffs out his chest, as if he were attempting to assert his role as an alpha, and frustration grows on his face at Ezra’s lack of response to the tactic.

“If I must.” Ezra replies simply and calmly, the tone of his voice even, though underneath lies a hidden message that he would not back down from a brawl, if it were to come to that.

“Ezra, please, he isn’t worth it,” you say softly, reaching out to hold his forearm.

“Oh, aren’t I?” Silas scoffs.

“I will summon Sheriff Wilson here to collect you himself if you do not leave my shop right this instant,” you hold your unyielding gaze to Silas’s, raising your chin slightly so as to challenge him to defy your wishes.

Silas hmph’s, his thick brows arching menacingly as he glances down at where your hand rests firmly on Ezra’s arm, clearly displeased at the contact. You feel Ezra’s form tense next to you, and you use your free hand to lightly press against his back in an effort to calm him.

“Fine,” Silas finally says harshly as he turns his back to you and Ezra and stomps to the door.

He looks over his shoulder one more time at the two of you and something about his animalistic eyes sends a nasty shiver down your spine. Before he can see you falter, he rips the door open, walks through, and slams it shut, rattling the frame as he leaves. You exhale shakily and Ezra turns his body to face yours, his hands gripping onto your upper arms as his eyes rake over your face in concern.

“Are you alright, Sunflower?”

“Oh Ezra,” you gaze at him thoughtfully. “It should be me asking you that same question.”

“Please, don’t worry about me. My only concern is you,” he continues, his eyes trying to follow yours as you look away from him. “Does he come here unannounced often? Has he bothered you before?”

“Ezra, he has always been a thorn in my side, but it is nothing for you to concern yourself with. I promise,” you look in his eyes, hoping to convince him, but you suspect it does not work and his hands fall from your arms.

“Sunflower… I did not appreciate the way he looked at you and spoke to you.”

“It’s alright Ezra, it is not anything I can’t handle,” you smile and grasp one of his hands in both of yours, squeezing it gently as reassurance.

You’re unsure of what to say. What could you say? That up until now you have been cowardly when it came to Silas Taylor? That it was not until Ezra’s arrival to town that you have come to know a stronger side of yourself, willing to risk your already frail reputation to defend this man’s name?

Ezra sighs heavily, staring into your eyes a moment longer before looking away. You watch his eyebrows crinkle together, the worry wrinkles along his forehead becoming more prominent as he reflects on the situation that just passed.

“Are you alright? Please… Do not take anything he says to heart,” you say softly and your kind voice pulls him back from his thoughts and to this moment with you. He smirks and huffs a chuckle through his nose.

“No fear, Sunflower. It is not a trial I cannot handle,” he cocoons your hands in both of his and squeezes lightly, as if to reassure you he is alright. “I will go now, Sunflower.”

“I understand,” you nod. “Then… I will see you back at the farm for supper.”

He smiles to acknowledge your words, releasing your hands and heading to the door. He turns once more to nod his goodbye, places his hat back on his head, and walks out the door. You walk to the front of the shop to watch him through the window, his hands in his pockets and his shoulders slumped forward as he walks swiftly to leave the area.

Your head feels on fire, ready to blow steam at any moment as you watch the townspeople around staring at him. They turn to each other, presumably whispering gossip amongst themselves about him. Unfortunately, as you have come to know Silas, you know he will be spreading word of the ‘threat’ he felt from Ezra, which you surmise will only result in the townspeople turning their backs on Ezra even further.

~MAY TWELFTH OF EIGHTEEN SIXTY-SEVEN~

Ezra had not shown up for supper that night or the night that followed. You had wanted to take supper to him, but Pa advised against it. He had heard on his last trip to town what transpired between you, Ezra, and Silas. You prepared yourself to, once again, defend Ezra, however, Pa’s unabated rancor of Silas all but guaranteed Pa would not believe a word from his mouth.

Pa informed you that when he returned and asked Ezra about the situation, he assured the man that he was not at risk of losing the job at the farm, and while he was grateful, he did not wish to speak on it further. Pa told you to leave him to gather his bearings and you complied.

On your way to the oak tree, you pick two apples as you had done the Sunday prior, and to your earnest disappointment, you do not see Ezra as the tree comes into view. You look left, then right, hoping it was possible he had just walked along the riverbank, but you were alone.

Heaving a sigh, you turn to face the way you came as you debate on heading back. Your weekly tradition almost seemed silly to continue alone, after having been in Ezra’s company the past few weeks. It almost felt...incorrect to spend time here without Ezra now. You take a few steps forward, now under the shade of the tree, sparing another moment in case you missed him.

“Sunflower,” his elated voice from above frightens you and you quickly turn your head to follow the sound, seeing his bright smile from where he sits on a thick branch.

“Ezra! You startled me!” You chuckle as you take a few breaths, covering your racing heart with your hand.

“My apologies,” he chuckles. “I did not hear you walk up otherwise I would have made my presence known sooner.”

“I did not expect to see you in the tree today,” you smile up at him.

“Come, join me,” he smiles, patting the bark to the side of him.

“I have not climbed a tree since I was a child, Ezra. I will fall,” you shake your head.

“I will never let you fall, Sunflower,” he smiles and your now settled heart begins to race again. “It’s simple, really. Nothing to it. I will guide your steps.”

You take a deep breath, pondering for a moment if the risk was truly worth it, but there’s an excitement in this small adventure that you feel your soul reaching for. You smile at Ezra and nod, removing your bag and placing it at the base of the tree.

You follow Ezra’s voice commands as he tells you where to step up and you use more muscles in your body than you have in so long. You heave yourself upwards, careful that your boots do not miss any section of the tree that will have you flying all the way back down.

Finally, you make it far enough for Ezra to take hold of your arm, using his strength now to help pull you up until you’re close enough to attempt to sit. He scoots over, keeping his hand tightly grasped on your arm to make sure you don’t fall. Though, at this point, if you were to fall, Ezra would certainly fall with you.

You plant your bottom firmly onto the branch, breathing heavily and smiling widely at the accomplishment and Ezra chuckles along with you. You try to settle yourself further and suddenly get the sense of falling, reaching out instinctively to hold onto Ezra’s arm and you practically glue yourself to his side for support.

“You will not fall, Sunflower,” he reassures and you feel him lean closer into you to comfort you.

“Pardon me,” you giggle, feeling steady enough now to remove yourself from him. You take a deep breath and look out ahead at the river and the grassland, spotting the other farms in the distance. “Wow,” you say breathlessly. “It’s a beautiful sight.”

“Yes, it is,” Ezra responds softly. You turn your head to him where you already meet his gaze and turn away again as you smile.

“Oh no,” you gasp as your eyes meet your bag down below. “I left the book… And the apples,” you turn to frown at Ezra.

“Do not fret, Sunflower,” he smiles. “I enjoy your company regardless.”

“Maybe...you could read me more of your prose?” You prod gently, hoping he will be willing.

“Yes,” he says wistfully as he glances down at his journal. “I do like when you read to me, however.”

You smile as he passes his journal to you and you cradle it with care in your hands. You move to open it and the binding opens automatically to one page, clearly still stiff from where he had it open, this addition to the pages only written just recently. You clear your throat and let your eyes dance as they pick up the words in his neat handwriting.

“‘A being from a different universe desires to live amongst the men in peace on Earth, for his purpose to be written in the stars. A nomad, an outcast on the run, desperate for a residence more suitable than his dreams. Soon, he will find home, and soon, he will find life’,” your voice trails towards the end of the passage, your heart wrenching at the meaning behind it.

“Ezra…” You call softly once you notice his head has lowered.

The silence stretches and you can almost visualize it expanding across the lands in front of your view, any helpful or comforting words escaping from your reach. The only conclusion your mind seems to come to is just to place a hand softly on his thigh. You feel his muscle twitch at the contact and he glances over at you, a light tint of pink beginning to spread across his cheeks.

You suddenly feel embarrassed to have placed your hand there and you immediately think to yourself that perhaps it was not welcomed, though before you can remove your hand, Ezra places his own, large and warm, over yours. Your mind settles while your heart beats rapidly. You still do not know what to say, but it does not seem Ezra is expecting for you to say anything at all.

“I’ve missed you at supper, Ezra,” you whisper and grin softly.

“Forgive me for my absence, I was not… I did not feel…” You sense him struggling as he lowers his head again and you place your other hand on top of your intertwined ones.

“I understand; you have no need to apologize.”

He looks at you again and you give him a reassuring smile and he returns the gesture. You two say nothing and let the comfortable silence blanket the air around you while you gaze out to your surroundings again, your hands not leaving each other’s grasp.

“Sunflower?” He calls and you turn to face him again.

“Yes, Ezra?”

“I’ve missed you as well.”

Chapter Four || Chapter Six

Series || Main || Taglist || AO3

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Ezra Prospect Tags: @quietpainter @grogusmum @tenderwhat

#ezra x f!reader #ezra x reader #ezra x you #ezra prospect x f!reader #ezra prospect x reader #ezra prospect x you #ezra au #ezra prospect au #ezra prospect fanfiction #ezra prospect fanfic #pedro pascal character fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #prospect #prospect fanfiction

[aenaxes]

one to ten

[jesse x gn!reader] there are ten things you remember about jesse.

warnings: tcw s7 spoilers, suggestive themes, mentions of death

w/c: 2.5k

a/n: sorry for the constant parentheticals lol. ishei is a spin on a biblical name/the hebrew name basis for jesse (yishai) as a kind of namesake (surprise, you've now adopted a togrutan).

01. Your first glimpse of beauty in war comes in the form of a clone trooper.

It doesn’t make sense. They all look the same, you groan to Uche, the one other civ enlistee who didn’t waste their breath (or your time) waxing poetic about galactic justice or pining after the out-of-touch idealogues holding rank in the jedi temple and Senate floor.

What’s so different about him? Uche asks, and you don’t have an answer.

You remember sneaking furtive looks from inventory protocol drills to the landing platform, seeing the unnamed soldier step off the dust-beaten hull of a gunship transport with a straight-backed swagger. Even from afar, he demands attention, presence, in ways the men with him cannot.

I don’t know, you mumble. Maybe it’s the tattoo on half his face.

02. You learn the name of this beautiful man when Uche ditches the buddy system to wander off with a trooper in red armor at 79’s.

Shitty friend, comes a voice you’ve heard a hundred times over. You turn your head, ready to shoo away a shiny eager to prove his mettle, but instead you are met with the beautiful soldier and his ridiculous face tattoo in Uche’s seat. He flashes you a grin, raising his brows at you in a way that oozes the same confidence you remember in the landing bay. Can I make it up to you with a drink?

Will it be worth my while? you shoot back. (It’s amazing how well you mask the excited tremor in your voice. The wonders of working in a military hierarchy.)

No promises, he shrugs as he flags down the barkeep. But I think you already know your answer.

Then fine, I guess, you fight the smile playing over your lips. And when he closes his eyes and laughs, you think it’s only fitting that your nameless soldier has a laugh as gorgeous as himself.

I’m y/n, you say.

Jesse.

03. You meet this beautiful man again (Jesse, you curl your tongue over his name), and it just so happens that you end up assigned to the same ship as him. You board the Resolute, your civ certification in hand and a drab uniform as your completion gift, and as you claim your quarters aboard the destroyer, a firm tap at your shoulder stops you at your door.

Fancy seeing you here, y/n.

You’re kidding me, you smile. When you turn around, Jesse’s grinning back at you, bucket tucked under one arm, the other propping him up against the hallway wall in the worst attempt to look even remotely flirtatious that you’ve ever seen.

I’m hard to resist, I know, Jesse laughs, and you do your best to muster the most irritated expression possible despite the elation in your chest. I guess 79’s wasn’t enough for you, huh?

Sure, I can’t get enough of me absolutely drinking you under the table, Jesse, you snort.

Okay, okay, I was off my game. But you can’t tell me I’m not a better kisser when I’m tipsy, he shrugs.

I haven’t kissed you sober, you deadpan.

You think I could change that by the end of this tour?

04. You’re in bed with this beautiful man for the nth time this month, and you’ve never been too good with pillowtalk, so you tell him what you have always thought since the day you first saw him. Your fingertips light over his cheeks, you tell him that he is beautiful.

Jesse laughs and leans in to kiss your wrist. Between kisses trailing up your arm, he tells you that he is one face of many; that he is all rough skin and scars; (that there is no beauty in war embodied, cemented in the flesh over and over and over); that you just might have poor taste.

You jab his arm (because fuck you, Jesse, this was supposed to be a romantic moment), and he yelps, cackling. But you’ve successfully stroked his ego, and he thanks you by pulling you down onto his bunk again.

05. You’re in love with this beautiful man.

The revelation is a long time coming and yet somehow the greatest surprise that shocks you awake one morning when Jesse is still asleep in his bunk with one heavy arm draped over your bare hips.

It’s more than simple beauty as you watch him sleep, his lips parted and brow slack. Done away with the bravado and big talk, with the tension lifted from his proud features, Jesse is terrifyingly vulnerable in the way that makes your heart ache (even if he might be drooling just a little bit).

And then the ship alarm blares, and Jesse’s scrambling awake, sleepy apologies and bleary eyes as he shuffles around you to fumble for his armour.

See you in a few, sweetheart, Jesse laughs, locking his vambrace in place before he leans close and presses a quick peck to your cheek. And then he’s gone, breaking into a jog down the hallway as you shrug on his GAR bomber and pull it close over your chin.

You tell yourself that you don’t breathe deep on purpose, that you don’t shiver when you catch Jesse’s scent, standard-issue aftershave and spritzes of the Corellian cologne you’d bought him planetside, saved for the nights you spent over in his quarters.

You’re in love. (Fuck.)

06. You’re in love with this beautiful man.

Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, he says softly, perched beside you on the stout nose of a laatie. You lift your head from his shoulder, meeting his unreadable gaze (all you know is that it is soft) with a furrowed brow.

When you ask him what it means, Jesse—smooth-talker, sly bastard, a snappy retort always a word away—sputters unintelligibly, forgoing any excuses or mistranslations for sliding down the gunship’s hull and breaking into a run across the dewy grass. And you forget that you haven’t run this fast in months when you take off close at his heels.

Tell me, asshole! you shout, sprinting after him.

Not on your life! he shouts with a grin thrown over his shoulder. But he is slowing, his run pacing down to a jog, then a funny little walk on the heels of his feet as you close his lead and tackle him to the cool grass underfoot.

You feel a bruise blooming over your knees, and you’re fairly certain he’ll have a worse bruise over his tailbone. But all you can do is laugh as Jesse traps you in his arms and wrestles you onto your back under the silver light of the Nemoidian moons. (When was the last time you had laughed so freely?)

And when you catch your breath, vision blurry with the best kind of tears, you look to the wonder in Jesse’s eyes as he kneels above you.

You think he might be in love, too.

07. You’re in love with your beautiful man, and when you call him yours (when he calls you his) between hushed breaths and soft moans, you savor the thrill that rushes up your spine every time.

General Skywalker’s married, Jesse says one night, his voice rumbling under your ear as you lie over his chest.

It’s kind of obvious, you respond, and he laughs.

No—I mean, I knew—we’ve all known. But what if we got married?

You lift your head, and something heavy and warm lurches alive in the spaces between your ribs when you meet Jesse’s eyes. There is no witty playfulness, no heckling rise—only yearning, deep and vast and held with bated breath when he reaches up to touch your cheek.

Just you, me, some peace and quiet. I’d make a hell of a mechanic. And kids, maybe, well, if you want, he says, and with each word, his voice grows softer and softer still until you can just barely make out the last sound that passes his lips.

You could be a realist, cruel and cold, listing some regulation manual clause and the twofold speed at which Jesse would live and love (and die). You could tell him that the chances of you both making it out of this seemingly endless war were slim to none. You could tell him that the grief of losing a husband would fester where the loss of a friend would heal. You could leave.

But normality is so, so sweet—the vague yet enchanting idea of life beyond a war for which your beautiful man was born, a war which has swallowed you whole.

Rules and probabilities be damned, it’s worth the risk.

I’d like that, you whisper, and Jesse’s incredulous, enthralled laugh sweeps you off your feet before he’s kissing you like it’s the first time all over again.

A week later, Fives officiates, Echo bears witness, and they shower you with handfuls of tiny blue flowers scrounged from the flaxen Lothal plains as Jesse kisses you breathless.

(Both of them are dead within the year.)

08. You’re in love with your beautiful man, and you don’t think yourself a fool when all you can wonder is whether he still loves you from behind the mirrored visor of his helmet, one pound of pressure away from two blaster bolts and twin wounds (one for Ahsoka, one for you).

It is not his voice you hear over the labored blare of the ship alarms. It shares the same breath and passes through the same lips, but it is not the cocksure charm in rank or the languorous warmth of leave you have come to call your own.

You’ll be demoted in rank from commander and subject to execution along with the traitors Ahsoka Tano and y/n l/n.

It is not Jesse’s voice. (The last time your full name found home over his tongue, Fives and Echo had been alive.)

And then you watch him fall.

The hangar is a flurry of blaster fire and gunsmoke, and it’s a wonder that through it all, only one shot manages to graze over your leg before Ahsoka hurls you onto the docked y-wing and into the gunner’s seat.

The thrusters rumble to life as you slam your viewport shut, and you hear Rex’s voice crackling over the intraship comm for you to strap in. But all you can do is search frantically for any flash of twin ARC pauldrons and a shock of royal blue in the violent sea of helmets paying forgotten homage. You press your palms to the glass because he was there, he was there, right where Ahsoka spears her lightsabers into the metal, he was there.

The floor drops from beneath your feet, and you tell yourself the smoke and ache in your lungs is from your head connecting hard with the domed viewport glass as you scramble for your controls.

(What goes through a man’s head when he knows he will not wake when he lands?)

09. And then your beautiful man is dead.

You will think later that you were lucky, blessed, even, that you were not the one to pull his mangled body from under the charred belly of a destroyer, but that fact makes uncovering his face no less difficult. The broad ink stretched over his skin does little to hide the blood dried over his brow, bled into glassy eyes unseeing.

Did he feel it when the ship tore apart? You slide his eyes shut. (You do not hear your own wailing.) Was he in pain?

His brother tells you to leave his helmet over his grave because you buried bodies, vessels, ghosts of who they had once been. Jesse was not himself when you ran. Why would you carry a marker of someone you no longer knew, someone who no longer knew you?

There won’t be space for it on the ship (leave the dead with the dead), and you pretend not to hear how young Rex sounds when his voice bows under the loss of everything he’s ever known.

You hang the bloody plastoid back onto its perch.

It feels like the death of a saint, not because Jesse was some paragon of virtue, but because it is cruel, uncaring and unjust and pulled out of your hands into a single divine lie. It’s a wordless eulogy come too soon, and you cannot seem to pull away from the scuff marks and chipped paint at your fingertips.

It’s time to go, Rex says.

We got married, you say.

I know, Rex replies.

I’m not ready, your voice cracks. I didn’t say goodbye.

You feel strong arms pull you close, and if you focus on the sound of the slowly groaning hull before you, you can pretend like you aren’t being pulled apart at the seams, crashed into some cold moon, dirt under your nails, blood on your knees, alone.

I know.

10. Sometimes, you see your beautiful man in fleeting glimpses over his brother’s face. They are only split-second visions blurred by sleep (denial, denial, denial). You see copper skin and a soldier’s eyes, but that is where the familiarity ends and reality begins.

Even if you took away the tattoo arcing over Jesse’s skin and placed them side by side, Rex does not have the slight curve in his nose from a sparring session kicked too high; he does not have the dark freckle just below his chin; he does not have the playful twinkle, the knowing gleam that lit up his eyes whenever he saw you. (Rex only looks to you with shared grief, pity, these days.)

Clone or not, he is not him.

So you sleep.

If only for a glimpse of Jesse, his face blurry and voice warped under the weight of memory (played, rewound, and played again), you treat your precious shifts of sleep when Rex takes the helm as nothing short of speaking to the divine itself. Even if your dreams are more often than not nightmares of staring down a blaster barrel, part of you thinks that it’s worth the shaky hands and uneven breaths as Rex shakes you awake, that you might try to say goodbye.

Tonight, you see him again. But this time, the hangar deck is silent, blasters raised but frozen in place, a snapshot frame of the day a part of you died with him. The script changes. He lowers his blasters, you step forward, and when you reach up to lift his helmet from his shoulders, it is the clearest you have ever seen his face since you laid him to rest.

I’m sorry, his voice floats, settling in the space between your ears, soft and strong. I love you.

Goodbye, Jesse.

And when you wake, for the first time in weeks, your eyes are dry.

You will heal.

—

00. Buir, a soft voice filters down from the top bunk as your ship hums around you.

Ishei, you call, lifting one hand to rub at your eyes. You catch your son’s little horned head peeking over the edge of his bunk, and he scampers down the ladder when you beckon him close.

I can’t sleep, he whispers as he crawls beside you and tucks his arms around your waist. Will you tell me about father?

(Jesse will never know the orphaned Togrutan boy who calls him buir. You wish he did.)

Every night, you laugh softly, gently rubbing between his budding white montrals. Every night, I tell you about Jesse’buir. You don’t tire of the same stories?

You feel Ishei shake his head against your chest. Jesse’buir is my hero! Did he really look just like Rex ba’vodu?

Not at all, you smile. Not at all.

#fic is how i cope with mcat content review :-) #i'm not sure how u adopt ishei but congrats u r a parent now #but it's very mandalorian of you which is fantastic #and jesse would also call u a milf/dilf/parent he'd like to fuck #anyways #arc trooper jesse x reader #jesse x reader #clone wars x reader #yaej.writes

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 15

first time reader - click here

TW/SUMMARY: Is bad humour a trigger? Cards against humanity. Loki in the wild. Chaotic Tony, chaotic Reader. Team bonding, a gag chapter lmao

My beta is babey 🥺 @miscmarvelwritings

If someone had bothered to ask me what kind of relationship I had with Tony, it would've made my brain glitch. In the weeks we spent fucking, sciencing and hanging out with the Avengers, it never once crossed my mind. We had fun and it was easy. Unlike both of our lives, it didn't require much mental energy for us to get what we wanted from each other. For me, it was easier to ignore my skin aching for Tony when he was already spending so much time on me. I wasn't sure if it would ever be enough, really, so taking exactly as much as he was giving was my best bet.

We built things in his workshop with Pete by our side and it wasn't awkward. The spiderling said he was happy as long as we were happy and didn't mind it too much when Tony got handsy. The man had at least some morals and stuck to kisses, ass-slaps and lewd comments which made Peter snort and fake-retch sure, yet the boy never displayed any real discomfort. It was endearing. He really became the little brother I never thought I would have.

The sex was fantastic, to say the least. We fucked on just about every flat surface on the residential floors. Steve caught us once, although I am almost hundred percent sure Tony staged it all on purpose. The good Captain didn't even blush, instead just silently closed the door behind him as I stared in his face, gripping Tony's head with my thighs.

The weather grew dreary yet both of my parents still stayed out of New York. Mother went back to Canada and dad continued his never-ending party on the West Coast, conquering California and living his best life. My house was dark and cold, and I started hanging around the tower more often than ever. If I wasn't with Tony, I was busy catching up Wanda and Bucky on pop culture, teaching Thor how to bake cakes and doing other meaningless, domestic stuff. The Avengers tower bustled with life at all hours and there always was someone...

I never felt lonely. It was such an unusual experience. Comfort and reassurance was always one room away. Be it Thor with his gratuitous amount of physical affection or his brother's incredibly witty, dark humor, I never had to stay one-on-one with my thoughts for too long.

Personally witnessing Bruce's coming out of his shell was the highlight of my life, no lie. I was so used to the quiet, mousy Banner that my brain refused to acknowledge his amazing sense of humour at first; I wasn't sure if he was joking or ... Or what? Truth to be told, Brucie-bear was as snarky as Tony,Loki and Stephen. The sorcerer had started visiting more often too, under the guise of tutoring Wanda, but all of us saw the way he lingered in the communal areas after their study time came to an end.

If loneliness was a sickness then the tower's inhabitants and frequent visitors were beginning their recovery journey.

"Have you guys heard about Cards Against Humanity?" I asked one evening once the movie credits began rolling. Wanda was squished into my side with her legs in her brother's lap; Clint laying atop both siblings like the trash bag that he was. And I meant it fondly.

On the other side of me, I had Bucky and Loki, who had begun to discuss their respective collections of sharp and pointy things once they deemed the movie lacked action. Legally Blonde and action, did they really think..? Nevermind.

"Yes, and if you're offering, the answer is yes," Clint mumbled, reaching for his second pack of Cheetos.

We gathered in a circle as I brought the shoebox that had the original deck plus a couple of expansions. This was beginning to look interesting. "So, I have the special Avengers edition right there..."

"Say no more," Clint even abandoned his snacks. "But I'mma put on the episode of Lucifer I missed. Multitasking," He winked, wrestling the remote from Pietro. We waited patiently as they finished the obligatory round of horsing before settling down for the game.

I explained the rules of the game, choosing to disregard Loki's scoffing and Wanda's doubt about the quality of the humor in the game. We played a few rounds with me explaining some of the deeper pop culture references. At a point where all of us were engrossed, laughing and poking fun at each other, more of the Avengers parked themselves on the couch.

Stephen, Tony and Bruce evidently had been sciencing, all three men having had their safety goggles perched forgotten atop their heads. Sam, Natasha and Steve - probably sparring. All three of them brought the smell of soap and laundry detergent to the room. All of the newcomers observed us with mild interest, periodically glance at the TV.

It was Wanda's turn to be the card Czar. I had to take a moment to finish my last giggling fit.

"Okay, the white card goes..." She paused dramatically. "I never truly understood blank until I encountered blank." With that, she poked the timer app on her phone. The sixty second countdown began.

I did a quick inventory check. Then I snorted. I had to quickly stuff two knuckles in my mouth, biting down, to attempt to silence the hysterical fit of laughter I was on the brink of. Loki was definitely going to stab me but the opportunity was too good to pass. No fear, we die like men.

"Ooh, she's got something," Clint teased, having noticed my shaking shoulders.

The timer beeped. Naturally, Loki went first. He wore a mildly disgusted smirk. "I never truly understood parting the red sea until I encountered third base," The trickster caved and began chuckling.

Somewhere behind me, Sam and Tony began cackling while Stephen and Steve groaned loudly in mild distaste.

"Press F to pay respects," Pietro clapped Loki on the shoulder with a sympathetic chuff. "I raise you - I never truly understood licking things to claim as your own until I encountered the clitoris," The young avenger struggled through laughter, followed by everyone else this time.

"That's a keeper, ladies," Sam's rich baritone quipped.

I laughed along, inwardly preparing for the inevitable. "Yikes," I whispered, side-eyeing Loki. "I never truly understood daddy issues..." I trailed off, hearing Bucky and Steve beginning to tease Tony. "... Until I encountered Loki, the trickster God."

The room drowned in a sea of laughter, Tony and Clint busting a gut so hard they fell over. Said trickster God was less than amused, however, glaring in my direction with the force of a pissed off bee swarm.

"Ow, that's cold, Princess, that's just cold," Clint squeezed out.

"Loki," I abandoned my stack of cards, crawling over Pietro and Bucky on all fours, settling prettily on my knees in front of Loki. Making my very best puppy eyes. "I love you, with all my cold black heart. And you're technically the patron saint of fun and shit, so that means you must approve of this very clever joke," I pouted, batting my eyelashes.

"Baby girl, I think you're laying it on too thick," Tony gasped, slumping on the couch, holding his sides. Everyone kept laughing, now at my feeble attempt at placating the upset Loki.

Who, by the way, looked a bit spooked. Subtly but surely, the raven-haired Asgardian leaned away from me.

"Don't be mad, I'm too cute to be mad at," I finally snorted, pat-pat-patting him on the shoulder. "It's okay, you can join my club. We have hot old dudes and cookies."

That broke it. First, the corner of his mouth twitched. Then, Loki looked away. I saw the storm before it crashed; with a weird noise of his own and his cheeks puffed out, Loki joined in on the shit-fest, howling full volume and doubling over. I followed suit, until all of us were writhing around on the floor. We'd stop and then someone would make another remark and it would go into another round again.

"Menace," Loki scoffed at me, smiling. "And for the record, the hottest old dude, as you put it, would be me." That said, he went back to calmly waiting for his next turn. "I'm about a thousand years old."

"Thor's older," Bruce noted thoughtfully.

Loki scoffed. "That man cannot chew with his mouth shut. If that's considered attractive, I'm leaving this forsaken planet."

That struck a thought within me. One that was brewing a long time, to be honest. "Thor is the god of himbos," I said with the same tone as "Eureka!".

"Shit, you're right," Sam exclaimed, following with another, weaker fit of laughter meanwhile Bruce had to be the one explaining the term to the poor, poor, clueless members of the Avengers.

I need to find a way to award them some kind of points for learning the gen-z lingo. "Patrick" stars maybe, since they lived under a fucking rock?

"Princess, never a boring day with you around. You don't half-ass this shit," Tony's warmth reached me as he shuffled around on the couch, sitting directly behind me. I leaned my back against his legs.

"I'm not a clown," I shot back. Tony stiffened. Dramatically flailing my hand I announced: "I am the whole god-damn circus!"

As the game progressed, we found out that Clint was That Guy - meaning, the dude every CAH group had, the one who grossly overused the "Bees?!" card and made Star Wars references whenever humanly possible. The only even slightly funny joke was about a lightsaber up the ass, in the end all of us finding out that Bucky knew a little too much about modern sex toys - "Hey, I saw one on Amazon, I'll send you the link, Birdman" - to Steve's open-mouthed horror.

What Loki lacked in references he made up in wit. The play on "During sex, I like to think about genetically engineered supersoldiers" had Bucky scrambling to switch places with Wanda whilst Loki himself was attempting to shoot bedroom eyes at Steve. It was a mess.

Bucky's own play had Steve abandon all pretense at being in any way appropriate as he struggled for air. "The Avengers new rules prohibit using Mjölnir as a dildo." Me and Tony became somewhat of a messy guffawing octopus of limbs for a moment after the super-soldier said it.

"Don't. Tell. Thor!" Strange gritted out, hiding his laughter behind a palm, uncharacteristically having lost his stuffy attitude. By god's will the man was attractive when he smiled.

As time ticked, each one of the starting players had attracted a newcomer. There weren't enough cards for everyone to play (Tony had, of course, ordered additional ones but they wouldn't arrive until the next day) so people kind of whispered and pointed at what they thought would fit.

Natasha conspired with Wanda, Sam went to his bird-bro, Bruce was forcefully dragged by Bucky to his side. Surprisingly, Steve teamed up with Loki which made Pietro stick his nose up in the air and promptly declare he needed no backup.

I already had Tony on my side. The genius wasn't of much help, however, he simply annoyed me out of my skull by randomly giggling and making immature jokes. It should've alarmed me that Stephen was eager to join me and Tony - usually he just butted heads with anyone who had any opinion whatsoever.

I was left bewildered upon discovering the wizard liked drama as much as the Kardashian clan and was quite competitive at causing the most shit.

My clown crown felt threatened.

"This one," Tony poked at a card in my hand.

"If you think that's funny, your intellect is obviously overestimated." Stephen dismissively waved a hand. "This one," It was unmistakable whom the trembling finger belonged to. It pointed at a card on the other side.

"Wizards are just hilarious," Tony seeped sarcasm.

"Try me, Beyonce," Stephen murmured darkly.

That was just background noise to me. I had all my undivided attention on the TV, my last two functioning brain cells focused on the scene unfolding right in front of me. The Lucifer episode, the devil and his insatiable thirst for honey. The timer buzzed but I was still drawn towards Tom Ellis dipping two of his fingers first in the honeypot, then in his mouth, all the while looking like a damn snack himself. Illegal. I've never simped so hard for a fictional character.

A golden glow snatched a card out of my grasp, levitating it.

"Girl, what the hell?" Wanda saw my face and attempted to revert me back to earth. "Someone turn off the TV, there's not enough water in the tower to quench her thirst."

"Hey, did you two just - don't ignore me!" Tony whined, managing to tug on my hair and attempt to reach for the card now held in Stephen's grasp, simultaneously.

"I don't blame her," Clint mused. "That right there is one very fine dude."

I shook my head, clearing any untoward thoughts. Focus. "First of all, Bird, you're a dude. That there," I pointed up at the TV. "Is a man. A Man." I emphasised, getting a jealous poke in the back from Tony. "Second of all..." I turned towards Stephen. "The quaffle, the snitch and the AUDACITY OF THIS BITCH!" The last of my sentence was pitched. The sorcerer had raised his arm, clutching the card, and I struggled to reach it.

"What... What did you just say?" Stephen was laughing, not at all phased by me climbing him like a tree to take hold of what's mine. Tony was actively helping - or, trying to. One-handed. The other hand attempted to snatch the rest of the cards from my grasp.

"And that's an F on teamwork," Bucky's sarcasm was complemented by Steve's famous Captain America Is Disappointed In You look.

"Uhh... Guys? What's going on?" Peter's timid voice leaked confusion.

"Hello, friends," Thor boomed, drowning out the boy's questioning noises.

"We're playing a game. Cards Against Humanity."

Wordlessly, Peter towed Thor along with him to find a spot amongst us. And even if Thor didn't get any of the references, he still was good fun. His laugh was infectious. The way he cheered for every winner was incredibly wholesome. Golden space puppy. The urge to immediately pet Thor and give him endless pop-tarts was strong in me.

Loki was one dramatic, vengeful bitch. "Women get turned on by the Devil himself"? I was ready to throw hands with the trickster. Everybody's laughter drowned out any cursing I might or might have not directed towards Loki who looked far too satisfied with himself. I was going to substitute the sugar for his tea with salt one day, mark my words.

I wouldn't admit it over my dead body, but the way he got back at me for the daddy issues joke was kinda funny. Okay, very funny. It was fucking hilarious. I admire a clever man.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit ​ @littlegasps ​ @pilloclock ​ @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads ​ @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem ​ @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby

#party favours #bun writes #tony stark x reader #tony stark x y/n #tony stark x you #bruce banner x you #bruce banner x reader #bruce banner x y/n #stephen strange x y/n #stephen strange x you #stephen strange x reader #avengers team x reader fluff

[nexttrickanvils]

Beware of Karen Ch. 2

Sorry this took so long, had other priorities but here is the long awaited chapter 2 of Beware of Karen.

Summary: After Guybrush and Stan fail to deal with the latter’s ex-wife, Elaine decides to throw her hat into the ring. It goes about as well as you expect. ---------

Elaine hummed to herself as she set the table. While Guybrush was admittedly the better cook of the two, she still wanted to surprise her Pikaroni with a nice romantic dinner. Preferably without a certain plaid wearing charlatan joining them.

While Elaine had nothing against Stan… well okay maybe she had a lot against Stan… but that wasn’t the point, she’d prefer if he hadn’t attempted to drag her and Guybrush in an ex-lover’s quarrel of all things.

But she trusted Guybrush’s wit and uncanny ability to find absurd but simple solutions to absurd problems.

Before long, she could hear footsteps on the deck, she quickly lit the candles and plated the food.

“Welcome back, sugarboots! I hope you’re...”

The door opened and in came Guybrush… and Stan.

“Hey honey! Ooh are those potstickers I smell?”

“...Guybrush… I thought you were going to help Stan with his ex-wife and thus he would not bother us.” Elaine said, gritting her teeth

Guybrush, to his credit, looked apologetic.

“Well I did try, I honestly did but well… let’s just say Stan wasn’t exaggerating about how awful Karen is. So I guess Stan will be staying with us until Karen leaves.”

Elaine groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. Guybrush sighed and placed his hands on her shoulders.

“I know, I was really excited for all the quality time too but Elaine, you have no idea just how evil this woman is. I couldn’t just leave Stan to fend for himself against her, I’m a pirate not a monster!”

“...Really? And please do tell me, what makes her so terrible that Stan has to go in hiding with us?” Elaine asked, clearly unconvinced

“Well first: I could barely breathe around her stall, the perfume she was selling was that thick! She was also really pushy with the sales pitch like waaaaay worse than Stan. She also kept making all these mean comments about me being a terrible husband and how our marriage would fall apart if I didn’t buy her stuff. And she threatened to call the island authorities on Stan if he even thought of setting up shop near her! And he didn’t even do anything!”

Elaine raised an eyebrow, “Hm, I admit she does actually sound awful. But being pushy and rude are hardly the crimes of the century, sweetie.”

“Oh it goes beyond “pushy and rude.”” remarked Stan, mouth full of potstickers

“Karen thrives on “the hunt.” All she cares about is her next sale!"

"...Sounds like you." Elaine and Guybrush both remarked

"Oh no no no, my friends. I admit that Ol' Stan here may have exaggerated or cut some corners here and there. But hey sometimes that's what you gotta do when your clientele are a buncha rowdy swashbucklers!"

Stan continued, while grabbing another pot sticker, "Karen on the other hand… she has no respect for the art of sales, it's all a means to an end for her. And if anyone gets in the way of that precious end sale even if it’s only in her mind, she will destroy you! By the way, these are amazing, you could make a killing selling these.”

Once again, Elaine found herself not entirely convinced.  Stan stuffing himself with the food she made for herself and Guybrush didn’t help his case. But he also couldn’t really be considered a reliable narrator. And Guybrush, her dear Threepy, the love of her life… well he was quite prone to exaggeration.

Elaine sighed, well she wouldn’t be where she was now if she just sat and complained about a bad situation.

“Perhaps… I should speak to her…”

“NO!” Shouted both Guybrush and Stan

She just gave them a confident smile, “Oh don’t worry about me. I’m sure if I went without Stan, she won’t be as volatile. And besides, all my years as governor has given me quite the experience of negotiating with stubborn egotistic business owners. You remember that incident at the O'Malley's Galley last year, don’t you dear?”

Guybrush let out a small laugh and a blush, obviously remembering how Elaine dealt with the restaurant's owner after the man refused Guybrush's request to not serve the food on porcelain plates.

Elaine kissed Guybrush on the cheek, "I'll be fine dear. You just relax and I'll come back with the good news."

Then she looked over at Stan, "...And I suppose you just do what you can to entertain yourself."

And with that, Elaine made her way off the boat and into town. As she made her way, she kept rehearsing in her head how she'd calmly confront Karen.

However when Elaine arrived and started asking the other merchants about Karen, a feeling of dread began to form.

They were all smiles and sales until Elaine explained who she was looking for. They all suddenly dropped their grins and immediately apologized to Elaine for "wasting her time."

The most concerning interaction was from one merchant who told Elaine where Karen was then immediately begged her to not tell Karen that the two of them spoke.

Before long, Elaine found the woman of the hour making a sale.

"Trust me, dearie, this color and this scent are perfect for you! You'll be catching everyone's eye in no time!"

The female pirate grinned as she paid for her goods.

"Just remember, no refunds on used products."

"Yeah yeah yeah. Look out, Single's Night, Mama's coming!"

Elaine stepped aside to let the lady walk by then she took a deep breath and steeled herself.

"Excuse me? Are you Karen?"

"Hm?"

Elaine felt a shiver down her spine when Karen smiled at her.

“Well hello there, my dear! Whatever you need, I’ve got it.”

“Actually I’m not here to shop. You met my husband earlier? Guybrush Threepwood?”

“Ohhh! So he gave you the free sample? I knew you couldn’t resist! A woman of your taste would know fine class when you see it.”

Karen chuckled as she immediately looked through her inventory while Elaine was already finding her patience tested.

“Please just listen to me. I understand that your relationship with your ex-husband is… strained but it’s gotten to the point where he’s hiding on my and my husband’s ship trying to get away from you.”

“Hmph, Stan, being an absolute freeloader? You don’t say. Anyway…!”

To Elaine’s surprise, Karen grabbed her face.

“H-hey!”

“Hm, you look like a spring or autumn to me.”

Elaine quickly pushed her off though if that bothered Karen, she didn’t show it and went straight back to her sales pitch.

“Now your face is rather pale, you look like a ghost, dearie! Oh and you need to ditch that bandana, it clashes with your hair."

"Would you just LISTEN to me! I am not here to buy anything! Or to get make-up advice. Or whatever you think I'm here for! I need for you and Stan to reconcile whatever is going on with you two so my husband and I can be alone!"

With that, Karen just laughed.

"Oh you poor innocent sucker. There is no reconciling with that selfish mess of a man. But that's marriage for you, the minute the wifey has a problem, she's suddenly a nagging witch, am I right?"

Elaine's patience was growing thinner and thinner as she crossed her arms and glared at Karen.

"Fine. You two just can't get along, just fine. But at the very least just let Stan be. My husband and I have been looking forward to a nice romantic vacation and we can't exactly do that with Stan around.

Karen smirked and Elaine once again felt an icy chill.

"Oh really? And what do you think your "dear" husband and Stan are doing while they sent you to do their dirty work?"

"I volunteered…"

Karen continued, ignoring Elaine's correction, "They're probably just lazing about on the deck, pigging out on junk and guzzling grog. I was one of the lucky ones. I realized what a scam the whole marriage thing is and got out of there. I've still got my divorce lawyer's card, you know, when you realize that you don't need to settle with that blonde idiot."

Karen pulled out a card and placed it into Elaine's pocket. Without hesitation, Elaine grabbed Karen's wrist with an iron grip.

"HEY!!!"

“Now listen here, you can insult me all you want but my husband is a good man. He may have his moments but that goes for anyone. Do you know what we've faced off against together? Some of the fiercest pirates on the Seven Seas including the undead monster LeChuck. A real estate developer with delusions of grandeur who had the power to make mice out of men. A mad scientist obsessed with eternal life! Guybrush even conquered DEATH! And through all that, Guybrush has always been respectful, caring, and loving!”

Elaine let go of Karen's wrist but kept her steely glare on her.

"My husband may not be perfect but I cannot see myself with anyone else. Now I believe our business is done here."

Karen rubbed her wrist as she gave Elaine her own glare.

"Hmph, I suppose it is. But I am a forgiving sort. I'd be happy to help you once you figure things out."

Refusing to dignify Karen's response, Elaine simply turned around and walked away.

As Elaine stepped out of the marketplace, a shrill scream filled the air.

She looked toward the noise and saw the female pirate from earlier desperately trying to shake off two monkeys climbing all over her.

Elaine quickly came to the woman's rescue, shooing the monkeys away from her, giving the other pirate enough time… to dunk her head in the nearby fountain.

Whatever that did, it seemed to cause the monkeys to lose interest and run off.

"Oh thank Blackbeard's frilly underthings."

"Are… you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah I will be."

"What in the world even happened?"

"Oh I'll tell ye what happened! I went to the bar to get ready for Single's Night and put on somea that goop that fast-talking she-devil sold me. Next thing I knew, the bar's monkey mascots were all over me."

"...And you're certain that it was the make-up that caused this?"

"DO I LOOK LIKE SOMEONE A MONKEY'D BE ATTRACTED TO TO YA!? They left me alone just fine then I put on that damn perfume and other stuff and they went crazy! "You'll be catching everyone's eyes in no time" apparently that includes mangy beasts!"

The other pirate stood up and emptied her bag of Karen's products. She then walked away, grumbling about her wasted money and time.

Maybe it was Guybrush's influence but Elaine couldn't help but pick up a couple of the fallen cosmetics.

Eventually Elaine made her way back to the Screaming Narwhal. Guybrush and Stan were on the deck though unlike Karen's prediction, Guybrush was practicing his banjo playing while Stan just read a book.

Guybrush immediately noticed Elaine walking onto the deck and smiled. At least Elaine had that.

"Plunderbunny! So um… how did it go?"

"...I apologize, you were both right. She's the absolute worst, how do we get rid of her?"

#Monkey Island #Anvil Writings

[katsukikitten]

hey! for valentines could you maybe update a pink rose or princess?? only if you want to🖤 you’re an amazing writer btw!

ANON MY DEAR! This is not part of the special but I hope you enjoy anyway. I'm so glad you're enjoying my work! 😊😊 also these nails but black.

"Madame would you like tea or a drink?" A server asks as you push down the hall.

"Not. Now." You bite out trying so hard to keep your temper as the agitating blonde follows behind you in cocky strides.

The door to the bar swings open as you change the air unintentionally.

No longer is laughter ringing out at the tables beside you, now men shrink back with your employed escorts beneath their arms. As if they could ever fight you off. Normally you would have to keep your eyes from rolling but they are two focused on shades of pink and red.

Just as a bull reacts to red you charge but instead of reverting to old habits you step with elegant grace that was drilled into you. You thought your temper had been controlled but it is evident as you stalk blindly towards the couple that you are far from controlling it.

"Hello." You sing venom, fake smile plastered on your face as you loom over the small table.

"Ah Madame, may I get you anything?" Mina asks, reading your dark expression fairly quickly as Kirishima fights from shrinking away.

"No my darling. I'm just wondering why this trash is lingering out here instead of having his boss run his errands for him." A polite smile that never reaches your eyes. Ruby eyes slink away from your form to spy your boss, drink in hand as he watches from afar more than amused.

"We were just talking Madame. Mending somethings." Mina answers.

"I'm asking her to still be my wife." Kirishima pipes up, ruby eyes shining in the low light as you bite back your scoff, "But will you let her leave?"

"She is more than welcome to move back in with you. However Mina my dear you are well aware that his loan is not being paid back with his own funding. It would be wise to listen carefully for the lies that slip through sharp teeth." You wrap your hand around the nape of Kirishima's neck leaning closer to his ear, "She may leave with you whenever she wants but while you are in debt to me I will always take her right back."

A shudder visibly passes through him as you right yourself. Making your way back to your precious office. Bakugou looks on, not as amused before as he was hoping to see you lose your temper.

He knows you have one, he got a taste of it just a few moments ago. He hopes to get a glimpse of it again.

××××××××

"I heard a rumor." You purr sipping your whiskey as you stare over the rim of the glass. Staring down the built man who sits in one of your plush office chairs. You lean back in your own leather seat as he seems to think, trying so hard to figure out the best place to set his pawn.

Not realizing he *is* the pawn.

"What type of rumor?" He leaves his drink untouched on the old oak desk, confirming the validity of the gossip as it is customary to share a drink with someone you trust.

Someone you are always honest with.

At least customary in this backwards world.

Still you cannot help the smile that grows on your rouged lips as his own turn southward.

"I heard you're trying to 'save' Uraraka as if she is some damsel." You try hard to keep your voice even and your glass in tact as you continue, "She is free to leave whenever she wants. But since you want her so badly convince her to leave with you. In exchange I take 50% of your territory."

He stands, clearly insulted by your offer as he narrows green eyes onto you.

"No deal. If you want my land so badly you'll have to take it by force." He shouts scraping the chair agaisnt wood as he stands abruptly.

"Is that so?" You take another sip as he gives you his back, one of his first of many grave mistakes. He takes a final glance over his deep emerald suit with matching eyes to spy Uraraka-chan standing just behind you in a blush pink gown that you had picked out especially for this occasion. His quick temper surprised you, you had calculated a different reaction as he was normally level headed but maybe he is still over compensating for the former head's death despite that being a few years ago.

But one thing was for certain Izuku needed to be careful what he wished for.

You decide to take him up on that offer the following night bringing Uraraka in tow as you stand before a room filled with hundreds of men.

All stunned to silence in your skinny black jeans and flowing black blouse that burst through the doors with ease.

You were lucky to be blessed with both unbelievable strength both physically and mentally.

"Are you aware of how my quirk works Izuku?" You ask when he does not make a move. Cannot make a move since you brought his special dame here.

"Its common knowledge. You do not hide it well. Besides no one in my family has encountered you." He retorts wondering how the hell you knew about the mandatory emergency meeting he had called.

"Ah, that you know of." You smile over the large crowd of men armed to the teeth, "I have a large influence you know. I'll show you who is loyal to me. You'll be able to tell when I use my gift and when I do not."

"Please demonstrate your imminent failure." He gestures with his banded arm with a sly smile while yours turns devilish.

"Those who are loyal to me bow." You gesture with your own banded arm as fifty or so of the two hundred men sink to their feet. Deku let's his jade eyes roll over their faces as if committing them to memory.

As if after tonight it will matter.

"Not bad for no quirk right?"

Your smile fades as you turn serious, straightening your back and changing the air about you to your a semi natural state. A predator staring down prey, shoulders back and head held high as if royalty.

Well you were raised as royalty and you knew when to act as such. The air seems to crackle with tension.

"Those who are loyal to me bow." Your voice booms with authority as all of the men, including Izuku sink to their knees with sweating foreheads.

"I've always preferred my men on their knees." You sashay down the row past the frozen men, fingers dragging over broad shoulders as Izuku grits his teeth. You heels clack with each powerful step before you find yourself in front of your latest victim.

"Be careful who you dare." You hiss grabbing onto his banded forearm lifting it for all to see, "While serving me you'll learn two things fairly quickly. I always rise to the challenge and I always keep my word."

You drag your nails across his two bands breaking the symbol as quickly as you broke the loyalty of his men. Izuku cries out as your nails leave deep crimson in their wake. Dripping down his fingers as he watches his life's work crumble before him.

"Rise." And they respond, keeping their heads bowed as you speak, "As you've witnessed and by our underground laws you are now my family, under my care."

You tap your own double band with a bloodied claw.

"I do not like to rid people of their free will. I prefer loyalty to be genuine. However should you be a threat to my goal or my family I will have no qualms about flaying your mind until you're living the rest of your waking days in hell. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes ma'am." They ring out in unison as you release your hold on them.

"YOU WILL NEVER BE THE HEAD AS LONG AS I BREATHE!!!" One screams as soon as his muscles are his own, aiming his gun straight at you, finger hovering over the trigger.

"Then die." You shrug, barely giving the man a second look as his face distorts from full blown wrath to down trodden depression. He turns the gun on himself pulling the trigger to end his own life with genuine tears rolling down his cheeks. A hush rolls through the crowd as the men beside him are visibly shaken.

"Anyone else have a dying vow they wish to carry out?" When no one breaks the silence you carry on, "Good. Now as your new head you report everything to me. Inventory, sales, profits, projected sales, potential buyers old and new. Should any of you choose to disobey me know that I will find out. As I have eyes and ears everywhere and I will not be afraid to make an example out of you. Now get back to work."

The men scramble to gather the reports and return to their posts as you've just gained a sizable amount of turf in a matter of minutes. You press your sharp heel into Izuku's thigh twisting it slightly.

"As for you, you'll finally get your wish to stand by Uraraka as second to my right hand woman."

You wake with a sharp inhale painted in nothing but the moonlight as two other bodies share your bed. Emerald green slowly blink open before the glisten in the lowlight.

It is odd that you would have that dream tonight of all nights.

Especially when you agreed to bed both of them tonight.

You can hear your Father's stern in your head now as he repeats one of his many rules.

*"Never sleep with subordinates and if you do. Don't expect them to be loyal when you're done with them."*

You bite your lip, he was right about many things, would he be right now?

Had you made a mistake?

"Madame?" He whispers pulling you from the thought, calloused palm placed agaisnt your exposed thigh. "Do you need a drink?"

"Please." You confirm, his eyes flicker to the brown eyed doe who snores softly before they come back to you, "I won't wake her."

He nods softly before rising, pulling on dark boxers before shoving himself into a shirt. Ready to go to the empty bar below to make you some sort of cocktail. You watch his sculpted back shrink into the darkened hallway and for a brief moment you wish his hair a different color. That is before you dig black nails into your exposed thigh and you rise yourself. Tiptoeing to your chair on the other side of your expansive suite. You drape yourself in your black and heavily laced robe, hiding your family tattoos once more.

When Izuku comes back with your drink you're sure to check your skill work on his memory when he let's his fingers brush agaisnt yours as you grab the cool glass. Feeling out his mind, ruffling through his memories over the last few hours as he undressed you and pleasured you when his eyes fall upon your family crest swirling on both sides of your chest the ink melts together in inky black smudges.

A cat smile plays on your lips as you whisper thank you. Just as Izuku is about to crawl into be with Uraraka you stop him.

"Take her to your room?" You whisper, "She always sleeps soundly there."

He blushes as if caught but you know all along that he has loved her. Did your dream not remind you of why he is really here?

"You do not need my permission to lie with her Izuku. Only hers." You state simply picking up your overly loved romance novel as he scoops her gently. You motion him to you with two fingers, debating with each steady step that he is carrying her if you should just wipe yourself from those pleasurable hours in both of their minds.

You decide against it last minute, caressing Uraraka to insure that she too does not remember anything but swirling black where something else should be. When she does you smile at the two of them before whispering to the emerald eyed man.

"This will be our last time dear. Enjoy each other."

He stands stunned for a moment, wanting to argue but he cannot deny your crystal clear order. He makes his way with his love to his cozy little room just three doors down.

You return to your novel, the main character is about to shut the cop up with a heated kiss in hopes he will forget his evidence only for your phone to buzz.

You sigh picking it up as an unknown number flashes across the screen with a picture of charred men attached to an ominous text that reads.

"I would pull your men out of my territory if I were you."

A cat smile spreads across your lips as dejavu sets in. It is only a matter of time before you add another broken double band to your empire.

#bnha fanfiction #katsuki x reader #bnha au #bnha mafia au #bnha ask #bnha asks #bnha x reader #bnha kacchan #bnha fic #bakugou katsuki #katsukibakugou #katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo x reader #bnha pink rose

[just-come-baek]

at your scarvice

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader ft. Jimin x OC (Jiwoo) and other BTS members as cameos

Themes: smut | comedy | ghost!au | haunted house!au | amateur ghost hunters!au | friends to lovers!au

Word count: 12.2k

Summary: “I’ve done a research about a haunted house which is like only one village away from Jiwoo’s parents’ house, and it would be awesome if we went there for a quick ghost hunt before the party. You can even bring all your cameras and shoot a Halloween special for your YouTube channel or whatever. You’re subscribers will love it, and besides, what could possibly go wrong?”

Prompt: “If I die, I’m going to haunt your ass.”

Warnings: amateur ghost hunting | irresponsible usage of ghost hunting devices | mentions of brutal deaths | mentions of Jungkook being a YouTuber | plenty pop culture references | friendly bickering | main characters being idiots | occasional spooky stuff | penetrative sex | 

__________

Knock! Knock!

“What are you doing here?” Jungkook asked straightforwardly upon seeing me on the other side of the doors. As per usual, I smiled brightly, waiting for him to move aside, so I could feel myself home.

“I’m inviting myself in,” I answered, walking past him. “Tonight is a big day, and we gotta get ourselves ready,” I added and put two heavy shopping bags on the floor before plopping on the couch, catching my breath. “I planned the entire day, and we’re already far behind schedule. If it wasn’t for the traffic, I would be here about thirty minutes earlier.”

“It’s just a Halloween party,” Jungkook stated, and I rolled my eyes. “It’s no big deal; Jiwoo organizes one every year.”

“The party is just one of the things we’re gonna do,” I started, excited to tell him about everything I had meticulously planned. I was going to make sure he would never forget this night. “I’ve prepared a few surprises before the party.”

“Do I wanna know?” Jungkook asked, sitting in an armchair across from me.

“One thing at a time, okay?” I proposed, and Jungkook unwillingly complied; he had never been the one to fancy surprises, but he could make an exception for his best friend. “First thing on the list – re-watching the season 6 of Buzzfeed Unsolved: Supernatural while eating unhealthy snacks and having gin and tonic drinks,” I revealed, and Jungkook scrutinized me, making an ugly face.

“Are we talking postmortem, too?”

“I can’t believe you had to ask me that,” I answered, a little bit disappointed that he thought I’d skip this content. Never; it was too good to be ever skipped on.

“Sweet,” Jungkook exclaimed, jumping out of the armchair in excitement. “Why don’t you turn on the playlist, and I’ll go get us glasses and a bowl for the chips?”

Hurriedly, I logged into Jungkook’s computer and turned on YouTube.

“Which episode was your favorite?” Jungkook asked me as he sat on the couch beside me, setting the tableware on the coffee table next to the laptop.

“All of them were good. They’ve gathered a lot of evidence this season, but for me, the house call one was the best."

“It was dope, but my favorite is definitely the season finale,” Jungkook stated, and I couldn't disagree. All of the episodes were great, and it was impossible to choose the best one – objectively, at least. All of them were hilarious and spooky in their own way, and it was a delight to re-watch them again. “The marathon shall begin,” he added, pressing the play button.

“Finally.”

It was a very peaceful afternoon, and frankly, it was exactly what I needed after a couple of hectic days at the university. The professors were more demanding than usual, and a relaxing hangout was the perfect remedy to all the stress I had been put under.

Per each episode, Jungkook and I would have a drink and empty a bag of potato chips, occasionally bickering about how we would act in these haunted places. While we both considered ourselves shainiacs, it was quite obvious we would chicken out in the moment of strange, not necessarily supernatural, occurrence.

For the outsiders, Jungkook might have seemed to be a tough cookie, but in reality, he was just a big softie. I, on the other side, enjoyed horrors a bit too much; therefore, in the face of danger, I would laugh.

Probably.

One cannot be sure without actually witnessing a supernatural occurrence. Best case scenario – a full- body apparition. 

“You would totally run outside screaming,” Jungkook snickered when the ghoul boys’ spirit box picked up a bizarre voice. “You would lose your fucking mind.”

“I would let out a confused chuckle at best,” I fought back, but Jungkook wasn’t having any of this, throwing a potato chip at me, blowing a raspberry. “See, this is why Jiwoo doesn’t like you. You’re too childish.”

“What are you talking about? Jiwoo adores me,” Jungkook protested, and I couldn’t help myself but burst his little bubble of confidence and self-assurance. “I'm like... her best friend.”

“She only tolerates you because she has the biggest crush on Jimin,” I explained, and Jungkook gasped in disbelief. “What? You didn’t know?” I asked, confused because it was too obvious not to notice her infatuation. Only Jimin was too blind to see it, despite Jiwoo’s blatant flirting.

“Of course, I know. I’m not that stupid,” Jungkook answered, but I still thought he and Jimin shared one brain cell. “Too bad for her; Jimin's dumb.”

“I'm betting she's gonna make a move tonight,” I started, knowing the juicy gossip which would pique Jungkook's interest. “Jimin told me he's cosplaying as Fred from Scooby-Doo, and she's coincidentally dressing as Daphne. She's gonna be as subtle as a dump truck driving through a nitroglycerin plant.”

“Weird way to put it, but I agree,” Jungkook answered, giggling adorably under his breath. “And where's your costume?” Jungkook asked, confused, as he finally noticed the lack of my spooky outfit. Our whole crew enjoyed Halloween too much to attend a party in basic all black clothes. “Jiwoo's not gonna let you in without one. You know it.”

“Relax; I'm going as the Nun from the Conjuring Universe. My costume's at Jiwoo's. I'm not parading in that hellish make-up, giving people heart attacks,” I elaborated, and Jungkook nodded, understanding my choice. Last year, I had been dressed as a very vivid horror character, and a few elders had got pretty spooked. I'm not going down that road again. “I've only got white face powder, three black eyeliners, and a set of black contact lenses on me. And check this out; all of it fitted into my new fanny pack. It's awesome, isn't it?” I showed it to Jungkook, and he grabbed it to investigate my new purchase.

“I've been trying to convince you to buy one for almost a year; what've changed your mind?” Jungkook asked suspiciously, remembering numerous rejections of his (in his opinion) well-argued propositions. In all honesty, I considered fanny packs a terrible accessory, but tonight it suited the occasion. It was more comfortable than a purse or a backpack, and surprisingly, it could fit more items than I had previously assumed. “You've also got a new phone case? It's awesome! Why didn't you get one for me, too?” He added in a whiny tone after inspecting my latest let's summon demons phone case.

“I'd say my fanny pack is going to be a Mystery Mousketool, but then I realized you know what the item is, and you don't know what it's going to be used for,” I started rumbling, and Jungkook looked at me in visible confusion. Perhaps, he had one drink too many to comprehend my twisted presentation. “All I'm saying now, it may come in handy if the second phase of my amazing plan goes a little bit off track,” I continued vaguely. Best friends or not, I couldn't straightforwardly confess that it would be easier for me to run for my life if the police would start chasing us for trespassing a haunted property.

“Whatever's going on your mind, I don't like it,” Jungkook muttered as my previous account must've triggered his spider-sense. “What are you plotting?”

“It's nothing, really,” I tried to dismiss the topic, but Jungkook wasn't having any of that; he wanted to know everything about my secret plan, and he wouldn't stop glaring at me until I'd tell him all the details. With this man, keeping a secret wasn't a possibility.

“Tell me, or else I'm not going anywhere,” Jungkook threatened, and Halloween or not, I knew he wasn't joking. For him, gaming all night was just as entertaining as attending a party; therefore, he didn't have any trouble choosing either one of them. At this point, the only thing I could do was to advertise my plan, making it irresistible. “I was planning on streaming this one game this week, and I might as well start doing it today,” Jungkook carried on with his nerdy shenanigans, letting me know it was my cue to change the subject, snowing him under a handful of promises of an adventurous unforgettable night.

“I've done a research about a haunted house which is like one village away from Jiwoo's parents' house, and it would be awesome if we went there for a quick ghost hunt before the party. You can even bring all your cameras and shoot a Halloween special for your YouTube channel or whatever. Your subscribers would love it, and besides, what could possibly go wrong?” I blurted out on one breath, hoping my sincerity was enough to convince him. “Pretty please?”

***

The bus to the village was about to leave at 17:06, and we had only ten minutes left to double-check our inventory: two go pro cameras, two old-fashioned flashlights, a legitimate spirit box (which Jungkook had been gifted two months ago on his birthday), an ouija board (which he gave me for my early birthday), and a spare bottle of booze if we sobered up before arriving at the location.

Due to traffic, our bus arrived a few minutes late, but we were in a great mood, so we didn’t mind it that much. If anything, we were even more excited, because it would be already getting dark upon our arrival.

“So tell me something about your research,” Jungkook started, as we found a couple of empty seats in the back row of the bus – finally we were the cool kids.

“OK, so check this out,” I started, sitting comfortably in my window seat, rubbing my hands together in ardor. “No one really knows how many ghosts haunt this place, yet according to previous owners’ accounts there are at least three ghosts roaming all around the house, and I have my theory about their identities,” I said with a mischievous smirk upon my face, waiting for Jungkook to compliment my well-done research.

“What’s your theory?” He inquired, already intrigued by the house’s story.

Even it was only my thesis.

“Finally, let’s go over some theories,” I said, quoting my favorite YouTube channel.

Whispering, I told him everything I had managed to dig out, successfully keeping Jungkook on the edge of his seat for the entire ride.

It was a mystery how many ghosts actually haunt this location, but according to the witnesses’ testimonies, old newspaper articles, and land registers, I was sure about three names. All of the three men were once residents, and all of them died tragically within the sinister four walls.

The unholy trinity of Kims – that’s the name of my theory.

The house was built in 1913 on an old rye field. It was a very amicable side of the village, and no one had expected the house could bring so much evil.

The first tenants moved in 1915, and though neither of them died, they reported they had witnessed strange happenings within the premises, beginning with the dog barking in the middle of the night at the darkness, ending with them hearing screeching sounds from under the walls.

One night, they stirred awake with their skin covered in scratches, and their dog breathing heavily, slowly bleeding to death. Needless to say, they moved out before the dawn, leaving all of their belongings behind.

While the majority of the locals believed it was witches’ revenge since the coven had been denied the premises, some of whom thought the family was mentally-ill and violent.

The house remained empty way until 1973 when Kim Seokjin moved in. Back in the time, he was a singer, slowly gaining popularity. Having signed the contract with an entertainment label, he bought a house as his own getaway when he needed a break from his demanding fans.

He would reside in the house a few times a year, only when he was desperate for a few moments of solitude. In late October 1974, he went for a short hiatus. Late evening, when he was relaxing with a glass of scotch, someone knocked on his doors, asking for someone – almost like in The Strangers.

Seokjin suspected the stranger was just a very sneaky fan and locked the person outside. The sole purpose of buying the property so far away from the city was precisely omitting situations like this.

Unfortunately for him, it was not a fan.

Later that night, a dozen of Satanists broke into Seokjin’s house, tied him up, and carried him straight to the basement where they performed a grim ritual. According to the police report released to the press, he was discovered lying on his back in the middle of a bloody pentagram, his intestines gutted out, his tongue cut out found in a golden goblet, and two paper knives sticking out of his eyeballs.

It is told that his ghost roams around the basement, leaving a bloody trace after him. Moreover, a young journalist, back in 1981, while doing research about satanic rituals, claims she had seen his ghost, resting in a rocking chair down in the basement, sipping a glass of alcohol. She even swore she could smell a mixture of whisky and blood in the air.

Unfortunately, she didn’t gather any evidence, later being called a lunatic by the disbelieving society.

The house waited for its new residents for twenty years – in August 1994, a newly wedded couple moved in right after their honeymoon. Kim Namjoon was a poet, teaching European literature on the university, while his wife, Kim Joori, was a sweet librarian.

At first, they didn’t notice anything strange. No weird noises, no unexpected guests, no cold spots, no nothing. Everything was peaceful until they decided to conduct a major renovation – it was then when the hell unleashed.

In 1996 they decided to start trying for a baby, and though they both fancied the old décor of the house, it was evident it wasn’t a safe space for a child. While they were thrilled to upgrade the property, providing their newborn with safety, the entities which lived inside were not.

Joori was the one who started experiencing supernatural happenings; she only worked three times a week, and the majority of her time, she spent alone at home. During these late hours, she thought her mind was playing tricks on her. At first, she justified it with stress and a shitload of work regarding the renovation, but then, the occurrences she had witnessed couldn’t be explained with logic.

Joori wanted to sell the property and move out, yet Namjoon would always dismiss her pleas. It wasn’t until November 1996 when Joori, who was already three months pregnant, and Namjoon had a big fight. She gave him an ultimatum, and when Namjoon chose the house over her, she moved out.

A few collective nights after Joori’s departure, Namjoon would sit by the newly rebuilt fireplace and drink into oblivion. It was the first time he noticed peculiar activity in the house, yet he blamed the alcohol for it.

Slowly, day after day, Namjoon would lose his mind. It started off with strange whispers. The voice in his head, or so he thought, begged him to call Joori and bring her back, yet his pride would always stop after pressing the 6th digit of her parents’ landline.

Then it was tugs; from time to time, Namjoon would feel his shirt being tugged. It was challenging to explain with logic, but he opted for blaming the trauma for making him delusional. Namjoon would rather believe his brain was slowly frying itself than accept the supernatural entities.

At some point, he also started hearing distant giggles within the house and seeing shadows passing between walls, but the last straw that broke the camel’s neck was definitely his book of poems flying across the room, landing in the middle of the carpet, and then shredding into pieces right in front of his eyes. While a lot of events could be blamed on the strong drafts of wind or poor timely construction of the house, some things he witnessed were unexplainable.

Shortly after the incident, the entity residing in the house became violent – it wanted Namjoon away, and since he wasn’t going to leave like his wife, there was another way of getting rid of him.

Namjoon wanted to leave the house, reach out to Joori and start anew with her and their baby.

However, he never did.

On a Christmas morning, Joori paid him a visit and the things she witnessed traumatized her for life.

Namjoon’s suitcase was neatly packed, waiting by the doors to be picked up. The house was spotless, except for Namjoon’s study.

Walls were painted red with blood, Namjoon’s body dismembered – pieces of his body parts scattered all over the floor. Only his head was in scarless, resting on top of his desk, right next to his ripped poetry book.

No signs of forced entry, no motive, no evidence.

The police obviously closed the case, but Joori never felt at peace, still believing it was the entity that killed her husband.

And now, finally, the third Kim.

Kim Taehyung.

Not that long time ago, in 2007, the land was purchased by happy-go-lucky Kim Taehyung. At that time, Taehyung was only 19. He bought the house with his inheritance. Ever since little, he was very family-orientated, and when he had a chance to purchase a property, he didn’t hesitate.

Just like former residents, Taehyung didn’t sense anything odd; the omnipresent feeling of darkness came with time. However, even then, Taehyung would dismiss all the strange occurrences happening inside the house.

He had never been one to get scared easily, so a round of floor creaking or cold spots didn’t really impress him.

On the 17th of April, his girlfriend, Chanmi, slept over for the first time, and it was chilling.

According to her testimony, after their steamy sex session, she felt as if being watched. Later on that night, when they were sleeping, cuddling under the sheets, she heard distinctive steps downstairs.

Frightened, suspecting it was a burglar, she shook Taehyung awake, yet the moment he opened his eyes, the noise stopped. Complete undisturbed silence. To Taehyung, Chanmi seemed paranoid (and not accustomed to new surroundings), but he loved her dearly and checked the house, calming her.

Although Taehyung didn’t find anything, Chanmi already knew she didn’t feel welcomed – ever since that night, she made sure they would hang out at her place. Whatever it was that she sensed – it was pure evil.

On the 23rd of June, they had a big fight, and when Chanmi came over the next day to makeup, Taehyung was already gone.

His body was discovered in the bathroom on the second floor – he was lying in the bathtub, sharp pieces of mirror protruding from his wounded body.

Chanmi screamed and fell onto her knees.

But it wasn’t the worst thing about that day – the moment she started sobbing, Taehyung’s head tilted to the side, looked at her with his dead eyes, and in a throaty voice, he growled her name.

In a matter of seconds, Chanmi got back on her feet and bolted out of the house, swearing to herself that she’d never ever return there.

Though the police suspected a murder, deep down, Chanmi knew it was the evil’s doing. She never bothered mentioning that in her official statement, knowing the cops wouldn’t believe her.

Ever since Taehyung’s tragic death, the residence belongs to the city. Despite multiple proposals, it has never been sold.

And now, it’s our cue to investigate these haunted premises.

“You’re shitting me right now, aren’t you?” Jungkook asked me, probably both crept out and impressed. My research was thorough and off-putting at once, and I was sure it partially discouraged him from participating in the exploration.

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve read that shit about the house, and you still wanna go there? What’s wrong with you? Only a psychopath can enjoy doing shit like that,” Jungkook argued, and I couldn’t find an answer right away.

I loved horror films and scary stories, mostly because I loved discrediting them and finding flaws in the storylines, and right now, I was about to do the same, but my subject was a real thing.

I didn’t have huge expectations – it was more than probable that we wouldn’t find anything, yet at the same time, it would be pretty dope to witness something strange. Jungkook shouldn’t be that worried – in the worst (best) scenario, we would get spooked by another team of amateur ghost hunters.

“Come on, Kook, grow a pair,” I started, trying to take our conversation on a less pressing level. It was just a silly ghost hunting gig, yet Jungkook sounded serious, almost as if we were going through the pros and cons of keeping a baby. “Ghost ain’t real; the scariest thing inside that house it probably bats,” I reasoned, and Jungkook agreed with a sigh.

“I guess you’re right,” Jungkook said, finally manning up for the mission. “Let’s get this shit over with,” he added when the vehicle stopped at our bus stop.

***

“So… what do you think?” I inquired when the murder house was within our eyesight; the building was spacious, and it really stood out amongst the other residences – no one could miss it. From quite a distance, you could see there was something evil about it, even the fence around the property was installed upside down, supposedly to lock the supernatural entities inside.

“It doesn’t look very welcoming if you ask me,” Jungkook started, scratching the back of his head, probably trying to come up with a good excuse to call it a day and just head over to Jiwoo’s party. “Just by the look of it, I can tell there’s something wrong about it,” he added, and I hummed in agreement.

“Are your spider-senses tingling again?” I asked, and Jungkook elbowed me lightly, not enjoying my teasing. “But for real now. Should we take a few selfies before going in?” I proposed, and Jungkook eagerly agreed, as if prolonging the inevitable reconnaissance.

Carefully, Jungkook wrapped his arm around my frame and snapped a few pictures with his phone, making sure the haunted house was standing proudly in the background. Then, he took another series of photos with my camera.

“If we’re seriously going in there, I think I need an intro for my Halloween special video, don’t you think?” Jungkook announced, pulling out his go-pro camera. After giving me a quick instruction, we started rolling.

At first, he reported what we were doing, but then, he started talking about the new segment of his channel, and my brain just froze. Although I respected his passion for gaming, I completely lost focus whenever he started blabbering about it. But honestly, I thought it was healthy for our friendship. We had a lot of things in common, yet it was a blessing to be different at some point. Whenever one of us felt a bit overwhelmed, we could engage in independent activities. For Jungkook, it was gaming – I’d never try crashing his nerdy party.

“I think we got it,” I announced when Jungkook’s mouth stopped barfing gaming jargon. “Let’s go inside.”

“Fine, but keep it in mind that if I die, I’m going to haunt your ass,” Jungkook stated, and I laughed. Right… as if this cinnamon roll could ever haunt anything.

“Puh-lease,” I retorted, trying to refrain myself from giggling. “If anything bad happened to you, you would be Kookie – the friendly ghost,” I finished, and Jungkook whined quietly, not fancying my opinion.

“Shut up,” Jungkook barked, pulling out the second fancy camera. If he were to step into that hellhole, he would gear himself up from head to toe, getting ready to catch the ghost on tape. “Let’s go in before I change my mind,” he added, as he effortlessly jumped over the fence.

“Will you help me? Not everyone has legs for days,” I mumbled as I extended my arms, so Jungkook could support me when I made my way through the first obstacle. “Thanks,” I quickly said when Jungkook grabbed me, and carefully put me on the ground.

“If it makes you feel any better, I think you’ve got a sexy pair of legs,” Jungkook complimented me, and though in other circumstances I’d blush, this time I ignored it, focusing on the vibration I felt in the butt pocket of my jeans.

The second I put my foot on the unholy soil, weird shit started happening.

Interesting.

My first thought was that I got a text message on my phone, but then it struck me that I always had my phone on silent mode. Quickly, I checked my cell phone, and it turned out that Siri turned itself on.

“What can I help you with?”

The device turned itself on again, but this time in my hand, when I didn’t push any buttons.

“It’s not a good sign,” Jungkook commented, and I started to second guess the brilliance behind my ingenious plan. “It’s not too late to turn around and leave. I won’t be disappointed if you chicken out,” he carried on, but I just grinned at him. There was no way I’d wimp out.

“Nice try; we’re going in,” I prompted, confidently walking toward the main entrance, Jungkook following behind me, probably shooting the surroundings.

As soon as we stepped onto the porch, the wood would start to creak underneath the pressure. Just like everything about the house, it gave off that creepy vibe.

“Showtime,” I whispered under my breath as I extended my hand and grabbed the knob. Just as expected, it was locked.

“Well… it looks like another sign to me. Let’s go back,” Jungkook spoke, trying once again to convince me to back out.

“Get a grip; we’re going in,” I ordered, and Jungkook sighed, regretting that he couldn’t say no to me. “I’m picking the lock; Betty in Riverdale does it all the time, it can’t be that difficult,” I muttered, reaching into my new fanny pack for a bobby pin.

“Are you for real? Since when anything they do in Riverdale makes any sense to you?” Jungkook wondered, but I just rolled my eyes, ignoring his mean comments. “You’re not opening that lock,” he added, making my blood boil. In times of crisis, Jungkook wasn’t very supportive.

“Just shut up, I almost got it,” I barked, sticking my tongue out, adjusting myself to my ultimate focus form, ignoring Jungkook and his shenanigans. Not only he showed me no support, but also he pulled out the small bottle of booze and took a gulp, without proposing me some.

“Just deal with it. We won’t get inside,” Jungkook teased again, pissing me off, and then leaning in, literally breathing on my neck.

“I really hate you right now,” I yelled at him as I straightened up, dropping my bobby pin in the process. “It was my only one,” I whined, kicking in doors in frustration, and to my surprise, it swung wide open.

“Ladies first?” Jungkook murmured, smiling sheepishly, moving aside.

“How gentlemanly of you,” I tsked, turning on the flashlight before entering the building. “I’m pretty sure you’re going to edit your video, deceiving people into thinking you’re a real macho man,” I complained, inspecting the foyer.

Nothing out of the ordinary. For now.

“I’ve got chills,” I stated matter-of-factly when the silence inside the house started to bother me. Though I didn’t believe in ghosts, for some stupid reasons, my heart rate quickened. I felt uneasy, and when I heard my voice echo across the room, I felt less crept out. “Which room should we check out first?”

“When I listened to you on the bus, all of them sounded awful,” Jungkook honestly answered while shedding some light around the living room. “If got rid of all the dust, it’d look pretty comfy,” he added, and I snorted, not expecting him to give me such a nonchalant comment.

Unfortunately, it seemed I was the jittery one.

Well… fuck.

“How about we check out Ouija board in Namjoon’s study,” I proposed, and Jungkook hummed in agreement.

“Maybe there’s still some blood left. You said it was pretty messy,” Jungkook added in excitement, making me wonder how the hell he did a 180 so fast. Not even two minutes ago, he acted like an adorable sacredly cat, but right now, he seemed confident enough to roundhouse kick all the demons back to hell.

“I doubt so, but it’s worth checking,” I answered, and we both headed to the east wing of the house, navigating toward Namjoon’s office. “It may sound ridiculous, but I’m getting horny,” I confessed, and Jungkook stopped in his tracks, gawking at me, not expecting such revelation.

“I knew you wouldn’t resist my manly charms,” Jungkook murmured cockily, wiggling his eyebrow suggestively. “I knew you would fall for me eventually.”

“Right… I’d rather believe a sex demon just possessed me,” I retorted, and for some reason, Jungkook didn’t find it funny. Come on, it was hilarious! “OK, I guess you’re kinda hot right now,” I gave in, unwillingly stroking his ego.

Not my fault, he was just irresistible.

“I knew it,” Jungkook cheered right before when we finally found the right room. This was it – the first space to be “properly” investigated.

Putting the flashlights on the desk, we set the Ouija board on the floor, sitting across from each other.

“Do you know how to use it?” Jungkook inquired, and I smiled sheepishly, telling him I knew bits and pieces, though I had absolutely no idea if my knowledge was legit since it all was based on multiple horror films I had seen. “I’ll check it online,” he proposed and pulled out his phone, quickly typing his inquiry into Google’s search tab. “Whoa, the signal here is no joke; I have a better connection than I have at my apartment. How expensive is this house again?”

“You’re really dumb, you know…”

“You love me regardless, so I don’t really care,” Jungkook absentmindedly replied while browsing through the answers. “OK, it’s easy.”

Briefly, Jungkook explained the ceremony. Apparently, the horror movies didn’t get everything wrong.

Unfortunately, the spirits inside Namjoon’s study weren’t chatty – during our session, they only edged the planchette toward the numbers 9 and 4 (the date of Namjoon’s settlement), yet I didn’t put much thought to it. Jungkook was probably moving it to scare me, and I wasn’t going to give him that satisfaction.

“You know what? It’s not as exciting as I thought it would,” I started when we were collecting our stuff, getting ready to explore another room. For the majority of the time, nothing was happening. We were sitting just sitting in darkness, waiting for something to give us a real spook.

Later, we headed towards the second floor. The stairs were creaking as we made our way up, but we didn’t pay much attention to it, being too focused on locating the bathroom to actually think about basic safety.

The bathroom looked terrifying; the tiles inside were dirty, the original color already fading. The facilities were covered in rust and probably making a lot of unnecessary noises.

“Give me your flashlight,” Jungkook ordered as he put both torches on the edge of the bathtub, one of which switched on. “If there’s something that wants to communicate with us, turn the right one on, and turn off the left one,” Jungkook spoke loudly, waiting for the lights to change, and after some time one did.

“It was definitely a ghost,” I exclaimed in fake dread, bursting out laughing a second later. “It’s solid evidence; it’s confirmed – ghosts are real,” I added, and Jungkook joined me, chuckling adorably. “You can’t change my mind.”

“If it’s you, Taehyung, tell us what happened to you,” Jungkook carried on, and I grew silent, waiting for the ghost to reach out to us. “We don’t want to hurt you; we just want to know the truth. Who killed you?”

Silence.

“Come on, Taehyung. We don’t have all night; we’ve got places to be,” I urged the ghost in a taunting manner, hoping for something to finally happen. With each passing second, our expedition seemed more and more disappointing, and though I didn’t believe in ghosts, I’d really liked to be proven wrong.

“You’re weak sauce, Taehyung!” Jungkook mocked, reaching for the flashlights, wanting to explore another active part of the house – the basement. “You had your chance, Taehyung, and you blew it.”

We quickly left the bathroom and headed to the basement, yet just before we entered the room, I hesitated.

“Maybe we should investigate the basement individually,” I proposed, and Jungkook bit the inner side of his cheek, pondering over my suggestion.

“Fine, let’s do this,” Jungkook agreed with a sigh. “Do you want me to go first?”

“Whatever.” I shrugged, and Jungkook pulled out the spirit box, a little bit excited to use it for the first time. “Go get ’em, tiger.” I patted Jungkook on the back, and closed the doors behind him. “You’ve got ten minutes.”

The stairs creaked when Jungkook was walking down. For a while, it was oddly silent, but then I heard the loud white noise, and I knew Jungkook finally turned the device on.

While he was down there, I roamed around the ground floor, taking a few extra selfies. Unfortunately, regardless of the flashlight, it was still dark as fuck, and I was sure none of the taken photos were Instagram-worthy.

Ten minutes passed, yet Jungkook still didn’t get out.

“You can come out now,” I shouted, but I got no reply from Jungkook.

This fucker was messing with me. I knew him too well not to understand what he was trying to do. However, I wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. He wanted to scare me shitless, but he would never succeed.

Confidently, I swung the doors open and made my way downstairs.

“Have you found anything?” I asked when I noticed Jungkook standing in the corner of the room, facing the walls.

“Nope, it was boring as fuck.”

“OK, it’s my turn. Give me the spirit box,” I spoke eagerly, waiting for Jungkook to give me the gear. He survived the individual session with ghosts, so there was nothing to be afraid of. If ghouls didn’t eat Jungkook’s cute butt, I doubted they would be after mine.

“Good luck,” Jungkook murmured and leaned in, pressing a delicate kiss against my forehead before running upstairs.

OK. What the fuck?

With a slam, I was left alone in the basement, and frankly, right now, I didn’t give two shits about ghosts. What the fuck was that? Jungkook and I never showed any affection for one another. The most intimate interaction we had ever had was elbowing each other.

We didn’t kiss.

Never.

Not even an indirect kiss.

All the wires in my brain were frying. A whole army of ghosts might’ve jumped out of nowhere, and I wouldn’t give two shits about them. What the hell was Jungkook’s deal? Why did he do that?

Regardless of how much I desired to find evidence on ghosts, right now, my mind wasn’t in the right place. Thoughts of Jungkook, of how much I tried to not act on my attraction toward him, how I wanted him to make a move – they completely took over my sanity.

A full-body apparition might’ve as well started reciting Great Gatsby, and I wouldn’t notice it probably.

Trying to leave that horrifying train of thoughts, I shook my head. I needed to get a grip. Tonight was about ghosts, not about Jungkook.

Promptly, I turned on the spirit box, starling at how loud it roared to life.

Except for one beam of light coming out of my flashlight, it was entirely dark, and the white noise emitted by the device made the scene even more terrifying. I would undoubtedly faint if I didn’t like this dreadful atmosphere.

“Is anyone here?” I asked and looked around – everything seemed ordinary. Well… as ordinary as an abandoned house’s basement could be.

[UNINTELLIGIBLE]

“What the fuck was that?” I jerked my head to the side, staring at the device in my hand. It sounded like a male voice, yet I couldn’t quite comprehend the words. “Can you repeat that? You have to speak more clearly,” I spoke, refraining from face-palming myself.

What the hell was I thinking, talking to ghosts?

I must’ve really lost my mind.

“Behind.”

Once again, I jerked my head, furrowing my eyebrows. It really sounded like the word behind, so obviously, I turned around, checking if there’s something, in fact, behind me.

There wasn’t.

“I have to hear more than just one word,” I declared, focusing on the noise, ready to pick up another message. For a long while, the white noise was ringing in my ears, but then I heard something which sounded like my name.

[UNINTELLIGIBLE]

Jungkook’s gonna love my footage, I wondered upon hearing these strange noises. Maybe it is not groundbreaking evidence, but it surely will be thrilling to watch. Jungkook’s followers will love the new content.

“You find me.”

“Oh my God, this is awesome,” I cheered enthusiastically, and though I was having the time of my life, it was time to take the fun to the next level. “Who am I talking to? What’s your name?”

“Kim.”

“That was an instant answer,” I commented, feeling goosebumps on my skin.

Much to my dismay, it was the last coherent response I got; I sat there alone in the darkness and received only a few unintelligible reads. So much for ghost hunting… I thought, ready to leave the basement.

Checking the time on my phone, I realized I had two more minutes, and though it was pointless to reach out to ghosts at this point, I decided to record my useless commentary. Maybe Jungkook would use my witty monologue as a part of his YouTube clip, or if not, he’d have a good laugh when analyzing all the footage from this night.

“So… I’ve been sitting in the darkness for a while, and no ghost dared to give me a spook. It’s such a disappointment, really. These ghosts here are real wimps; I lured Jungkook inside this basement, and this may come as a big shocker to everyone, but nothing really happened to him –“

[BANG!]

Quickly, I turned my head around, trying to locate the source of the strange noise; it sounded as if it was coming from under the stairs, yet I quickly dismissed the disturbance – it must’ve been a rat or something.

Clearly, it wasn’t a ghost.

“As I was saying… this house is a complete bummer. When we first arrived, the house looked really nerve-racking, but when we actually started exploring it, it let us down. Honestly, the scariest part of this expedition probably was when Jungkook failed to prank me.”

“Your time is up,” having opened the doors, Jungkook hollered. “I’m going down there,” he added, and I turned around, giving Jungkook a chance to record my grand exit on tape.

“I’m getting outta here, ghosts. You are a bunch of wimps!”

“Did you just seriously mock the ghosts?” Jungkook asked, giggling adorably.

“Why not? It’s not like they’re going to kill me for calling them out.”

“Should we leave now? I’d stay for a little longer and recorded some weird random shit. What do you think?”

“It’s definitely gonna piss these ghosts, so I am in.”

At first, Jungkook insisted I record him dance a few Fortnite choreographies, and though I had no clue what he was doing, I kept the camera rolling. Then, I turned music on my phone, and we jammed to old K-POP hits like Super Junior’s Bonamana, SHINEE’s Lucifer, f(x)’s Electric Shock, and many others.

Then Jungkook made me record his beatbox performance, and it was torture. However, there was a silver lining – it helped me determine whether ghosts were real or not. The answer was no – no one would endure it.

And if it wasn’t for my crush on him, I’d definitely not endure it either.

Later that evening, Jungkook gave a short instruction video on how to defend oneself with basic taekwondo moves, and then we thumb-wrestled.

“You know what would really piss the ghosts off?” Jungkook inquired, and I wondered what else his one brain cell came up with since I highly doubted if it could get any dumber than it already had.

“I don’t know… what else would really piss the ghosts off?” I answered, having no idea what we could do to outdo ourselves. Everything that we had done for the past hour was already offensive as fuck.

“Isn’t it absolutely the worst when you’re in a public place, minding your business when you walk past a couple making out right in front of you?”

“It is absolutely the worst, but how is it any relevant?” I asked, cocking my eyebrow in confusion. Jungkook was right, making out openly in public was rude, and obnoxious, and one of my biggest pet peeves, yet I highly doubted the ghosts had the same hierarchy of irritating situations. They’re dead, and they can haunt people without any consequences – that’s pretty dope itself, and I just couldn’t understand why it would be their top bête noire.

“Well… it’s not completely irrelevant, and besides, ever since you’ve mentioned you’re horny, I really wanted to kiss you,” Jungkook confessed, and my jaw dropped at the revelation. Jungkook wanted to do what!?

“Well… you just played yourself,” I stated, and Jungkook creased his forehead in confusion. “Is that a confession you’ve just recorded? I bet you want to record our kiss, too. That’s kinky, and weirdly enough, it turns me on a little bit,” I finished my thought, and then Jungkook smiled widely at me, figuratively lighting up the rundown basement which we were still in.

“Well… now you just really have to kiss me,” Jungkook retorted, and I smiled mischievously, curious of how he’s going to play his cards now, “unless you want me to show your parents a video of you confessing to your kinks.”

“Well… you should’ve waited a little bit longer, maybe I would’ve named all the other kinks I’m into,” I challenged, biting my bottom lip seductively. “If you really want our first kiss to be in this shabby, totally not haunted basement, then go for it,” I consented, waiting for him to approach me and knock the air out of my lungs with a world-shattering kiss.

“It’s not perfect, it’s not exactly what you deserve, but it will be a hell of a story to tell our grandchildren one day. Don’t you think?”

“I think you’re getting a little bit ahead of yourself,” I retorted, chuckling. Jungkook was acting ridiculous, and it was adorable. With his cute smile and firm butt, he could get away with anything. “Just kiss me, you idiot.”

At first, I expected him to say something cringe-worthy like m’lady or alrighty, but thankfully, I was wrong. With one long stride, Jungkook approached me, resting his large hand on my hips before leaning in to kiss me.

The kiss was sensual and soft, and the way I had always imagined. Gently, Jungkook pressed his plump lips against mine, and we just moved, basking in pleasure. His hand was roaming over my back and butt, whereas mine was going through his silky hair, tousling it.

Gradually, it grew in passion. Jungkook pulled me closer against him, and I opened my mouth, inviting his tongue. Though it was only one kiss, it was quickly making me thirsty for more.

It felt blissful, yet it came to an abrupt stop when we heard a loud bang upstairs.

“Well… you were right, it obviously pissed someone off,” I whispered, chuckling.

“What do you think it was?” Jungkook asked, concerned about the strange noise. “It sounded as if someone just slammed the doors shut,” Jungkook stated, and I quickly agreed with him.

“But we left the doors closed, didn’t we?” I wondered, trying to remember our previous actions. Neither one of us was perfectly sober, yet I was pretty sure we did close the doors. “OMG, this is awesome! It was probably another group of adrenaline-seeking people! We could give them the spook of their life if we jumped out of the basement,” I explained, and I was sure I wasn’t perfectly sober right now either.

“It was probably the wind, but okay, let’s do this,” although knowing it was a stupid idea, Jungkook agreed to conduct my improvised prank.

Carefully, we made our way upstairs, yet when we jumped out of our hideaway, there was nobody there.

“Stupid wind,” I murmured under my breath, really bummed out by this whole situation. “Fuck you, you stupid house. You’ve wasted our time,” I hollered at nothing in particular as I approached the doors and pulled the knob. “Jungkook, it won’t open,” I announced, taking a step to the side, letting Jungkook’s strength to let us out.

Seriously, what kind of an estate agent would try to sell this house without repairing it first? At this point, only people from these HGTV shows would consider buying it, so they could later sell it with real profit.

At first, the doors didn’t want to budge either, but then he handed me his camera and roundhouse-kicked the doors open.

Whoever locked the doors, be it the wind, the ghost, or anyone else, Jungkook’s thick thighs were more powerful.

“Let’s get out of here,” Jungkook said as he grabbed my hand and led me outside, leaving the creepy though definitely not haunted house behind us.

***

Although the navigation system on my phone estimated our route to take us forty-five minutes on foot, Jungkook and I made that distance under half an hour. The house was creepy, but we were already late for Jiwoo’s party, and we didn’t want to face her wrath.

She had called me three times, and Jungkook and I lived in a universe where three missed calls from Jiwoo were more terrifying than fifty from mom.

When we reached Jiwoo’s house, we tried knocking on the doors, but unfortunately for us, everybody was already in a good mood. They couldn’t hear the knocks due to loud music, and I couldn’t be angry – it was our punishment for arriving so late.

Thankfully, when we walked the house around, the patio doors were open, so we got inside.

The house was packed with people, yet I was familiar with only a few of them – the majority of guests were Jiwoo’s college friends, and I haven’t yet acquainted them. In the kitchen, I saw Mario and Luigi, and I instantly knew it was Yoongi and Hoseok. Each year they have adorable couple costumes.

“Look who’s finally showed up,” I heard a loud voice from over the stairs, leading to the second floor. It was Daphne, closely followed by Fred.

“I guess Daphne and Fred just checked the bedroom,” I told Jungkook, and he chuckled, getting the reference. “I hope they didn’t find any ghosts.”

“I bet Scooby and Shaggy are already eaten by the ghost in the basement,” Jungkook carried on, and we both started to laugh.

“Your costumes are in my bedroom, but before you change, I have to feed us some jello shots,” Jiwoo started, making us follow her to the kitchen. “In which bushes were you two fucking, so you came so late?” She questioned, but Jungkook and I didn’t know how to reply. Jiwoo was unpredictable – she would either scold us for going to that house without her, or just shout at us for being reckless and irresponsible, but I guess it was her role in our friend circle.

She was the mom friend.

“We weren’t fucking,” I protested quickly, trying to buy us some time to get a better excuse for our late arrival. “If we were indeed fucking, we would be here before anyone else,” I joked, yet Jungkook didn’t find it particularly funny.

It didn’t worry me, though. Jungkook and I dissed each other daily, he wasn’t going to pout. If anything, he was plotting how to get his revenge.

“Well… true,” Jiwoo replied as she high-fived me. “Don’t worry, Kookie. I’m just messing with you,” she added, and I nodded, knowing she was extra mean to impress Jimin. Retorts weren’t her strongest suit, but so far, it was okay.

Jiwoo distributed the jello shots among the four of us, and to my surprise, they weren’t as strong as I had expected them to be. She had made them, and it came to me as a shock, then the proportions weren’t fifty-fifty.

“Oh my God, I just noticed you both have matching costumes. What a coincidence!” Jungkook hollered, faking his surprise, taking  revenge on Jiwoo.

“What can I say? Great minds think alike,” Jiwoo quickly retorted before Jungkook managed to embarrass her in front of her crush.

“Some things are just meant to be,” Jimin added, draping his arm over Jiwoo’s shoulder, making me and Jungkook gag. What the hell had we missed?!

We had totally wasted our time in that haunted house – we could have been here, watching their relationship develop in front of our eyes! Though I had no regrets after reaming around that disappointing trip to that house, now I had one regret. I was genuinely upset that I missed witnessing how the line between their friendship and love faded away.

“OK, you know what? Go upstairs and change. You disgust me without your costumes on,” Jiwoo ordered, shooing us upstairs.

Obediently, we headed to her bedroom, finding our costumes on her bed.

“I’m so tired,” I announced as I plopped down onto her bed, wanting to get some rest. The march from one location to another was more exhausting than I had initially thought, and my legs were killing me.

“Well… it’s all your fault, I told to we should call an Uber,” Jungkook replied, lying on the bed next to me. “No slacking,” Jungkook hollered, playfully slapping my butt. “If we don’t get downstairs in a few minutes, Jiwoo’s gonna bust in here and complain how we ruin her party.”

“True,” I agreed, and with a loud groan, I stood up to get changed. “And that reminds me. You’ve never told me what you’re dressing as this year,” I spoke, wondering what was inside the bag which was sitting next to my costume.

“I didn’t have time to come up with anything, so I asked Jimin to lend me his costume from last year. He was Jack Sparrow or something,” he explained, and I watched him unpacking the bag.

“Or something it is,” I started when I saw what his costume consisted of. It was basically a deep-cut white shirt, a pair of tight leather trousers, and a hat. “Good luck with fitting into it,” I snickered, wondering how uncomfortable it’s going to look like on his powerful thighs.

“Why don’t you shut up,” Jungkook said, not pleased with my commentary.

In silence, we got dressed, and since my costume wasn’t revealing, I could quickly put it on my clothes, which gave me plenty of time to gawk at Jungkook.

“I feel like a piece of meat, right now,” Jungkook commented, as he caught me staring at him, zipping his trousers. “Can you stop staring at me like that? I’m a person with feelings, not a sex toy.”

“Now you know how all girls in clubs feel,” I retorted and continued to stare at him shamelessly. Right now, I only needed a bucket of popcorn and a few bills which I could put under the hem of his pants.

“Aren’t you going to put that creepy make-up?”

“I was going to, but I don’t have energy nor patience to do that,” I answered lazily, watching him button his shirt. “Besides, I checked myself in the mirror, and I’m rocking that Mary-Eunice look right now,” I added, and Jungkook agreed, approving my American Horror Story costume.

“You know what? Even when you wear that ridiculous nun costume, I would still fuck you,” Jungkook blatantly confessed, and I giggled, not knowing how to react to this odd compliment. “I really must be wrapped around your little finger. You even made me go to that abandoned house.”

“You make me blush,” I admitted shyly before approaching him. Then, standing on my toes, I pecked his lips innocently. “We better go downstairs, Jiwoo must be furious at us for taking so long,” I added, exiting the room, leaving Jungkook speechless behind me.

Though at first, we were too tired to party hard, Jimin and Jiwoo engaged us in a few drinking games, and I was thankful I managed to bullshit myself out of playing truth and dare with them.

I realized what Jiwoo would make me do or confess, and I’d rather Jungkook find it out in different, more private, circumstances.

Around three a.m., people slowly started to get tired, one by one heading upstairs to either fuck each other’s brains out or simply find an empty bed to sleep in. At that time, Jungkook and I were chilling in the kitchen, munching on the food which other guests had the courtesy of leaving.

“We should go on a date on Saturday,” Jungkook proposed, and I looked him in the eyes, nodding my head. “What do you want to do on our first date?” He asked, leaning against the countertop next to me.

“Is there any chance you’re wearing this outfit on our first date?” I asked, and Jungkook quickly shook his head. I teased him all night about this outfit, and by now, he must’ve dreamed about taking it off at least a dozen times. Best case scenario: taking it off right in front of already naked me.

“Nope, stare at me while you still can,” Jungkook said, and I didn’t dare to question his decision. Though he looked like a snack, I respected his choice. He wasn’t going to wear it again, and I wasn’t going to force him. Besides, I was kind of curious about how he looked naked. “So… what do you want to do on Saturday? Bowling? A candlelight supper? Cinema?”

“I was gonna say that anything is fine as long as it’s with you, but would you really prepare a candlelight supper for me?” I questioned, quite amazed by his proposition. Jungkook rarely cooked himself, and even if he happened to whip something up in the kitchen, it would be ramen or something just as easy to make.

“Of course, anything,” Jungkook promised, and I tried my very best right not to kiss him. “It probably won’t be any tasty, but at least, I made it with my hands.”

Oh, screw it.

Instantly, I pulled him closer, smashing my lips against his. The moment he realized what I was doing, he reciprocated the kiss.

“I don’t really care,” I spoke, wrapping my legs around his hips. “Oh, shit,” I cursed upon noticing Jiwoo and pushed Jungkook away.

“I think everybody’s asleep already, what are you guys still doing here?” She asked, eyeing the both of us.

“Nothing, we were just eating,” I stated, though Jiwoo didn’t fully believe in my innocent reply. “What have you been up to? Your green scarf is gone, and you have a hickey on your neck. Have you had fun with Jimin?” I inquired, and she looked away in embarrassment.

Jiwoo had never been to shy away, but she didn’t act like herself around Jimin. When with him, she became a better person, and right now, she was blushing. It was the first time when I saw her behaving like that, and I liked it.

With Jimin by her side, Jiwoo was slowly turning in the best version of herself, and the transition was crystal clear. Even Jungkook wouldn’t miss it.

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow; right now, I just want to clean up and go to bed,” Jiwoo said, and I knew it was our cue to live. I didn’t like cleaning, and I knew Jiwoo wouldn’t appreciate my help. She would prefer Jimin’s assistance. “You’re sleeping in the guest room with Yoongi and Hoseok.”

“Thanks,” I replied, and we slowly headed to the guest room, knowing that Jimin would shortly join Jiwoo. They thought they were subtle, but they really weren’t. One look was enough, and Jungkook and I knew everything.

“I hope Yoongi and Hoseok already fucked each other,” Jungkook stated before we entered our room, and I agreed. I wouldn’t like to walk on them fucking. I just wanted to lie down and get some sleep.

***

On Friday, I focused only on myself. I needed to recover fully after a long night of drinking, but also, I wanted to pamper myself a little bit before my date with Jungkook. I was sure he was going to prepare everything to perfection, like the golden boy he has always been, and it only made sense that his girlfriend (me) also ought to be perfect.

I took a long, relaxing bath, I wore a face mask, I ate plenty of fruit, I planned my next week of college, I even turned on the relatively new drama with Ji Changwook, and whipped up a mug of cocoa with marshmallows.

The day was peaceful, and I cherished every second of it before I had to face reality and go to classes on Monday.

In the evening, I even chatted with Jiwoo, listening to a few newest rumors. I didn’t expect her to have any time to spare, but apparently, to her, gossip was more important than her new boyfriend. Good thing she had her priorities set straight.

That crazy Capricorn girl | 17:21 | omg you won’t believe it!

That crazy Capricorn girl | 17:21 | I know why Seulgi and Irene didn’t come

That crazy Capricorn girl | 17:21 | apparently

That crazy Capricorn girl | 17:21 | they were on a date yesterday!

That crazy Capricorn girl | 17:22 | Chanyeol told Jimin that Jongin were their Uber driver and he took them to a fancy restaurant

That crazy Capricorn girl | 17:22 | I was gonna get really mad

That crazy Capricorn girl | 17:23 | but I ship them so hard

That crazy Capricorn girl | 17:23 | I mean…

That crazy Capricorn girl |17:23 | fucking finally

Jiwoo wasn’t ashamed of double texting, obviously. If she had gossip to deliver, she would spam anyone until she would get a reply, and frankly, it never upset me. Mostly because I was texting the same way.

Me | 17:25 | told you

Me | 17:25| I knew they had hots for each other

Me | 17:26 | you should be glad they didn’t come

Me | 17:26 | they probably fucked all night long

Me | 17:27 | that would be gross if they did it at your place

Me | 17:27 | it’s enough that Jungkook and I walked on Yoongi and Hoseok

Me | 17:28 | if it was my house I’d kick them out

That crazy Capricorn girl | 17:30 | they did what????

That crazy Capricorn girl | 17:31 | are you kidding me???

That crazy Capricorn girl |17:31 | so Jimin lied to me

Me | 17:32 | wow

Me | 17:32 | you started dating and he’s already lying

That crazy Capricorn girl | 17:33 | Jimin told me they behaved well

Me | 17:34 | pls don’t make a scene

Me | 17:35 | you better let them taste their own medicine

That crazy Capricorn girl | 17:35 | I knew I shouldn’t have invited them

That crazy Capricorn girl | 17:35 | they’re cute but also horny af

With Jiwoo, when we started texting, we didn’t know how to stop. Topics would come and go, and we would always come up with something new. This night wasn’t any different. When we discussed everyone’s behavior during the party, late changing the subject to the people who couldn’t make it. Then, we would exchange messages about the newest K-POP hits, scandals, and dramas. Sometimes, we would even send memes to one another.

Usually, we would continue our conversation until one of us was tired and went to sleep, but tonight a bizarre text from Jungkook made me finish.

Cutie Goo Baby Kook | 21:41 | come over

Cutie Goo Baby Kook | 21:41 | now

Well… rude.

We didn’t even go on our first date yet, and he treated me like a booty call.

No, it couldn’t be.

Me | 21:42 | what do you mean???

Me | 21:42 | Jeon Jungkook

Cutie Goo Baby Kook | 21:42 | get your juicy ass over here

Cutie Goo Baby Kook | 21:43 | asap

Cutie Goo Baby Kook | 21:43 | you need to see something

What the hell did he want? Couldn’t he wait until tomorrow to meet me? If he wanted to see me, he could just text me like he a regular person. He didn’t have to act like an asshole about it.

Me | 21:45 | fine

Me | 21:45 | I’ll be in thrity

Me | 21:46 | if it’s your dick that I need to see you’re dead

***

Within thirty minutes, I was at Jungkook’s apartment, breathing heavily. His flat was located on the fourth floor, and the elevator was out of order, and whenever I had to take the stairs, I could feel blood on my tongue.

It wouldn’t hurt me that much to tag along once in a while to the gym with Kook. Well… hopefully.

“What’s the emergency?” I asked instantly when Jungkook swung the doors open. “Jungkook, I swear, if it’s a booty call, I’m gonna be pissed,” I warned him when Jungkook grabbed my wrist and yanked me inside.

“No, it’s nothing like that,” Jungkook reassured me as he led me to his bedroom.

Well… he might’ve said it wasn’t a booty call, yet his actions were giving me a totally different message. He was literally dragging me to his bedroom.

“What is going on?” I asked once again, as he made me sit in his gaming chair.

“So… I was editing the footage we recorded at this creepy house, and I found some weird shit,” he started before he leaned against the desk, looking for the right file to show me. “I watched every frame of these tapes, and there’s something seriously wrong with your individual session in the basement.”

“What do you mean by wrong? Can you be more specific? I didn’t feel nor see anything weird when I was down there,” I said, cocking my eyebrows up in utter confusion. Was there something my eye didn’t catch, but the camera did?

“Well… there is like a shadow lingering above you,” Jungkook confessed, and I fought the urge to laugh into his face. It was a shadow, and shadows do linger. “You don’t seem convinced, so why don’t you see for yourself?”

“Ugh, fine,” I answered, focusing on the screen.

I couldn’t believe my own eyes. Jungkook was right. It lasted for a couple of seconds; there was an irregular black specter behind me, and it couldn’t be my shadow – I was perfectly still while it moved for a while, and then disappeared.

It was terrifying.

“I’m speechless.”

Seeing my reaction, Jungkook sat on the edge of the desk and grabbed my hand.

“I know it looks like something supernatural, but I’m pretty sure it can be explained somehow. Don’t worry; all fellow ghost hunters would discredit this evidence in seconds.”

“I’m not worried; I don’t know what I’m feeling, but it’s not worry,” I spoke, still a little shook about the discovery. “Did you find anything else when editing?” I inquired, wondering if Jungkook had more aces up his sleeve.

“Nothing solid,” he declared with a sigh. “I was listening to the messages picked up by the spirit box, and one statement which you assumed unintelligible sounds like not alone, but once again, it’s not perfectly clear. It’s probably just my mind interpreting the white noise.”

“Too bad ghosts ain’t real. If we caught it on tape, we would be millionaires,” I confessed, and Jungkook nodded.

“If it makes you feel any better, I think we’ve gathered a lot of entertaining footage; my viewers are going to love it. It’s probably the dumbest video I’ve ever recorded,” Jungkook spoke, and I started to grin.

He was right – we were a great duo.

“Glad, I could help,” I answered proudly, boasting about my recording skills. Having tooted my own horn for an inappropriate amount of time, I inquired, “Since I’m already here, what do you want to do?”

“How about we cuddle?” Jungkook proposed, plopping on his bed, waiting for me to join him, and since his proposition was irresistible, I obediently lay down beside him, resting my head on his firm chest. “Mm… it’s so comfy,” Jungkook purred as he wrapped his arms tightly around me.

“Have you decided where you’re taking me tomorrow?” I inquired, curious as hell about our date. Knowing Jungkook and how perfect he was at everything he did, I could only guess he would exceed my wildest expectations.

“How is it gonna sound if I tell you I’ve already had it planned out for a while?” Jungkook confessed, and I giggled when he started to press delicate kisses across my neck. It was ticklish, but I liked being teased like that.

“Is there a chance you tell me? You know I hate surprises,” I spoke, turning around on my side, caressing Jungkook’s chest and abs. Jungkook smiled adorably and shook his head. Damn it. “Is there a chance I can guess it?” I tried a different approach, but Jungkook shook his head once again.

“You’ll find out tomorrow,” Jungkook said, and I pouted.

“Is there a chance I can convince you to tell me now?” I challenged him, and before he managed to shake his head again, I sat astride on his muscular thighs, making him speechless. “You can tell me. I can pretend I’m surprised tomorrow,” I urged him, playfully moving my hips against his crotch. Curiosity was in my nature, and Jungkook was really getting under my skin with his stubbornness.

“You’re cute when you’re frustrated,” Jungkook stated before he effortlessly flipped us over, pinning me down to the mattress. “I’d love to push you to your limits, but I’m not ruining the surprise.”

“Come on, Jungkook. You can tell me. We’re best friends, and we don’t keep secrets from each other,” I carelessly mumbled until Jungkook shut me up with a passionate kiss, reminding me that we no longer were just best friends.

With my eyes closed, I gave in entirely, letting Jungkook’s hands roam all over my body. Our mouths moved in sweet harmony while my body writhed beneath him every time his little touches set my skin on fire.

This moment was magical, and I wished every time with Jungkook to be just as good. His smooth and soft movements made my body respond, leaving me breathless and craving for me whenever it lost contact with his hands.

“I really want to fuck you right now,” Jungkook absentmindedly confessed while he was pressing sensual kisses along my chin. “We should wait, shouldn’t we?” I inquired, and I wanted to shout my objection.

Judging by his boner digging into my thigh, he also wanted me to oppose.

“You should’ve thought about it before you kissed me like that,” I replied, and Jungkook smirked, tugging my blouse out of my jeans, slipping his large hands on my bare stomach, slowly making his way up to my breasts. “It’s too late to go back, lover boy,” I added, undoing the buttons of my blouse.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”

“Drop dead,” I corrected him, and Jungkook hummed in agreement, his eyes focused on my cleavage, wondering how my breasts bounce. Arching my back, I wrapped my hands around Jungkook’s hips, pressing them against me, making me feel his throbbing cock.

“You won’t be a good girl, will you?” Jungkook asked me, and I bit my lip, shaking my head, hoping he expected such an answer. “Of course, you won’t. Why did I even ask?” Jungkook smirked, playfully nibbling my delicate skin all over my cleavage, while his hand undid the button of my jeans.

“You always assume the worst when it comes to me,” I reminded him, tugging the hem of his T-shirt, wanting to get rid of it. It wasn’t fair – I was almost half-naked while Jungkook was still fully-clothed. “Take it off, I’m losing my patience,” I ordered, and Jungkook quickly pulled his T-shirt over his head, tossing in on the floor. “Jeans, too,” I added, and with an angry growl, Jungkook stood up and discarded his pants as well.

“Happy?” Jungkook asked, standing in front of me only in a pair of boxers.

“Over the moon,” I retorted, and Jungkook smirked as a playful idea crossed his mind. “What are you thinking about?” I questioned uncertainly, but Jungkook didn’t bother to reply. He just leaned forward, slid his fingers under the hem of my jeans, and pulled them down in one fluid motion.

“You make me impatient,” he confessed, and I kneeled on the bed, waiting for him to join me again. I needed him to kiss every inch of my body.

Right now.

“Come here,” I urged him, and he obediently sat on the bed, allowing me to sit astride on him again. “I wanna fuck you like this,” I blurted out, entwining my fingers behind Jungkook’s neck, pulling him closer into another heated kiss.

“I want you to fuck me like this,” Jungkook whispered when we finally parted. “Just jump on it and ride me until I come,” he said before reaching to his night stand for a condom. “Roll it down for me, will you?”

Obediently, I pulled Jungkook’s boxers down, and smeared the pre-cum all over his thick cock before putting a condom.

“I wanted it for so long,” Jungkook whispered when I raised my hips, slowly getting seated on his length. Though Jungkook didn’t go down on me before I took his cock, I didn’t mind it. It stung a little, but I enjoyed this sensation.

“Fuck yeah,” I moaned when I slid down his length all the way to the base. For a short while, neither of us moved, letting one another get used to it. “You stretch me up so fine,” I muttered, gently rolling my hips.

“Move, princess,” Jungkook urged me, and I began to ride him. At first, my actions were delicate and a little shy, but as soon as I relaxed, I picked up the pace, rocking my hips back and forth, making Jungkook moan loudly.

“I love it when men are vocal,” I confessed when I put my hands in his hair, tugging it slightly when I happened to fall out of my rhythm. “It gets me off much faster,” I added, and as if I challenged him, Jungkook moaned again.

“Good to know; now I gotta use this information to my advantage,” Jungkook whimpered with a soft smirk upon his face. “You love hearing my deep moans, don’t you?” Jungkook asked, and I replied in a heartbeat.

“Yes!” I exclaimed when Jungkook began thrusting his hips from underneath, shoving his cock deeper and deeper inside of me. “Ahh… Jung-Jungkook, keep fucking me like that, please, don’t stop,” I begged, and Jungkook even increased his pace, quickly making me overwhelmed in pleasure.

“Your pussy feels so good,” Jungkook started, and I closed my eyes, feeling my orgasm approaching. With a couple of thrusts, I would come around his pulsating cock, and I couldn’t wait to welcome this blissful feeling. “So tight, yet you take my fat cock so well,” he praised, and I pulled his hair when he made me come.

“Fuck, Jungkook, that was amazing,” I praised him, and Jungkook kept ramming his dick inside of me, chasing his own release. His stamina was no joke, and I was feeling lucky because this incredible man was mine.

“Shit, shit, shit, I’m coming.” Shortly after me, Jungkook reached his orgasm, milking the condom with his jizz. “You’re out of this world,” Jungkook whispered before he wrapped his arms around me tightly, kissing me deeply.

We were both sticky with sweat, and we smelled like sex, but right now, I couldn’t care any less. Jungkook and I were floating in heaven.

“We should do it again in the morning,” Jungkook proposed, and I laughed, realizing it was the first time in my life I was actually excited to wake up early.

Unfortunately, our plans fell through.

Before my arrival, Jungkook had uploaded our Halloween clip into his YouTube channel, and then, Jimin forwarded it to Jiwoo.

Needless to say, Jiwoo blew up my inbox with notifications, furious at me and Jungkook for doing something so reckless shit without her supervision. Once again, she was the mom friend, and going into an abandoned house without her knowing was pure evil.

Thankfully, she didn’t hold a grudge for a long time – she grew pretty soft on us as soon as she discovered Jungkook and I were well… dating.

#jungkook smut #jeongguk smut #bts smut #fpwritingchallenge #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jeongguk #jungkook scenario #bts halloween #bts halloween special #halloween special #bts fanfiction #jungkook fanfiction #jengguk fanfiction #haunted house au #ghost au #ghost hunters au

[islamicrays]

Assalamu aleikum ♡ Could you please recommend me some hadith (or Qur'an verses) about times such as this, like the plague, and about dealing with emotions such as fear, anxiety and all the negativity that follows such challenging times? Thank you very much and may Allah bless you for all you're doing here!

Walaikum Assalaam

Don't be anxious. Whatever is meant to happen; it will happen. If we are written to be tested then we will be tested. We cannot change the circumstances but it's in our control how we respond to it.

“No amount of guilt can change the past and no amount of worrying can change the future. Go easy on yourself for the outcome of all affairs is determined by Allah’s Decree. If something is meant to go elsewhere, it will never come on your way, but if it is yours by destiny, from it, you cannot flee.”

-Umar ibn al-Khattab (may Allah be pleased with him)

Allah subhanahu wa ta'ala won't burden us with something that we can't handle. Read these quotes it will help you in shaa Allah

"The Prophet ﷺ said, ‘There isn’t a man who stays in his house during a time when the plague occurs with patience, hoping for reward and knowing that nothing will afflict him other than that which has been written for him - except that he will have reward similar to the reward of a martyr.’ (Ahmad)

Ibn Hajar said whoever does the following three things will have the reward of a martyr whether he lives or he dies. Look at the beauty of this religion! The reward of a martyr for sitting at home. La ilaha ila Allah Muhammad Rasulallah ﷺ"

-Via Shaykh Mohammed Aslam

"If you’re feeling panicked, find a mushaf in your home. Even if you haven’t opened the Quran in such a long time- pick it up, hold it to your heart, and hug it. If you aren’t ready to start reading it, then just hold it and allow your heart to seek comfort from the Divine Words of the Most Merciful. And keep doing that until you start to open His Book.

Remember Who is in control. We are allowed to feel all of our emotions and it is valid to be so anxious you can’t sleep. In those moments, know you don’t have to be scared alone. Make istighfar- ask for His forgiveness. The Quran talks about this as a form of bringing so many different blessings into your life.

And when you’re overwhelmed at home trying to juggle your children’s needs and work, start saying Alhamdulilah- thanking Him. Because if you’re reading this on your smartphone, you might also be living in security with enough food in your fridge. There are people everywhere facing the virus without these basic necessities.

Many of you have empathized with oppressed populations, but not actively remembered their plight. This is our opportunity to remember the fear which they have lived with for decades in our daily prayers and call out to Him with a sincerity for them that we may have lacked when we simply didn’t know.

This is a time to process our emotions through our relationship with God. With the closing of masajid, the quarantining at home, the sudden unexpected rates of death and disease and the impact on that on our economies and daily lives an entire globe - isn’t it time to turn back to Him? The fact that you still have time to do so and are considering it- that’s a sign He has already turned to you. So turn back to Him."

-Ustadha Maryam Amir

"DO NOT squander this time. This is a windfall if you actually think about it.

The one thing that everyone regrets the most when they die is the time they wasted.

Life is a precious gift. No matter what your situation is right now, don’t forget that you were given EXISTENCE by the Creator of the Heavens and the Universe.

He WILLED for *you* to be here.

He CREATED *you* with intent.

He CREATED *you* to experience all the beauty and wonders of the world…to KNOW…to FEEL…to WITNESS…to HEAR….to TASTE…to LOVE…but perhaps you’ve forgotten what that really means and this is all to remind you!

Maybe you’re spared this illness so that you can actually take inventory of your life and get back in touch with who you are and what you’ve forgotten all these years distracted by work, responsibility, commutes, bills, taxes, school, family, friends, community service, etc…

Maybe you’re forced into spending time with your family because you’ve forgotten just how important they are to you or vice versa.

Maybe you’re supposed to have those long moments of panic and anxiety so that you move away from looking at the pantry shelves to looking at your children’s faces and realizing how much time has passed since you once held them in your arms and how the future is uncertain for you and them, but what matters is NOW and alhamdulillah you are with them and they are with you; healthy and together.

Maybe you’re supposed to scroll through pages of news and newsfeeds about this virus so that your neck begins to crane and you finally look up to see your spouse; the one whom, whether you’ve intended to or not, have taken for granted. You each have your roles to play and like ships passing each other in the night, you’ve found a rhythm, an efficient system to keep the family together…but what about you two? When is the last time you actually looked at one another with the loving gaze of someone who feels the value of the person in front of them upon their chest like a heavy weight? When is the last time you looked at your partner as if you weren’t guaranteed to see them tomorrow? Perhaps you’ll learn to do that now…and perhaps as a result, you’ll always see them that way and will never talk down to them, hurt them with insults, ignore them when they are in need, slight them in front of others, or treat them as though you are entitled to everything they do for you.

Maybe you’re supposed to wake up in the middle of the night sweating and unable to go back to sleep, so that you surrender to the solitude of the night and draw closer to the One who sends His angels looking for the ones who are looking for Him.

Maybe all of this started because of a dangerous virus with the potential to kill, but it will end by renewing life and light into hearts that died long ago; victims drowned by the turbulent waters of this dunya.

May Allah ﷻ guide us through these times to not squander the opportunities before us and to live and love fully, with presence, sincerity, transparency, and wholeheartedness. Amin."

-Ustadha Hosai Mojaddidi

"In the midst of all this uncertainty and panic, I know things look bleak today…

-I personally had to cancel travel plans for the next two months.

-Some of my dear friends had to cancel a major event they’ve been planning for almost a year.

-Some of my friends who are immunocompromised are worried.

-Some friends reached out to me because they don’t know what to do about their children attending school.

-Some friends are worried about their elderly parents.

-Some friends are worried about their livelihood and businesses not being able to survive.

Whatever the case may be, let us keep perspective that as Muslims our Shariah compels us to preserve five things:

1. Faith

2. Life

3. Sanity/Mind

4. Lineage

5. Property

Our utmost concern right now should be to protect our faith, our lives, and our mental wellbeing.

This virus is on this planet and doing what it’s doing SOLELY by the permission of its Creator.

Our response should be to SUBMIT to our Creator, prioritize our faith, and beseech Him for protection.

We must also act responsibly to preserve our own safety as well as the safety of everyone else (family, friend, or stranger) that we come in contact with.

Thus, we must “tie our camel” and put our trust in Allah ﷻ to protect us from any and all harm.

This balance of submitting to God FIRST and then preparing and being responsible for the worst will protect our sanity so that we do not become paranoid and unreasonably afraid.

We must also remember that whatever opportunities or sustenance we have lost was never ours to begin with, and the Most Generous will either replace it with something better in this life or the next, IF we remain patient and accept His decree.

So let us not fall into despair, sadness, fear, and anxiety. Let us be wise, patient, and use the time of imposed isolation to reconnect with our faith and our Lord, as well as with our families.

Sometimes it takes calamities like this to recalibrate our hearts and remind us what our priorities should really be.

May Allah ﷻ protect and guide us all. Amin."

-Ustadha Hosai Mojaddidi

Recite Astaghfirullah as much you can. As narrated in hadith

If anyone continually asks pardon, Allah will appoint for him a way out of every distress, and a relief from every anxiety, and will provide for him from where he did not reckon.(Abu Dawud)

Following are some dua that you can recite:

1.“Verily, distress has seized me, and You are the Most Merciful of all who show mercy.”

(Aayah No. 83, Surah Al-Ambiya, Chapter No. 21, Holy Qur’an).

2. Recite “Hasbunallahu wa Ni’mal Wakeel” when you feel restless

“Allah is Sufficient for us, and He is the Best Disposer of Affairs.”

Ibn ‘Abbas (May Allah be pleased with them) said: When (Prophet) Ibraheem(عَلَيْهِ وَسَلَّم) was thrown into the fire, he said: “Allah (Alone) is sufficient for us, and, He is the Best Disposer of affairs.” So did Messenger of Allah, Muhammad (ﷺ), when he was told: “A great army of the pagans had gathered against him, so fear them”. But this (warning) only increased him and the Muslims in Faith and they said: “Allah (Alone) is sufficient for us, and He is the Best Disposer of affairs (for us)”. [Al-Bukhari].

3. O Ever Living, O Self-Subsisting and Supporter of all, by Your mercy I seek assistance, rectify for me all of my affairs and do not leave me to myself, even for the blink of an eye.’    [صحيح الترغيب والترهيب 1/273]

4.It was reported from Anas (may Allaah be pleased with him) that the Prophet (Peace and Blessings of Allaah be upon him) used to say, when something upset him:

“Yaa Hayyu yaa Qayyoom, bi Rahmatika astagheeth (O Ever-Living One, O Everlasting One, by Your mercy I seek help).”

5. Allahumma inni a’oodhoo bika minal-hammi walhuzni, wal-’ajzi wal-kasali wal-bukhli wal-jubni, wa dal’id-dayni wa ghalabatir- rajaal

"O Allah! I seek refuge in You from anxiety and sorrow, weakness and laziness, miserliness and cowardice, the burden of debts and from being oppressed by men."

I hope it will be helpful. May Allah Subhanahu wa Ta’ala forgive us and guide us to the straight path.

Ameen

#question #pandemic

[ask-de-writer]

SEA DRAGON’S GIFT : Part 63 of 83 : World of Sea

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to World of Sea

SEA DRAGON’S GIFT

Part 63 of 83

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

140406 words

copyright 2020

written 2007

All rights reserved.

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.

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Copyright fair use rules for Tumblr users

Users   of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights.  They may   reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information   remains intact.  They may use the characters or original characters in   my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical   compositions.

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

///////////////////////

New to the story?  Read from the beginning.  PART 1 is here

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“I have to guess that he had lost track of the poisoned kit.  He ran several inventories of all the tools for sale, apparently trying to find it.  

“Master Selked’s mark had been sloppily placed on the tools and the kit was an obvious second.  I think that’s why Kurti took it.  She used it for mending fabrics in this cabin and kept it on that shelf.  I have to guess that she never used the awl because the fabrics she was working with were light weight.”

Barad leaned over and held out his bed hanging.  “This velvet was worn. She fixed it so that you can’t even see where the wear was.  I love Tanlin but I still miss Kurti.”  He let the hanging fall with a sigh and went back to his narrative.

“Mister Morgu finally figured out that the kit was here and sent Silor to get it.  They went ahead with the plot on their own.  We caught them just minutes after you were poisoned and the sailor from the Grython had taken his prize away.”

Kurin was outraged but not in the way that Barad had expected.  “You mean that you let Kurti use that deadly sewing kit?  Did she really die of lung parasites?  Ord can make you cough blood, too!  I’ve seen it!”

Barad was taken aback.  “She simply took a kit from stores.  I didn’t know it was the poisoned kit!  Yes, she died of lung parasites!  Her infection was well advanced when I gave her the cabin-girl job!  She hated going onto the invalid list and being forced to do no work.  I gave her something that she could do!  

“If I could have, I would have traded away this ship to stop her infection!” he paused for breath, then quietly went on.  “I told you that miss her still.  Were there any loophole in the Marriage Laws, I’d have married her, dying or no!

“Tanlin’s awakening just when she did saved my heart and possibly my mind.  At first, the physical resemblance to Kurti drew me to her.  It was quickly obvious that Tanlin is a very different person.  As I helped her to recover (Doctor Corin would probably say ‘got in his way’), I came to love her.”

Kurin softened, “I have seen the medical records and talked to Lady Tanlin.  I was off course.  I apologize.”

“Accepted.”

“You know, Barad, I have to get you off, if it can be done.  I hope for the sake of the Naral fleet that I succeed.”

Barad leaned forward, suddenly intense.  “Why?  We have agreed to submit to fleet justice.  They can do whatever the laws allow.”

Kurin gave him a slightly grim look as she answered, “You have.  Tanlin has.  Your crew will fight to the death to save the both of you, and you have the only war equipped ship in the fleet.  Some, Darkistry among them, regretted that it was necessary to ram the Fauline to get you back.  None of them is sorry that they did it.  They got you back and that is the only thing that matters to them.

“I think that even if you ordered your crew to accept a death verdict that encompassed either you or Lady Tanlin, you’d have a mutiny. They’d fight the Great Dragons themselves to save the two of you.

“If Sula and Huld are still here, they will probably have to sink this ship to stop the destruction that will certainly follow a death warrant or a Scattering order.  That would hurt Sula more than you know.  It would not stop her.  I don’t want to see any of that happen.”

Kurin rose and went to the door.  Before going out, she said, “The good news is that I will be able to represent you, as well as the rest. Now I need to see Purser Morgu and Silor.  Then I can begin drafting cases.”

Tanlin was waiting outside the door.  “T’ank ye,” she said simply. Further down the hallway, she motioned a guard aside from a door. “Morgu’s in ‘ere.  Silor’s been kept in t’e next cabin.  Oi t’ink t’at ye do need guards for t’ese twa.  Oi’ll be ane an’ Kimson ‘ere will be t’other.”  She drew the bolts and lifted the bars that blocked the door from sliding.

Kurin was suddenly struck by a thought.  She stopped Tanlin from sliding the door open.  “Does Mister Morgu know that I am alive?”

“Oi’ve nae seen fit t’ tell him so,” was Tanlin’s reply.

Kurin gave her an impish look.  “Don’t be surprised at how I deal with this interview then.  Wait a bit.”  She ran off toward the galley. It was about twenty minutes before she returned.  She was carrying what looked like two paddle duck eggs, a small packet and a tiny candle in her thinly gloved hands.  One egg was dyed a red color, the other a brownish hue.

Kurin hid them in her sash and conferred with Tanlin and Kimson for a moment.  They entered the cabin, Tanlin and Kimson first.  Tanlin guarded the doorway.  Kimson searched the room, then took his place on the other side of the door.

Morgu asked, “What’s the occasion, Tanlin?”

She held her silence.  A pillar of fine dust appeared inside the doorway. It disappeared with a flash of flame and Kurin was standing quietly in its place.  She just stood and looked at Morgu.  It took him a second to realize just who he was seeing.

“You’re dead!” he recoiled from Kurin but the cabin wall stopped his further retreat.

“I was.  You heard the whales?  I came back.  I always get what I want.” She turned to Tanlin and said, “Not that I gave you much choice, still you have my thanks for coming to the Dragon Sea.  It made coming back much easier.”

Tanlin picked up her cue flawlessly.  In apparent fear she said, “T’ey warned m’ t’at ye were a Dragon-wicken.  Oi didnae believe t’em.” She swallowed hard.  “Oi saw ye die in Sula’s arms.  T’e Fauline told us t’at ye were given t’ Dark Iren t’e next morning.  

“We tried t’ get away across t’e pole.  We’ve been trapped ‘ere in t’e Dragon Sea for weeks.  T’e whales came up an’ ye were aboard.  ‘Ow can we get free?”

Morgu listened to the exchange in rising horror.  He had heard those whales through the hull.  Kurin simply said, “I came to hear something that I already know.  To have a question answered — — by him.” She turned and pointed to the cowering Morgu.  “Whose idea was it to poison me and send me to my foster father?”

“Y, y, your foster father?” quavered Morgu.

“Dark Iren, Blind Mecat’s mate.  Mecat is my foster mother.  You know that.  That makes him my foster father.”  She smiled softly, “Now I have parents that I cannot lose.  I have nothing to fear in Dark Iren’s halls.”

She paused and looked slit-eyed at Morgu.  A grim smile playing about her lips, Kurin added, “Unlike some that I know of.”  

Almost irrelevantly Kurin said, “Sometimes it pays to learn from Dragons,” She reached out casually and chucked the frightened Morgu under his chin.  He flinched, feeling a hot burning sensation where she had touched his neck, and as her hand came into view he could see a red egg cradled in it.

Kurin displayed the egg to him.  In a much harder voice Kurin said, “This holds your life.  You felt me take it.  If I crush it, you will be gone in great pain.  If you crush it, your life is yours once more. Now think carefully, you have only one chance to tell me the truth that I already know.  I just want to hear it from you.  Truth, and your life is your own.  Lie and die — — — in pain.

“Whose was the idea?  Why me?”

Morgu stared in almost hypnotic fascination at the egg in Kurin’s hand. Frantically, he answered, “It was my idea but Captain Barad went along with it!”

Coldly, she wrapped her fingers about the egg.  “Did he?  All the way?  Did he help to kill me?”

Sweating, Morgu answered, “He backed out at the last minute!  Silor and I killed you!”

“Why?” Kurin asked in a tone so cadaverous that Tanlin was startled.

“Both the Captain and I hate the Longin!  You were vulnerable and your death would hurt the whole ship.”  He quailed, “You can ask the Captain!”

Kurin made a casual gesture as if she were pulling something off a shelf that was not visible to the eye and a brownish egg was in her other hand.  She smiled a truly terrible smile.  “I have already spoken with him.”

Tanlin, sensing a cue, broke in almost frantically, “Barad told ye true! Ye promised t’ give ‘is life back!  Please dinnae kill ‘im!  Oi love ‘im!”  She ended groveling at Kurin’s feet.

“Get up, Tanlin,” said Kurin calmly.  “I just want him to know what it is like to lose his life, if only for a short while.  Here, take it back to him.”  She gave the egg to Tanlin who held it as if it were precious.

To Morgu, Kurin said, “You have spoken truly.  Here is your life back. Just shatter it in your hand.  It will burn as much returning as it did coming out.”

As they left the room, they could hear the sound of an eggshell crushing.

Safely in the hallway, with the door shut, Tanlin leaned back against the far wall and had a fit of giggles.  “‘Ow did ye ever come up wit’ t’at?” she asked when she got her breath back.

Kurin took back ‘Barad’s Life’ and said, “I sell toys and tell stories and entertain children.  Sometimes with slight of hand.” The egg vanished, only to reappear in her other hand.  Then it vanished again and was pulled, with every appearance of effort from her ear.

Kimson was still looking at Kurin in something like fear.  He asked, “how did you appear in the room like that?  I didn’t see you come in at all.”

“Red weed flour dust,” Kurin answered.  “I tossed some into the air and set it off with that little candle.  While you were distracted by the flash, I stepped in.”

“Wye’d ‘e act like ‘t ‘urt wen ye pulled ‘is ‘life’ out o’ ‘is neck?” Tanlin asked.

“Because it did,” Kurin explained.  “While I was blowing out and dying these eggs, I rubbed hot sauce base on the outside of the index fingers of my gloves.  Before I closed the holes in the ends of the eggs I put some of the hot sauce base inside each one.”

“So. . .’is ‘life’ ‘urt ‘is ‘and t’e same way ‘goin’ in’ as ‘t did ‘goin’ out’?” Tanlin finished.  “A lovely touch.”

“You are a fast study yourself,” Kurin complimented.  “Your trapped here for weeks line and that bit of terror for Barad’s life made the whole thing live.  You would have been a good actress.”

Seeing Tanlin’s expression of hurt mixed with confusion and anger, Kurin said, “I’m not sure how I’ve offended you but I did not mean to.  Don’t you have entertainments and plays in the Arrakan fleet?”

Confusion clearing up, Tanlin replied, “Certain we do.  T’at’s respectable mummin’.  Mumming’s fun an’ ‘elps t’e small fry t’ learn t’eir ‘istory an’ Dragon legends.  Actors are crew ‘oo lie an’ cheat.”

“Then what I wanted to say was that you’d have made a great mummer.  OK?”

“Now t’at Oi ‘ave yer drift, aye,” Tanlin agreed smile returning. “Are we goin’ t’ play t’e same trick on Silor?”

TO BE CONTINUED

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#SEA DRAGON’S GIFT #Part 63 of 83 #World of Sea #Written by De Writer

[jo2ukes]

Hello! I’m hildahilda from tumblr and I saw you taking prompt requests for 50 ways to love your partner (which has become one of my fave dmileth fics). May I suggest... Dimitri and Byleth debating/arguing over political concerns or having long horse rides together? Just getting these ideas from their paired ending lol. Thank you!

HELLO LOVELY!!! Aaa your comments are always so sweet i always look forward to reading what you have to say slkdfjslkd  thank u for requesting smth ilysm~

I’m SO SORRY this took so long - I’ve been working on it off and on, but I slacked off too much at work last week so things kind of blew up and I’ve been living off of energy drinks. THAT BEING SAID, this is for YOU!!! I’m gonna upload to ao3 later as well, just not rn bc I’m at work lol :-)

spoilers for like. post game and blue lions stuff, though i tried to be pretty vague!

It was never typical for diplomatic meetings to go smoothly. Not that Dimitri is naïve enough to expect them to be easy. Even in times of peace, there are always areas for improvement. Dissatisfactions to be addressed. Relationships to maintain. Something about having his work cut out for him makes these meetings easier – though solving the issues are certainly more time consuming. Uniting Fódlan has been no small undertaking and he is grateful for all the assistance he receives from his friends. He is painfully aware that destruction is his forte – his hands and mind have only recently been converted to the goal of healing and restoration. To lead, you have to be able to both destroy and create, Byleth has told him. She’s right. United Fódlan and the relative peace they have now wouldn’t exist had he not destroyed Edelgarde and her dissenting Imperial forces. While the beast in him once relished in the idea of putting an end to El’s machinations, taking her life was one of the most painful trials he’s had to endure. The perspective motivates him. Encourages him to listen to his people and create a world where no destruction is needed, where no one is unjustly taken.

 He constantly reminds himself of this goal. It makes the sleepless nights worth it.

 The current roundtable has gone on for hours at least – Ferdinand, Lorenz, Byleth, Seteth and a handful of other nobles – mostly from former Faerghus territories – are in attendance. Unofficially, Ferdinand speaks for nobles of former Imperial territories, while Lorenz speaks for former Alliance territories. They’ve been instrumental in the restructuring efforts. While the three of them were not particularly close before, Dimitri counts them among his close friends now.

 “I hate to mention it on top of everything else,” Ferdinand bites his lip, “but there’s one last item I feel needs to be addressed before we adjourn. We’ve had trouble with the Western Church in the Aegir territory. We’ve repelled a few initial attacks. At first we thought it was bandits, but… well, we’ve confirmed the worst. Normally, my pride would never allow asking for assistance, but with our resources and attention spread out as it is, namely correcting my father’s corruption, I’m not sure this is a matter I can handle solely on my own. I don’t want to cause any more chaos in my territory than need be.”

 “You are correct to bring it up,” Dimitri says, furrowing his brow. “Aegir territory is a long way to go to cause trouble.”

 “If the Western Church is mobilizing again, it will certainly affect the trade routes we’ve established,” Lorenz observes. “The few merchants that can afford to travel certainly can’t afford losses to their inventory or company. Our trade routes are the most vulnerable. As former Imperial lands are in the most chaos, what with the complete restructuring needed post-war., it makes sense the Western Church, whatever their goals may be, would seek to cause disruptions there. If we truly seek to provide aid and maintain good relations with the nobles in the south, surely this conflict requires more attention. Wouldn’t you agree?” He looks back at Ferdinand.

 “Respectfully, yes,” Ferdinand nods solemnly. “Though, I understand the Central and Western Churches have their summit planned later this month, which surely makes matters precarious.”

 Eyes turn to Byleth and Seteth.

 “You are correct,” Seteth nods, addressing the nobles. “We are aware certain sects of the Western Church are mobilizing, though we had not heard of any activity in the Aegir territory. You can trust the matter will be dealt with. Her Grace has asked that I lead a fraction of the Knights of Seiros to investigate these disturbances while she attends the summit later this month. Ashe wrote to us several weeks ago, disclosing Western Church movements in the Gaspard territory once again. Since then, we’ve been keeping a watchful eye.”

 “How watchful, if they are mobilizing in areas you are not aware of?” Lorenz asks. “Your Grace, your Highness, I know the Church is quite busy with restructuring efforts, but perhaps it would be wise to focus more resources in this area.” He taps his upper lip thoughtfully. “Perhaps if we sent forces that were not affiliated with the Church it wouldn’t complicate things at the summit. The Western Church can feel safe in trusting the Central Church, and the people can feel safe that something is being done about these attacks.”

 “I agree,” Dimitri hums after a beat. “Very well. Seteth, I want you to take some of Fhirdiad’s knights with you. As things are a little more stable in the capital than anywhere else, it is less of a burden on our resources. Ingrid and her company should be available, I believe. I’ll send word they’re to accompany you back to the monastery. I’ll want to be kept in the loop, of course.”

 “With all due respect, your Majesty,” Byleth says, clearing her throat, and breaking her silence, “this is a Church affair. While I appreciate your offer for assistance, we must decline.”

 “On the contrary,” Dimitri shakes his head, “It stopped being a Church affair when it started threatening to plunge all of United Fódlan into another war, your Grace. These are not random attacks, they seem rather targeted.”

 “The Western Church simply does not have the resources or manpower to launch a full-scale war,” she shakes her head. “I do not believe that is their intention this time. They’re recovering just the same as the rest of Fódlan. If you’ll remember, the last time the Western Church created conflicts, there was a larger power at play. As relations with the Western Church are already delicate at best, I’d ask that you let us investigate internally first, at least until the summit has concluded. A month’s time, that’s all I’m asking.”

 “It is not that I distrust your ability to manage your own, I simply wish to prevent further harm to the already suffering villages.”

 “I understand your concern, your Highness. My wishes are the same,” she straightens her back, looking him square in the eye. She looks truly regal and imposing. For a moment Dimitri thinks it’s a shame the others get to observe her in her authoritative splendor, that it’s not a look only he can witness. But the thought only lasts a moment – he’s more than familiar with that determined glint in her eye. He’s in for a fight.

 “However,” she continues, “I cannot hope to restore faith in the Church if we are constantly shown to be unable to handle our own. Say what you will, but Edelgarde’s war has damaged the Church’s reputation, strengthened seeds of distrust. Whether that distrust was well-placed or not is of no consequence. The reputation of the Church must be restored. Through transparency, through rooting out corruption and self-serving officials, so be it, but it must be handled by the Church. We’ve only just concluded a war built on that same distrust – what message would it send if the King had to step in? How would that offer any reassurance to the people that things are different?”

 “You suggest, then, that the people will be more willing to accept the Church should be allowed to continue to govern its own?” he asks, folding his arms.

 “I’m suggesting we be given a chance to prove ourselves. If the leaders cannot trust the Church, the people cannot hope to hold the same faith.”

 “It is a risk,” Ferdinand interjects, “but I believe Her Grace has a point. Restoring faith in the Church should be a priority, and that task begins with our actions here.”

 Lorenz and Seteth both begin to speak, but whatever they start to say is lost to Dimitri and he focuses on his wife’s voice, rising above the others. When she and Dimitri disagree on topics, the others in the room cease to exist to the two of them. While they do not always agree, he trusts her above all else. He respects and values her opinion, as she has led him down the right path time and time again.

 “Rather than bandaging a severed limb,” Byleth continues, “We should treat the root of the problem. I believe this is not the Western Church, but some unnamed force. Without revealing too much of my own hand, I have reason to believe Edelgarde’s… unsavory allies may have resurfaced.”

 “Is this truly information that should be held by the Church alone?”

 “For the time being, yes,” Byleth nods. “As you said, we do not want to cause further damage to those that are already suffering. Mobilizing too early may do just that. Again, a month is all I ask.”

 “If Ingrid and her company were instead mobilized to the Aegir territory to assist in repelling potential attacks in the meantime, would that be sufficient?” Dimitri asks. It’s more of a thought than a command. He’s willing to let Byleth win this round as he can’t begin to fathom some of the complications that come with running the Church. He takes an interest, supporting her how he can. In private, she tells him of her duties and concerns – an odd topic of conversation for pillow talk, but he likes that she trusts him with some of her burdens and worries, as she’s helped him shoulder his own for so long.

 His main goal is to protect the people. Byleth has always been better at keeping her attention toward the future, while his attention is usually focused on the short term. Perhaps it’s one of the reasons their compromises work so well. Sending troops to assist Ferdinand would fulfill his intention of keeping the villagers safe, at least until the end of the summit. Not to mention, the increase in feelings of unity.

“I have no qualms with that solution,” Byleth says, a smile forming at the corners of her mouth.

 “We would be grateful for your assistance,” Ferdinand addresses Dimitri, giving a slight bow of his head. “I’m humbled, your Majesty.”

 “It’s settled then. I will pass word along to Ingrid,” he scribbles a note for himself. “In the meantime, perhaps we should adjourn for the evening?”

 A collective sigh of relief seems to spread throughout the hall. The various lords stand, bowing to Dimitri before exiting, ready to rest and enjoy the few hours of downtime they have before meetings resume again the next morning, servants coming to escort them to their various rooms. Ferdinand and Lorenz excuse themselves as well, familiar enough with the castle they feel comfortable roaming the halls without guidance.

 Once the room is empty, Dimitri turns to his wife who stands behind him.

 “I thought that went rather well,” he says, offering his hand. She takes it. “Though the Archbishop seems quite determined to give me a hard time,” he jokes. She squeezes his hand gently.

 “You’ll have to forgive her, your Majesty. I hear she’s rather stubborn,” she smiles up at him before standing on her tiptoes and placing a kiss on his cheek.

 “If that is official guidance from my Queen, I suppose I shall take it under advisement,” he laughs. The two of them walk hand in hand through the corridors. “You’re sure the investigation into the Western Church won’t be difficult for you, beloved? I worry about your safety.”

 “I can’t promise the investigation won’t come without dangers,” she replies truthfully, “but I will exercise caution. I have Seteth watching out for me.” She sighs, her mood immediately lightening, “At any rate, that’s enough talk of politics and official business. I asked Cyril to saddle the horses before sundown. If I haven’t been too stubborn, perhaps you’d like to join me?”

 “I’m quite fond of your stubbornness, you know,” he smiles, letting her lead the way to the stables.

 “I know,” she laughs.

#anyways hildahilda i hope u kno i would die for u #ask #writing tag #fe blogging #fire emblem three houses #fe 16 #dimileth

[johnnys-so]

I recall you saying you don't know Day6 well enough for an analysis, but what about now? If you can, we'd love one. Thank you!

HEYOOO! 

Umm a lot hasn’t changed on that front but I feel like the distance might be a good thing so I’m going to attach some small mini-analysis after the cut.

sungjin

Bob is literally the most dad friend ever and I think he really takes the cake (though GOT7′s JB comes a close second). He looks so constantly done with all of his members, and yet - probably the one who cleans the kitchen and makes sure to stock up on water/ramyeon/veggies etc.

I feel like he was born to be the hyung, you know? He is the responsible and primary caregiver type. Even though he doesn’t make a big show of it, it seems to be a big part of his personality that he takes care of other people

Also, my god his humour is just.... something commendable, truly. He can’t be funny to save his ass but atleast he keeps trying and i think THATS what so funny about him??? sungjin-ah.... never give up bby

I feel like he’s the least complicated of all members. He doesn’t seem to be the emotionally volatile type and seems very centred in his personality, he also seems oddly like he might have a sister? a younger one (does he? idk, mydays pls let me know). it’s just that other than the protective bear stereotype, he does seem emotionally well-adjusted. Maybe he’s just at that point in life where he can encounter a shitty day or some sort of hardship and look at it straight and say - ok, that’s fucked up. But I guess we gotta just work through it. (in comparison, wonpil would be shrieking through his lungs AND working through it)

in terms of a temper i think he most certainly has one but it takes him a while to get there and i don’t think he’d talk through it AT ALL. maybe cleanliness would be his pet peeve? (im just shooting in the dark here)

to wrap it up, sungjin is the sort of guy (in my opinion at least) who has a strong and steady value system and he’s sort of ok with dealing with the world as long as he has it figured out in his head. He knows who he is, and therefore there is little conflict he brings to the world. If he wasn’t playing in this band, I’d 1000% see him settle for the corporate life and clean9 to 5 job which lets him come back home by 7pm and have some cold beer while watching football and hearing his kids play in the living room

Jae

Aww man this skinny bitch. I feel like the fandom is sleeping on his ‘annoying prankster’ potential because i think  he’d give peeves a run for his money

derives great joy from the misery and anguish of others (probably has Wonpil maniacally laughing in the background)

on a normal day Jae is the sort of person who’s probably going through memes on the phone while everyone’s having a serious conversation about their tour or like their everyday schedules. He has a few things he cares about in life and is okay to take a backseat when it comes to the other shit. As long as he gets what he needs (a possible slytherin mofo?)

But that’s not to say that he’s easygoing or wishywashy about the things that he does care about. Music, matters a lot to him. Even though he’s not academically musically instructed (as young k is) he has spent a whole lot of time and effort into educating himself to the point that it really shows in their albums (i could wax poetry about the complexity of Day6′s music and how its so refreshing in it’s personality of being both goth and peppy i-). So Jae is most certainly determined, goal driven and very intrinsically motivated

Also, very much in his head. If he doesn’t have a strong pisces placement, I’m willing to eat my foot. I feel like while Young K is very intense about his emotions, Jae gets very emotional about the people he surrounds himself with.

With people: not very trusting of everyone. Has a chosen few that he goes to certain things about. Might be the kind of person who distributes his troubles by categories to various confidants. But also, trust is something that is earned with jae. But that is not to say that he won’t get along with other people. He’s cordial and is good in engaging a crowd (as a performer, MC, friend, VJ) but he’s also good at drawing lines and boundaries

the most incredible part of his personality for me has always been his work-ethic and his drive to be better. He’s always challenging himself through his existing skill set, but also pushing himself to learn new things. Sounds like a bloody workaholic to me. 

probably shit at figuring out his own feelings/emotions/attitude about certain things. But always up for being the wise advice-giver to other delinquents (read: jamie)

sarcastic wit to sass everyone for days. probably a loki over thor guy

Kink master extraordinaire. Likes cooking up shit and encourages people to sin.

Young K

emo baby af. But we all knew this so more on that later

The ultimate Onion of a personality. Young K, off the bat, seems like he hides so many layers. Not purposely at all, but simply because he’s unable to communicate the extent of his mental world to the public

one beautiful way he has found to channelise all of his thoughts and ideas about the world is clearly through his music and lyrics. But he’s also extremely creative in other ways (art and fashion). I feel like he’s the sort of person who feels most confident and assured in himself when he’s creating. 

socially, what a mess. I wouldn’t say he has trust issues like Jae does but im pretty sure he’s made some foolish mistakes about choosing friends and not realising how to navigate that friendship (friendships where he has demanded too much or has been demanded too much of??). But otherwise a jovial fool the kind of person who laughs the loudest (and dorkiest) at a dinner with friends

how’s his alcohol intake? I have this super funny intake of a drunk young k trying to write mini love poems for all his friends and sungjin being called to take him home and the call actually begins with “did he try to be poetic again?”

while im trying to paint a picture of him as a jester (because young k also needs to be seen for beyond his emotionality) he’s the kind of guy that would surprise you with how brilliant he is. An actual wisecrack/genius, and very underappreciated. I wouldn’t be surprised if he someday returns to teaching

Right. Emotionality though. If he isn’t some pisces (sun or moon) i will actually yell. He’s the definition of ‘someone who navigates an alternate plane, is open to a world that most people don’t even begin to understand exists’. i feel like speaking to him about abstract concepts - such as the existence of truth, the point of life, the definition of beauty, other existential phenomenon - would be so much fun because he’s have such an interesting and unconventional take on things. I feel like he’s make me humble with the words he has (he already makes me feel so secure with all of his lyrics because i realize, even if the world is shit what a relief that someone like young k exists)

probably would be a guilt-ridden but a wonderfully emotionally supportive boyfriend. Someone who understands your demons all too well and would go the extra mile to provide whatever help he can

1000% has high neuroticism scores that would be cause for concern. someone give him a Beck’s depression inventory right away.

HAHAHAHAH probably the fucking kinkiest mofo, after Jae

Wonpil

An actual baby!!

No ok but wonpil has matured THE most in all of Day6 and i really didn’t realise it until i notice how his expressions have become more closed during airport pics, and his voice has gained a new level of emotionality in live stages, and he’s also a lot more reserved these days on variety shows

still the most extrovert in the group. I just think the fame, the crowd, the possible betrayals as a result of their growing fame and having to be an adult in this tough situation - has gotten to him. But that’s inevitable really. None of us can be protected from the reality of life that leeches away at our innocence

such a vibrant soul. Such a giver. As a friend, he’s literal sunshine. Not much of a protector, but more of an amicable I’ll-always-be-there-for-you sort of person (though im guessing the amount of people he extends this courtesy to nowadays has probably reduced. 

fucking made to be an entertainer. He’s naturally funny and attracts all the energy (and eyes) in the room to himself. A very good mood maker if you will

in terms of neuroticism, I think he’d be more on the depression (from the constant stress workstyle and the increasing loneliness) than an anxious person. I think he probably is a bit volatile in his emotions but that’s because he gets lost in the moment. He’s literally someone who lives in the present far more than he lives in the past (sungjin or young k) or the future (jae)

don’t think he's intrinsically motivated much. Prone to a lot of lazy days, a lot of extreme gaming and just randomnly playing jokes and pranks on people. he’d need some strongly external guidance/deadlines to get his work ethic going

high extraversion and agreeableness, probably low on conscientiousness (especially discpline) but fascinated by aesthetic beauty (openness to experience).

Dowoon

Honest to god i cannot figure him out. I think it’s a case of - im trying to look deeper and harder but the truth is, it’s not even that complicated

underappreciated oppa potential 100000%

still comes through as a dork of a maknae. has zeROhand eye coordination outside of drumming. the kind of kid who breaks the glassware and blames it on his sibling (wonpil) and his parents totally believe him because he could do no wrong (aka sungjin grudginly yells at wonpil, again, about house rules)

just a man dedicated to his drums and his food. if he can play some solid beats, get some work done on the albums, play a nice set on a tour, have some chicken and beer while he is resting, have his hyungs fool around in the green room --> he good bruh

but by no means does that make him a fool (though i do think he’s a bit of a fool sometimes when it comes to picking up social cues about wonpil/jae making fun of him. he lacks the 눈치 you know what i mean)

Also (maybe I just love plot twists) but i think he’d be eerily good at picking up on people feeling sad/depressed/lonely/off in general. He’d be like that guy who just walks into the room and sees you just slinking away on the sofa and he thinks.... nah im just going to give them space and go get myself some food. But literally a few seconds later, he sits by you on the sofa, offers you food, and asks what’s on your mind. The silent supporter kind. Willing to listen, willing to be there for you

i don’t know much about dowoon so im just going to end this with: arms that can lift kids/ crush you in a bear hug/ pin you against a wall and leave bit marks on your neck

sorry if that didn’t cover much. I sort of only know day6 with their music. If im extremely wrong or way off about someone, please reach out and correct me!!

#day6 #character analysis #sungjin #young k #jae #wonpil #dowoon

[kiliinstinct]

His Sun and Stars

Companion Piece to @caandleworks “Like The Sun.” Written after gaining her permission. 

The thoughts and memories of Jude Heartfilia. Enjoy!

TAG LIST:

@pbfanart  @cobblepottantrum @yuldragneel @bearpluscat @millennial-star-gazer @kaycha1989 @furidojasutin @eragonsoul @just-another-dream-girl @whatdidyasayiamdaydreaming @fluffygrandina @mysticalpolicetyrant @dlshieldss  @ctay21 @lovelyluce

An old, worn photograph was held gently between weary hands. Jude Heartfilia, hunched over his desk, paperwork piled high, stared at the image with a softness most would not believe possible in the man. It flicked like a candle- seeming to almost fade away before sparking back again. It was a photo he kept with him at all times, no matter how deep into his work he grew.

Acalypha had barely changed since he had originally worked there as a young boy, head full of hopes and dreams of owning his own trade business. Once upon a time, he never assumed he’d be the current Patriarch of the Heartfilia family, the one called to hold its business and noble lineage afloat at all costs.

Or the fact he’d have to do it alone.  Eyes closing, blinking back exhaustion, the image never left his mind- etched into his memory before becoming blurry when he opened his lids again. It was an old photo, but also his favorite. It held a memory inside it of a time when he was happy and in love, with all things he could have ever hoped for in life.

The first day Jude met Layla Heartfilia was the day he began to believe the Sun walked on Earth.  And that belief shone in the photo as the image of himself, stood tall and straight, smile wide beneath the brim of his mustache while one arm wrapped around the shoulders of the most beautiful woman he had ever met.

Her golden tresses framed a kind, sweet face and he remembered their first meeting with ease. Why a woman of such high breeding had chose to work at a Merchant Guild had been lost on the young Entrepreneur at the time, but he certainly didn’t question it. Not at first. Sharing the same room as her had been akin to drinking in sunlight, constantly being invigorated each time she graced him with her smile.

Even then, he had gravitated around Layla, helpless to ignore her magnetic pull. Once upon a time, many claimed his interest had been only for her money and noble name. As time passed, he eventually chose to let the gossip be- they knew the truth and that was what mattered.

“I have to know and understand trade,” She had told him one day while the two of them crunched numbers for the guild and tallied inventory together. “And while my family wished for me to learn at a Private Academy, I chose here.”

Thank the gods for that, he had thought to himself, face heating up at the mere thoughts he couldn’t place into words. Not just yet. “Not that I’m complaining, but why here?”

“- that’s because…” A sigh followed, brown eyes hollowing out to something almost empty before filling up with an inner peace he hadn’t felt before. Lips curved into to the softest of smiles and she brush a stray hair behind her ear. “How can I ever understand the hard work others do if I hide behind my riches? I want to see the world how others view it, to understand what people truly want and need.”

Something in the way she said it, the way her decision, so thoroughly cemented into her heart, made his own swell up. She was perfect. A wealthy woman who understood that those who worked for the Rich often held different, hardier lives.

Then she nudged him with a gentle shove, eyes gleaming in mischief. “I met you. Isn’t that proof enough my decision was the right one?”

He had choked on his own tongue and stammered like a shy school boy for the next fifteen minutes, face and neck burning hot even as her laughter boiled heat into his stomach. A happy, fulfilled, exhilarated feel. It positively invigorated him.

“The Heartfilia fortune cannot be left in the hands of some no-account man. How could we agree to such a union? The answer is no!”

The day he had offered to court her was the day his motivation and hopes were shot down from the sky. A man raised with nothing to his name- trained under the apprenticeship of another merchant, but still building his own work. How could he ever be good enough for a woman such as her? The cold taunts had frozen the heat of his soul and for days, Jude had grown cold and desolate.

A building friendship, but he was not allowed to have more? To hope to hold her hand in his? To feel the warmth of her smile for the rest of his life?

“Actually- I think he’s PERFECT.” - but then, light broke through the storm clouds of his mind as this kind, beautiful woman, stared down her own parents, hands shaking in tightened fists. The look she gave them was one of defiance: her decision made and unwilling to back down from it.

“So what if he has no name?” She had asked them, “He knows more of business than many Nobles do. He understands hard work and has never faltered from doing it. He can KEEP us afloat and make us SOAR- and you would deny me happiness because he has no name? I would rather stay in Acalypha and never return if that’s your true answer!”

A threat she had meant- keys jingling on her hip, just over the bustle of her skirts. This woman, was willing to fight her way through her own home just for him. And what was he doing? Succumbing to the wishes of her parents? The stunned looks of the Heartfilia Matriarch became all the more dubious when strength surged through his being and he stood, boldly reaching to take her hand- eyes narrowing.

“I’ll prove it.” He told them. Voice firm, strengthened by the courage Layla held to with every breath in her being.  “I will NOT shame the Heartfilia house- I will bring it HIGHER. Give me- us, the chance.”

The curl of her fingers against his own was the only answer he needed. They would be together: even if they had to defy all sense and reason.  

Her family finally relented, but only with little give. Jude’s intense work towards proving his words began that day. He tirelessly worked to increase stock and sales in the Heartfilia name. He pushed for trades and stock between other merchant’s and company’s until the wealth, not even under his own name, doubled.  All for just the chance to live under the light of his sun until his lungs stopped breathing and his body gave in.

He didn’t even mind taking the last name Heartfilia when he finally witnessed her walk down that marble aisle, gorgeous and glowing in her own happiness.  Life, fas far as he knew it, had become his perfect dream.  Throat constricting from the memories- the older man set the photo down, blinking back misty tears he refused to shed.

Lucy didn’t even witness his tears at the funeral. He had been numb, too frozen, to have let a single drop fall from his eyes. It was much easier to succumb to his emotions now. The woman he had loved, worked so hard to keep, had dwindled before his very eyes, with each passing breath and year and she had known it would happen too. All the while, no amount of money, work of passion could save her.

Jude Heartfilia had basked in the sun, only to have it eclipsed and taken from his very hands. Work had become the only distraction, the only way he could withdraw into himself and hide away from the pain.  A cough escaped him, wracking his tired, broad shoulders as he hacked into his hands- ignoring the slight taste of iron that came into his mouth.

Once upon a time, he hadn’t regretted a single decision in his life, now… regrets filled him like an empty bucket, crying for something asides from ice to fill the gaping bottom.

To uphold the family name- … it had been his original goal… and he had clung to it with such blind determination that it had shielded his thoughts from all other emotions and logic. A matching, smiling face in the photo of a young girls smle that matched the sunlight, filled his heart with a guilt he almost couldn’t bare.

In his grief over the sun, he had cast away his stars.

“Perhaps… she truly would forgive me…” He murmured into the quiet of his office, rifling through parchment paper until he found an empty one, shaking hand already moving to fetch his quil. Lucy had been a light he had almost snuffed out in all attempts to run from the loss he had suffered. If not for her return after his hiring of Phantom Lord, he may have continued to dwell within that darkness.

Those stars in her eyes… the determination to defy him despite all odds, the firm decision in her eyes…. So like Layla… so much like her mother, and yet a mix that as all her own. It had been a healing balm he hadn’t known he needed and failed to recognize until everything he had striven for, the Konzern, had slipped from his very fingers. He had held on for so long, just to lose it all in the end.

‘Dear Lucy,’

‘Happy Birthday, Daughter….’

His eyes glanced towards the Calendar, almost covered in all his paperwork and a sad, soft smile, eased at his hard features. Lucy wasn’t home yet. That he knew. The papers all claimed she and her friends were dead- but he refused to believe it. Jude had made the mistake of casting out his stars the moment his Sun had left the world, but he would not make it again.

There were far too many stars in the sky to be forgotten so easily. Pen flew elegantly across the paper, his wishes and hopes coming through with each word written.  Jude had never felt closer to Layla in that moment, lungs rattling as another cough vibrated through him. If she was the sun and Lucy the stars… than he was the moon, constantly in awe of them.

Lucy would return and continue to shine her brightness over the world… and even if he did not make it that day- he would be proud. His fulfillment finally earned as he finally made it back to the warm embrace he had missed for so long.

She would live on- and he would finally be, once more, with his Sun.

#Fairy Tail Fanfiction #fairy tail drabb #Jude x Layla #Lucy #Mira's Fanfiction #was supposed to be shorter than this #oops #no read more #because its not extremely long #and i couldn't find a could break off point for it

[texaslawinformation]

The Holidays During Your Texas Divorce?

If you have need a best Law service, You can get better suggestions from The Holidays During Your Texas Divorce? with the great process!

Family Lawyer Houston: As the old adage goes: you can pick your friends, but you can't pick your family. This is true to a great extent, however, any person who's going through a divorce can tell you that your spouse can pick to be no longer be your family member simply by submitting a piece of paper to a court. With a few clicks on a keyboard, your life partner can essentially choose a life without you and in so doing can throw your relationship with your children and your extended family into turmoil.

Focus on your Children

Patience during the holidays is important. The ability to take a step back from the situation you're going through with your spouse in order to enjoy the time available with your child(ren).

The reality is straightforward: your kids are not going to remember every present you bought them, or where they sat at the Nutcracker with you. What they will remember is how their mom or dad laughed non stop when "A Christmas Story" cycled through for its fifth showing of the day on a cable TV channel. They'll remember the experience of baking (burning?) some Christmas cookies for Santa Claus.

Unfortunately, kids will also remember if you say some not so nice things about their grandparents. Managing your emotions and how you talk to your kids about what's happening with you and your spouse will set the tone for how your kids ultimately deal with the breakup of their parents.

It's unfair and unrealistic for your kids to understand and put into context the legal case between their parents. They don't know why their parents aren't living together anymore and they can't comprehend the emotional context of why the holidays may be especially difficult for both of you.

While it's not necessary to have a sit down with them, it is necessary for you to provide the stability and consistency that has been lacking since the divorce process began. Nobody is perfect, but divorcing parents can do their best to create a sense of normalcy in a storm of change.

People going through a divorce can often times get caught up in the legal details of their situation and lose sight of what really matters- their kids. The attorneys at the Law Office of Bryan Fagan, PLLC would generally advise any person going through a divorce to become less an expert on discovery protocol, and more an expert on discovering how to manage your relationship with your children during this difficult time. The emotional aspects to a divorce are not lost on our attorneys and we are eager to assist you and your family navigate your legal matter successfully.

Who gets the kids for Christmas while my divorce is pending?

For the majority of holiday celebrants that are reading this blog post, Christmas Day is the most important day of the holiday season. It is a time for celebration, family and togetherness.

For those parents going through a divorce, however, all three of the aforementioned attributes of Christmas can be thrown into turmoil due to a divorce. The big question for many divorcing parents is who will get to see the kids on December 25th?

The answer, in true lawyer form, is it depends. If you and your spouse have agreed (or been ordered by a court) to follow what's known as a standard possession order during the divorce, then one parent will get to see the kids on Christmas.

Christmas under a Standard Possession Order

Spouse #1 will get the kids from 6:00 p.m. on the day school lets out for the holidays until noon on December 28th. Spouse #2 will get the kids for the remainder of the holiday break until 6:00 p.m. on the Sunday before school is back in session. If you're the parent who had the kids on Thanksgiving, then you will typically not be able to get the kids on Christmas Day.

Christmas When Parents Agree

Another answer to which parent gets to see the kids on Christmas is a little more flexible. If you and your spouse are able to work on a visitation schedule on your own, then it's possible that a better solution can be reached.

People tend to believe that once a judge signs a piece of paper that the sentences in that document have meaning beyond just words on a page. A court's order acts merely as a default setting for parties who cannot agree to something different.

However, if spouses can agree to a different arrangement that better suits them, the court is not going to bat an eye. This is the ideal scenario. There are fewer hurt feelings, and both parents feel like they're having a say in the matter. What's most important is that the kids are able to share experiences on the most important days of the holiday season with each parent..

What not to do during the holidays while your divorce is pending

Divorce Lawyers in Houston: Any person going through a divorce can tell you that while their case is pending they are not fully able to play by their own rules. The court in which their case is being heard has a set of rules that were either agreed to by the parties or were handed down by the judge that the litigants are expected to follow.

Like it or lump it, the behavior of each spouse is being viewed in the context of these rules. A common question clients of the Law Office of Bryan Fagan, PLLC ask our attorneys deal with what not to do during a divorce. For the purposes of this blog post, your humble author has selected three important behaviors to avoid. Those include:

> Do not violate the visitation language of your order > Resist temptation to voice complaints about your spouse to the kids > don't build up resentment towards your spouse

Do not violate the visitation language of your order

Whether you and your spouse have agreed to abide by a standard possession order regarding Christmas Break or have crafted a more personalized schedule, it is vital to follow the rules as they have been laid out.

Trust goes a long way and if you violate the trust of your spouse by not dropping the kids off where you agreed to or failing to communicate a change in plans, you may find yourself in court after Christmas explaining to a judge why you weren't following the rules. It's normal to want to see your kids as much a possible during Christmas time. That desire is no excuse to violate court orders.

Resist temptation to voice complaints about your spouse to the kids

This rule can be extended to not asking the kids if your soon to be ex is seeing another person or any other personal inquiry like that. If you haven't already figured it out the kids are much less concerned than you are about petty differences that you and the other parent are experiencing. They want to enjoy the holidays with you (and the other parent for that matter).

Getting back to point number one- there are most likely rules in place from the court that bar you from using derogatory language in front of the kids about the other party to the divorce. In many instances this extends to your family as well. Remove your ego from the equation and have a sip of apple cider with your kids instead.

Don't build up resentment towards your spouse

Finally, don't use the holidays as another opportunity to build up resentment towards your spouse. A useful (corny) saying I use with my own clients is to use the divorce you're going through to get better- not bitter. If this hasn't already been shared with you, I'm happy to do so now: your case will most likely not end up with you on the witness stand telling a judge about the shortcomings of your spouse. Most likely it will end in mediation.

A scenario where you won't even see your spouse as your case essentially comes to an end. With this all being said- the holidays can create an atmosphere of stress and anger if you allow it to. Constantly reminding yourself that you can't see your kids because of your spouse or taking inventory of each eye roll your spouse gives you when you drop of the kids at the other parents is not going to do your kids or you any good. Use the holidays as a springboard for personal betterment.

Can I spend money on Christmas presents?

As anyone who's gone through a divorce can attest to, your life during the divorce process is not what you've become accustomed to as an adult. You are temporarily ordered in most circumstances to restrain behaviors associated with your kids, your financial endeavors and notably your money. Those factors all come to a head during the Christmas season.

The attorneys with the Law Office of Bryan Fagan, PLLC are often asked by clients whether or not spending money on Christmas gifts is allowed under a temporary restraining order.

To start off with- a temporary restraining order are orders from a court that are in place at the very outset of your divorce case. Often filed concurrently with the Original Petition for Divorce, a temporary restraining order is submitted to a judge for signature while the parties prepare for either a temporary orders hearing or mediation.

After a judge signs the TRO, they are in place for fourteen days and can be extended for another fourteen upon petition by a party. In Harris County, a TRO can take on different forms but a hallmark of any TRO are orders regarding spending community income.

The short answer to the question posited by the title to this blog post- can a divorcing parent spend money on Christmas gifts- is yes.

A TRO or temporary orders will disallow taking on any indebtedness or limiting the ability of the other parent to utilize credit cards. It's the opinion of this author that these are the most relevant portions of any TRO as they relate to spending money on Christmas gifts.

Generally speaking- as long as you spend within reason there is nothing that explicitly forbids you from spending money to buy your children gifts during the holidays. While it is true that the financial lives of divorcing spouses are restrained due to the divorce action, reasonable expenditures at the local toy store are just fine.

Many, many aspects of a divorce are foreign and unnatural for the parties involved. While the rationale behind the rules are straightforward, the interpretation and ultimate application of the rules can differ from case to case.

It is best to have an experienced law office to represent you and your interests during a divorce. The attorneys with the Law Office of Bryan Fagan, PLLC offer the sort of representation you deserve. Contact our office today to learn more about the services we are able to offer.

How to Save money during the Holidays?

Houston Family Law Attorney: The holidays are expensive. You don't have to talk to a lawyer to figure that out (though I would argue that it helps). Gifts, decorations, travel and fancy foods can quickly eat into your bank account if you don't watch out and act carefully when pulling out your credit card.

Being involved in a family law case- whether a divorce, modification or other matter- can make an already difficult situation worse. Spending money on an attorney is a necessary expenditure in most cases but an expenditure nonetheless. How then can you minimize financial stresses during this time of the year while attempting to have yourself a Merry Christmas? Some suggestions include:

> forget the fancy gifts for your children > limit travel to driving distance > Christmas is not a competition

Forget the Fancy Gifts for your Children

Despite their protestations to the contrary, your kiddos will not remember if you got them the exact action figure, video game or cell phone that they've wanted for months. They just won't. Opening up a gift is a fleeting memory for most kids and your bang for buck ratio is not very good.

The attorneys at the Law Office of Bryan Fagan, PLLC would advise temperance at the toy store this year. Instead- why not plan a Christmas hike with the kids while you're together this holiday season? Texas winters barely qualify for cold and a nice walk is good for the soul, the mind and the pocketbook.

The inverse of our rule about kids not remembering gifts is that kids do remember experiences. Helping your child climb a tree or skip a stone on the neighborhood pond is going to stick with them much longer than ripping open some wrapping paper.

Limit Travel to Driving Distance

Suggestion number two for saving money is to limit travel to those family and friends that live within driving distance. Resist the temptation to jet-set for far flung destinations and instead opt to jump in the family cruiser to see the relative that you've been neglecting but lives virtually around the corner.

Your family member in sunny California will understand if you skip the typical Christmas get together in the pricey Golden State and stay closer to home. Again, our previous point about kids not really remembering the expensive gifts rings true here as well. Plan family based activities close to home and you'll score a double net positive of saving money and building memories with your immediate and extended families.

Christmas is not a competition

If you know that your spouse is going to engage in an all out holiday offensive- complete with gifts up the wazoo and a fancy trip during their periods of possession- try going the opposite direction.

Kids are intuitive and they understand when mommy and daddy are going tit for tat on spending money. They'll use that to their advantage and in so doing you'll be teaching the kids a bad habit about what this time of year is really about. Tamper down the spending and resist the temptation to keep up with your soon to be ex spouse.

How can I reach the Law Office of Bryan Fagan, PLLC during the Holidays?

Houston Family Lawyers: Whether you are a current client of the Law Office of Bryan Fagan, PLLC or are simply looking for representation on a Family Law case, our attorneys are only a phone call away- even during the Christmas season. While our lawyers and office staff will not be in the office on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day, you are able to contact our office 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year with questions or concerns.

The majority of our lawyers and support staff have voicemail messages sent directly to their phones or email addresses making quick responses possible even during the holidays. We understand that not all family matters during this time of year can go smoothly. So if your drop off/pick up of a child doesn't go smoothly and you have a question for your lawyer or paralegal or if you realized that it's time to start the divorce process- our office is just a phone call away. The Contact Page for the Law Office of Bryan Fagan, PLLC includes details on how to reach our office by phone and how to schedule an appointment with your legal team once the holidays come to a close.

The Law Office of Bryan Fagan, PLLC wishes you and your family the best holiday season possible- even if your family has seen better days. A friendly staff member will assist you as quickly as possible upon receipt of your call.

No two divorces are the same and the attorneys with the Law Office of Bryan Fagan, PLLC understand this as well as any family law firm in southeast Texas. Please contact our office today to learn more about the services our office can offer in your family law ... Continue Reading

#divorce #Divorce Attorney #family #Family Law #attorney #attorneys #law #lawyer #lawyers #Houston #Texas #case

[namira2006]

Milos had never meant to make a bargain with an ancient Seelie royal. She had emerged from dramatic fog one night while he was staking out a mark for a contract in the sweet little town of Myrefall.

 The mark was a cheery and guarded old woman who wore secrets like a silk scarf fastidiously tied around a blouse collar. Openly, decoratively, inalienable. She adorned a different silk scarf daily. Milos could appreciate the subtle power to be found within such a meticulous adornment and admired the woman from afar. Two houses over from her he had been stationed. Upon arrival, he had draped himself in the false identity and case briefing bestowed by the organisation. Name: Avan Malek. Background: kid who struck lucky in a business deal and was able to finally purchase a house in the town for himself and family. Presence: Minimal but Pleasant.

 Nobody who knew Milos could possibly deign to describe him as pleasant. However, he felt pleasant when the allowed him to live another day. So, he would fight the Snarl in his belly and smile fucking pleasantly at the citizens of Myrefall. Everyone here was sickly sweet to one another. He had been out for a walk earlier that day, simply minding his own business, when a neighbour, Old Pickles, had felt entitled to stop and say hello. Old Pickles conversed at him for minutes, Minutes! Expressing genuine interest in his activities and life! The gall! He was struck with a pang, missing the acquiesced Fear and wide berth those in the castle gave him. The population here could really do with developing some shame, maybe a little bit of personal torture, just a little. Obviously, Milos grinned his best neighbourly grin and engaged the man, he was a professional after all.

 No part of his brief for the mark outlined, referred to nor alluded to any sort of Seelie presence. He checked and everything. Creatures, ideas, inventions, sometimes people; would sometimes pass through the Holes In The World. Extensive training was given by the Organisation to its employees about the Holes, with step by step instructions on how to deal with anything that could have entered. Simply put: kill it, make sure nobody witnesses this, do not dwell on Other Magicks, get on with your actual fucking job.

 The Seelie folk were no strangers to the Holes, after all, they inhabited another world and possessed magicks of their own. But generally, they flew under the radar on other worlds. The Central Board for Magick Education Curriculum and Practice in the Seelie government enforced strict policy about all Seelie children learning how to sufficiently cast glamours and conceal their magick. While the Seelie did not frequently engage with the Holes, some had exited in various places and could blend in with ease. Perhaps look a bit more closely at some of the strangers you pass by this week, perhaps you’ll notice an otherworldly shimmer to your local barista.

The foreign cottage had been his home for one week. The Organisation had not provided him with any leisurely activities for the scoping period. He pottered about the house, bored. Trained a lot each day, broke into most of the houses in the neighbourhood, read some scrolls, kept to himself. Cement yourself in the mark’s world, stay discreet, do the job, do the job, do the job. Usually, Milos would have already killed the mark and be debriefing the Shrouded in the Organisation’s board room after three days. Whoever had taken out this contract specified they wanted the mark to be taken care of by someone she had grown fond of. So, become fondness material he would.

Restlessness coursed through his mind, he vibrated with it.

It was day eight, he had done his routine town inhabitant engagement for the day. Only four homes broken into today. Eve had fallen, the moons rising. Sat in his back room, he examined what he’d pocketed from the mark’s house, taking notes in a black bound leather journal. The inventory: an official, sealed letter from the state of Zashtun, a large feather and one of those exquisite neck scarves.

He closed his eyes and focused on his fingers, pressing magick into them, around them, from them. His left pointer finger gained its glowy extension, allowing him to slice open the letter with the Sharp razor-thin blade. His eyes followed the neat, purposeful hand upon the parchment. A scribe, perhaps? I am writing to you about arranging a meeting due to your expertise on the matter of magicks in the history of Usta blah blah blah. Skipping ahead, he skimmed for any words of interest. There was obviously some reason Milos had been paid to silence this woman. Bingo.

Zashtun’s researchers believe we have made significant progress on closing the Holes in the World. Make haste. Why was it official business type always put their most important points at the end? Milos considered it counterproductive, just make your damn point, save some parchment, move on, whatever.

This was a huge Secret. The Holes were whispers in the collective unconscious, most people would never encounter one, but they were Known. They featured in stories transmitted to children, folk tales, poems. All of Usta’s magicks were somehow connected to them, this was less widely Known, but was no grand secret. The Holes just Were. Like the wind just is, like the sand in Frankston’s desert, the swamps of Cloncrow. Those parts of nature simply intrinsic to nature itself. Those natural forces that cannot be controlled, only ever harnessed. One stares awhile into any, aghast with the sprawling power held, with the power whispering magick, magick, magick. And one finds themselves unable to look away, and one’s tour group has already left them behind to ponder their own insignificance.

Milos’ face did not show any signs of being rattled, but his still glowing finger-blade was quivering. His head span a little. It was at this point he noticed vines had swiftly grown around his back door. It was engulfed in them. He cleared his throat loudly.

“Hmmph. Show yourself. I do not have time for games.” He commanded. Making no effort to disguise his thick accent, as he usually would. He stood up straight, assuming a crouched fighting stance. Magick flicked to his pointer finger and it shifted. In this form it produced a thin silk, capable of slicing through almost any substance. Came in very handy when opening plastic packaging. Milos gracefully tiptoed to the door, the leaves now rustling hard in sudden, conjured wind. They chittered. Dense fog peppered the room. He perched himself against the wall, only one foot on the ground, trying to locate anything that would help deduce whatever this was.

“My, my, my! It is always such a treat when humans think they could out-wit us. Darling, relax.”

A being had sprung up right next to him, he hadn’t even noticed. It was mere inches from his taut form. It seemed, similarly shaped to a woman. Definitely a woman’s voice. Plant debris scattered through its hair and its head was Too Big and its dark skin appeared to shift and shimmer under the surface. Scales. Those are fucking scales.

“Take a picture it’ll last longer.” She remarked, utterly deadpan.

Her arms (?) were folded and she was mere inches from Milos. Her movements were so fluid. She obviously was not currently underwater, but the languidness of her demeanour was like that of someone relaxedly floating in the sea.

Milos cleared his throat again. He sighed.

“Who are you? What do you want? Can we negotiate my firstborn? Etcetera, etcetera.” He did not care for this otherworldly figure’s disruption. However, it wasn’t an entirely unwelcome change of pace. Perhaps she is a worthy chess opponent, this prospect alone held him back from crowding her backwards into the tight, deadly thread he had set up. She did not have eyebrows.

“We both know you aren’t having any children, dear. Not with your………. Proclivities.” She was sneering.

“I really never thought otherworldly entities would be homophobic. As much as I’m enjoying this tense chat, might I suggest we do it over a game of chess?”

Milos had allowed her to play as the white pieces, graciously allowing her the perceived upper hand of a first turn. There was no chance she could possibly best him, not many could. The creature-lady widened her large yellow eyes, like a pelicans, then drew her expression to one of petulance. She appeared to have cottoned on to the fact that Milos was mere moves from trapping her in to Check Mate. Her pelican eyes lifted to meet his. Direct.

“You cannot kill that woman.” She said this in a way that did not allow for negotiation. Luckily, Milos had always thought beyond the realm of discussion and negotiating and exchanges. He only thought of that which Happened and that which did Not.

“Can you price match my employers?”

She hummed in response, contemplating.

“Not financially, no. My people do not deal in your supercilious monetary means. I can offer you sanctum from their web of pain. When it is unearthed you have not completed your job, it will not be you tangled in the sinister silks.”

It was his turn to hum in response. He furrowed his brows. Suddenly grateful to actually have them. This creature was so unreadable. So markedly Not Human. Milos decided this was entirely rooted in her lack of eyebrows.

“Hmmmmm. Do I dare even ask what you ask of me in return for this sanctum?”

#w

[hovercraft79]

Winter Song

Ch 25 Carol of the Bells

Chapters: 25/31 Word Count: 5,228 Fandom: The Worst Witch (TV 2017) Rating: Teen Warnings: mentions alcoholism, bitterness, death. It’s based on A Christmas Carol, there’s some darkness there, y’all.

Summary: Hecate lets her fears and temper get the best of her, throwing her whole reconciliation with Pippa into jeopardy. Her father, and three spirits, help her set things right.

Notes: Write about a holiday myth or legend, you say? Plagiarize Charles Dickens, I say!  Sorry about all the angst that comes with that.

While not exactly a myth or legend, once this idea took hold, I couldn’t shake it. Certainly, a great debt is owed to the original – but an even greater debt is owed to the Palazzo young reader’s edition of A Christmas Carol that was abridged by Juliet Stanley. It’s well done and beautifully illustrated if you’ve got a young reader of your very own and would like to start a new tradition.

Trans-Siberian Orchestra does my all-time favorite version of this song.

Sparky returns from her holiday travels today. We can all rejoice.

This particular fic was written over a 24-hour time period – like, I haven’t slept in a hideous length of time, even for me. Please, if you spot any errors, be forgiving, but let me know. Thanks!

Hecate stared at her reflection in the mirror. The connection was dead, and she knew it. She’d cut the call herself and she wasn’t sad about that. She didn’t want to see any more of Pippa’s hurt, angry expression.

Their connection was dead, and she knew that, too. Dead by her own hand. Again. Exhaustion and worry had turned into cross words, a scolding for being so careless, a rejected invitation. Her own fears of losing Pippa morphed into a rigid silence guaranteed to push Pippa away. Again. This time, her own anger met with an equally angry Pippa. She would not allow herself to be sad about that.

Let their friendship be dead.

Just as it had been for most of the last thirty years.

It hurt less that way.

Hecate knew she was a difficult, uncompromising, and unsocial witch. She’d been described as cold many times in her life - was neither the first, nor likely the last. There was so much cold inside her it nipped her nose, hollowed her cheeks, stiffened her walk, made her lips purse and her voice icy. She knew the day the Founding Stone failed was not the only day she’d been frozen.

Nobody ever stopped her in the street to say, ‘Hello, Miss Hardbroom! How are you?’ No children asked her to tuck them in at night and no one ever asked Hecate to their birthday celebrations. But Hecate cared nothing about what others thought of her.

Hecate stood and moved to the window. It was a freezing, foggy Christmas Eve and she had work to do. She’d idled enough time away pretending she could be anything that made Pippa Pentangle’s life better. It was dark already, even though it was only a little after three o’clock. The fog was so dense that the trees of the forest looked like ghosts.

She needed to inventory the contents of her ingredient cupboard. Today seemed as good a time as any. She chose to walk instead of transfer, in the hopes that she would burn off some restless energy. She hoped the corridors would be empty. She did not get her wish.

“Merry Christmas, HB!” cried Dimity Drill, cheerfully falling into step beside Hecate. She’d obviously just flown in from somewhere – the frosty flight had given her a healthy, warm glow.

“What right do you have to be merry?” Hecate huffed. “You’re here.”

“What right do you have to be miserable?” Dimity grinned. “I’m only here for a bit.”

Hecate couldn’t come up with an answer, so she said, “Bats! And humbugs.”

“Don’t be cross, Hecate! It’s Christmas!”

“What else can I be,” returned Hecate, “when I live in such a stupid world. What’s Christmas when the Craft is in decline? When you have no fr—when you find yourself another year older but no better for it? If I had my way, I’d hex everyone who wished me a Merry Christmas.” She stopped and turned to face Dimity. “What good has Christmas ever done you?”

Dimity started to respond with a cutting, sarcastic remark, but the haunted look in Hecate’s eyes gave her pause. Something’s happened, she thought, and she’d bet her best broom that whatever it was, it involved a certain witch with a penchant for pink. “It’s the only time I know of when people seem to open up their hearts. So, Hecate, although it has never put money in my pocket, or a trophy on my mantel, I believe that it has done me good, and it will always do me good.” She placed a firm hand on Hecate’s elbow. “I don’t know what’s wrong, Hecate, but don’t be angry. Come and have dinner with us tomorrow.”

“Goodbye, Miss Drill,” Hecate said, pulling away.

“Please come? Mum would love to see you. She still natters on about you helping to make all those cookies.”

“Goodbye,” said Hecate.

“Very well,” said Dimity, relenting. “Goodbye, Hecate, and Merry Christmas.”

Hecate transferred the rest of the way to her potions lab.

****

Hours later and Hecate’s mood had only darkened. Somehow, she’d allowed her potions stores to become recklessly low – even to the point of not being able to make commonly used remedies. Clearly, she had allowed Pippa Pentangle to become a distraction. Well, no more. Back to business as usual.

She flicked her wrist and the door to the ingredient cupboard closed and locked behind her. Flipping open her pocket watch, Hecate decided a quick bite from the kitchens would be her best option for the evening meal. Making her way to the door of the potions lab, she reached for the knob, drawing back sharply when she saw her father’s face.

Startled, Hecate cast an illumination spell, looking closely, however, she saw nothing but the normal knob. No face, no shadows…just a regular doorknob. Shaking her head, Hecate dismissed it as the result of being overemotional and overtired. She transferred to the kitchens and made a cold sandwich from some leftover roast and heated a bowl of nettle soup.

Once she finished, Hecate decided to make the long walk back to her rooms, hoping the empty corridors would provide some soothing familiarity for her jangled nerves. Unable to help herself, she checked each doorknob she passed. Every knob seemed its usual configuration. “Bats!” she spat, as she made her way to her rooms.

Arriving in her quarters, she closed the door with a bang. Remembering her father’s face on the doorknob, Hecate checked her rooms. She went through the sitting room. Nobody was under the table or the sofa. She inspected the bedroom. No one was in the cupboard, under the bed, or in her dressing gown.

Satisfied, Hecate got ready for bed and sat in front of the fire to read. She couldn’t concentrate, though, and found herself gazing absently into the flames, Pippa refusing to leave her thoughts. As Hecate stared, each tile around her fireplace filled with her dead father’s face. Almost at once, she heard the tinkling of a bell, much like the one she used to call time during lessons. Soon, bells all over Cackle’s were ringing.

Hecate had no idea how long the ringing lasted, but it felt like forever. Then it stopped. In the silence, Hecate heard a clanking noise coming from the old dungeons. It sounded as though someone was dragging a heavy chain across the stone floor. She could hear the noise getting closer and closer, until it sounded as though it was right outside her door.

“Bats and humbugs!” She said. “It’s just my imagination.”

Her color changed, though, when the door to her room flew open and in walked her father’s ghost. The room took on a chill, despite the roaring fire.

“W-who are you?” Hecate stammered.

“You know who I am, Daughter. Why do you doubt your senses?”

“Because,” said Hecate, “a stomach upset affects them. You may be an undigested bit of beef, or a piece of undercooked potato. You’re more gravy than grave, I think.” Hecate may have sounded brave, but she was trying to control her terror. The spirit of her father disturbed her down to her bones.

“Why are you here? Father?” Hecate asked.

Her father’s ghost stepped closer. “Anyone who does not share their spirit in life is doomed to wander through the world in death and witness what they might have shared on earth and turned into happiness.”

“But… the chains?”

“I wear the chain I made for myself in life, Daughter. You are making your own chains now.”

Hecate glanced down at her dressing gown, expecting to see chains, but none were there.

“Every withheld kindness, every rejected opportunity to connect with another… My spirit never left the confines of books and the Code and now… a weary journey lies before me. I would spare you that journey.”

“I’ve always followed the Code. I –”

“You will be haunted,” her father’s ghost interrupted, “by three spirits. Without their visits, you cannot avoid the same fate as mine. Expect the first one soon. For your own sake, Daughter, remember what I have said.”

Then, the ghost moved towards the window and it opened wide. Hecate followed. She heard confused noises in the air – the sounds of sadness, regret and pain. The ghost joined the choir and floated out into the night.

Hecate slammed the window shut and hurried to her bed. She magicked every light on and crawled under the blankets, falling asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.

****

When Hecate awoke, the room was so dark she could hardly see. The clock chimed midnight, though she knew it had been later than that when she went to bed. She felt groggy, knowing she couldn’t have slept through an entire day and into another night. She tried to remember the visit from her father’s ghost. It couldn’t have been real, could it?

When a bell struck one, the lights flashed on and off again and her bedroom door flew open. Hecate found herself face to face with another spirit.

Long, white hair framed a youthful face. A girl, Hecate thought, looking closer. Her arms and legs were bare, and she wore a tunic the color of her old Amulet’s Academy uniform. In one hand she held a fresh, green holly branch, in the other, a bundle of fresh herbs.

“Are you the spirit Father warned me about?” asked Hecate.

“I am,” the ghost replied, sounding very far away. “I am the Ghost of Christmas Past.” The ghost was holding a witch’s hat, but it was a crushed, moth-eaten thing, worse than Mildred Hubble’s hat ever was. “You don’t care for my hat? It was made by the behavior of people like you. I’m forced to wear it year after year.”

“I’m sorry,” Hecate whispered. “Why are you here?”

“To save you from yourself, of course,” she said, clasping Hecate’s arm gently. “Come with me.”

Hecate found herself transferred to the middle of a snow-filled courtyard. To their left, Hecate could see a group of girls in high spirits, laughing and playing together. Her muscles tensed. She recognized them at once: Agnes Monkshood, Piety Pendragon, Rosalyn Thornspike and the rest of her form.

“It’s end of term, though the school is not quite deserted,” said the ghost. “A lonely child, neglected by the others, is still there.”

“I know,” Hecate said, scrubbing a tear from her face. They walked to the school, entering a door in the back. There, in a long, bare room filled with desks, sat a lone girl with long, dark hair, reading. Hecate stiffened at the sight of her poor, forgotten self.

Suddenly, a vivacious blonde girl wearing a pink coat over her uniform, burst into the room. “That’s Pippa!” Hecate called out happily. “She was my friend.” Hecate smiled broadly as she watched her younger self be pulled out into the courtyard to join in with the others, Pippa’s hand never letting go.

“Let’s see another Christmas,” the ghost said, smiling.

Hecate’s former self grew larger, but there she was, alone again, when all the other girls had gone home for the holidays. She wasn’t reading now but looking nervously out of the window. Again, the door burst open. This time, a teenaged Pippa Pentangle darted in, flung her arms around her neck and kissed her on the cheek.

“If he doesn’t come, you really must come home with me, Hiccup! We can be together for Solstice and Yule and Christmas and we’ll have the happiest time in the world.” Pippa twirled around the room. “It will be fabulous!”

“She’s always had a large heart,” Hecate said fondly. She remembered their quarrel earlier today? Or yesterday? Shaking her head, Hecate murmured, “I’ll never understand what she saw in me.”

“Time grows short,” observed the spirit. “Come quickly!” Suddenly, they were in the Great Hall at Amulet’s Academy. Dozens of trees dripping with fairy lights lined the walls. The night sky twinkled against the ceiling while magical snow flurries filled the air. Hecate recognized it at once:  The Winter Ball of her final year at Amulet’s.

Soon, music filled the room and the girls began streaming in to the celebration. They talked and hugged and danced and laughed. There was cake, cold roast, mince pies and plenty of hibiscus punch. Hecate watched as the girls enjoyed themselves, looking for a familiar flash of golden hair.

There! Hecate spotted them, in the prime of life. Pippa was beyond radiant. Her own face lacked the rigid lines that appeared over the years, but she already showed signs of worry and stress. In an instant, they were closer, and Hecate could see the hurt in Pippa’s eyes.

“But… Hiccup? We’re already here? You look beautiful, darling. Who cares what those other girls think?” Pippa frowned at the girls behind them. “Will you at least dance with me once? We’ve been practicing all term.”

“Pippa…I can’t…” Hecate watched her younger self, willing her to change history. To be brave for Pippa. “You don’t understand…”

“I don’t. I’m here. Those other girls don’t matter to me. At all. I don’t understand why they matter to you.” She stepped closer. “I’ve always been happy with you, Hiccup.” A crowd of girls spotted them and began calling Pippa’s name. She waved them off and stepped closer to Hecate. “I’m here with you, Hiccup. You.”

“That’s just it, Pipsqueak. You should be here with them.”

“But…” Pippa trailed off as Hecate exercised her new-found skill at transferring. “But I love you, Hiccup.”

Hecate clapped her hands over her mouth, stifling a gasp. Pippa had loved her. Months before she’d derailed their lives by abandoning her at the broomstick waterski display, Pippa had loved her. “Spirit!” said Hecate in a broken voice. “Remove me from this place.”

Hecate found herself alone in her bedroom once again, every light ablaze. Sobbing, she flung herself into bed, soon sinking into a deep sleep.

****

When Hecate awoke, it was nearly one o’clock. She opened her bedroom door this time, so she wouldn’t be taken by surprise. Then she waited. And waited. Her stomach twisted in on itself as nothing happened. She turned and opened the window, leaning out into the cold air, still seeing no one.

Turning back into the room, Hecate noticed a strange light coming from the next room and a strange voice was calling her name. She stepped into her living room and saw that the walls and ceiling were covered in winter greenery and a mighty fire roared in the hearth. Her sofa and chairs were gone. In their place stood a large table, laden with a rich feast of meats, cakes, fruits and steaming bowls of wine. At the head of the table sat a jolly giant of a man. The man wore a loose green robe trimmed in white fur; on his head rested a crown of holly. His feet were bare and, in his hand, he carried a glowing torch.

“Well met, Spirit,” Hecate said, hand on her forehead.

“I am the Ghost of Christmas Present,” smiled the spirit. “Touch my robe!”

Hecate did as she was told. Everything disappeared, and they stood on the snow-filled city street on Christmas morning. It was still cold and gloomy, but the people bustling about were cheerful, calling out to one another as they hurried to their destinations.

The spirit led Hecate through the city and straight to Mildred Hubble’s flat. Hecate could see that Julie Hubble had followed her instructions to the letter. A slim Yule tree stood in front of the patio door, a handful of presents arranged underneath. The candles danced brightly from their place in the Yule log. An evergreen wreath hung on the door.

Mildred sat on the floor, working on her potions notebook. Hecate frowned. On Christmas Day? Why wasn’t she opening packages?

“Millie!” Julie placed a platter of pancakes in the center of the table. “Put your schoolwork away, love. It’s Christmas.”

“But, Mum… I have to get caught up. I’m tired of being the worst witch at Cackle’s.”

“Worst witch? How can you say that, love? You’ve saved that school more times… And you are from a witching family. You’re nowhere near the worst witch.”

“I wish Miss Hardbroom thought so.”

“Don’t you worry about what old lady Hardbroom thinks about you, love. She’s not as perfect as she thinks she is.”

“But –”

“No buts, love.” Julie tapped the back of the chair with her spatula. “Now come get your pancakes before they get cold.”

Mildred sighed and closed her notebook. Flopping into her chair, she picked up the bay leaf that sat in the middle of her plate. “What’s this for?”

“It’s a tradition of some witching families.” She pulled out a marker and handed it to Mildred. “We write a wish on the leaf and then burn it to release the wish. I thought it sounded like a lovely tradition.”

Mildred took the marker, thought for a moment and then carefully wrote her wish on the leaf. Julie took the marker and did the same.

“Can I light it?” Mildred asked, pointing at the bowl Julie put between them.

“Certainly.” She started to hand Mildred a lighter but put it down when she saw her daughter casting a spell. In seconds, both leaves were burning, filling the kitchen with fragrance. “What was your wish, Millie-Bear?”

Mildred shrugged and started spreading butter on her pancake. “I wished that Miss Hardbroom didn’t hate me so much.”

“I don’t hate you, Mildred!” Hecate dropped to her knees next to Mildred’s chair. “I’ve never hated you.” Hecate turned to look at the spirit. “Does she truly believe I hate her, Spirit?”

“Unless something changes, the child will carry the feelings of isolation and inadequacy for all her days,” replied the ghost. “The Craft is in decline.”

Hecate winced upon hearing her own words turned back on to Mildred. “You are not the worst witch, Mildred Hubble. You are clever and resourceful and kind…” Everything she’d always considered Pippa Pentangle to be, she realized.

The spirit stepped closer, holding out an arm. Hecate nodded and climbed to her feet, clutching at his robe.

They appeared on the porch of a stone cottage. Warm light glowed through the windows, flooding into the garden along with the sounds of music and laughter. One laugh carried over the rest and Hecate recognized it immediately.

“She said she’d hex anybody that wished her Merry Christmas, if she could!” cried Dimity Drill, “and I think she would, too.”

A young man Hecate recognized as Dimity’s brother handed her a mug of wassail. “I don’t know how you put up with her, Dim-bulb.”

“Oi!” Dimity playfully punched him in the arm. “Actually, I like the old crone. A lot. I feel sorry for her, though. I couldn’t be angry with her if I tried.” Her brother scoffed at the idea. “S’true! She’s the one who suffers the most because of her attitude. That’s why I will always give her the same chance every year, whether she likes it or not. I just wish she’d pull the broomstick out of her arse long enough to realize she has friends – and a beautiful woman that’s head over heels for her.”

“Sounds like that woman is you, Sis!” her brother teased.

“You’re who needs a bloody hexing,” Dimity muttered, flicking a blob of magic into his wassail and causing it to splash all over his holiday sweater. “But I reckon if HB doesn’t figure things out soon, she’s gonna lose Pentangle all over again.”

“Wait!” Dimity’s brother shook his head. “They were dating? The glamor girl and Mistress of the Night?”

“Don’t call her that,” Dimity said, punching him again. “I don’t know what they were, but they were definitely something. And neither one of them ever got over it.”

After dinner, the spirit took Hecate to visit sick beds, and foreign lands, struggling people and poverty-stricken families – and all these places were rich with hope, friendliness, patience and love. Their last stop found Hecate standing in very familiar territory: Pippa’s rooms at Pentangle’s. She expected to find Pippa with her family, or singing along to modern Christmas music, or at the very least enjoying a quiet evening with friends.

She didn’t expect to see Pippa curled in a chair, wearing the purple sweater Hecate had loaned her weeks ago, her tear-streaked face glistening in the firelight. Hecate stepped closer. “Pipsqueak?” A tumbler of Witch’s Brew rested on her knee. Hecate tried to pry it from her grip, but her own fingers passed right through it. “Please don’t cry. I’m sorry I was cross.” She looked around Pippa’s living room. Everything was a tasteful mix of pinks and blacks. Hecate saw her name embroidered on one of the stockings hanging from the mantel. Why couldn’t she just say ‘yes’ when Pippa had asked her to come for Christmas? “I’m sorry I was so me, Pipsqueak. You’ve always deserved more than I’ve given you.” She glanced down, seeing her signature prominently displayed on Pippa’s cast. It was still the only one there. “Please, Pippa… I’ll make it up…” She couldn’t even finish the thought. How do you make up skipping your first Christmas together in over thirty years? Hecate scrambled backwards as Pippa shoved herself to her feet.

“Merry Christmas, Hiccup. Maybe next year.” Pippa took a long gulp from the tumbler then threw what was left into the fireplace, unflinching in the face of the flareup. Without another word, she summoned her crutches and made her way to her bedroom.

“I didn’t…” Hecate turned to the spirit.

“Shall I wait while you hex her?”

A bell began to chime.

****

Hecate hardly had a chance to get her bearings before another phantom slowly and silently approached. She could see no face, no features. Everything was hidden under a black cloak, save one outstretched hand. The spirit’s mere presence filled Hecate with dread.

“W-well met, Spirit. Are you the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Be?” Hecate pressed her hands against her thighs. “You are the spectre I fear above all others.”

The spirit said nothing. Its hand pointed straight out in front of them, but Hecate understood.

“Lead on, then,” Hecate said, resolutely determined to see tonight through.

The village seemed to spring up around them, the same but also different. Hecate found herself standing among a cluster of wizards and witches.

“No,” said a great fat wizard with a massive chin, “I don’t know much about it. I only know that she’s dead.”

“When did she die?” asked another.

“Last night, I think,” said another. “The funeral rites ought to be interesting.”

The crowd strolled away, and while Hecate hoped the spirit would explain, the spirit only pointed at two women. Hecate knew these women.

“Do you think she finally drank herself to death?” Dimity asked. “I don’t know how she lasted as long as she did.”

Marigold Mould shook her head. “I hope not. Do you think she knows yet?” Dimity shrugged her shoulders and hurried on through the cold.

They left the busy scene and went to a part of town Hecate had never been before. She knew it by reputation, though. The narrow streets were filled with crime and misery. As they watched, a lorry pulled up, boxes stacked haphazardly in the back. A dark-haired wizard came out of one of the shops.

“I didn’t think you’d be back with the goods this soon!”

“Well, when you don’t have any heirs fighting over yer ev’ry last button, it don’t take too long.”

The dark-haired wizard opened one of the boxes and had a look at what was inside. He offered a small sum of money for the lot.

Hecate shuddered. “Is the dead witch me, Spirit?” Suddenly, she was standing in a morgue, a sheet-covered body on a table before her. Hecate glanced at the phantom. Its steady hand pointed to the body. Hecate could easily have pulled the sheet away, revealing the face. But she couldn’t do it.  “Please, can we leave this horrible place? Surely, someone is affected by this woman’s death.”

The phantom spread its dark robe and Hecate found herself in the middle of a launderette. Puzzled, Hecate studied the people inside. Who spent Christmas Day in a launderette? No one looked familiar, in fact, everyone seemed to be Ordinary. She was beginning to wonder if the spirit had made a mistake when she felt a slight prickle of magic on the back of her neck. She spun around and came face to face with Mildred Hubble.

Sort of.

Mildred stood outside the launderette, paintbrush in hand, as she repaired the painted window murals. Hecate couldn’t help but smile, even if she didn’t understand why Mildred was here, of all places. She found herself on the other side of the glass, examining the woman that Mildred had grown into.

Her clothes were well-worn, barely above ragged. In her thirties, Hecate guessed. She looked angry, her expression bitter and pinched. In the space of a heartbeat, Maud Spellbody appeared by her side.

“Millie! Your mum told me you’d be here.” Maud waited for Mildred to respond in some way. When she continued painting a snowman, Maud doggedly kept on talking. “Have you heard?”

“I’ve heard. Mum told me.” She finally dropped the brush to her side and looked at Maud. “What’s that got to do with me? You know I left the magic world. I do this now.”

“NO!” Hecate looked from Maud to Mildred and back again. “Left? How on earth did that happen?”

“I know. But I know you have to feel something, Millie. Even if it’s been a while.”

“It hasn’t been long enough,” Mildred snorted, taking up her paintbrush again. “You know I was never really a part of that world.  HB told us all often enough.” She stepped up on a stool so that she could reach the top of the painting. “I have to work, Maud.”

“She left.” Hecate said, confused. “Why did you leave, Mildred Hubble? WHY?” Of course, Mildred didn’t answer.

Hecate turned to the spirit and found herself standing in the middle of a churchyard. The spirit pointed to one of the graves.

Dozens of witches and wizards in formal robes crowded around the grave. “Oh! See Spirit? People remembered. I was mourned!” Hecate pressed through the crowd, trying to see who had come. It didn’t take her long to realize that she didn’t recognize anyone.

“It’s a shame, isn’t it?” an older witch said. “She died all alone, heartbroken.”

“No heirs, no living family at all,” said another. “I heard she spent her entire life pining away for some mysterious lost love.”

“Pathetic.”

“It wasn’t pathetic!” Hecate shouted. “I never stopped loving her…” Hecate pushed through the crowd, still trying to hear everything being said about the woman in the grave.

“Drunk herself to death is what I heard, not that you could ever tell.” A sorrowful young wizard shook his head. “I never would have guessed it at school.”

Hecate froze. She every cell in her body turned to ice – it burned far more than it did when the Founding Stone died. Cackle’s didn’t allow boys. Hecate staggered to the front of the crowd, finally breaking through, the phantom back at her side.

The ghost said nothing and only pointed down at the grave. Following the finger, Hecate looked down at the headstone and read the inscription: PIPPA PENTANGLE.

“No… NO…” Hecate dropped to her knees, stomach churning. “Spirit, are these shadows of things that will be, or of things that only may be?” She clutched at the phantom’s robe. “I swear, I am not the witch I was before… I can change… I will change… I-I will value my friends, Spirit. I will tell her how I feel. I swear I will live a better life!”

But as Hecate clung to the phantom’s cloak, it shrank, collapsed, and dwindled down into a pillow.

****

Hecate saw that the pillow was her own. That the bed she was in was her own. In her own room. She scrambled out of bed. “I promise I will change,” she rasped. She was so hot and aflutter with good intention, and she had been sobbing so much as she had pleaded with the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Be, that her broken voice could barely make a sound.

She raced through her quarters, eyes darting everywhere. Her things were still there. Her books still sat on the shelves. Her tea set still sat on the table. She spun around. Pippa’s snow globe still sat on the mantel.

Pippa.

Hecate ran back to her bedroom. As she hurried to dress, Hecate laughed and cried to herself. She turned her clothes inside out, then put them on back to front, forgetting she could simply magic herself dressed.

“No matter,” she said, rapping on her vanity mirror with her knuckles. “Dimity! Dimity Drill! Are you there?” She knocked impatiently until a half-asleep sports witch appeared on the other side.

“Bloody hell, HB, what do you want?”

Hecate sat up, suddenly afraid she was too late. “What day is it?”

“Are you kidding me? It’s Christmas Day, you batty old crone! What do you want?” Dimity tried opening her eyes wide, but she just couldn’t keep them that way.

“I’m not too late, then. May I still come for Christmas?”

“What?” That jarred Dimity into wakefulness. “Why?”

“I want to celebrate with my friends. Please, may I come? I’ll bring food.”

“Yeah, yeah, you can come,” Dimity said, rubbing her eyes. “Why the sudden change of heart?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” Hecate bit her lip, working up the nerve to ask her next question. Dimity noticed.

“What else do you want?” she asked.

“Is it all right if I bring a guest?” Hecate waited, rocking back and forth slightly in her excitement.

“If I say yes, can I go back to sleep?” Dimity waved her hand at the mirror. “Whatever, HB. Yes, bring whoever you want.” And with that she closed the connection.

Hecate stared at her refection in the glass. The connection might be dead, she thought, but all it takes is a moment to make another one. Their connection was not dead.

It hadn’t been, not even over the last thirty years.

Their friendship would survive. Thrive, even.

It hurt too much to think of it any other way.

Hecate took a deep, steadying breath before tapping the glass. “Pippa Pentangle,” she said, clearly and calmly. Faster than she thought, Pippa was there. “Pipsqueak… I’m sorry…”

“Hiccup? Is that you? You look like a jumble sale.”

“That’s the one place I haven’t been tonight, actually,” Hecate grinned. “I wanted to… I know we quarreled, and it was my fault… but I wonder –”

Pippa held her hand up to the glass. “Yes. Whatever it is you’re about to ask, yes.”

Hecate placed her hand on the glass against Pippa’s. “I want to spend Christmas with you, Pipsqueak, if you will.”

Pippa’s response was drowned out by the sound of church bells ringing in the village below, so she nodded.  Vigorously. “Happy Christmas!” she said once they stopped.

“Happy Christmas, Pippa, and may the spirits bless us, everyone.”

#ww2018winterfluffevent #alcohol abuse and bitterness warnings #hicsqueak #hecate hardbroom #pippa pentangle #ghosts