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lepusrufus · 3 years

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To bargain for immortality pt.5

Another few good weeks passed before they heard from their so-called goddess, gone who knows where. Not that anyone would ever question her absences, even the lords knew better than to stick their noses in her business.

When Nicole found herself once again following Emma through blue-lit underground corridors, there was an odd determination in her strides. She wanted to figure out what the hell was going on with her and Miranda, if nothing else, was a scientist who above all loved solving an equation. And what else could her situation be described as if not an intricate equation with a bit fat X as her missing factor.

She was right in thinking that Miranda would find her issue of interest, as when she finally brought it up the woman furrowed her brows and turned to face her, a clipboard grabbed from a nearby table.

“And there was nobody else?”

“No. Just me, Cassandra, the pharmacist and some guy that came for his medicine,” Nicole answered with a barely contained huff.

“What for?” Miranda tapped her pen against the paper in anticipation, a clear sign that she may be onto something and was only putting together some puzzle pieces that nobody but her could see.

Nicole had to dig through her memories for a moment. “An infection. At least that’s what the pharmacist mentioned.”

Miranda hummed and scribbled something else. There was no point in trying to decipher what exactly, the woman had the handwriting of two drunk doctors put together. How very fitting for her.

Without another word, she was on her feet, unbuttoned lab coat flowing after her the same way her black robes did when in goddess mode. “Follow me. I want to test something.”

And what else was she supposed to do really?

Quick steps took them down the hallways, black stone walls surrounding them and taking on an odd shine under the unnatural neon lights above. At least Nicole didn’t have to jog for once, Miranda not being that much taller than her.

The journey was short and they reached their destination quickly, which seemed to be a door not unlike the one belonging to the lab they had just vacated, except this one had the number 24 engraved on a small plaque on it. Miranda pushed it open to reveal a small hospital looking room, four beds divided by grey curtains but only one seemed to be occupied, a sleeping woman hooked to a heart monitor whose rhythmic beeping caused some memories to resurface in Nicole's mind.

Those memories however were quickly pushed down by a sudden burst of nausea at the decaying smell that seemed to forcefully crawl its way down her throat. Nicole all but slapped a hand to her face and turned around in a pathetic attempt to block out the overwhelming sensation. Some blood also started to trickle down her face and past trembling fingers, although thankfully not an ungodly amount like before.

By some mercy of well… herself, Miranda didn't stop her when she decided to do a wobbly turn and hastily exit the room. She followed Nicole out and observed as she slumped against a wall, pulling a tissue from a pocket to wipe at her face.

"What… the fuck," Nicole breathed out.

"Was that the same as before?" Miranda's eyes were full of a weird kind of glee that could only belong to a mad scientist. Not that that would be an inaccurate description for the woman.

Nicole only nodded, trying to get her face on a more presentable level before speaking again. "Is she-..."

Miranda scoffed. "Are you deaf? I can assure you the woman is quite alive," she responded with an eye roll.

The soft beeping monitoring the heartbeat could be heard faintly from behind the closed door, so her words had to hold some truth to them. Though her intentions were still shrouded in mystery.

"Then why the hell does she smell like that?"

"She doesn't," came the nonchalant reply and it had Nicole almost seething.

Is your ego stuffed up your nose, is what she wished she could snap and say, but she knew better.

If Miranda noticed the daggers in her eyes, she paid them no mind. Instead she noted something down on the paper precariously attached to the clipboard she got a hold of before exiting the lab they had been in previously. When she finished, she simply motioned for Nicole to follow and continued further down the hallway, without a second glance.

She only stopped once to exchange a few words with an unfamiliar assistant on the whereabouts of certain patients. Patiens. Why would Miranda keep any sort of patients down there?

Before she had time to dwell on it, Miranda pushed another door open, this time leading to another corridor dimly lit by strategically placed torches. Apparently nobody bothered to get electricity to this particular part of the underground maze of tunnels, the warm light so pleasant on the eyes as opposed to the harsh neons of the previous area. The tunnel was also long, way too long for it to be an often used path, especially given how awfully humid the air was becoming. Nicole tried to take a mental note of where they were heading, squinting her eyes in an effort to imagine what was above them, but with how convoluted the tunnels down there were, it was fruitless.

After maybe fifteen minutes of walking, awkward silence -at least awkward on her part, Miranda didn't seem to care- only broken by the echo of steps and the soft sounds of crackling fire from the torches, the tunnel ended in what looked to be a far too modern stairwell. Nicole had to pause for a second, looking at the unnerving contrast where dark ancient stone gave way suddenly to gray concrete and steel, going up in sharp angles and blocking the view to whatever laid above. The overall architecture did look vaguely familiar though, but Miranda didn't seem to have the patience for sightseeing as she quickly started walking up the stairs.

At the top of the staircase stood a steel door that was quickly unlocked to finally reveal a place that Nicole recognized. She blinked rapidly in surprise, all but freezing in the doorway at the sight of the hospital corridor she had walked down on so many times before, complete with a handful of nurses discussing in a corner. She shook her head and slowly followed the woman, not wanting to remain behind. It didn't take long before they came across the one person Miranda was apparently searching for.

"M- Mother Miranda," Salvatore's voice came in an oddly high pitch, at least for him, when he almost crashed with her in his hurry to get somewhere.

"Moreau," Miranda greeted with a nod and unreadable expression. "I need the documents on each of your patients and where they're staying." Straight to business apparently.

He simply nodded and moved his attention to one of the nurses standing nearby, instructing him to finish whatever task he was supposed to before their arrival. The man moved rigidly, painfully aware of Miranda's presence. Then, Moreau led them to his office, starting to pull out a consistent number of files from a large bookcase.

His office was, unsurprisingly, a mess aside from the one place he held the documents keeping track of all his current patients, complete with a few books and office supplies haphazardly placed on the desk. A few spare white coats were hanging just by the door, together with a long and worn leather jacket that he often times wore when outside the building. A familiar string of bones was also peeking from one of its pockets, nowadays worn as a necklace since, after the effects of his mutation were lessened, he found the crown quite unsightly.

"Are you coming by anytime soon," his voice came from behind, snapping her out of her exploration. "We could use a hand sometimes."

Nicole turned to give him a polite smile. "I may, but I have some things to get out of the way for now."

A glance in Miranda's direction revealed the woman hunched over the documents on the desk, writing down a list with the aid of whatever she was reading. They could do some small talk for the time being.

"How have you been," Nicole asked, turning to him again.

She and Salvatore were on quite friendly terms ever since she started occasionally helping out in the hospital that he was in charge of. Not that they had much time to ever hang out, but the few times they did, it's always been a pleasant interaction among colleagues.

"Some days are better than others," he responded with half a shrug.

Judging by the deep purplish circles under his eyes, today wasn't particularly stellar. He was slightly hunched, whether it was out of habit from a time when sitting straight was quite impossible or from tiredness, she couldn't tell.

"Any news from the castle?" He asked with a chuckle. He was rarely welcomed in Alcina's home so the curiosity wasn't unwarranted.

Nicole shrugged. "Same old same old. Bleeding out prisoners, stopping Daniela from breaking vases and all that boring pseudo nobility stuff."

He let out a quiet laugh. "Nobility? Should I start calling you my lady?"

Nicole snorthed, giving his shoulder a small shove that didn't make him move in the slightest.

Their joking banter was interrupted by Miranda all but shoving her way in between them and out the door, calling for her to follow. With a small wave, Nicole was quickly after her, falling in step just slightly behind the other woman. Though it was a small building after all, so it didn't take long to reach the first door on Miranda's list.

"I want you to tell me exactly what you feel," she flatly told Nicole while pushing the door open.

She frowned, eyes slightly narrowed in confusion and glued to Miranda's back as she stepped inside the small room after the woman.

Any incredulous question died on her tongue when she seemed to be yanked back in time, to the yearly family trips her father insisted they all go on. It was to a relative, or family friend, Nicole couldn't quite recall, who owned an old cabin near a lake. Problem was, the lake was always murky and full of algae, the water gaining an unpleasant scent under the August sun. She and Alex never tried swimming.

"Well?" Mirada raised an eyebrow, impatient.

Nicole scrunched up her nose, both wanting and desperately trying not to take a deeper breath. "Pond water? The kind of water that's stagnant and muddy in summer, full of dead fish and weeds."

She tried not to fidget, her mind running a thousand miles an hour. The so-called goddess seeming completely uninterested in shedding light on what the hell they were doing was not of much help either. A frustrated sigh threatened to escape when another person spoke up.

"Doctor?" A meek voice came from the only bed in the room, from a young woman who seemed asleep when they had walked in. She looked between the two of them confused and with squinted eyes.

Miranda simply raised a hand, not even sparing the girl a glance. "Pay us no mind, we're only here to check on something. We'll be on our way in a moment."

Nicole couldn't help the confused look she threw the girl's way. Was she not recognizing the woman this whole town worshipped? An amused snort almost escaped her but she knew better. Besides, who could really blame her? Mirada was wearing an oversized lab coat, blonde hair held back in a ponytail and there was no trace of the makeup that usually accompanied her ceremonial robes and mask.

Not that Nicole had time to appreciate the odd humanity of Miranda's outfit, as the woman turned on her heels and exited the room as soon as she was done writing. She was starting to grow annoyed with the uncooperative and know-it-all attitude, but decided against voicing any opinions and settled for following along to the next door.

It kept on being a rinse and repeat of the first room, only variables being the patients inside and her answers. Sometimes the change wasn't too obvious, maybe just a more metallic undertone or a new faint smell latching onto her senses, like the sickly sweet aroma of honey. A handful of times though she had to all but slap a hand over her face to not be overwhelmed by the enveloping stench. One room in particular made her almost stumbled backwards and out the door, when a strong metallic smell contrasting the accompanying one of decomposition hit her like a slap in the face. The man inside, who was evidently not doing particularly well, didn't seem appreciative of the apparently crazy woman coming in and rudely interrupting his rest.

Nicole didn't look forward to lingering around by that point, but there was one more room to check.

They pushed open the door, and the familiar stinging scent of decay immediately overtook her senses, seeming to latch on to the very inside of her throat. A small rivulet of blood also started dripping down her face, and Nicole quickly pulled out a paper tissue from her pants pocket to press against her nostrils. It was both to stop the bleeding and to shield her senses from the smell.

Once outside, Nicole was trying to catch her breath while Miranda was simply writing something down. Another set of steps approached them, who turned out to be Moreau coming to check on their findings. Upon being given the clipboard to read -he could actually decipher her chicken scratch, really?- he let out a curious hum.

"I need to go over John Abbott's file and compare them," Miranda started, clicking her pen and putting it back into her pocket. "I'll send an assistant after it later." Then she looked her way and waved a hand dismissively. "You're free to go, I'll send Emma after you when you're needed."

Nicole blinked, dumbfounded, her voice coming out harsher than she probably should've allowed it to be. "That's all? What did you find?"

The exasperated edge in her voice did not go unnoticed nor was it appreciated. Miranda rolled her eyes slightly and gave her an answer. "You can distinguish illnesses by smell. We'll do a more comprehensive test and list, but for now we have enough to say that's how the Mold manifested with you," Miranda explained, half turned away and ready to leave.

And she did turn to leave as soon as she was finished. With a nod towards Salvatore, she made her way back down the hospital corridor and presumably towards the passageway that led back to her lab.

Nicole wasn't particularly keen on going down there again if she could help it, so she instead stuck by Salvatore's side as they walked back to his office.

That day wasn't the first time Nicole had entered that room, so the fact that it also served as some kind of archive did not go past her. The office itself was decently sized, and even had a storage room attached to it with the sole purpose of keeping old files that may be important but Miranda didn't need at hand. Although, in all honesty, Salvatore wasn't particularly skilled in keeping everything organized. That's what my secretary is for, he would say, ignoring the fact that Miranda would gut anyone who touched those documents if they weren't part of the small group of people she deemed worthy. Therefore, the files were a mess, the only saving grace being that he at least had the foresight of organizing them by decade.

With a sigh, he started looking through the binders all but stuffed on one of the many shelves. Nicole sat down at his desk, occupying herself with a crayon that she started twisting around her fingers absent mindedly. There was some semblance of relief in finally figuring out what had so cruelly changed in her body, and what an ironic twist of fate said change was. To have spent years pouring over books learning about the illnesses that now were recognizable by something as simple as an acidic smell of blood. On the other hand though, the knowledge that Miranda had a tendency to find some kind of use for all her experiments left a sensation of dread slowly making its way into the deepest crannies of her chest, where a certain parasite had burrowed and made a nest for itself.

"Mind if I call the castle, I don't really feel like walking all the way back," she asked, eyes settling on the phone pushed to the side by a couple books and scattered pens.

"Sure," he responded without moving from where he was pulling out papers, only to shove them back inside their folders when they weren't the correct ones.

Her hands hovered over the keys for a moment. She wasn't about to call Alcina's personal phone to ask for a ride, heavens no. The phone in Carolina's study, where the Constable would spend her time when not in the stables, would be the best choice if only she could remember the number from memory. Nicole decided that the one in the main hall was the best next thing, where one of the guards at the entrance would probably hear the ringing and answer.

She dialed the number and listened to the typical ringing sound once, twice, until she thought nobody was actually around, but at last, a voice came from the other end.

"Alo?"

Nicole took a moment to recognize the voice as Dalia's, the head chambermaid.

"Hey, it's Nicole," she started toying with the pencil again. "I'm at the hospital, can you send Carolina with a horse to pick me up?" She sensed the slight hesitation on the other woman's side and thought to clarify. "I'm not injured, just with Moreau."

She heard a slight exhale from the other end of the line and had to entertain the thought of whether the woman was relieved due to genuine concern for her wellbeing, or she was well aware of how irritable her wife could be. Her being injured definitely made its way on the list of things that would bring out the anger and cruelty carefully crafted over almost a century.

Before hanging up the phone, she sighed and thought better of her request. "Actually, tell Cassandra to come."

She could almost feel the slight grimace from Dalia at being asked to go talk to the most sadist of the sisters, and with a request no less. Oh well, there's to hoping that Cassandra wouldn't be too peeved at said request coming from her wife.

She hung up after hearing an of course, my lady.

With a way to get back home without having to do the trek on foot assured, she leaned back in the chair, watching Salvatore continue on his search. He was standing with his hands on his hips, eyebrows pulled into a frown that slightly wrinkled the already rough skin of his forehead. He looked almost as if he resorted to glaring at the piles of papers, hoping that enough intimidation would scare the right file into jumping into his hands.

It almost made Nicole snort, were it not for the curiosity that both acted as a distraction and pleaded to get some more answers. "So, who's this… Jack Abbott?"

"John Abbott," he corrected without tearing his eyes from the shelf in front of him. He grimaced then. "He was one of Mother Miranda's earlier experiments, and had a very similar mutation to yours."

At that Nicole's eyebrows shot up past the low line of her fringe, interest successfully piqued. She turned in her seat to fully face him, one arm thrown over the back of the chair. When he didn't continue talking, instead pulling out one of the last binders on the shelf labeled 1930's, she impatiently prodded for more information. "And?"

Moreau pulled a face, probably wondering if he was even supposed to talk about it. It didn't take long for him to let out a defeated sigh, the demand to play dumb were Miranda to ever ask about this going unspoken, but more than understood. "Same thing as you really. He could tell what illness someone had by a specific smell, down to the nasty nose bleeds whenever it got too much," he started, noticing a few drops of blood that had dried on her upper lip.

He turned back to pulling out the very last binder dedicated to that decade and relaxed his posture ever so slightly when he saw JOHN ABBOTT written in big letters and black ink on one file. Another frown tugged his cracked lips downward, the information written in such a clinical way only mudding the memory of the frail man he had briefly met so many decades ago. "His body took well to the Cadou until… well ,until it didn't. I don't know what went wrong, but his body just rejected it at one point and he died being slowly consumed by the infection."

At that Nicole's face fell, dread now overtaking her usual curiosity. He must've noticed, for his next words came the slightest bit rushed and with a strained kind of reassurance that wasn't convincing to either of them.

"It may very well not be connected."

Nicole almost scoffed, not at him but at the situation at hand. The hand holding the pencil was tense and, had she not been as weak as she was, the wood would've probably cracked by then. "Did you know him?"

With a slight shake of his head, he answered, not a negation but more a gesture of pity. "Barely. I was brought here only after he started," he narrowed his eyes at a wall somewhere behind Nicole trying to find the right word. He didn't. "...deteriorating."

That was about as much as her brain wanted to know at the moment, letting a heavy silence fill the space for endlessly too long. She was caught in her own thoughts that started to twist and turn into countless what ifs. Thoughts that crashed to a halt when a nurse knocked on the half open door to announce her presence.

"Lady Cassandra is waiting outside," she told Nicole, expression pulled in a poker face that could only belong to someone who had to deal with her wife and tried to seem unbothered. Tried and failed.

Nicole sprung to her feet, circling the desk and about to make her exit when he called out. "Take care of yourself," Moreau told her, looking up from the papers he was reading.

Her lips turned slightly upwards into a smile. "You too." And then she left, rapid pace taking her through off-white hallways and slight smells that she was now painfully aware of.

Stepping outside was a breath of fresh air in more ways than one, the orange hue of the setting sun welcoming her after the hours passed under the harsh lab lights. How ironic was her hatred for the damned neon lights, when not too long ago she would've gladly spent her life under their bluish glow.

Even better than the warm sun on her skin, was the sight of Cassandra, dressed in her usual riding attire and absent mindedly scratching the furry muzzle of one of the castle's Clydesdale horses. A big beast of a horse, black and white with its feathery legs that, Nicole realized with an eye roll, she wouldn't dream of getting on without help.

Her pace quickened until she found herself embraced by a pair of strong arms, the stable smell mixed with Cassandra's cologne filling her senses with something finally pleasant. She didn't let go until she felt a gentle kiss placed on top of her auburn hair.

"Darling," Cassandra greeted her once she pulled back, gloved hand coming to rest on a pale cheek. "How are you?"

Nicole sighed and pushed into the touch, the kind of tiredness that could only be felt after a day spent bending over backwards to every one of Miranda's whims settling into her bones. "Ready to go back home."

Cassandra simply nodded once and moved her hands on her hips, getting a good enough grip before picking Nicole up to where her foot could reach the stirrup so she could pull herself up. Her wife decided that climbing in the saddle was below her at the moment, choosing instead to turn into a swarm, only to retake her human form a mere second later, on the horse's back, her front comfortably against Nicole's back. With a few taps of her boot against the stirrup still occupied by Nicole's foot in a silent demand to let her guide the horse, she took a hold of the reins and they finally started moving down the stone paved road.

There was no complaint on Nicole's part, taking it as a good opportunity to sit back and enjoy the ride, pressed to her wife's chest.

A few eternally long minutes were spent absentmindedly scratching the horse's muscular neck, where short black fur met the mane held in a beautifully done french braid, that only their Constable could pull so seamlessly. A few long minutes spent mulling over what she had found out, thoughts twisting cruelly with every worst case scenario her mind could conjure. Had she made a mistake? Was the infection a mistake to begin with? How cruel could fate be sometimes. Back in New York she had come to terms with a meaningless life, the only truly important thing she had amounted to at that point being choosing a career path to spite her father. But now, after finding a place to call home where she ached to stay to the point of seeking eternity for it, the very thing that could allow her to remain there forever could also take her life away, miserably so.

"What's wrong?"

Cassandra's voice snapped her back to reality, so much so that she even shook her head a couple times to chase away the lingering thoughts. She gave an inquisitive hum in an attempt to play dumb. The attempt was met with an incredulous eye roll.

"You're quiet," she simply responded.

"I'd think spending decades with Daniela would make you appreciate quiet people," Nicole jokingly threw back.

"Not you," came the reply, one hand leaving the reins and coming to rest on her thigh. "I love hearing you talk, even when you're blabbering about proper medical technique."

At that Nicole let out a light gasp, turning around with mild offence written in her eyes. She couldn't find anything to retaliate with for once, setting instead for giving her wife a slight shove with her elbow, that only elicited a laugh.

She shook her head and let out a sigh. "We did figure out what's with the damned nosebleeds." At a curious hum and Cassandra's chin coming to rest on top of her head, she went on. "Apparently I can distinguish illnesses by smell. Now that would've been useful during med school," she finished with a bitter laugh.

Her wife responded with a snort. "If I were Daniela, I'd say you're joking to hide how you really feel." She shrugged. "However I'm not her, and I'm assuming you'll simply tell me without the need of an impromptu psychoanalysis," she said almost smugly, the hand that was until then lazily placed on her leg finding its place around her waist.

The times when Nicole wished to curse her wife's apparently impeccable observation skills were rare, but this was one such occasion.

She almost let out a groan, pushing further back into Cassandra's form. "There was this other man, John Abbott, with the same mutation. Except his body rejected the Cadou and he died slowly and painfully," she explained, her voice quieting halfway through, but almost flinched when the arm around her went stiff with an almost vice-like grip. The realization of how long Cassandra has really been in the Village for slowly crept its way from Nicole's memory, having been filed away and almost forgotten in a metaphorical drawer of obvious things that however were rarely brought up. "Did you know him-"

"You won't end up like that sorry bastard."

The conviction behind that one simple sentence almost had Nicole letting out another short bitter laugh. Not out of bemusement of course. Irony perhaps, at how determined her wife was to double down on cheating death, not only for herself but her too. Even when death could be brought by the very thing keeping them alive.

"Not much we could do about that," she said in a small voice, one hand toying with the black fabric of Cassandra's sleeve.

"Don't think for one moment that I'm joking," she started, an edge of a warning behind her tone. Her hand came to rest more gently on the bottom of Nicole's sternum, where the skin had healed in a dark scar that seemed to send jagged cracks all the way to her stomach. "I'll pull the wretched little thing out of your chest myself if I have to."

At that Nicole actually let out a laugh. "Way to go with something morbidly romantic."

Cassandra chuckled close to her ear, bending down slightly to leave a peck where her neck and shoulder met. "You're not going to die. I won't allow it."

A silent possessiveness accompanied her words. An implication that she now belonged there, in her arms, and frivolous things such as death had no place to come between them. She should flinch at such implications, were it not for the fact that it was mutual and Cassandra knew better than to recklessly throw herself on death's path, knowing well that soon her wife would follow in her steps.

The soft kiss was returned when Nicole bent back again, until the angle between their bodies allowed for their lips to meet tenderly, in a way that anyone would believe was so utterly uncharacteristic to the both of them, ruthless in their own ways but soft like velvet running on smooth skin with each other.

They rode in comfortable silence up until the gates to the stable, where they dismounted and handed the reins to one of the servants waiting there. The sun had set by then, purple and dark blues reigning the skies as they entered the castle through one of the secondary doors.

She parted ways with her wife, saying that she would soon join the rest of their family as she headed up the stairs. A change of clothes was due. That and a request to their seamstress.

Oh her way back down, she stopped by the open door to the woman’s studio, busy with readjusting some garments for one of the ladies. A curt knock on the wooden frame of the entrance got her attention and had her pulling a face upon realizing that she had probably lost count of whatever she was mentally keeping track of. Nonetheless, she offered a polite smile when greeting Nicole.

“My lady, what can I do for you?”

“I need a facemask,” Nicole started.

The woman’s eyebrows pulled in a confused frown. “I thought a new batch of surgical masks just arrived the other day.”

Nicole raised a hand when she went to check on the shipments list. “I meant something I can wear for longer and outside the lab, surgical masks have a tendency to clash with an elegant gown, you know,” she explained with a chuckle. “Preferably that can filter out any smells?”

“Oh. Of course, I’ll just need to take your measures to make sure it’s fitted for you.”

“I’ll come by tomorrow,” she proposed and, after the seamstress gave her an hour, she continued on her way down the hallway to where the rest of the Dimitrescus were gathered.

Being home brought some peace of mind, thoughts of dying and being forcefully ripped away from her life momentarily placated in favor of enjoying a few hours by the fireplace with her family. Leaning against Cassandra as she draped an arm around her shoulders and listening to Daniela and Bela have a hilariously heated debate over the latest book they've read felt downright blissful in its mundane aspect.

Although no matter what, the little parasite that now called the inside of her chest its home, was quietly gnawing at her worried mind.

#unhinged maiden™ my beloved #cassandra dimitrescu x maiden #mother miranda #salvatore moreau #to bargain for immortality #fanfic #big reveal is big

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deltas-writing-corner · 3 years

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Courtship (4): The Gargoyle Graveyard

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland (Malleus x GN!reader)

Author note: Again, thank you all for being patient with me and I apologize for having a very inconsistent writing schedule. I'm going to make it my goal to update on a bi weekly basis instead of leaving you all in silent limbo. Also a reminder I suck at figuring out which warnings to put so if there's something that needs to be forewarned that I failed to disclose please lmk!

Warnings: Mentions of heavy bodily injuries | childhood trauma/neglect | discussions/mentions of discrimination | mentions of virginity/sexual history

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AO3 version

Clay. Stone. Porcelain. Plaster. Metal. There are even gargoyles carved entirely of wood! Some statues are stand-alone works of art while others are part of a clear collection or series of similar inspiration. They even come in all sorts of shapes and sizes; as small as an apple or a towering height to rival Malleus himself. No matter what, each grotesque has been crafted with the utmost consideration, by well seasoned and knowing hands. Even the ones that have clear defects and cannot serve their intended purpose are free of overabundant ivy, weeds, or dust. There’s a clear degree of love and care the family who makes these statues has for their craft that makes him feel less alone in his interest in an uncherished form of art.

“It should be around here somewhere,” you muse aloud. Ever since he expressed interest in seeing more sculptures made with non-traditional materials, you’ve been keeping your eye out for a particular one that would fulfill his yearning. You eventually find it and eagerly point to it. “There it is!”

Malleus watches as you approach a massive-sized statue covered with a thick and half-wet tarp. He helps you remove the cover, revealing a winged and slightly humanoid canine. There are many more grotesques with a similar design, but what makes this one stand out the most is the material it’s made out of.

“Amazing!” Malleus awes. “I’ve never seen a grotesque of this size made entirely of glass! They’ve even managed to maintain their attention to detail despite such an abnormal material choice.”

“You can even see the inner channel where the water would flow in and redirect out of its mouth,” you notice.

“They even went out of their way to make it functional despite it being unfit for actual installation?” Malleus inquires with disbelief. “Such a shame.”

“If you’re looking to buy anything here, I’m afraid it's a lost cause. One of the first warnings the grandfather gave me is that none of these are for sale.”

“What was his second warning?”

“If we damage anything, even as small as a scratch, he’ll kill us.”

“How charming,” he chuckles. “I cannot blame him. These statues must take weeks to complete. Time is a human’s greatest enemy.”

“For some, sure. But when I went to visit the family and talked to the old man, he was lunging around all this heavy equipment like he was still in his prime,” you recall. “He lives for his craft. If there’s anything humans are at risk of their entire lives, it’s a lack of motivation and reason to live.”

“I suppose that’s true, but the lifespan of humans and the inevitable effects of aging is difficult to live with, especially once it begins to hinder one’s ability to do what one could previously do without issue. ”

“You’re not wrong,” you acknowledge. “But I think I’d rather live a short life with fulfillment than a dull, long-as-shit life.”

To show that he’s entirely on your side, Gunter lets out a guttural bark while his tail rapidly wags and thumps the damp ground, coating the ends of his bushy tail in specs of dirt and dirtied, remnant snow of the north that has managed to stay frozen on the isles warmer south end.

“You’re only agreeing with them because you’ve been promised food,” Malleus chastises. “Don’t think I didn’t pick up on your grumbling stomach.”

“And don't think I didn't pick up on your stomach rumbling either your highness," you quip back at him. "The family has a small cottage nearby we can use. We'll settle down for a bit and eat before sightseeing some more."

Before you turn and walk in the direction towards the aforementioned lodgings, you reach your hand out for Malleus to take and he latches onto you with restrained enthusiasm. He's taller than you, but he takes care not to take his normal strides as to not leave you struggling to keep up with him. Gunter doesn't know the way, so he trots beside you every step of the way up until the destination is in plain view. The cottage is small but well-attended. There’s a rustic flair to its construction that makes it feel familiar and safe despite never stepping foot in it before.

"Those gargoyles were something, huh?" you remark to him while you tap and shake off the gunk wedged into the soles of your heavy boots against the frame of the door.

"Indeed," he nods, taking your cloak off for you and hanging it on the wooden rack nearby. "I don't think I've ever seen that many gargoyles in one day. Just when my eyes land upon an intriguing one, there's several more that catch my attention."

The way he gets all wide-eyed is outright adorable. It makes you grin just as enthusiastically too. "I bet your club is going to have a field day once you tell them about this!"

His child-like smile turns into one of disappointment. "I'm certain they would, if I wasn't the sole member that is."

Your hands halt from pulling out and setting down all the premade food out of your pack. "Seriously? You're the only one?"

When he nods his head, you feel a twinge of hurt in your heart. Poor guy. You can only imagine how disappointing it must be to go through all those lengths to start a club (you would know since you're technically a staff member of the school and have been given a rundown on some of the school's functions and regulations) only for no one to show interest. Of course, you completely understand that gargoyles aren't exactly all the rage within the minds of teenage boys. Still! He goes through so much effort to build relationships with his peers but they always cower away, either due to his status or even because of the way he looks. You won’t deny that he does come off as rather intimidating at first glance, but he's a sweet guy once you give him the chance to speak.

But to expect teenagers going through social pressures and demanding academics to be as understanding and willing to understand someone like Malleus is an impossible demand. Given that everyone in the school can be a bunch of self-centered and easily agitated bunch of pricks, it's understandable that most of the student body isn't keen on trying to take into consideration the proper etiquette one needs to consider in the presence of a young and noble fae. Deuce has met and talked briefly with Malleus on one occasion, but even he visibly shakes whenever his name is mentioned, even in casual passing.

Wait until they found out who you've gone and gotten buddy-buddy with behind their back. They probably think they're slick or that their intentions are well swept under the rug, but it's clear they feel some semblance of responsibility for your well-being, as both a magicless individual as well as a close, albeit older, friend. You dread the day people begin to make the connections between Malleus and you, but you still can’t help but wonder what their reactions might be. You also dread the high probability those two idiots are going to find out and embarrass the living hell out of you, which you know you do not have the patience or tolerance for.

Gunter jumps up and sits himself down in one of the wooden dining chairs, pushing the small ceramic plate towards you with his nose, as if telling you "Alright, I’ve done what I said I'd do, now feed me what I'm owed." You tell him that you'll give him what he's well earned after you get a small fire started in the brick fireplace. Just because it's warmer near the southern half of the island and not as heavily blanketed with snow, doesn't mean the cold has completely vanished, Winter is still winter after all.

"Where did these scars come from?"

Malleus' unexpected question and closeness nearly make you drop the iron rod you've been using to stoke the growing fire. You've since taken off your boots and rolled up the bottoms of your pants just above your knee as the room starts to warm up enough for a thin layer of perspiration to accumulate and roll down your skin. The scars he's referring to are the ones on your right leg, both side by side at an awkward angle and discolored. You have a lot more scars than these, some much more gruesome in appearance than these two. Malleus has never asked about your scars, but sometimes you catch him looking in the general area of some that peak through your clothes. He likely keeps quiet about their existence out of courtesy.

Yet out of all the markings on your body, why did these two stand out enough that he'd finally ask about them?

"It's a long story," you say in an effort to stall the topic. "Sit. I'll feed you two once the fire is stable."

He doesn’t push you for an answer, instead simply doing as you say and lets you poke at the burning logs until they're properly aflame on their own. You made mostly some of your morning favorites; Creamy and thick potato stew with diced carrots and peas and some eggs, ham, and crispy hash browns sandwich between homemade halved croissants. You teased him about having picky taste buds earlier, but Malleus is content to eat anything you serve him so long as it is not comparable to the likes of Lilia's atrocious cooking.

(Seriously, how does a man as old as Lilia not know the basic fundamentals of cooking? And why does everything he makes end up burnt and tasting like something rotten? You will never understand.)

"Don't eat too quickly," you warn Gunter as you pour a bit of light-colored soup onto his designated plate. Your words are ignored, as the equally marred wolf sloppily slurps and munches on the few bits of potatoes and vegetables you generously scraped out of the thermos. His food is gone as quickly as it’s put in front of him and he looks at you expecting more.

"No. The rest is mine," you scold. "And don't beg Malleus for some either! I know you do it behind my back, you little shit!"

He turns to look at Malleus with an accusatory glare, thinking that he ratted him out to you. Malleus’s response towards the silent imputation is to turn and look out the window as if something caught his interest all of a sudden, cup raised to his lips as he politely sips away at his meal without an air of calmness. You have to slap a hand over your mouth to hide the amusement that overtakes your senses.

"Malleus, stop that!"

"Stop what?" he innocently asks.

"Stop making me want to laugh!"

He sets his cup down onto its matching serving dish. "It's not my fault you have an easily satiable sense of humor."

"Wow!" you say incredulously and put your arms up in offense. "And here I was thinking we were friends!"

His distant demeanor breaks and you both devolve into a fit of laughter together. Gunter unfortunately takes advantage of your joint distraction and slips away with a warm sandwich between his jaw, your sandwich in particular.

"That damn wolf!" you curse. "I knew I should have trusted my gut and pack extras.”

Malleus pities your distress before moving over to sit closer. "Worry not. I'll split mine in half with you,” he reassures.

"No, it's fine," you immediately dismiss his offer. "Have it for yourself."

"I'm not taking no for an answer," he firmly states. “Don’t be stubborn. It’s far too early for that.”

"I thought you liked it when I was stubborn?” you pout.

He shakes his head with a smile. “I would be lying if I said I didn’t”

"At least someone likes my attitude,” you say after chewing and swallowing a mouthful of soup. “Sebek certainly doesn’t."

"The boy is stubborn as well. When two equally stubborn individuals cross paths, you will witness nothing but discord between the two."

"Add the fact I'm human into the mix, and we'll be exchanging fists instead of words sooner or later," you scoff. "I get that some faes don't like humans, but what's his deal with acting like he’s got a vendetta against me?"

"Sebek doesn't hate humans for the reasons you might think," Malleus admits. "It’s more like he finds them difficult to think that highly of. Did you know that he is half-human?"

You nearly choke on your own breath over the sudden revelation. "Really?"

"Indeed," Malleus finds amusement at your disbelief. "Have you ever wondered why his ears aren't pointed like Silver, but his eyes are like mine and Lilia’s?"

"Damn,” you scratch the back of your head with embarrassment. “Now I feel stupid.”

"You aren't. Given the way he speaks, not many would assume he had human blood in his veins. His mother was highly regarded within her social circle, but her marriage to a human man tarnished her reputation a great deal. She's happy and does not seem to care what others think of her these days. However, when Sebek set out to be a knight, his mother's marriage and his lineage were often brought up as a way to scrutinize his character and capabilities rather than any of his actual shortcomings as an individual."

"Poor kid," you sigh. "Lilia told me those sorts of things still happen in The Valley, but it sounds so outlandish that I couldn’t take it that seriously."

"Many faes hold old traditions above all else, to a degree that the purity of one's blood stands above all other merits." His eyebrows pressed together in annoyance. "Even my grandmother thinks it's archaic, but as the reigning queen she has to embody a persona of neutrality between the social divide."

"It sounds like you have your work cut out for you in the future," you say, almost apologetically. "What do you plan to do about it once you're the king?"

There's a brief flash of surprise over your question, but Malleus easily answers it as usual. "I think my first course of action as king would be to properly knight Sebek and Silver."

"Bet my rifle that Sebek is going to cry the entire ceremony!" you remark with certainty. "That's all he ever goes on about, being a knight and all."

"He's devoted countless hours and efforts since he was a child. If there's anyone who deserves to join the knighthood, it's him."

"Definitely," you nod to further cement your agreement with him. "He could stand to lower his voice a bit. He'll give you tinnitus before long.”

"At least we won't have to worry about losing him in a crowd," Malleus jests.

"That's to say we'll lose sight of him to begin with," you remark. "He'll gladly lose me in a crowd. You? You'd be lucky to get out of arm's length."

"You underestimate me, dearest," Malleus smirks. "Ever since I've met you, I've perfected the art of avoiding Sebek's insistent searches."

"Have you now?" you razz back. "Don't let him catch onto the fact. He'll have my head."

He reaches over and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. Each second his skin touches yours makes you tingle. Time slows down ever so briefly if only to savor the small instance of physical connection for as long as possible. "What of your aunts?" he inquires. "Are they as overprotective of you as Sebek is of myself?"

"They’re a trio of mama bears," you proudly admit. "I'm old enough to drink and well equipped to fend for myself, but in their minds, I'll always be the little tyke that couldn't even eat their meals without looking at them for approval. Especially my aunt Gia."

You have three aunts. There's your aunt Marisol, the mother of most of your cousins and the main caretaker of the household. Your second aunt Lucia was well into her studies at university when you came to live with them, but her stress and long hours of mulling over her course materials paid off in the long run. Your gardening skills wouldn't be what they are now without her expertise in agricultural botany.

Then there's your aunt Gia. Oldest of the three. An absolute tank of a woman. No spouse. No kids of her own. She lived off the land like an absolute titan. The woman raised you as if she was the one that carried you for nine months and not your actual birth mother.

How would you describe your parents? If your parents were told to list out their priorities in life, their careers would be at the top of the list and you would be put at the very bottom. Why they carried you to term is beyond your understanding. You later learned that Gia had even offered to take you under her care well before your birth, knowing that your parents might not be well-suited to take care of you in the way she thinks would be beneficial for you. It was a convenient offer that would have saved everyone the trouble years down the line when you had your accident. They worked in a cutthroat industry and were constantly moving up the executive echelons. They had no time for you, yet their pride as a pair of young, successful business magnates made them incapable of seeing past the reality of the situation. That left you mostly in the care of last-minute caretakers and your aunts, but only if they had time from their own busy and preoccupied lives to come out into the city and visit.

You were eight years old when things started to get better, but it was upstarted in the worst possible way. Your parents had to go away for the upcoming weekend for work and left you in the care of a babysitter as per the norm. The babysitter never showed up however and your parents apparently couldn’t be bothered to check up on you even once the entire trip. Their silence wasn’t surprising. You just went on about your business for the next three days on your own like nothing was wrong. Your aunt Gia had even called at one point to check up on you, but you didn’t bother to tell her that your parents had left you to fend for yourself. She would have exploded if you did, but not as much as she did when you woke up in the hospital after falling down the stairs and lying helplessly on the ground for several hours with a dislocated shoulder and a compound-fractured leg. You were lulling in and out of consciousness due to all the medication pumped into you, but what little you do remember seeing and hearing when you regained consciousness will forever stick with you for the rest of your life.

If people think your level of swearing is bad, they should have heard your aunt that day. She swore so viciously that it could set an innocent bystander's eardrums on fire. What will forever stand out the most to you was the fact that your parents didn’t even look the least bit apologetic or regretful. They didn’t even approach you once your aunt was done giving them a piece of her mind to check up on you. They simply talked with the awaiting social worker and doctors and then left. It was for the better, but the small part of you that continued to hold onto the desperate belief that your parents would come around one day sent you into a thrashing frenzy and you had to be sedated before you could hurt yourself anymore.

The next year was spent recovering from your injuries, meeting regularly with your caseworker, and going through therapists like a pack of cigarettes. By the time you were back on your feet and the legal proceedings of your custody case were concluded, all you wanted was to move on with it all. Nearly a decade of neglect left you this unattentive, uncertain husk of a person who couldn’t take a single step forward without looking for some sort of guidance or assurance. Your family was exhausted by the entire ordeal and over speaking with third parties. Your aunts took it upon themselves to help you regain your sense of self in the comfort of your new home, no matter how difficult or demanding it was going to be.

“It took some time, but eventually it clicked in my mind that I was in a better place and I started to get better. As for my parents, I have no clue what they’re up to these days.” You lean back into your chair and let out a shaking yawn. “I like to think they’re getting on well like I am.”

“I don’t understand.” Malleus looks at you with unbelievable confusion. “Your parents treated you poorly, yet you don’t sound the least bit resentful. Why is that?”

You shrug your shoulders. “What’s the point? I'm in a better place now, so I've let bygones be bygones. 'Doesn't mean I don't harbor any anger against them anymore. I do, but getting upset won't change what's happened to me."

Gunter, having sensed your discomfort over the matter, trots over and rests his head on your lap. You gratefully rub the top of his head, carding your hands through his thick, coarse hair. "I'm just glad they let me go without a fuss. Family court was hell for my family.” Your eyebrows knit together. “Expensive too.”

Crackling wood fills the momentary silence that befalls the small cottage. What you've recollected to Malleus is a lot to take in, and if you're being quite honest you'd prefer if he just dropped the subject and talked about literally anything else right now. You hope he doesn't say he's sorry or any other type of apologetic comment. That's all you were ever told that entire year it all happened, during court proceedings, your rehabilitation, by both strangers and distant family members alike.

"I'm so sorry. What happened to you was unfortunate. You didn't deserve it."

No shit you didn't deserve any of that. You were a kid. You don’t need one pity party after another to realize that what took place then had fucked you forever. But as you said earlier, you're in a better place now, with a loving and supportive family that's moved on alongside you. A family you need to get back to as soon as possible.

"I love you."

Well, if he was hoping to take your mind off the past. that certainly did it. How can it not? It came out of nowhere and as good as you are at holding your composure when need be, you're sure you look no less like a gaping fish when warm and plush softness presses right against the corner of your lips. A kiss. His kiss.

"What's wrong?" Your voice sounds shaky. You’re nervous.

"Nothing," he smiles reassuringly. "I simply said what I felt needed to be said."

"Fair enough" you concede easily. He was going to say it sooner or later. He already has actually, now that you think about it. Yet here you are trying to process his words like it’s rocket science.

"Am I going about this too fast perhaps?" he genuinely asks. His hands that have been busy massaging your calves that have settled across his lap somewhere during your long retelling gradually slow down, but his hands never go completely still. "This is my first time experiencing something like this."

"What?" You sit up a bit straighter. "A relationship?"

"Yes."

Your head tilts to the side. "Really?"

He nods hesitantly "Yes?"

For a moment, you go completely quiet. "I don't believe you,” you doubtfully say, head shaking to further showcase your refusal to believe him.

He must not have liked your remark, frowning with clear offense in his eyes. When he dislikes something, the vertical slits in his eyes contract into a thin line. "I cannot lie, yet you still doubt me?"

"I know you can't lie, but I find it hard to believe you haven't been with anyone else before," you explain. Before you can consider the appropriateness that was your newfound curiosity about Malleus's apparently non-existent love life, you blurt out, "Are you still a virgin?"

You slap your hand over your mouth the moment those words come out of it. He's equally caught off guard and nearly drops his warm cup of coffee. Even Gunter is surprised by your question, olive-colored eyes looking at you as if you've lost your mind. It's an invasive question, inappropriate even. You and Malleus have been dating for a little over two days. A question like that is way too early to bring up just yet.

"You don't have to answer that," you tell him behind your palm. "I shouldn't have even asked it. Forget I ever brought it up-”

"I'm not," he interrupts you, leaving you even more shocked than you already are. You’re practically gaping like a fish by now. "I'm not a virgin,” he further insinuates.

A deafening silence, but it’s eventually broken by yourself. “I still don’t believe you.”

Malleus gets further annoyed at your refusal to accept his truth. "I'm not lying!" he insists.

"Bullshit!"

"Do you want me to recount my history to you?" he asks, exasperated as you are at the shift the conversation is taking. "Will that satisfy your doubts?"

"You know what? It will!" you loudly declare. "Who'd you sleep with?"

"He was a young page at the time,” he reminisced. “It happened before I was a century old.”

Your eyebrows raise with intrigue. "Was he cute?"

"Yes," he hushedly agrees. The disconcerting admittance paints his face a pinkish-red glow. "But that's not why I bedded him."

"But surely his looks are what made you interested in the first place?” you make blatant regard of the fact.

“You’re not wrong,” he acknowledges, expertly avoiding agreeing with you outright. “But his looks aren't the sole reason I was drawn to him. He was bright-eyed and ambitious, to the point you’d think him insane given his position in the court. It was also the first time I ever truly met with a group of humans, and my young mind was eager to get a more accurate perspective of humans that wasn’t through the lens of my tutors.”

“An ‘accurate perspective’?” You make playful air quotes, eyebrows wiggling because you know the fact that he knows what you’re implying. The playful comment is met with a sharp pinch on your leg that makes you jump and shriek out in pain. Did he have to dig his nails into you? Apparently so, and now you have small crescent indents on your skin. “I bet Lilia had a good laugh when he found out.”

“He doesn’t know, actually,” he admits to you with what is obviously a proud smile.

“Now I know you’re lying to me,” you scoff. “Nothing escapes the old man’s radar.”

His hands begin to rub out the marks he’s left on you as a form of apology. “Lilia is sharp, but he had lost most of his vigor by the time I was born.”

You go wide-eyed again. “You mean his hearing and eyesight was better than it is now?”

He nods affirmatively. “From what I’ve been told, terrifyingly so.”

Lilia is already frightening as is. His short stature and boyish looks make him perfectly unassuming to those who don’t know any better. You once watched him beat up a couple of bulky, twice-his-height students from Savanaclaw without breaking a sweat, yet moments before he was jokingly scolding himself for dozing off so easily. You never once thought he was ever out of his elements. A cold chill runs down your spine thinking how much more perceptive the older fae may have been back during his prime years.

“Wonder what Lilia’s gonna think,” you ponder out loud in a quick effort to banish out the skin-prickling mental imagery your mind was invoking. “About us, I mean.”

Malleus seems surprised that you would change the topic to that of all things, but his initial shock goes away as quickly as it came. “As you may have guessed, he’s an open-minded individual, but he’s also very realistic and unafraid to say what’s on his mind.”

“So what does that mean for you and me?” you question with a bit of hesitation.

“Well,” he trails off and ponders for a moment. “He’ll surely like the scandal our relationship would invoke. However, as my caretaker and mentor, he won’t hesitate to put an end to it if he feels it necessary.”

Had it been anyone else sitting beside you, you’d have found that comment way too extreme and outright ridiculous. However, you are not speaking to anyone ordinary. You are not sitting before someone normal. It doesn't matter how well you get along with him. It sure as hell doesn't matter how deeply in love you are with him, and him of you. The moment you have been deemed a shortcoming, the outings, the closeness, it all stops. All of it will come crashing down and both you and him will be left wondering what could have been done differently.

Malleus is truly your best friend, because already he can tell that your mind is beginning to spiral even when you go quiet. He calls for your attention by gripping his hand around your bare ankle and carefully tugging the end of your limb. “Don’t fret over it too much,” he soothes, yet also sounding like he’s scolding you for letting your mind wander off so negatively. “Lilia is an exceptional judge of character. From what I’ve gathered, you’ve well exceeded all his marks. He trusts you, and to gain such a thing from someone as old and wise as him is an extraordinary feat.”

You brew over the attempted compliment he tried to pay to you. Unfortunately, it doesn’t snub out all these festering thoughts in your head. It doesn’t even give you temporary relief. Perhaps it would have brought you a sense of peace a few months ago, but with everything that has happened thus far, you doubt even Malleus can alleviate the storm that rattles inside you, even if what he speaks is without a doubt nothing but the truth.

Surely he can see that you are still having some hangups. When you lift his hand and plant a chaste kiss on the back of his hand, you hope he can decipher the gesture as a pitiful request for his forgiveness for dampening the once energetic mood. He is not at fault for your loss and inability to think optimistically at the moment and you need to make sure he knows it.

Today is about him, not you. Even if it’s just for today, you’ll put on a pleasant facade and worry about the rest at a later date. It’s just you and him, and for now, that’s enough.

You do a mental countdown starting from three, before finally giving him a late response to the three words he uttered in confidence to you earlier. “I love you too, by the way.”

You love him. You love him. You love him. That’s all his mind can think of for the rest of the day. He replays your reciprocation over and over like it’s sacred and all-powerful.

He had planned to return to his dorm before the sun began to set, but he found the mere idea of detaching from you deeply unwanted and made the last-minute decision to spend the evening at the Ramshackle dorm. He already has a few articles of clothing and personal essentials set up in one of the many empty rooms, so neither Lilia nor you had any objections at his sudden request.

“Don’t worry!” You shout across the room so that Lilia can hear you over his phone. “I’ll make sure he gets to bed on time!”

“You have my gratitude!” Lilia’s muffled voice responds gratefully. “Don’t cause too much trouble now, you two.”

“No promises~” you sing in jest before Malleus hangs up. Once the call ends Johnny, Benji, Franky, and you turn their attention back to their ongoing game of poker. Malleus watches and occasionally laughs to himself over the friendly banter shared between the quartet. At the end of every round, the winner is assaulted with colorful profanities whilst they take their newly won gambling chips with ebullience. Yet with each new dealing of cards, the animosity goes away and they’re all back to being friendly. He finds your interactions with your incorporeal roommates more entertaining than the book he’s been reading to pass the time.

“Hey, fairy boy,” Franky informally calls out toward him. “Don’t be a stranger now. Play a few rounds with us.”

“I’m afraid I’m not well versed in card games,” he admits, yet he still finds himself setting his literature aside and moving over to join them.

“Don’t worry,” you give him a reassuring smile. “They’ll go easy on you.”

“For how long?” he knowingly asks.

You give him an impressed smirk at his quick uptake. “I give it three rounds before they start to pull back their sleeves.”

Malleus is well-adjusted to the need to quickly learn a new topic and the expectation for him to fully comprehend it in full. None of them are harsh on him for his minor mistakes like some of the tutors he’s had in the past. Answers that he believes may be obvious or not as complicated as he thinks they are being answered with enthusiastic patience. The smallest achievements he makes are met with a proud response. When he makes a surprise turnabout and wins his first game, he’s rewarded with an encouraging round of applause by everyone.

“Not bad,” Benji praises as he shuffles the deck of cards. “You’re a fast learner.”

“So I’ve been told,” he humbly replies. “Is this the part where you all stop going easy on me now?”

“Don’t provoke them,” you half-heartedly warn. “Otherwise we’ll be up all night duking it out otherwise.”

Franky sets his glass of iced liquor down on the edge of the table. “Don’t you little lovebirds worry. We won’t take up too much of your well-needed time together.”

Annoyed at the clear jab at his relationship with you, you throw one of your chips towards his head. It passes through his body and clatters on the floor behind him. Your fawn Blossom jumps down from their spot on the couch and goes to sniff it, thinking it to be food, but walks away with a disappointed strut when he realizes it isn’t anything edible.

“I didn’t tell them a damn thing,” you defensively clarify. “It was so obvious what was going on between us that they figured it all out before we made it official.”

He lets out a deep breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “That’s...I can’t say I’m too pleased to hear about that.”

“We won’t say anything,” Franky reassures. “Just make sure to put a sock on the door whenever you guys want some alone time.”

“Franky!” you hiss at him. “What the hell?!”

“What?” he looks at you, unbothered by your clear embarrassment. “Do you honestly expect us to think you guys went out just to look at a bunch of statues?”

“Oh, I’m sure they were looking at something,” Johnny smirks. “It wasn’t made of stone though.”

“I hate you guys,” you growl out, arms crossing and leaning back into your seat with an angry huff. You don’t mean it. He can see the tremble of your lips as you try to contain the urge to grin. “Even if we did end up rolling around in the sheets, I wouldn’t be yapping about it for all to hear, much less you guys!”

“What happens in the gargoyle graveyard stays in the gargoyle graveyard, eh?” Franky winks at both Malleus and you, nudging you with his elbow.

“Exactly!” you affirm, batting the large ghost away from you for some much-needed distance. “Now stop being so damn nosy.”

They cackle one last time and everyone seamlessly goes back to their ongoing game. Conversations like the one that just concluded are commonplace in your dormitory. Even if he contributed next to nothing to the discussion, he enjoys watching them interact. You come from a world where ghosts are hardly as overt as the ones in this world. Ghosts are said to entertain themselves by picking on the living, to the point that it can be fatal. Your ability to come up with witticisms at a moment's notice is something he enjoys seeing in action. He feels great satisfaction not only knowing that he has secured your love but to also see you in a state of tranquility and within your elements.

As Benji and you have a hushed conversation on the sidelines, he reaches over and places his hand on your knee beneath the table. You quietly reach over and put your hand over his, stroking the back of his hand with your thumb like it’s instinctual. Unfortunately, the heart-fluttering moment is ruined by the sudden buzzing of his phone. He has half a mind to ignore it, but when he gives the screen a glance he realizes ignoring the caller is not an option.

“I’ll be out for a moment,” he excuses himself once he sets his hand down and stands himself upright. “This shouldn’t take that long, hopefully.”

They all stop to look up at him inquisitively for half a second. In unison, they ask, “Sebek?”

“Sebek,” he affirms.

There are simultaneous displays of annoyance, pity, and silent wishes of good luck directed at him. He’s tempted to ask where all this contempt for the boy comes from, but then he remembers the many times Sebek barges his way into their dorm at the worst possible moments. It is either when everyone is beginning to settle down after a long day or in the middle of an important house project, the former more so than the latter now that the dorm is much more stable and in need of less restoration. Malleus learned the hard way how ill you and the ghosts will react when your peace is unwantedly interrupted and your space invaded by an unwanted guest.

Sebek is also quick to scrutinize whatever he sees out loud without a filter. You never seem to mind half of the time, merely rolling your eyes and moving past Sebek’s ill-meaning remarks as if you never heard them. As you are someone Malleus highly regards and holds close to his bosom, he hopes Sebek can one day set aside his strife with humankind and give you the due diligence you deserve.

...Though, he completely understands that reaching that point will take time. While you can endure Sebek to a certain degree, there are times where he, unfortunately, pushes you past that threshold and, without flinching, you will tell him to “Shut the fuck up”. Your words, not his.

“Young master!” Sebek's transmitted voice peaks and he has to half pull it away to give his pained eardrums some relief. “I was informed by Lord Lilia that you will be spending the night over at the Human’s dorm. Have you all your accommodations at their estate? If not, I will swiftly-”

“That won’t be necessary,” he half laughs at his enthusiasm over such a small task. “I have enough to keep me comfortable and well for a few days. Your offer is still very much appreciated.”

“Y-Yes, of course,” he stutters. “If there’s anything you should ever find a need for, please inform me at once! I will fulfill your every wishes no matter the hour!”

He’s enthusiastic and ready to act at a moment’s notice, even during the middle of a cold and dark hour. Malleus doesn’t necessarily dislike this part of Sebek, but he’s starting to understand why someone like you would find such subservience difficult to deal with. At any moment, Malleus could ask Sebek to grab some insignificant item of his and tread through the thick snow to deliver it to him, and the boy would do so with jubilation and utmost timeliness. You on the other hand wouldn’t be caught dead ordering someone to do something on your behalf when you believe you are well and capable of doing it yourself.

You don’t put expectations onto the backs of others, choosing to trust yourself first before anyone else. He knows now that it’s a result of the one instance where you expected something from someone, only to be thoroughly let down and left wondering if it was you who did something wrong.

Malleus cannot make up for the pain you’ve been subjected to, but he hopes that he can become the outlier in your life that surpasses any preconceived notions you may hold onto others. He hopes...No, he absolutely will be the one who brings you your well-earned and deserved joy and repose, just as you have done for him and continue to do so.

You love him, and he will ensure he is worthy of every last drop of your fidelity.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland imagines #malleus draconia #twst malleus #malleus x reader #malleus draconia x reader #twst writing #twst fanfic #fanfic: courtship #reader insert #reader insert fanfic #reader insert fanfiction #gender neutral reader #gender neutral pronouns #x reader

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otterandterrierwrites · 4 years

Text

{Hungry hearts} XI. Chowder and fortune cookies

A/N: Hungry Hearts is back! This is my loose interpretation of the March prompt at @hanleiachallenge: luck. It’s set during the EU novel Razor's Edge by Martha Wells, one of my favourites. I’ve always wanted to write something set in this little getaway. I'm thinking there might be one more chapter set on Hoth before ESB, then we'd move to the trip to Bespin very briefly and then jump to post RotJ, but I'm open to suggestions!

also on Ao3 // FFN

***

From the main hold, Chewie growled that there was food now but there wouldn't be for much longer so everyone better hurried up. Han rolled his eyes at the threat as he wiped the worst of the grime off his hands and face before taking a quick detour to the 'fresher. Like the big fuzzball would ever let the princess starve.

He ran into Her Worship herself on his way out of the cabin as she waited for her turn to wash her hands, Threepio tottering behind her. Thankfully, the usually oblivious droid marched on.

'Excited to see what he brought this time?' Han asked, dawdling by the open hatch.

'So far, yes,' Leia said from the 'fresher, 'although I'm a bit concerned he might start to push it soon, you know? Raise the stakes?'

'Oh yeah, I hear ya. That's definitely a concern.'

She raised an eyebrow as she joined him back in the corridor. 'Thanks, that makes me feel better.'

'Well, hey, he's never fed me anything I couldn't keep down,' he reassured her.

'Has anyone ever told you you're possibly the worst motivational speaker in the galaxy?'

The smell that greeted them as they gathered around the Dejarik table told them that, once again, Chewie had hit the mark.

They had taken a short time away from the hustle and bustle of the Rebel Alliance's fleet, hoping that the crew of the Aegis —a gunship of surviving Alderaanians who had turned to piracy after the planet's destruction—would rendezvous with them to join the cause. Two days ago, the Millennium Falcon had landed on a small trading port in Wroona, one of the Alliance's message drop points, and waited.

Han was very much okay with that. After the craziness of their last mission—nearly blown to space dust by Imperials, fighting a killer mining droid, being captured by a sadistic Lorddian pirate, nearly blown to space dust by the Imps again , all in the span of a couple days—he thought a vacation was long overdue. They couldn't go out sightseeing, or motosurfing, but he was happy to just spend some time not being shot at. Leia had probably figured that out when she'd asked him and Chewie to come with her. That, and the fact that they didn't have any duties lined up, since they were not part of the Alliance.

Chewie had taken out three round styrofoam containers out of a bag and set them on the small checkered table.

'[I hope you like Wroonian seafood chowder,]' he told them as Han and Leia slid onto the bench. '[You can go get food yourselves next time if you don't.]'

The creamy broth had chunks of frella fish and shucked nyorks with diced vegetables, and it was so delicious that nobody was in any hurry to relieve the Wookiee of his food-picking duties.

'Gotta love sea ports,' Han commented between mouthfuls. 'It could be the poorest, murkiest place, but they'll know their seafood.'

'[Oh yeah? Here I thought you would never forget about Venonduri,]' Chewie said with a titter, making Han moan with chagrin.

'What happened?' Leia asked, looking between the two friends.

'Not a story you wanna hear at lunch, Princess, trust me.'

Leia made a face. 'Oh. Got it.'

'But Princess Leia, perhaps it would be useful to know more about Venonduri!' Threepio chimed in. 'What if we visit it in the future?'

'We'll just refrain from ordering any seafood, Threepio,' Leia told him seriously, making Han and Chewie laugh.

Leia seemed to be in good spirits so far, but Han wondered how much that would last if the Aegis failed to show up today again. He knew she would act like it was no big deal in front of everyone else, but it'd be eating at her inside that she had personally failed to sway them over to her cause. Han was good at being the subject of Leia's disappointment in that department.

At least they had come to an unspoken truce after their trip to Odona, although that was another thing Han didn't know for how long it would hold. That mission, just the two of them scouting the planet's unpredictable polar continent as a potential new base, had also been kind of a mess. Not only had that one featured multi-eyed monsters and old acquaintances with a grudge, but Odona had turned out to be non-viable for the base. Also, he and Leia had snapped at each other most of the time. That wasn't anything new; they had been snapping at each other since the moment they had met—but then, for a while, they hadn't, or not as seriously and constantly, at least, and it had been nice. Then they started doing it again, but things were different from what it had been like in the beginning, and their fights took longer to digest, and while they did, they corroded Han's insides a bit, like acid. It wasn't like he set out to fight with her, either, but that's where they seemed to land anyway.

Han knew where this ended if they chose the alternative to fighting. He'd been there a couple of times, and sworn he never would again.

'We certainly don't get much fresh fish these days,' Leia said with a sigh then, dabbing her mouth with a paper napkin.

'We can get some before we go,' Han offered. 'It'll keep for one meal at least, for when we get back.'

'Oh, I could ask but I don't think they will clear an expense like that. Fresh fish for the whole fleet… that's not going to be cheap.'

Han frowned. Who said anything about fish for the fleet?

'Right. I wasn't—never mind. Fish ain't that expensive here, Princess, especially if you buy in bulk. Wouldn't hurt to ask.'

After lunch, Leia went back to her work followed by Threepio, Chewie to his tinkering (he always found something to "improve" on the Falcon ), and Han decided it was a good time to delete outdated and damaged files in the ship's navicomputer, a task he always thought he should do one day but never really wanted to. An hour later, he was bored out of his mind.

Getting up from his chair, he stretched his arms up with a groan. He took the long way back to the main hold, peeking into the crew quarters as he passed by. No sign of Leia there. She was not working in the communal area, either, but he did find C-3PO uttering suggestions nobody had asked for. That was weird: Leia had brought him along to help her with work and kept the droid with her at all times. Even though Han knew she grew tired of his constant chatter sometimes, she had promised him and Chewbacca that Threepio wouldn't get in their way.

As Han walked in, he caught the droid jumping back as Chewie roared in annoyance from inside a maintenance hatch.

'Oh dear, there is no need to get so worked up, Chewbacca,' Threepio said. 'I was merely saying—'

'Goldenrod,' Han interrupted, 'd'you know where's Leia?'

'Why, yes. The Princess said she was going out to get some fresh air.'

Alarms set off in Han's brain. 'Outside?'

'That is correct. She said not to worry, she would stay quite close to the freighter.'

'Yeah, alright. Better go check on her anyway.' Thinking it would be better for all if he kept his friend from tearing off the droid's arms during this trip, Han said, 'Are you any good with computers, Goldenrod?'

He didn't have to worry: Leia was sitting on the dock just outside the Falcon , the pant legs of her jumpsuit rolled up as she dipped her feet in the water. She was leaning back on her elbows, basking in the sun, and when Han walked closer, he realized she had her eyes shut and a peaceful look on her face. Despite himself, his stomach felt as if he'd skipped a step, and for a moment he just stood there, staring at Leia.

She rarely looked that relaxed and content, seemingly free of worries, of pain. Anyone who walked by could have mistaken her for a regular crew member, catching a bit of sunlight before rocketing back to the stars and to the next port. Not a princess. Not a survivor, an enemy of the Empire, a rebel leader. Just a young woman enjoying the sea.

She deserves this , Han thought, even though he generally didn't think much about who deserved what because he knew the galaxy didn't work that way. What he could do was grant her the solitude she had sought out, though, so he stepped back. He didn't think a single board had creaked under his boots, but it wasn't the first time Leia's hearing appeared to be better than most humans. She opened her eyes and turned her head to look at him.

'Is everything okay?' she asked, sitting up straight. Han knew what she was hoping to hear.

'Yeah. Sorry, didn't mean to get in your way.'

'You're not,' Leia told him. Her shoulders sagged a little before she leaned back and closed her eyes again. 'Come here and take your boots off, the water is so lovely.'

'Uh, if you're sure.'

Boots and socks were ditched, and Han joined Leia on the dock, pulling up his trousers. The coolness of the water felt wonderful on his bare feet; it was no wonder it had been enough to make Leia at ease.

'Oh hey, Chewie got us these,' he said, suddenly remembering. From one of his vest pockets, he took out two crisp-looking cookies and handed one to Leia. She gave the treat a small, delighted smile.

'Fortune cookies. I haven't had one of these in years.' She took the wrapper off the folded wafer and tucked it in her pocket, then looked expectantly at Han. 'Go on, let's crack it together.'

Han held the cookie between his thumb and index fingers and broke it, catching the crumbs in his other hand. He pulled out a thin strip of flimsi from the wreckage. As he cleared his throat, Leia cried, 'Wait, wait!' and covered his fortune with her hand.

'I'll read yours and you read mine,' she said at his confused look. Han had never heard of people doing it that way, but he swapped with her. Leia nodded for him to go on.

'"You will take a pleasant journey to a place far away",' Han read. He looked at the view around them, then raised his eyebrows at Leia. 'I think this prediction came a little late.'

'Maybe it's talking about my upcoming expedition to Hoth.'

'Oh no. Please tell me you're jokin', Princess,' Han begged.

'Better start airing those warm layers, flyboy. Okay, now yours.' Leia cleared her throat and squared her shoulders, looking at him for a few seconds with a pretend air of wisdom. '"You may want to run, but you should stay and fight."'

There was a pause.

'What?' Han watched her face, and caught her tell: a subtle flaring of her nostrils that meant she was bluffing. He narrowed his eyes at her. 'That what it says, huh?'

He dove to wrest the strip of flimsi out of Leia's hand; she shrieked and pushed a hand against his chest, and they struggled for several seconds until Leia gave it up. She laughed, her cheeks red from the effort. The last time she had blushed that badly, they had been crammed in the Aegis ' refresher, the only place that had been private enough for them to discuss sensitive information. He hadn't been very relaxed, either, as the warmth of their bodies had made the tiny hiding place suffocating. In spite of the uncertainty and danger of their situation, it had been near impossible not to follow the trail of a drop of perspiration down her collar, the movement of her lips as she talked, the curve of her falling braid as it fell on her shoulder. He had been nearly jumping out of his skin with the increasing need to kiss her, to touch her.

Realizing he had been staring at her for too long, he looked away as Leia brushed some wisps of hair behind her ear, and read his fortune aloud.

'"Enjoy yourself while you can".' Han frowned and looked at Leia again. 'That sounds like a threat.'

She shrugged, popping a piece of cookie into her mouth.

'Should have stuck with mine.'

'Yeah, you'd like that, wouldn't ya?' Han muttered. He picked apart his wafer, the tiny printed messages still clutched in one hand. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as Leia finished the rest of hers, swinging her feet in the clear water.

It had been three years since a farmboy and an old wizard had hired him for discrete passage to Alderaan. Where would he be now if he hadn't taken that gig? Dead, if he hadn't managed to get anything else to pay off his debt. Even if he had, Jabba would have dropped him anyway, as he was not in the way of giving second chances. Then he would have looked for jobs somewhere else, gone back to his old haunts. Made new friends that he wouldn't trust as far as he could throw them. Found someone to warm his bed at night, someone who wouldn't care that he didn't care one way or another to overthrow the Empire. He could have kept doing what he had been doing for the rest of his life.

But he had met Luke, and he had met Leia, and no matter how hard he'd tried—although, if he was honest with himself, which he wasn't, he had not even tried that hard to forget about them and leave them behind. And he didn't exactly hate the Rebellion—the pay was basically nothing, there were people who didn't like him much, and as the latest mission had proved, it wasn't free of backstabbers—but he had to admit it felt good to stick it to the Empire. It gave him a purpose like he hadn't had in a long time.

Mothma had offered him a colonelship some time ago. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to quit the games and take it. He'd have to ask Chewie before he made any decisions, but he knew how that conversation would go.

It would be one hell of a peace treaty, for him and Leia. It would be one more gamble.

For now, Han lay back on the dock and closed his eyes, soaking in the sun's warmth. He would enjoy himself, while he could.

#han x leia #hanleia #hanleiachallenge #han solo #leia organa #han and leia #star wars fanfiction #verse: hungry hearts #2020 #period: pre esb #rated T #series #one-shot

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inner-sunshine · 5 years

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The Freebirth of Baby A:

After an eventful day of sightseeing in San Francisco with my husband's family, the night of April 25th was a bit restless for me. I was pretty worn out from walking all day, uncomfortable from being, at this point, 41 weeks 2 days pregnant.

I woke up multiple times in the night, experiencing a lull of back pain and overall tightness in my stomach muscles.

Weeks before this night, I had been excited, ready, then put off when my previous (what I didn't realize was prodromal and perfectly normal) labors fizzled to nothing.

However, something was different about this night. Falling asleep felt instantaneous, like my body needed me resting, yet I woke up a few times to use the bathroom- my body cleaning itself out to fully prepare.

I woke the morning of April 26th with what I recognized were actual waves- contractions. They weren't regularly spaced nor very painful, moreso uncomfortable, like gas pain.

Hosting company, I cooked breakfast for everyone occasionally pausing to acknowledge the waves of my womb.

My mother-in-law noticed something off about me, I think how I was more into myself than my usual social self, and I told her I didn't want to jinx anything, but I thought I was in early labor.

My husband's family wanted to continue sight-seeing parts of the Bay Area (they were visiting from Chicago where we are originally from) and left the house about midday. Only my husband, L & B (my sons), and myself remained.

Looking back now, I'm thankful that they wanted to give us some space because I needed a few hours to get into a more internal mindset to keep my goal on track -- delivering my baby at home.

The boys played while I bounced on an exercise ball, opening my hips and swaying with the waves of contractions. At this point they were still pretty far apart, about 12-15 minutes, and pretty short in length.

After nearly 2 hours of that (about 2pm), I was becoming impatient and a little frustrated because not only were my contractions not picking up, it almost felt like they were slowing down. (Though now, I feel this was all in my head)

I told my husband I wanted to go out and walk around, coincidentally it was when Toys R Us was closing all their locations and the one local to us was having a huge sale, so we went. I figured we could get something for the boys to get involved with in case I either A; do have the baby at home, or B; need to transfer and my MIL has to take the boys. I paced around the store while the kids picked out play doh, toy trucks, and sidewalk chalk.

Leaving the store I tell my husband I want to go home, right now. We had planned maybe stopping somewhere to eat, but even though my contractions hadn't changed much, something changed within me and I just wanted to be home. I followed my instincts.

We got home, a bit after 3, B was really weepy so I decided to lay down and try to nap with him. We were both tired. My body told me to rest and I obliged. I was (well, tbh, still AM) breastfeeding B and thought getting a quick feed in would probably help me progress and relax us both. B fell asleep, and so did I.... for about 20 minutes.

I woke up to contractions that felt a lot more intense than they were previously. I decided to get in the tub to get some relief, especially for my back, for me, is where I feel most of my labors. I timed a couple contractions and they were only about 10 minutes apart. I thought I had a ways to go, hours at least- and by this time it was about 4:30 PM.

I'm not one to condone cervical checks during labor, to be frank, they don't mean anything progress-wise and can potentially irritate an already busy cervix. Alas I was curious, so while in the tub I checked my cervix and to my surprise-- it felt incredibly high up, so high I couldn't even reach it to see how dilated I was. I was so frustrated, at this point I really thought baby wasn't going to be born until after midnight.

I started feeling a little discouraged; I was tired and thought I hadn't even made it halfway, I cried a little. Then, I laid in the tub and just closed my eyes, trying to ground myself while breathing as deeply as possible. My favorite birth affirmations filled my mind and I calmed myself down, confident again.

About 5pm now, my husband's family returns from their outing and I was still in the tub... just as things totally pick up.

Within 20 minutes my contractions went from 10 minutes to 4 minutes apart and they lasted about 50-70 seconds long. It started becoming difficult to communicate through them, all my focus was on breathing and resting in between. I opened the drain of the tub and turned the faucet on as hot as it would go directly on my back as the pressure became more intense.

The boys came into the bathroom to see what was going on and my husband explained that the baby in mommy's belly is going to come out. L asks if it hurts. I say yes, but I am going to be okay once the baby comes out. They sat and watched for a little while, then went back to play with their cousins.

A powerful surge washed over me and I instantly felt nauseous, I knew what this was and what it meant -- I was in transition; the baby was definitely coming and SOON. (As I said before, this is why one should always decline cervical checks during labor, upon checking my cervix and feeling I had "not progressed" it threw off my whole mood when really I was only about 30 minutes from hitting transition)

I popped out of the tub and vomited into a bowl that my husband brought into the bathroom earlier. He was incredible. I cannot even explain to you how in sync he was to what I needed, without me even saying a word. Indescribably linked.

I stayed on the bathroom floor for maybe 2 contractions after hitting that transition and my instincts spoke to me again. I needed to be somewhere soft. Baby was coming and needed to be caught somewhere more suitable. I obliged and after my next moan through a surge I told my husband I needed help getting into bed.

Mind you, I had planned to have the baby in my bathroom. I had deep cleaned it, set up the space and supplies so everything was accessible in that room. Still in only a few minutes, my husband had all my towels layered on my bed & a bin of supplies on my dresser. Between surges I quickly crouched on my bed on all fours; what was comfortable at the time.

Literally the next surge was so intense and had more pressure behind it that my water broke into my hand. It was warm, I looked down to check it's color -- clear, almost tinged pink. No meconium, not that it is necessarily bad to have stained waters (it's really a non issue), but it was something I wanted to pay attention to, personally, being over 40 weeks.

My next 2 surges brought my body into FER (Fetal Ejection Reflex) and I was pulled into a more tripod stance, on my knees with my left hand supporting me and my right hand covering my vaginal opening, ready to catch.

I stopped being aware of what was going on around me, my eyes were probably open, but I wasn't seeing anything or processing anything other than the visualization of my baby's descent out of me and into this world.

Surge came and I felt the top of a head pop into my palm. I lightly smoothed my fingers over it, it was soft, warm, and I felt hair! So much hair. I say out loud; "I feel a head and it has hair!" My husband was behind me with his hands on my back, he says; 'I can see it! Almost here! Come on, boo!'

I'm in a lot of pain here, the "ring of fire" is in full force and my surges are at their most intense with maybe 10 seconds of break in between.

1st surge after crowning: I deep belly moan and FER pulls my body together. My hand now completely cups baby's head. My vaginal opening is b u r n i n g .

2nd surge after crowning: Deep in my belly once again I moan like a cow as my body pushes for me. My hand leaves baby's head as I feel it pass, then shoulders and in one fluid motion baby is out -- 5:40pm -- I lean behind it to get a look & assess.

I notice it is grey-purple in color, grimacing, and hands & legs were moving. Very good signs. Babe only had vernix in their hair and under their neck, but I think that's because babe was so far along gestationally, their fingernails were pretty long already too.

I pick baby up and open their legs to find I gave birth to yet another boy. "IT'S ANOTHER BOY!!!" I yelled. I hold him to my chest upright and rub his back to see if I could get him to cry, he had not yet, though I could see him grimacing and hear him clearing his airways to breathe. It kinda sounds like when we have congestion in our throats right after coughing.

After a small snort and cough, he lets out a nice, loud cry and I laid on my back completely soaking in the rush of endorphins exploding in my brain.

I did it! I grew my baby and delivered him... me and my husband... Just as he was made; he was born. In the bed that we still sleep in together.

L ran in shortly after hearing his brand new brother cry to come take a look at him. He tells his grandma that mommy's baby came out!

Baby A latched right away and I began to feel my stomach tightening again; it was time to deliver the placenta. I laid Baby A on the bed, squatted and pushed with the smallest amount of force and it came right out. I placed it in a bowl we had put aside and sat on a fresh towel to monitor my bleeding. I relatched Baby A and inspected my placenta (for science lmao) while I waited for Baby's cord to turn completely white and limp -- the ideal time to cut. It took probably a solid 20 minutes.

I sterilized a brand new pair of kitchen scissors (I literally bought them just to cut the cord) with rubbing alcohol and cut Baby A's cord, leaving about 2 inches still attached. I took a piece of thick sewing thread, dipped it in the rubbing alcohol and tied the cord as tight as I possibly could manage about 1.5-ish inches away from what would one day be his belly button.

There he was. Guided by the voice of his father, born into the hands of his mother, and immediately greeted by his older brothers; in the sanctity and safety of his own home. Just as he should have been.

Born 4/26/18

5:40pm

9lb 15oz, 21.5in

"the birth of you was nothing like the birth of me" ❤

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neijayah · 6 years

Text

Seoul, day 1 - Arrival

So to make this journey possible, I had to save up most of my years vacation days plus apply for educational vacation at my company, which was thankfully approved. A lot of preparation had to be made. Not just communication with the company that organized this educational travel, but also making sure my cats are cared for. But I admit, they're like my children. 😅😇

As I would be staying for about a month, I had to pack quite a bit, as I didn't know, where exactly I would be staying until 2 weeks before arriving, and if the residence has a laundry or not. Thankfully the hotel I'm staying at, has both a washing machine and a dryer, though in the cellar, for every resident to use. So it meant I could at least keep clothing limited.

EF offers to arrange flights from Germany to Korea. Unfortunately, only from two airports in Germany, and non of them near my parents. So it would have meant either traveling by plane, train or rental car to these airports, or organizing the flights myself. The advantage was, that I could decide which flight company I would take and how long stay-overs would be. Taking into account, that most flights - at least in Europe - nowadays are delayed, I didn't want to risk getting stuck somewhere due to the incompetence of others.

I decided for Turkish Airways. Though the German-Turkish relationship is a bit strained right now, Turkish Airways has a good reputation and statistics in crashes. This shouldn't be your concern, but I just watched "Mayday - Air Desaster" way to often. 😅 I could have taken a connection flight with a stay over for 1,5 h. But, as I wasn't sure, if the plane would start on time and how big/complicated the Istanbul airport is, I decided for a 6 h stay-over. Enough time for delays and finding your gate and even eat something valuable.

Only negative point using Turkish Airways and therefore having to use Istanbul as transfer airport is, I have to say, the security check in Turkey. It was hasty and not really thorough. In today's time, not the best decision.

Both flights were eventless. It bit shaky from time to time, that eating your meals and drinking was a bit challenging. My seating neighbor even spilled her water over me. Thankfully, it wasn't the red wine she also had ordered. Unfortunately, Turkish Airways didn't offer any food from the destination country. Usually, flight companies offer two menus, one of the company's origin country and one for the destination. Same for the entertainment. Though I was lucky to even listen to BTS' latest Japanese album.

Immigration in Korea is pretty easy, like most things in Korea. Thanks to Korean technology, when your passport was scanned, they tell you to put your fingers on the scanner in your own language. On the plane they hand out the registration cards for immigration and for "importing goods" if you have packed anything, that isn't allowed in Korea. You don't need to fill these out on the plane right away. There are several points on the way to the immigration desks to fill them out, or get new ones. Pens are provided at these desks as well. Everything worked pretty fine, until I took my suitcase from the treadmill. My lock has been opened and not properly closed again. So I was running around with a extra bag for the commute, that I actually wanted to store in that suit case. Not so nice for a 1h 45 min. travel with some changing and trying to find your hotel. The latter one being the bigger problem. I will come to this problem and how to solve it a bit later.

Before I arrived in Korea I had to think about how to stay in contact with my home country, family and friends. If it was wiser to get a second SIM card or just make sure that I have cheap internet connection. I decided for the internet connection. I don't take phone calls when I'm home. Sure as hell, won't do it in Korea. Several Korean telecommunication companies offer so called Wifi eggs, a mobil internet router. Perfect for shorter vacations. If you're staying longer, like for a few months, and love to talk with home, a second SIM card might be smarter. The SIM card can be obtained at the airport directly. Sources say, it's cheaper there, than in Seoul itself. So inform yourself, where to get everything. SK Telecom offers rented mobil phones, SIM cards and Wifi eggs. Ordering/renting can be done online beforehand, either on their website or on distributors like trazy.com. The pick-up was very easy as well and the prices reasonable. KT Telecom offers the same service. It can also be ordered and found on the trazy website. SK and KT Telecom both have Wifi router in every metro train, as far as I know. So if you buy/rent a SIM or even mobile phone, you're save with these two companies.

EF offers their students to take a taxi with the help of an EF employee. But as I was fine with traveling with public transportation, I chose to take the metro. Pretty easy progress, if you know where you have to go to. Taking public transportation tickets are a necessity. When staying more than a few days, the T-Money card is the best choice. Offering diverse pictures on the front, they all work the same. At the clerks desk at any convenient store (like CS), where you buy the card, you can load it right away with an amount of your choice. 20,000 Won (approx. $20) is a good start. If you don't use all of it, it stays on the card for several years. I used my one about 4 years ago. Nothing got lost.

If you're just staying for a day or two, there a special tourist T-Money cards, with benefits for sightseeing entrances. I had one at my first travel, but it didn't work for the N Seoul Tower. So you might have to be prepared, that it isn't always excepted.

You have several options getting into the city: either taxi, bus, by express train or underground. Train takes less time, but might take you further into the city than needed and may cost more. The underground/metro takes longer, as it is an all-stop train, but you can get off, when needed. Be careful with taxis, as you better have the address written down, preferably in Korean or speak clear Korean without an accent. They might take you to the other side of town, to where you actually wanted to be. And you might get stuck in traffic like every car. The bus is a good option as well, depending on your time of arrival and how strong your stomach is. Be aware, that rush hour times here are around 5 to 8 p.m. You don't want to get stuck in traffic there. Don't know about the early rush hour times. Though, in some areas of town, buses have their own lane. With these airport busses you'll have to name your exit station, so the bus driver can insert the right charge into the T-Money card reader. Baggage is stored in special compartments at the busses belly. You'll get a receipt for your luggage, so you get the right one out at your arrival. If you choose the metro, follow the signs stating "all-stop".

Commuting with the underground is pretty easy, as everything is signed out. Even if you are actually on the right track, before you even step into the metro. Just know the next station for your direction. But it's wiser to know beforehand which bigger metro station is on that track, as most of the times, while changing from one line to another, they only show bigger transfer stations, that might connect you to another line. So better you have a plan at hand to look after which stop are on your direction.

After getting your T-Money card and have it charged with your money, just follow the signs with trains stated. It takes a bit of walking but nothing compared to finding the right bus or getting the taxi driver to understand clearly where you want to go. Before getting to the tracks you will have to scan your T-Money card to get in. Always be sure to scan them again, when leaving the train station (and bus) and sometimes even when changing the trains. This way the right amount of money will be discounted.

You will find that there are glass fronts all along the train track at the station. A way to prevent suicides or like in Germany getting pushed onto the tracks by some stranger.

Something you should prepare in advance as well, is to figure out, where exactly you have to leave your train station. Not just the right station but also the right exit. There are usually around 6 to 8 exits and more, which can be quite far away from each other as whole shopping areas are located at those stations. Your hotel or bigger sightseeing attractions will usually tell you which exit is the best to leave the station. And by the way, you actually don't need to speak/read Korean when visiting Seoul. Almost everyone speaks at least a little bit of English, more so the younger generations. And every street, metro or other signs are written in Latin/Roman writings. Just smaller shops go with Korean writing. But some necessary words are easy to learn beforehand.

It took me quite long, though to find my hotel. It was a little hidden in a side road. And Google Maps isn't really helpful, as you cannot just give in the address. Naver or Kakao Maps might give you better options and fresher cards. Both also help you taking the right train.

The hotel I'm staying at offers breakfast for an extra charge, which is pretty good. But I decided to get the food for myself. You find most stuff, somewhere around. Still have to find a decent supermarket, though, that isn't into luxury. But basic food, snacks and ready made food can be bought in nearly all convenient stores. And you usually find like 3 and more right around the next corner. And the choice in Ramyeon is beyond expectation.

I stayed at the Urban Place, a nice hotel with good equipments. There are other possibilities to stay, which are usually not more than a few square meters with a toilet/shower cabin, if at all. So if you don't want to spend a huge amount of money, don't expect luxury in all four corners. My room is equipped with a small fridge (really small), a small cooking area with the minimum of kitchen equipment. Shower and toilet are separated and TV and Wifi are included. TV also offers a few British programs and Arirang, a Korean TV station in English.

This was probably more than enough information on arriving and what to do, to get around.

#korea #seoul #EF #neijayah

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