#when grant says something changed his mind he's talking about his sister's birthday and visiting her grave - that scene

[holocene-sims]

next // previous

august 25, 2021 8:00 p.m. the black pearl

[grant] well, i know it doesn’t fix the existential angst and you shouldn’t ever feel like it needs to go away instantly, but i guarantee you will be a good dad.

[grant] any kids you have will feel loved. they’ll be set up for the future no matter how everyone’s lives play out. i know you’ll do your best, and i know soobin will, too. you guys have worked so hard to have such a long and healthy and sincere relationship.

[grant] and the fact that you’re worried about any of this means you’re going to do a good job. shitty parents and shitty partners don’t ask if what they’re doing or about to do is wrong.

[grant] everyone is going to make mistakes sometimes but it’s about getting most of it right, and i believe you will. soobin doesn’t hold it over your head that for a while, your fear made you a little controlling. you improved and she forgave you. you’re smart, you’ll adapt, and most of all, you should know you’re loyal. at the end of the day, a parent who puts their kids first and never turns their back on them is the best parent in the world in my eyes.

[grant] mistakes can be forgiven if you put your kids first and treat them like a human being who matters.

[henry] thank you. i appreciate it. that means a lot coming from you.

[grant] and i understand your main fear in the first place. i've thought about it many times. i never worried about myself dying but others dying. elizabeth, uh...yeah. those big family losses seriously will ruin you forever in one way or another. the way you lost your father only makes it worse. it does strip away any feeling of invincibility you have.

[henry] you can say that again.

[henry] i'm glad someone understands.

[grant] you can never really know, i guess, what’s going to happen to you or to anyone you know, and it’s not helpful to say it’ll be fine because we all know crazy and terrible things happen. it's unfortunately mathematically true. but trust me, i'll kill you if you die!

[henry] you’ll kill me if i die? haha.

[henry] thanks for making me laugh, too.

[grant] yep. i will re-kill your ghost.

[henry] i'll kill you if you die.

[grant] thank you, buddy! you’re a real one.

[henry] dude, ugh, i googled life insurance policies a month ago. ew, adulthood.

[grant] life insurance is a good thing to have, though.

[henry] it is, it is. even if my hypothetical kids just buy a fucking pool with the money.

[grant] i mean, if it benefits them, right?

[henry] let me add a note to the policy saying you can either get an in-ground pool put in or free college tuition–one or the other.

[grant] does that include getting a sick ass waterfall feature installed on the pool or no?

[henry] by the way–

[henry] disclaimer that this is just an idea, not concrete at all, but soobin and i briefly mentioned moving back to korea as a way to make sure our kids have a good life.

[grant] wow, really? it is worth thinking about! it is rational. most of your family is here and all of soobin’s family does live here, and you do have to consider what’s best for you and your family, current and future. before i did move back home, when i was with you know who, i thought about this, too, if we ever had kids that maybe we could or should move back to michigan so they'd have my whole family around.

[grant] and just so it’s on the record, you have my full support in any decision here.

[grant] are you interested in moving back?

[henry] i don’t know. i haven’t lived here since i was five years old. i've only visited, and then came back for one year to do the military service because i was wary of giving up my citizenship. but i almost did because truly, i did not want to go into the army. that shit sucked.

[grant] what does soobin think?

[henry] well, it was her idea. i'm very whatever about wherever i live. i feel no strong pull one way or another at the moment. but it’s different for her.

[henry] she lived here much longer than me. she cares much more and has a preference. i mean, she spent pretty much her entire life here except since college and during the school semesters between sixth and twelfth grades because her parents sent her to a fancy private school there.

[henry] i will say, soobin’s main point isn’t wrong, and it's the one you brought up. most of our family is here. it’s like you and michigan. that’s where your folks are. and that support is invaluable when you have kids, both for their social development and for financial reasons. plus, my mom actually wants to move back. she never talks about it, but i know she does.

[grant] i get that, too.

[henry] like i said, she’s just never been the same since my dad died. which i don't fault her for. she does her best to be happy, you know, but i think she feels very alone, even more now that i don’t live on the upper peninsula anymore. she was with him forever. they were soulmates. and her life drastically changed after he died.

[henry] this has been the first time she's had a job since, god, the 1980s. she loves being an art teacher for school kids, but that's a huge change in addition to the sudden loneliness.

[henry] and on the loneliness side, she has your family and they've been close for a long time.

[grant] she was literally over at my aunt bridie's house the other day making shampoo with her.

[henry] yeah, so she sees them pretty often and she also has her book club and some other friends, but she knows way more people here. seoul's where all her family and friends are.

[henry] i want my mom to be happy, you know? it’s my job as her son, and i'm the only child she ever had. she doesn’t need me to look after her every day, not really, but i want to and she deserves that. and truth be told, a part of me believes that if she comes back, i would feel not very good about being away from her.

[henry] i think that if i encourage her to come back or talk to her about it and she does go through with it, that would sway me more to soobin’s side. again, i want my mom to be happy, and i'm also scared of losing her. it doesn’t matter if it’s sudden or slow. i don’t want to lose her, and especially not if i feel like i've spent my whole adult life away from her, not prioritizing what time is left with her.

[henry] not to be morbid, but she’s almost 60. at some point you do ask yourself how much longer you have left with your older family members around. life is unfortunately very short.

[grant] of course. that’s totally understandable. she's a great mother, and you wouldn't want to miss out on that. and i'm sure you don’t want your kids to not have their grandma present in their lives.

[henry] but then i have to start over with my job and maybe i lose contact with my friends if i leave. i do have friends here–sorry, they weren’t able to come hang out this time, maybe next time–but my real two best friends are in michigan. it’s you and ben. i don't let anyone else get that close to me except for soobin because to me, my best friend slots are full. i don't want anyone else. no one else is worth it.

[henry] and i always said you’d be my kids’ godfather. i don’t want them to miss out on knowing you the way they should.

[grant] there’s facetime! and i'd come visit. and i'm so goddamn annoying, i will be texting you about everything i think about in the world for the rest of our lives. you're not going to lose me.

[henry] i try my best to believe i won't lose you.

[grant] also, don’t stress out too much about this yet. you do not have to make any of these decisions now, and when you do need to, the right answers will come to you.

[grant] and listen, one last thing and then i'll shut up. i don’t know how, i don’t know why–i don’t think there is an answer to this–but the people we lose are still with us, even if only in spirit. i am famously a skeptic, but i felt something this year that changed my mind. i know you miss your dad but he’s still with you. somehow he’ll see your kids grow up, and he’ll be there guiding you to make the right decisions.

[grant] your dad loved you, like, beyond what words can express. he loved your mom just as much. he would never willingly leave you. if there's something after this mortal existence, he's still with you.

[grant] oh, and we should probably eat this pizza before it's frigid.

[henry] fuck, i forgot about it. thanks for reminding me. yeah, let's demolish this pizza, and then i'll take you to that cool arcade i told you about. we'll make up for the awful arcade experience at your cousin's bachelor party.

#ts4 #the sims 4 #sims 4 #sims 4 story #sims 4 storytelling #simblr #hlcn: everything the stars promised #PARALLELS I LOVE PARELLELS *stares at the aoife subplot that we started in the last batch update* #also not me writing in the fact that this is a deco pizza and i can't show them eating it #well maybe with poses but y'all know i hate posing sims no really just posing them in the chairs without accessories was enough #also just bc the scene was a long time ago... #when grant says something changed his mind he's talking about his sister's birthday and visiting her grave - that scene #holocene.png #holocene.docx #hlcn: grant #hlcn: henry

[mhdiaries]

SDCC 2015 Kieran Valentine Diary

May 1st

When I left Monster High after Draculaura’s Sweet 1,600 birthday party, I was angry, humiliated and stinky from falling into that pit of eternal body odor. I stank so bad, Mom wouldn’t even let me in the house: I had to sleep in the guest room above the garage. Looking back, I can see it was probably the best thing that could have happened to me. Even my considerable powers to charm were no match for the power of the stench that surrounded me. My powers slowly weakened as I was deprived of what sustained them: the love I selfishly took from others. I was in a stench-induced imprisonment - rarely leaving the garage - but it allowed me time to do some serious thinking, and I realized I wasn’t being true to myself. Then one day there was a knock at my door, and I opened it to see a little old goblin woman with a cane staring up at me through thick glasses. “I’m Mrs. Goblin, but you can call me “Mrs. Goblin.” I’m a friend of your mother’s.” She said, “you need to get out of that room, and I need some help, so let’s go.” She turned and walked off, and, with nothing left to lose, I followed. It turned out that she ran an unwanted-creature shelter and couldn’t keep up with all the cleaning, feeding and daily upkeep. It also turned out that she had no sense of smell. “Lost it back in ‘72,” she told me. Mrs. G. ran me through the daily routines and gave me the tour. “You can start today,” she said as she handed me a mop and a bucket. It’s hard to believe I agreed, but I didn’t have any other options. The shelter was home to an unusual collection of exotic creatures: gremlins, flying monkeys, lap dragons, miniature manticores, and many others that had been picked up as strays or turned in by monsters who didn’t want them. Even though the work was hard, and not always pleasant, I began to look forward to it. In fact, I usually felt more energized after I finished a day than when I started. I felt my powers returning and every day I got stronger. Eventually, I mentioned it to Mrs. Goblin who snickered, “You emotional vampires never get it - stolen love is just empty calories. I’ll never sustain you for long.” She could tell I still didn’t get it. “Love that’s freely given is the most powerful source of energy in the monster universe. You’ve been coming here every day, taking care of these critters, showing them kindness, and the only thing they have to give you is their love - and believe me, they have a lot to give.” I couldn’t believe what she was telling me. I must have been standing there looking stupid because she said, “Close your mouth before the the flies get in and go clean the flying monkey cage. They’ve been throwing stuff again.” I was in a daze. Why had no one ever explained this to me? Rather than dwelling on it, I was just happy I finally knew. 

May 3rd

I now know that I did it - stealing love - because I thought that’s want an emotional vampire was supposed to do. But it never felt quite right. I thought if I kept doing it, it would eventually feel right. But it only made me angry and frustrated. Then when Draculaura called me - well, Toralei, really - I thought that if I could get the heart that got away, it would change me and everything would be fine. But I was just a real pain in the fang to everyone and made a fool of myself. So I’ve come to a conclusion: being myself has to be easier than not being myself, right? Back then, I hated the thought of who I really was, and that conflict made me become someone who wasn’t me. It’s time to be true to myself, but it’s scary. 

July 1st

Today was my one-year anniversary at the shelter. As I left the garage, I ran into Mom. She sniffed. “You don’t stink anymore.” It was true - the stench was gone. I gave Mom a hug and told her it must be due to what I’d learned from working for Mrs. Goblin. I thanked Mom for telling her I needed help. Mom looked at me strangely, “What are you going on about? I don’t know a Mrs. Goblin.” What? I ran to the shelter but when I got there it was boarded up and empty. How could this be? I crawled through a broken out window. A thick layer of dust covered everything and it looked like no one had been there in years. Then I noticed a piece of paper on the table where Mrs. G. used to sit and drink her tea. It was a not addressed to me:

V, 

There’s nothing more I can teach you. The rest will come when you put what you’ve learned into practice. Know that you are loved for what, and who you are.

Sincerely, 

“Mrs. Goblin”

P.S. Do the right thing or I’ll come back and make you clean out flying monkey cages again. 

July 2nd

I decided that I would try and “do the right thing” by heading back to MH to try and make up for my mistakes. I thought if I hid in the shadows and helped the couples of MH, you know be a Cupid to what was my destruction of love, I could make a difference and they would see that I was a changed monster. Well, my intentions were good, but things did not go as I had planned. I kinda, no, did, mess things up. Luckily, it all seemed to work out in the end, I guess, just not as I had hoped. I don’t think any of Draculaura and her friends will ever really trust me. And while I hope one day they can see I have changed, I know it will take time, too. I guess I can’t expect them to just forgive me right away. I will say one good thing hopefully came out of it. While attempting to hide in the shadows I bumped into a student I didn’t recognize. He said his name was Spelldon Cauldronello, he had only been at MH a couple weeks as he had been traveling with his older sister. Meeting him totally made me space and forget to send a text that was supposed to help Clawd. He asked if I went to MH and I said I was just visiting, but I would love to go to MH one day if I can. He said he’d keep me up on the groanings on around the halls if I wanted, so I gave him my number. At least the trip wasn’t a total stake. I do wish I could figure out how to make it up to Draculaura and her friends though. I know now that real friends help each other with their problems, not try to solve them for them.

July 7th

I was tempted to stay in my room today and treat myself to a monstrous blue funk, but, instead, I walked aimlessly outside until I found myself sitting on the beach watching the sun go down. That’s when I noticed something unusual partially buried in the sand. I pulled it out and die-scovered it was an ornate lantern caked with seaweed. I brushed it off... and got the shock of my unlife! The lantern began vibrating and glowing, like I had awakened something inside and it was not trying to get out. I dropped it like it was hot and fell back as smoke swirled up and out of this thing. When the smoke cleared away there was a ghoul floating above me. “I am the djinni of the lantern. What is your wish?”

July 10th

The djinni’s name is Whisp and we have something in common: the direction of our unlives changed because of Monster High. We shared our stories and struggles; neither of us has made the beast decisions, but we both want to be better monsters. We talked so much that Whisp had to remind me I had three wishes. I asked her I should wish for and she said, “I cannot tell you what to wish for, nor can I tell you what not to wish for, but I can say be scareful what you wish for.” I laughed and told her that sounded ominous. She didn’t see the humor in her statement. “Wishes are tricky things,” she replied, “They often have a mind of their own and don’t always come true in the way you expected.” I thought for a moment, and wish I could go back to Monster High and fix the things I had broken. Whisp rose into the air, her eyes glowing, and said, “As you wish.” Instantly, I was back at Draculaura’s Sweet 1600 party, only I was dressed like a repairman - tool belt and all. Headless Headmistress Bloodgood stood in front of me with her hands on her hips. “You need to repair the barrier around the pit of eternal body odor before another monster falls into it!” This wasn’t what I meant by “fixing what I had broken,” and there was no way I was getting close to that pit again. That’s when the other students saw me. A very large minotaur pointed his finger at me, “There he is again! Throw him back into the pit!” I wished myself out of MH and back in my room just in time to avoid another dunking. Two wishes down, one to go.

July 12th

Whisp has been very apologetic but she needn’t be. I wished for something so general that it could have been granted in numerous ways. What I really wanted was a chance to do something unselfish for the monsters I hurt - to give and not take. When I started working for Mrs. G., there were times I wished what someone else would do the dirty work so I could just play with the creatures. Now I know I just wished it to be easy. Whenever I was in the middle of something particularly loathsome, Mrs. G. would cackle, “Sometimes work stinks, doesn’t it?” The first few times she said it, I wanted to drop everything and go home. But I stuck it out, and, although I still have a long way to go, I’m a better monster for it. Unlife is a lot of work and I guess some problems aren’t meant to be solved by wishing them so. Speaking of wishes, I need to think of something non-ambiguous for the last one...

August 1st

I summoned Whisp today to grant my final wish. I admit I put it off because I was being selfish. I’ve never had a friend like her, and once my last wish is granted, the lantern will move on and I will probably never see her again. I considered freeing her from the lantern, but I don’t think she wants that: she loves being a djinni, appearing in new places and granting wishes. But I know she gets lonely at times, so this was my wish: “Whisp, I wish we could always be friends.” Whisp rose up, her eyes glowing: “As you wish!” I could see her smiling as she turned to smoke and returned to the lantern, which shot up and disappeared. I thought for a second that my wish wasn’t granted, but then my iCoffin lit up and I noticed a new app icon that looked like a little mirror. I tapped it and there was Whisp! Now, not matter where in the monster universe she is, we can talk to each other! “Yes, Mother, I’m talking to myself down here.”

#monster high #monster high diary #kieran valentine #sdcc 2015

[bts-reveries]

mini me | 6

“Are you ready to see your friends?” You ask your son as you park outside of Mae’s house. She had a nice, big house. Perfect for three kids, you thought.

“Is Uncle going to be here?” Youngjae asks excitedly, looking out the window, hoping that Taehyung is inside. You turn the car off, taking off your seatbelt to hop out. You open the back door and help Youngjae off of his carseat.

“No, it’s just going to be the aunties and a few of their kids,” you tell him. He pouts a little at the fact that Taehyung wasn’t going to be here. You laugh at his expression, squishing his cheek.

“You like Uncle Cupcake that much?” You say. “What the heck did he put in those cupcakes?” He laughs at your question, holding onto the hand you were holding out as he jumps out of the car. You close the door, and lock it, then you two walk hand in hand to Mae’s front door.

“I just like Uncle Cupcake,” he says, kicking the mat. He looks up at you, “we like the same things.” You smile down at him, your heart aching slightly.

The door opens and you look up to see no one.

“Mommy!” You look down and see little Soojin at the door. “Auntie Yn and Youngjae are here!” She yells behind her. She looks up at you and smiles. “You can come inside my house!” She tells you, she looks at Youngjae and waves.

When you step in, Soojin grabs onto Youngjae’s hand. “Do you want to come play with us? Minseok oppa, Sian, and Haneul are playing in Haneul’s room right now.” Youngjae looks up at you and you nod, telling him to go. You watched as the two ran away giggling.

“Yn!” You heard, Mae greets you with a hug, pulling you into the living room where the rest of the girls were at.

“Ayyee we’re complete!” Byul exclaims, raising her arms as you walked in. You laughed, sitting down right next to her.

“So what’s the agenda today girls?” Jin says, walking up to you seven, crossing his arms.

“Eating, talking,” Mae shrugs, “we’re just getting to know Yn a little more.” She turns to you and smiles.

“Yeah, the party wasn’t long enough, we have so many stories to tell,” Sarang winks at you. You giggle at her nervously, feeling your cheeks heat up.

When you were at the party and Yuna introduced you to her friends, it was more of you seven talking about your jobs, relationships, and kids. It was basically a long conversation that jumped from one topic to another. You thought it was funny how one of the girls would talk about one thing that would remind someone about a whole different thing, which is why your conversation started from when you moved to Seoul and ended to Rina's favorite drama. The first time you all met it felt strange. A good strange. As if you met some of your long lost sisters.

“Can I join,” Jin says, already sitting down next to Mae and getting comfortable.

“No,” Rina says, making a face at Jin. His mouth drops at her, and her expression changed to a smile.

“I’m kidding. I guess you can be a part of our girls night…”

“Great, I wanna hear you girls’ side of the story,” he says, putting his arm on his wife’s shoulder.

-

“You were on her wishlist??” You ask Sohyun as she tells you about her love story with Yoongi.

“Yeah! And he has this whole thing about granting her all of her wishes to make her birthday memorable, so he was like, I have to take you on a date according to Hana. Us going on a date wasn’t on her list though, he made that as an excuse… but her list did have me in it because she really liked me and wanted to do everything with me,” Sohyun says, Jin laughs at her facial expression as she was nodding with her eyes closed. It kind of reminded you of how Youngjae was with Taehyung.

“Didn’t he break up with you because of another wish on the list?” Rina asks, taking a drink. Your eyes widen and you look at Sohyun.

“Hana wrote that on her wishlist too,” you say, covering your mouth. Sohyun shakes her head frantically waving her hands.

“No no no,” the girls laugh at this. “She wanted me to be her mom and Yoongi wasn’t ready for that.”

“It was this whole thing that happened before my wedding,” Yuna explains. “It ended well though, they ended up going home together after my wedding.” The girls all “oohh-ed,” teasing Sohyun. “Whatever, next caller,” Sohyun says, calling the next one to tell their story.

“Taehyung ended up having to watch Hana,” Jin mentions, unable to stop laughing. His laugh was pretty contagious and you ended up laughing as well.

“Sarangie is next,” Mae calls. Sarangs eyes widen and you can see her cheeks turning pink.

“Oh, ahhhh, so much happened,” she says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “It was when Huimang and I newly moved to the same building as Hoseok--”

“Oh, I thought Huimang was Hoseok’s kid too,” you say, surprised.

“She is,” Byul says.

“It’s a crazy story,” Rina says, making Sarang turn a little more pink. “W-why are you turning so red?!”

“Don’t call me out on it!” Sarang says, covering her face. “Ahhh, let me explain.. It all started in college, my last year. I had the biggest crush on Hoseok and he was attending this party. I never go to parties, but my best friend suggest we go since it was our last chance. Hoseok got drunk and I drank too, but not as much as he did. One thing led to another and the next morning he was a total jerk to me,” she says, frowning. “I ended up finding out about Hope, Huimang, and kept it all from him, then I moved to America and yeah, 6 years later, I ended up in the same building as him. Hope followed Taehyung and his little dog, Yeontan, and ended up on Hoseok’s front door. To make it long story short,” she laughs. You were so surprised and your eyes were so big. “Next caller,” Sarang laughs, mimicking Sohyun.

“Your turn fangirl,” Jin says, he was quite enjoying the girl talk.

“Meeeeeee?” Byul says, sitting up. “Okay, so I’ve always been a fan of Namjoon’s books. And himself,” she says, smiling. You smile back at her. “I attended his book signing and kept running into him after that. We met again at Sohyun’s magical bakery actually,” she says.

“Does all love come from that bakery? I think my son found his soulmate there too,” you laugh.

“I honestly think so,” Rina says. “If I didn’t meet Jungkook when I was younger, I’m a 100% positive that I would’ve met him there.”

“24/7 Heaven, where you meet your match made in heaven,” Sohyun says. “Has a good ring to it, maybe that’ll be my shop’s motto.”

“Tell Yoongi to make it into a jingle,” Jin suggests.

“You’re right...” Sohyun responds.

“He invited me to a hangout with the entire group afterwards and we all got so close,” Byul says, continuing her story. “We started dating shortly after.”

“Wow,” you sigh out. “So does a hangout always start before you start dating,” you laugh. “I met all of you already though.”

“Are you implying something Yn?” Rina says, raising her eyebrows. It seems like your eyes were widening at everything they were saying.

“What??”

“Taehyung’s the only single one,” Jin says, sipping his drink. Like the Kermit meme.

“What are you guys trying to say,” you laugh nervously.

“We’re not saying you and Taehyung should date, but,” Yuna starts.

“But that’s exactly what we’re saying,” Rina says. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Is that why you took me into your group so fast,” you say, squinting your eyes at them. Yuna quickly shakes her head.

“No of course not!” She says, you can tell that she felt bad so you quickly reassured her that she’s okay.

“No I’m kidding don’t worry,” you say, putting your hand on her arm.

“Honestly, we all actually really like you,” Mae reassures you. “You give us good vibes, you know? We dig you~”

“WE DIG YOU?” Jin repeats, looking strange and shocked at his wife. “WHO ARE YOU OLD LADY??”

“Yeah!!! And since you just moved here, you need some life long besties, you feel~” Byul says.

“And oh my gosh, we just clicked!! and our kids clicked too!” Sarang says. “We just felt it~ Your presence was exactly what we needed.” WOW your heart melted right then and there.

“Speaking of kids, I should check on those little nuggets,” Jin says, getting up to go to Haneul’s room.

“Also, if you don’t mind us asking, what happened to Youngjae’s dad?” Byul asks you carefully. You didn’t mind talking to them about it, you felt comfortable enough to let them know about your situation.

“Oh, he’s okay hahaha,” you start, looking up and thinking how to say everything. “Umm… we were in a good relationship when we were younger, but I got pregnant with Youngjae unexpectedly.”

“Ah, me too,” Rina says.

“Yeah, but my parents told us we had to get married,” you say, scratching the back of your head. “We weren’t really ready--” 

“I’m back, Haneul’s joining us-- oh-- the mood shifted,” Jin says, stopping in front of the hallway. Haneul lets go of Jin’s hand and runs straight to the girls.

“Auntie auntie~” Haneul says, asking Byul to carry him. Byul’s face lights up as she carries Haneul onto her lap.

“He never asks for me, I’m treasuring this moment,” Byul says, hugging Haneul tightly.

“I think he wants the cookie you’re holding Byul,” Jin says, pointing to the cookie in her hand that Haneul was grabbing.

“Oh, this is fake love,” she whispers.

“Anyways, fill me in please,” Jin says, sitting back with Mae.

“We’re talking about Youngjae’s dad,” Sohyun says. Jin’s mouth shapes into an ‘o’ shape.

“Yeah, I was just saying how Youngjae’s dad and I were in a good relationship but we got pregnant unexpectedly with Youngjae and my parents basically forced us to get married, we weren’t ready. When Youngjae was born, I kind of fell out of love with his dad. He didn’t really like Youngjae?? Like he felt like he couldn’t reach his dreams or whatever because he was “forced” to be a husband and a dad, you know?”

“Sounds like a butthole,” Byul says.

“He is,” you say. “We divorced when Youngjae was 2, every now and then he visits his dad and his family, but only because Youngjae’s grandma wants to keep seeing him. I don’t even know if Youngjae sees his dad honestly.”

“I can see why Youngjae loves Taehyung then,” Jin says. “He doesn’t have any dad figures in his life, or has ever experienced the kind of love Taehyung gives so freely to him.” You nod your head, agreeing.

“Him and Taehyung have a lot of things in common as well. He seems like he fits Youngjae’s dad more than his real one,” you laugh. “I don’t think my son got anything from his dad… except how he looks I guess.”

“Taehyung loves Youngjae too! He calls him his mini me and he always tells us about him whenever he comes back from a hang out with you two,” Yuna says.

“That’s so cute,” you say. “Taehyung also played with him the whole time while we were at the party. I don’t think his dad ever plays with him—-“

“Taehyungie really filled up that missing piece in Youngjae’s heart,” Sarang says.

“Ugh I know! That’s why I like spending time with him, it makes Youngjae happy,” you say.

“Does he make… you… happy?” Rina tries again. You laugh at her question.

“He makes me happy the same way you guys make me happy,” you say.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

mini me

ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ part six: we dig you ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

pairings: artist!taehyung x singlemom!reader

a/n: hoping you guys are getting this notification because i copied and pasted and it’s showing up the same way it always does when you guys receive the tags??? ALSO IF YOU’RE READING THIS BEFORE THE OTHER DAD SMAUS THEN AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH THIS HAS SPOILERS

taglist: @heartfeltscribblings @taexmichi @prdshobi @smarshere @i-swear-im-a-soft-stan @igotarmyofarohas @butterflylion @miagracegrande @casspirit0705 @ephyra1230 @cosmicdaylight @bbyjoonies @betysotelo18 @strwberry-jam @rjsmochii @chocobetterknot @notmontae97 @alpaca1612 @yoongistruth @dragonqueen01 @silentlyimpractical @hecticwonderer @joanc24 @angjeon @momma-said-that-it-was-oke @sweetmoonlight9  @samros95 @dreamcatcherjiah @sonderkook @taekookcaneatme @listless-losers @kookietsukkie @goldenchemistry @salty-for-suga @peoplejustcanthandlemywierdness @softboyfriendtae @raplineh0e @ess-place @callmepaopao @ggukvii @ramyagovindraj @yoongiverse @mipetronella @cloudy-skys @jikachoo @nxtrogers @kookoo-kachoo @taestannie @hispoutylips @hallofbtsmasterlist

TAGLIST IS CLOSED!

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#bts-reveries #bts x reader #bts fluff #bts au #bts smau #bts social media au #bts x you #bts #bts dad au #dad bts au #taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #taehyung fluff #taehyung au #taehyung dad au #dad taehyung au #taehyung social media au #taehyung smau #namjoon smau #jin smau #yoongi smau #hoseok smau #jimin smau #jungkook smau

[zee-writes-and-draws]

Truly Important

Summary: A look at some of the more important birthdays that Saw Paing has had, and the one he celebrated right after the tournament.

A/n: It's still July 8th, so I'm on time w/this. Nonetheless, I slept five hours so I apologize for lack of proofreading.

------

The first birthday that Saw Paing truly considers important is his fifth one, the day he gets to start Lethwei training for the very first time. He comes home covered in scratches and bruises and a trickle of blood running down his forehead. His father fusses a little and his ma doesn’t let him up until she bandages every little cut and bruise but nothing can spoil his good mood as Ne Win Paing puts him in a headlock and their little sister congratulates him on the start of his training.

------

Most birthdays to Saw Paing aren’t majorly important beyond the fact that even as a fighter Pa Paing did his best to see every single child on their birthday every year. But some are important because there’s new people in his life, people who aren't’ there, certain benchmarks and events that are important in and of themselves, but are easier to tie to years and dates and celebrations.

Saw Paing’s sixteenth birthday is remembered fondly only because it is one week before he meets his eternal rival for the very first time, a boy named Gaolang Wongsawat.

------

Seventeen. Nothing particularly important. Current youngest brother starts his training that year.

Eighteen. Important solely by the freedom it grants in travelling. Almost all countries recognize eighteen as an age of majority, an age where you can do a lot of things that would be illegal otherwise like go somewhere without an adult’s supervision or rent a car so you have your own transport. Going to places outside of Myanmar and Thailand is the most interesting he’s done in his entire life.

Nineteen. He finally gets a job outside the village. The weapons corporation that hired him is run by an old man and a teenage girl with a vicious streak longer than the destruction radius of the missiles she’s designed. Still, they hired him to safety test things and work to rescue people in afflicted areas, not attack them. It’s Togo Tomari’s brilliant ruthlessness that causes him to end up in the same place as Muteba for a month. Another friendship struck up with someone he’s fought against. A birthday gift of an absolutely gorgeous button-up with twelve patterns and wild color is dropped off at his door that year. Even though the gifter will likely never see it, Saw Paing wears the shirt with pride as often as he can for the next few years.

Twenty. Barely important but it was Gaolang’s eighteenth birthday that year and the time the title ‘God of War’ starts creeping into people’s thoughts about him. Saw Paing cheers his rival on whenever possible.

Twenty-one. Nothing. Little sister asks out crush, dates her for seven months and change before they have to break up because the crush’s family is moving. He and Muteba have each others numbers saved and text between missions.

Twenty-two. He and Ne Win Paing get to fight outside of legal matches for the first time. It’s exhilarating. Their father hugs them both afterwards and tells them how proud he is.

Twenty-three. The first birthday in their family celebrated after Pa Paing passes. It’s somber. Saw Paing would rather have skipped the day entirely if not for how his youngest siblings all seemed determined to follow traditions for at least the illusion of normalcy  and he’s not about to ruin their coping process just because he’s sad. With Ne Win Paing travelling nearly full-time and recovering when he’s home, Saw Paing is the de facto leader of the family and he’s not going to let them down so easily.

That night there’s a card delivered to him by a hassled-looking mail carrier. It’s from Gaolang.

I heard about your father’s death, Saw Paing. My deepest condolences to both you and your family. Take care of yourself. Do what you must to feel more stable.

To anyone else the writing would be cold and impersonal. Saw Paing re-reads it over and over until a drop splashes onto it and the crinkling of paper registers and then he hurriedly folds it and drops it onto the desk in his room so it doesn’t get destroyed.

If in two weeks when they next see each other, Gaolang relents and truly fights Saw Paing for twenty minutes before declaring a defeat form boredom, neither of them acknowledge the change in routine anymore than they acknowledge that Saw Paing’s yelling is more like loud talking and that Gaolang had made an extra plate of his favorite fish seemingly just in case.

------

Twenty-four. Saw Paing meets Sayaka for the very first time that year, a bright and sunshine-sweet teenager who screams out his intro and doesn’t seem to mind that he’s super-loud or that his opponent throws him into the commentators box and nearly crushes her by accident.

When he had apologized she made a joke about it. He made one back. A friendship stronger than any other he’d made was started that day. Sayaka reminds him of his little sisters, friendly and upbeat and ready to take on the world if she has to and come out with a smile, sharp wit and keen mind concealed under a bubbly layer that requires no lying to maintain.

That year his birthday includes a surprise delivery of a completely new set of cookware with a small note attached.

Happy birthday, Saw! Sorry I couldn’t make it, dad scheduled fifty matches for this week alone so I’m not even sleeping, but I hope you like it! See you in May (PS I’m secretly rooting for you!)

That night Saw Paing makes dinner for everyone with said cookware and an unflappable grin on his face.

------

Twenty-five. Nothing.

Twenty-six. His little sister is now formally competing on a near-national level. His brothers, no longer so small but always little in his eyes, work hard to bring in food and water and trade with the local villages and Saw Paing never stops feeling proud of them.

Twenty-seven. More and more fights in the arena. He leaves Tomari’s contracts behind but keeps in touch with Muteba. A chance metal concert allows him to meet Yoshiko, who in turn introduces him to Sawada. Saw Paing mails him several CDs of traditional Burmese music for the other man’s birthday. Gets a collection of ballet remixes in exchange. Listens to the collection every night for weeks and weeks on end until he can whistle half the songs without thinking. Smiles at how many small reminders he has now of the people he cares about.

------

Twenty-eight. The coldest and harshest one yet. Ne Win Paing is not there that year. Everyone’s energy is lower than usual. Saw Paing spends the day mostly taking care of the youngest siblings and visiting the graves of those he’s lost. He can feel the wrongness of this land on his skin, it’s Yoroizuka’s home and that’s better than the alternatives but it is not his home or their home or the home that his family deserved and had grown up in and lost because of Ne Win Paing or maybe because Saw Paing should have noticed sooner, should have caught onto the damage his brother had taken.

Sayaka leaves twenty voicemails and thirty texts, all reassurance and compassion and kindness that Saw Paing is beginning to doubt he deserves. Sawada had arranged for several boxes of their favorite sweets from all over the world to be delivered to his house. Muteba messages him a list of names and places if he needs to fight the emotions out or to talk to a professional specializing in fighters and loss of loved ones and tells him to cherish the rest of his family.

Gaolang visits that evening, sleeplessness evident in his posture and eyebags. It’s rarer and rarer for the two of them to see each other now, between the jobs they both hold and duties they’re bound to. Saw Paing’s first priority will always be his family, just as at the end of the day the Thai God of War is not that but the bodyguard of Prince Rama of Thailand. And yet here they are, sitting next to a firepit just outside a house that was not truly meant for Saw Paing’s family, in a country outside of Gaolang’s own.

“Are you alright?” Gaolang asks him. Saw Paing looks up.

I’ll be fine, he wants to say, thinks instead because even things like talking feel like too much right now. He settles for a nod instead, one that feels too slow and tired to really be him but has to be because who else could he be? Gaolang does not look reassured by this. He sits down next to Saw Paing and talks. That quiet voice, normally at least partially twinged with annoyance and exhaustion, now flows with an undertone of gentle energy. It’s not the fire that Saw Paing usually feels running through his veins. Nor is it Ne Win Paing’s quick fury or Pa Paing’s ruthless confidence.

No, it’s the other kind of energy, the kind that Gaolang always emits though it’s hidden under the day-to-day life’s mundaneness. Gaolang tell him about fights, about what guarding Prince Rama has been like for him, some recipe his parents love and he despises because of how annoyingly spicy it is and how Saw Paing would probably like it. And then he talks about staring into a fire.

“Look,” Gaolang motions at it. “It moves so incredibly, alive and unalive at once.” Saw Paing looks into the fire, watches the moving flames flicker and dance in and out of existence. Next to him, Gaolang smiles.

“It reminds me of you sometimes. The difference is fire burns out. I truly hope you never do.” They sit next to each other, watching for a while until something in Saw Paing’s chest undoes itself, letting some feeling back in. Gaolang notices.

“Tell me about Ne Win Paing,” he asks, shoulder brushing against Saw Paing’s own, warmer than the air around by just enough to be noticeable without feeling too off-balance. And so he does, spilling out every little detail he can remember about his brother and all of the memories that were crafted for as long as he can remember. The sky is light when he finishes, still tired but somehow lighter. That something that had unwound a bit earlier is almost completely gone. He’s still saddened by the loss of one of the greatest people in his life, but things look a little better.

Gaolang leaves then, apologetic but unable to stay. Saw Paing nods at him again to say it’s alright and it must come across sufficiently this time, because Gaolang’s smiling softly as he walks to his car and drives back to his too-loud and too-busy life for such a quiet man and yet a life that couldn’t be anyone else’s.

Saw Paing’s younger siblings are slowly waking up, coming out to check up on him and start their day. He hugs them, feeling his spirit coming back to something normal.

------

Twenty-nine. Still a tad colder than before but mostly better.

Thirty. A year with little occurring beyond the increasing amount of kengan matches and the frequency that he gets to see old friends like Sayaka. The tournament that happens later in the year is undoubtedly something unforgettable that he;ll treasure for the rest of his life. So many new friends made, so many bonds forged and strengthened. He makes it a point to keep correspondence with all of them, even the more quiet ones like Karo and Rei. They clearly need the company if they're quite that quiet.

Thirty-one. He wakes up expecting another birthday that’s rather insignificant. His sisters and brothers in college call and Skype and do whatever else they need to say hello first thing in the morning, yelling through the screen loud enough that he can her the dorm’s complaints through the call. The siblings still at home whether from sentimentality or youth wake him minutes before that by running into his room and wishing a happy birthday to him at the top of their lungs. He’s so proud of their lung training being quite so successful.

He checks his phone after all of the younger siblings hang up out of habit. There’s another twelve messages from various members of the assassin clans he’s befriended, a missed call from Cosmo, a notification about a post from Adam, and an alert of the local post office telling him about several packages that are addressed to him.

On the journey to the post office and back he gets six more calls. As he’s balancing reading a short ‘happy birthday!’ texted to him from Cosmo and a rambly congratulation courtesy of Okubo that is interrupted by an incoming call from either Hanafusa or Yoshizawa, a wonderfully familiar voice calls out.

“Saw! Over here!” Sayaka stands by the edge of the road, looking as red carpet-ready as always, except for the small trolley of boxes and bags she’s keeping from rolling away.

“HEY SAYAKAAAA!!!!!” He yells to her as he runs over. She’s hugging him so there’s no reason not to complete their usual greeting by picking her up and spinning in several circles.

“Happy birthday, Saw!” She laughs as he puts her down. “Sorry I didn’t warn you, but there was a lot of last minute stuff and everyone wanted to send something to you and it was ‘one more thing’ this and ‘oh wait here!’ that, and it’s so great to see you again! Here!” the packages he was holding until two seconds ago are now in Sayaka’s hands, traded for a fancy-looking photo album.

“It’s for you. I wish I could stay, but Retsudo’s been flipping out for six hours and he threatened to send a SAR squad again, but I promise i’ll call this evening, kay? See ya soon, Saw Paing!” She runs to the familiar figures of Takyama and Misasa, waving the whole time they drive away until she’s out of his line of sight. Only tnen does Saw Paing turn his attention to the trolley and the photo album.

Getting everything home requires ignoring messages and calls so his plan to find out what these things are that everyone was so determined to send to him has to wait another hour or so but then he finally has the time to check everything out.

There’s two gorgeous shirts that fit perfectly, bright greens and yellows combining with the soft fabric and reminding him of his old shirt but nicer. This, he knows without even needing to check the card, is a gift that only someone like Muteba would have gotten him. A thick book of various recipes from several different regions in Japan, along with an impressively full binder of leaflet instructions for dishes made in the mountains is sent courtesy of Sekibayashi and Haruo.

A sharp-looking knife that seems to be more familiar with intestines sliding across its blade than vegetables is gifted by the Kures he’d met after Hayami’s rebellion, right next to several ‘free assassination’ coupons Reichii and Fusui must have snuck in as a half-joke and and half-true gift.

Most of the things are actually quite small, just fragile and packaged with an insane amount of cushioning, he realizes. It’s nothing particularly fancy, but they’re all things that will remind him of the senders, be it the scalpel that Hanafusa mailed him with instructions on how to DIY surgery or the old shogi set Kaneda gifts along with a book on most famous shogi strategies played throughout history.

Saw Paing moves everything to where it should be once everything but the photo album has been looked through. The cookbooks go to a specific shelf in the kitchen that no one else can reach. The weapons are hidden in a small box under his bed to avoid any incidents. Muteba’s shirts go onto hangers, Sawada’s fancy candies are set on a plate for eating while looking at this final gift, and then the album is opened.

The first photo makes him smile, a perfect snapshot from one of his earliest fights in the Kengan matches, capturing the moment they had both gone from enemies to friends mid-blow. A date, presumably of when the photo was taken, is written on the border in Sayaka’s neat writing. The second one is of Ne Win Paing from seven years ago. This time, the date is in heavier, blockier writing, not unlike Hollis’s. Saw Paing flips through the album a little more, taking it in. there’s plenty of photos of his various friends, fellow fighters, and even some family from the tournament and before it, but there’s also old photos of his brother and father, and even one of his mother back when she had fought in occasional matches, along with candids of some of the more stoic people. They must have been collected over several months, and not just by Sayaka.

Saw Paing already knows what will happen this evening. Gaolang will come over with some kind of small yet so deeply personal way of also saying happy birthday. Sayaka will call again, most likely throwing a small party in the Katahara house and inviting everyone she can. Rei might stop by and even if he doesn’t, he’ll Skype before the sun sets because he’s a punctual person by both nature and training.

But that’s still hours away, and in the meantime, Saw Paing decides to keep looking at the beautiful snapshots of the past, enjoying the present to it’s fullest.

------

END.

#happy birthday to my all-time fave #saw paing yoroizuka #sayaka katahara #gaolang wongsawat #ne win paing #pa paing #kenganverse #kengan ashura #kengan #fic #fanfic #my writing #I wrote this in one sitting please if you like it leave a comment or rb or somehting

[wallgirl]

The Little Nereid Part 6

1800 words, part six of a XX part fanfiction (it ain’t over til it’s over, babes)

Poseidon x OC

Dynamene, youngest of the 50 Nereids, has lived most of her adolescence as a servant alongside her sisters at Poseidon’s palace. But with her coming-of-age birthday and other developments, what she initially thought was just admiration of her master blossoms into something stronger and more passionate… and painful.

Categories: Romance, angst, unrequited love, coming-of-age, earn-your-happy-ending; no NSFW content

---

"What is it they want an audience for?!" Dynamene asked, hurrying to keep up with Poseidon's long strides. "They didn't say anything earlier..."

"I have no idea. But if they didn't include you, then it must not concern you," he replied shortly, gaze fixed ahead. What else could it be about besides you?

Dynamene's expression remained troubled. "Maybe they forgot to tell me... Maybe they expect me to be there."

"On the contrary, I was asked by one of your sisters to make sure that you were in your room before the meeting begins. I plan to do so personally." His stare shifted back down to her eyes.

Dynamene's gaze flitted across his face, trying to decipher what he knew and refused to share with her. Then she processed the last few words. "You don't have to see me to my room, really. I promise I won't leave it until you've finished with your meeting."

"I would like to believe you, but you've shown in the past a predisposition to eavesdropping."

Dynamene blushed but couldn't keep from giving an embarrassed grin. "Ah, yes, I suppose you're right. But I wouldn't dare cross you again, my lord." Her expression as she looked up at him was almost mischievous.

"I don't plan to find out," he said flatly, and she turned her gaze to the floor with pursed lips. She remained quiet the rest of the journey.

In far too little time, they had reached the door to her room. Dynamene reluctantly opened it and stepped half inside before turning back to peer at him with forlorn eyes. "I'm sorry I broke your trust, my lord. I know there may be nothing I can do to restore it, but... I want to apologize again, either way."

He was quiet for a moment. She thought she heard him sigh, a quiet exhale, before he spoke one more time. "Perhaps, given enough time, you will."

Dynamene stared into the distance, an unexplainable urge to voice the question that had been weighing on her mind for over a week overtaking her. "Lord Poseidon?" she asked, her voice cracking. She dared not show him her face now, but there was something she needed an answer to. She had to ask now, while she had the courage to speak. 

"Yes?"

"I..." She faltered at the last minute. "I hope the audience with my sisters goes well." She stared up at the ceiling, hating herself for faltering. Her real question would just continue to weigh on her that much longer. Will... will you really take as consort the maiden Hera plans to present you with?

Poseidon stared at the cracked door and the slender inch of material he could see of her robes. He looked away towards the window on the far end of the hall. The sky was turning golden as the sun began its descent towards the horizon. He was no fool. Something else was troubling her, but what, she clearly dared not to say.

"I will hear whatever they have to say with an open mind," he settled on for an answer.

"Thank you," Dynamene whispered, twisting the bracelet 'round her wrist. "I... We all appreciate it." The mother-of-pearl beads glowed beautifully in the light of the sunset. She shyly peered around the door one last time. "Thank you, my lord. Goodnight."

Poseidon stood outside her room for a moment more, as if collecting himself. This all was becoming a hassle; wasn't it?

And yet, it didn't bother him as much as it had in the start.

He turned on his heel and continued towards the great hall. The other Nereids were surely waiting for his entrance now, and the sooner he arrived, the sooner it would be over.

The forty-nine other Nereids parted silently as Poseidon made his way between them to his throne. The sunset threw soft shapes of orange light across the vast room. The solemnity in each Nereid's face, no small feat to begin with, was put into greater relief by the shadows in the dimming light. Their eyes followed the god as he sat upon the chair, settling in and resting his cheek upon his hand in his usual manner.

"You have all called to request an audience with me, which I see fit to grant," he began lowly. "All of you except for Dynamene, who you requested be left out of this meeting."

The Nereids said nothing but looked to the eldest sister standing at the head of the group: Ianeira.

"As such, I have made sure that Dynamene is in her quarters." His eyes drifted from each face to the next. "My time is precious little; make your statement."

Ianeira stepped forward, her back straight and gaze direct. "Lord Poseidon, I won't make any pretenses about why we have asked for you to hear us out this evening. Something has recently come to the attention of all of us, including, I suspect, you, that we feel requires action."

Poseidon's gaze snapped to her face. He said nothing.

"My lord, Dynamene has recently come of age. She is a young woman now in body, but in mind and soul, she is still a child. She allows her feelings to run away from her; she has yet to learn to rein them in when it is appropriate. I'm afraid this may cause problems for all of us in the future." Ianeira bowed her head solemnly. Her careful wording brought her point across to Poseidon without being overly direct.

His suspicions had been right. He tilted his head slightly, gaze shifting from Ianeira to someplace in the distance. "You come here to turn on your own sister?"

"We come here to protect our sister," Ianeira answered, her words almost sharp. "We come here to act on her behalf as her older siblings. And, in particular, we have come to make a request." She lowered her face to the floor once more. What would a monster like you know, after all, of love for one's family? How dare you accuse me of betrayal when your hands are full of your brother's blood. Dynamene will not be your next victim, even if I have to get gutted like Adamas to prevent it.

Poseidon remained silent. He didn't move at all, as if carved from the same stone as his throne.

In the crowd, Eione's gaze sought Thoe's. She subtly rose her arm behind her back, showing her crossed fingers.

"We request permission to bring Dynamene home for an extended visit with our parents, along with a dozen of us older sisters. It has been a while since we have seen our family, and I'm sure the change of environment will do her good."

Poseidon did not look at her. The intent behind their request was clear now. They meant to remove Dynamene from the palace in an effort to get her away from him. They were trying to keep her from falling in love with him.

And they were attempting to discourage him from taking an interest in her.

How presumptuous of them. How futile of them, to think that they had the power to keep him from what he desired. They had no right to make such demands. Where had this sudden blind courage come from? His hands tightened minutely, undetectably, on the arms of the throne. Dynamene's boldness made much more sense now.

For several seconds there was no sound in the great hall. Every sister's gaze was focused sharply on the god, their expressions ranging from concerned to annoyed. The Nereids were not happy with the possibility of their beloved youngest sister falling for the callous Poseidon. Admittedly, their worries were not unfounded. If Dynamene was taken as consort by Poseidon, she would no longer be under the protection of her family or societal customs; she would be considered Poseidon's property, and her fate would be left at the mercy of his wrath. The Nereids did not trust him to leave Dynamene unharmed. Memories of his past violence remained suspended in the air around them, a vivid warning to the fate of their sister.

What good would it do to deny their request, in the end? He had no interest in invoking the ire of his servants and their family; too troublesome for such an insignificant conflict. Surely, if he refused to let Dynamene leave the palace, word would get around. People would assume he did have an interest in the nymph if he tried to keep her here now. Well, if the Nereids so wished to keep their sister safe from his toxic influence, so be it. What was it to him?

"Your request is granted," he answered. "You may take leave of the palace for a month. I won't have need of all fifty of you during this time, anyways. I have important duties to take care of elsewhere." I won't even know you're gone.

"Thank you, my lord," Ianeira replied gratefully. "We'll begin preparations tonight, and leave tomorrow afternoon." All the Nereids dropped to a silent bow, then took their leave.

Poseidon remained on his throne. A feeling he was loathe to claim was seething in his chest. He knew the Nereids had always regarded him with caution, which he welcomed. It kept them at a reasonable distance and discouraged them from annoying him. But seemingly overnight it had culminated in this; them spiriting away one of their own because she had warmed up to him.

He got to his feet and strode briskly towards his quarters. That things had come to a head like this was ridiculous. He should have put a stop to this the moment Dynamene had looked at him with stars in her eyes. But how could he have known things would develop this way? It wasn't his fault that the nymph had taken a liking to him. The sound of her rapid heartbeat had finally become ambient noise to his ears; now, when she returned to the palace, he'd have to get used to it all over again. When she returned, he would have to get used to her overly bright smiles and bold attempts at making conversation once more. He'd have to talk to her again about the ocean, and what he did there. He'd have to show her what he saw in the deep sea, her delicate hand in his, her expression shifting rapidly as she took in the visions in her mind's eye. He'd have to hear her unfounded worries about his safety, even with all his strength and power.

No, he didn't have to do any of that. So why was he considering it a foregone conclusion already?

The doors to his suite closed behind him far rougher than necessary, and dust blew free from the stone walls. He threw his trident rather forcefully onto its wall rack before stepping onto the balcony. The waves of the ocean were growing unusually choppy for this time of day.

It would be a month until he heard that heartbeat again.

---

Author’s Notes: Aughhhh now we’re getting closer to the climax, finally, I’ve been waiting for it.

This has now become the second longest fanfic I’ve ever written. By the time it ends, it’ll probably be the longest.

Careful throwing your trident, Poseidon; wouldn’t want you acCIDENTALLY STABBING SOMEONE NOW WOULD WE?!

#record of ragnarok #record of ragnarok poseidon #poseidon #poseidon x oc #fanfiction #shuumatsu no valkyrie

[waywardfangirl]

For the fantastic @fight-surrender: You are a wonderful person with a brilliant mind and a kind heart, and I am so happy to know you! I really enjoyed the prompts you suggested for the Secret Snowflake exchange this year, so to give you something fluffy and happy for your birthday I combined a few of them into one sweet and silly fic - I hope that you like it! 🖤

A big thank you goes out to @carryonvisinata for her wonderful beta work and for making this fic even better for such an incredible friend 🖤 Purr-fect Strangers

Rated: General Audiences Word Count: 3208 Chapters: 1/1 Simon

"Die Hard? Really?"

I'm struggling to make the Redbox give me my DVD. Video vending machines sounded like a good idea when I couldn't find anywhere to stream my favorite movie, but the obstinate thing in front of me and the condescending voice behind me are now making me reconsider my choices.

"What's wrong with Die Hard?" I demand, momentarily giving up on retrieving my video to take some of my frustration out on the prick watching me.

Unfortunately, when I turn around to scowl at him, I make eye contact with one of the most attractive people I've ever seen. He's tall, with dark hair escaping the bun on top of his head and falling around his face, and a perfectly tailored suit hugging every inch of his body right on down to his shiny Chelsea boots. My brain shorts out, and he sneers at me.

"There’s nothing wrong with it, per se. But you have a near unlimited assortment of cinema to choose from, and you've selected Die Hard?"

(Read the rest on ao3, or keep reading here)

I scoff.

"Look, mate, some of us don't feel the need to watch pretentious films just to feel better than other people. I like Die Hard. I'm going to watch it while eating pizza and relaxing in joggers, and I refuse to feel bad about enjoying that."

He looks a bit startled, and his cheeks take on a slightly pink tinge, but he just arches an eyebrow at me. (And manages to make that look unfairly hot too, the prat.)

"What movie are you renting?" I say it like a challenge, and he pushes past me.

He deftly removes my DVD from the stubborn machine and thrusts it at me, before turning back around to get his own. I loiter behind him, just like he did to me, ready to see what movie he thinks is better than Die Hard.

"Two Weeks Notice?" I exclaim, when I see the poster pop up on the screen. "You're ridiculing Die Hard, but getting a rom-com for yourself? Unbelievable."

He pushes past me and turns up his nose. My blood boils for so many different reasons, and it's work to hold myself still.

"This has Hugh Grant in it. My tastes are superior."

Then he swans off, and I'm left standing on the kerb.

Baz

A year into my time at university, I started treating myself to a monthly visit to Sephora. It was easily excusable then, with parties every weekend to justify each new purchase, but I've kept up the tradition since graduating. (Retail therapy and good skin care never hurt anyone. And a little eyeliner does wonders for one's self esteem.)

This month, I'm browsing for something sparkly. My eyes are grey, but with a dark, glittery liner I think they might stand out a little more. I'm just testing one of the pencils on the back of my hand when I see him.

Blond hair, plain blue eyes, and a constellation of freckles and moles across his skin. The most lovely man I have ever seen, with the worst taste in movies, and (I'm sure) a well-deserved hatred for me.

For all that I try to appear cool and confident, my facade sometimes fails me. When I get flustered, I become cruel. The man renting Die Hard was so pretty that all I could do was insult him and then curse myself for it the entire way home. I couldn't even properly enjoy Hugh Grant, as mired as I was in self-loathing. And now, whatever second chance to impress him I've been granted with has surely been ruined by my actions last time.

I keep my head down and steal glances at him through my eyelashes.

He is entirely out of his element, that much is obvious right away. I watch him ask one of the shop assistants for help, and she points him in the direction of a display. His brow furrows as he picks up different containers, and he’s ridiculously precious and hopeless as he holds a lipstick tube next to a garish eyeshadow palette and closes one eye to look at them. (What is he even doing?)

Finally, his confusion seems to win out, and he turns to look around for help, when he suddenly spots me. I've been caught out; I can't pretend now like I haven't been staring, and he scowls a little as we make eye contact. I arch an eyebrow, watch as his face grows pink in anger, and decide I hate myself enough to try talking to him again.

"That's really not your shade."

"What?" It's a simple word, horribly enunciated, and does nothing to quell the wrinkle between his eyes.

"The purple. I don't think it would flatter you. Furthermore, that lipstick clashes horribly with every color in that palette."

He turns a bright red and starts to splutter. I am hopelessly endeared.

"That's not- I, I don't- it isn't-"

"Oh, calm down, there's nothing wrong with wearing makeup," I say, flashing him the back of my hand with the eyeliner tests on it. "You just need to pick a better shade." I pluck a different palette (for blue eyes) and a lipstick in a true red from the display and hand them over. "Something like this."

He stares at them dumbly for a moment, his mouth hanging open. (Mouth breather.)

"You think I should wear this?"

"I think it would flatter you if you chose to wear makeup. That purple will do you no favors." I sneer at the garish eyeshadow still in his hand.

"It's for my friend!" he finally bursts out.

"Are you mad at her?" It's a reasonable question, that eyeshadow is truly appalling.

"No? It's her birthday next week, and she said that she wanted to have some makeup for date nights and things."

"Are you in love with her?"

"No!" No hesitation at all. "No, no way. Penny is like my sister. She's my best friend. We're not…" he trails off, and I'm strangely reassured. He still probably hates me, but at least there is one woman in the world that he’s not dating, so my odds have improved marginally.

"Don't get your pants in a twist. I just thought you might be, since that eyeshadow would certainly drive away her current boyfriend."

He sticks out his chin and seems to decide something.

"Fine. What should I get for her, then?" The “if you know so much” is left unsaid.

I'm not really an expert, despite my monthly purchases, but I'll take any excuse I can get to linger around this starburst of a boy for a few moments more.

"Does she wear makeup normally?" He shakes his head no. "Then perhaps start with something more subtle for her." I take the offending palette away and hand him a more subdued one, with a faint shimmer. "Do you think this would look nice on her?"

He thinks hard for a moment, then pulls out his phone, swiping at the lock screen and turning it to face me.

"This is her."

His home screen background is a picture of the two of them, cheeks pressed together and grinning like crazy under the summer sun. His curls are being tossed by the wind, and he looks like a bronze Adonis. I think my heart actually skips a beat at the sight.

"That palette will be fine then. This lipstick, too," I add, handing him a plum shade. "Do you need anything else?" I ask, and then cringe when I sound like I'm working instead of flirting.

He shakes his head.

"No, this is brilliant, thanks."

He still looks a bit confused, and he bites his lip as he looks down at the makeup in his hand - the makeup for his friend, and the things I picked out for him.

I don't want to go, but I can't figure out any way to prolong our conversation.

"You should get that one," he says, pointing to one of the lines on my hand. I raise an eyebrow in question. He's right, but what does this mean? Is he flirting? Does he want me to wear eyeliner? Is he just trying to repay me for helping him? "Yeah. Definitely that one."

He raps his knuckles on the counter beside us twice, and then wanders towards the check out.

It's not until I'm trying to fall asleep that I realize - he bought the makeup for himself too.

Simon

One of my foster fathers had a workshop, and I spent a happy summer watching him build a table and matching chairs for the dining room. I didn't get to stay to see it completed, because one of his biological children kept stealing money out of his mom's purse and blaming me, but I still enjoyed the time I had spent watching woodworking. I liked it so much that when Penny and I graduated and got a flat together, I saved up to buy a few tools. I don't make anything major, but I've built small shelves and a side table and a pan organizer for the flat, and I really like it.

Recently, Penny has been complaining about not being able to reach everything in the kitchen, so while she's still at work I stop by the B&Q to pick up some wood for a step stool. I'm heading to the check out when I see him - the mean makeup guy. (Although he was actually quite nice when we were talking about makeup. He was just rude when we were getting our movies.)

He's dressed casually today, in tight dark jeans and a warm grey sweater, with his hair falling in loose waves around his face. He's glaring down at two wrenches, and I hate that he still looks so good when he's glowering.

Before I even register what's happening, my feet have carried me over to him.

"D'ya need help?"

He startles, and turns lovely grey eyes up to look at me. It's work not to gasp. He’s wearing eyeliner. I'm not entirely sure, but I think it may even be the eyeliner I told him to buy.

"The sink in my kitchen is leaking. I watched a tutorial on YouTube, and it should be easy enough to fix, but I don't have the proper tools."

He goes back to glaring at the wrenches, and I lean over to take a look.

“You want that one.”

“Why? How do you know?”

“Well, it’s adjustable. You can change it within reason, so as long as your plumbing isn’t something incredibly out of the ordinary it should fit just fine.”

He looks surprised (and maybe a bit like he wants to attack me, although I try to ignore that).

“How do you know that?”

I laugh.

“Basic home maintenance, mate, I’ve had to fix a leaky sink before too, believe it or not.”

I grin at him until one corner of his mouth tips upward in response.

“Thanks,” he says, his cheeks flushing a little. “I’ll get this one then. Yes. Thank you. Have a nice evening.”

He strides off, once again leaving me feeling a bit dazed.

He looks really good in eyeliner.

Baz

When Fiona discovered I hadn’t left the apartment in a week, she called in the cavalry. Daphne showed up at my door with a casserole and some flowers, and within minutes she had the kitchen feeling like a place that was less utility space and more home.

“Basil, Fiona is worried about you.” I rolled my eyes, despite knowing it wouldn’t get me anywhere. “I’m worried about you, too. You spend so much time by yourself, and you hardly ever go out to see your friends or enjoy the city.”

“I’m fine. Thank you for your concern.”

“Basil,” she had said, and that time it was a warning. “It’s not healthy for anyone to spend this much time alone.”

“What, do you expect me to get a cat?”

Daphne smiled, and I knew that I had said the wrong thing.

“Yes, actually. And,” she said, before I could object, “Fiona thought you should too. In fact, she made it a condition of your continued occupancy of this flat. We both think it might be nice for you to have someone else around to talk to.”

I arched an eyebrow.

“And you want me to talk to a cat?”

Daphne just gave me a Mona Lisa smile, handed me a plate filled with food, and told me when she left later that evening that I had forty-eight hours to send her a picture of a cat. (I asked what I should do if I didn’t like any of the cats I saw. Or if they didn’t like me. She said I had to at least prove that I tried.)

So, this morning, I made my way to the nearest RSPCA and talked to strangers for the first time in over a week. I told them that I was looking to adopt a cat, and they immediately led me to a room filled with individual cages and an assortment of felines. They said I could play with any of the cats that I wanted, and now I’m staring into the eyes of a fluffy orange tabby.

The tabby meows at me, and I swear that she’s telling me to get lost. I guess cats can tell when you’re out of your depth.

I stroll down the aisle and read the names given to each cat. It’s been years since I last had a pet and even then, the husky my family had wasn’t my sole responsibility. I was in charge of feeding him, but there was always someone else making sure that I did. And really, we only adopted him when my pediatrician suggested that an animal might help me after my mother died. Daphne is probably trying to do the same thing again now. (Is this how one becomes a crazy cat lady? Depression, anxiety, OCD, and an unwillingness to tolerate therapy?)

I keep walking slowly until I feel a tug on my sleeve. I look down, and a little orange paw ending in one very sharp claw has latched on to me. I unhook it before my sweater can snag, and then look into the kennel. There are two kittens, each only about ten weeks old according to their cards, and the orange one is peering up at me with big blue eyes. Its littermate is asleep in the corner, curled into a fluffy black puffball, but the tabby is ready to play. His tail twitches, and he pounces immediately when I wiggle a finger between the bars. He catches my fingertip in a far more gentle grasp than I would have imagined, then looks at me with what can only be described as pure adoration.

“Excuse me,” I say, moving my finger some more and feeling small claws dig in. Then again, louder, to get the attention of the woman, “Excuse me. Can I see this one?”

The woman comes over and flips the latch, then reaches in and comes out with a handful of fur and knives. The kitten opens its mouth in a fierce imitation of a vampire, then stretches it further as it lapses into a yawn. We spend the better part of an hour in a bright, cheerful room, just the kitten and I. At first it chases a string that I drag along the ground and runs after balls with bells in them, but then it calms down and curls up in my lap to sleep.

I’m petting it and cooing softly to it, trying to ignore the fact that Daphne and Fiona were both right about this whole thing, when the door to the room opens again.

“Oh. It’s you,” says the most beautiful man I have ever seen. My face flushes when I remember our last encounter and I pray he doesn’t remember my ignorance. (Of course he does. I didn’t know how to select a wrench. I am incapable of basic home repair and he knows it.)

“Do you two know each other?” The woman from before is back, this time holding the other kitten from the same cage, and looking between the two of us. “These kittens aren’t technically a bonded pair, but they are siblings, the only two remaining from their litter, and it would be lovely if they could still see each other.”

“Err…” the man says, shifting his weight.

“We’ve met in passing a few times now,” I say, trying to avoid encouraging this line of questioning.

“Great!” she says, clapping her hands brightly after handing the kitten off. “I’ll leave all of you to get better acquainted then!”

For a moment, there’s just awkward silence. Neither of us are looking at each other, both focusing on our respective kittens. Then, his kitten turns into the feline equivalent of a slinky, oozes out of his grasp, and runs over to tap my leg once before running away again. It hides behind his legs, and all I can see is a black tail winding around his ankles.

We both laugh, and the ice is broken.

“I’m Simon,” he says, and smiles at me. It’s the same radiant smile I remember from his lockscreen. It feels like looking into the sun, and I bask in it.

“Basil. Although my friends call me Baz.”

“Are you going to…” he trails off, but gestures to my cat.

“Yes,” I look down and give it a scratch under the chin. “I’m going to adopt it.”

“Same here,” Simon says, and then he blushes. “I mean, unless it rips my face off in the next few minutes, but I think this is the one.”

“Do you know which one you have?” Their names and genders were on the cage, but it didn’t specify who was who.

“No idea. I’m going to rename mine anyway though, I didn’t like either of those names.”

“I was planning on doing the same thing. If I’m going to have a pet, it needs to have a proper name befitting its personality. Not something mundane like Fluffy.” I scowl, and he laughs.

As his kitten comes over to touch its nose to my kitten, Simon clears his throat.

“So, um, like she said, they’d probably be happy to have playdates or whatever. I mean, since we’re getting them. And since we keep running into each other. It might make sense to, you know, exchange numbers?”

“Yes!” I say, far too eagerly. “I mean, that seems reasonable. It would be more convenient than waiting to happen upon you in the Waitrose choosing inferior crisps to set up a future meeting.”

He smiles. “Well, yeah, there’s that. And this way, it’ll be easier for me to ask you out, ”

Then the absolute nightmare sits down beside me and hands me his phone. He texts me immediately once I enter my contact info.

Unknown Number (11:27 AM) This is Simon Snow

Unknown Number (11:27 AM) Your cat is cute.

Unknown Number (11:27 AM) So are you

Unknown Number (11:28 AM) Wanna get dinner sometime? ;)

I blush, and send him a reply.

Baz (11:29 AM) I thought you’d never ask.

#snowbaz fic #Purr-fect Strangers #a gift for a friend! #fuff #my fic

[jimlingss]

Ducklings & Dimples 2

Original / Sequel

➜ Words: 17.1k

➜ Genres: 58% Fluff, 20% Adventure, 20% Action, 2% Angst, Historical!AU - kind of

➜ Summary: After your adventures with Yoongi, you head home to face your family and the duties you've run from. A year has passed since. But you never anticipated meeting him again with his fiancée.

The country of Pegan is one you’ve never had the opportunity to venture into. It was a place that you teetered on, scaling the border, poking your head into one or two of the small villages just to sell in before you were on your way. But you had heard lots about it in his letters. You just never thought you would be visiting it in such a way. Ten round towers form a protective barrier around the elegant castle and are connected by firm walls made of gray stone. Refined windows are scattered generously across the walls in an asymmetric pattern. Beyond the gates are well kept gardens with fragrant flowers, gorgeous trees and many bushes that decorate the outside of the castle. The castle itself has clearly been around for at least a thousand years, but it doesn't seem like it will collapse any time soon. “Back straight. You’re slouching, Taehyung,” your mother barks to your youngest brother and sharply inhales when Jin purposely bumps into him with his broad shoulders, telltale signs he’s trying to instigate more bickering. “Stop that right now, young man. You’re supposed to set an example as the eldest.” “I wasn’t even doing anything!” Jin protests to no avail. Taehyung’s mouth curls as he jumps on the opportunity to berate his older brother, “You’re twenty six. You should act like it.” Seokjin’s mouth drops open. “How dare you bring my age into this.” “Can you guys please shut your mouths for one second?” Lia is exasperated and glares. “People are staring at us.” “Now, now, children.” Your dad clears his throat and brushes off his shoulders. “Let’s not give your mother a hard time and argue in front of the Duchess’ castle.” Your mother holds in her sigh temporarily and makes it to your sister, smoothing out her dress that’s been wrinkled from the carriage ride. “Hair in place, darling.” Then she makes it to the end of the line and looks at you. Your eyes meet hers and you anticipate nagging. Perhaps an insult of how strands of hair have fallen from your updo and around your eyes. Or how you should get rid of that frown off your face before she singes it off. But to your surprise, your mother merely smiles and swivels around. “Shall we enter?” She’s trying — you can see it and it’s an effort you appreciate. Your entire family climbs the marble steps leading up to the grand doors already open with folks filtering inside. It was the Duchess of Pegan’s birthday, a week long affair and evidently, a huge celebration. Much too extravagant for your own tastes, but it’s not like your opinion matters. “Kaela, Elden!” The man in the foyer comes over with a golden chalice and his wife trails after him. Immediately, your mother curtsies along with your sister and you dip down after a delayed second, momentarily forgetting the manners drilled into your brain. “Duke and Duchess Fesan. It’s a pleasure.” “Oh please, don’t be a stranger. It’s been too long!” The older man has silver, short hair that almost fully covers his thin, lived-in face. But his eyes are fond as if he has seen many good things in his lifetime. Fesan Winsor is a duke, brother to the king that runs Pegan. You only know such facts after the relentless history lessons with your overbearing tutor. He gives a light embrace to your mother and father, nods his head towards you and Lia, and shakes Seokjin’s hand. “Why, you’ve grown to be such a strapping, young man. Handsome, indeed. The last I’ve seen of you, you were but a wee boy.” “Thank you.” Jin practically beams over the praise and you and Taehyung roll your eyes. “Are you looking to get married any time soon?” His irises sparkle. “Do you have someone in mind, your grace?” The Duke barks out laughing at the witty quip and your mother audibly sighs. “Seokjin’s much too deep in finishing his studies to be considering marriage, unfortunately. And a bit too immature to handle the responsibilities of such a thing.” “Oh you never know about children,” Duchess Jacquelyn laughs boisterously. “They always grow up faster than we realize.” The Duchess is in a lavish dress that looks like it’s about to swallow her whole, flashy to the maximum and heavy diamonds are wrapped around her neck. It makes you wonder if it aches. Her golden hair is stark with a bit of gray, yet she is bright eyed and overly friendly as she squeezes the living daylights out of Lia and then you. It’s unusual how she has no respect for personal boundaries or what’s mannerly for a high-class lady that she is. There’s small talk made between your father and the Duke, but as the Duchess pulls away from you, her face lights up as if she recalls something. “Wait a moment! You are Y/N, correct?” “Uh, yes. I am, madam.” “Then you were the one who defeated that vicious dragon from the North with Yoongi, weren’t you?! Why your tale of bravery is infamous!” She grasps your hands with an excited smile. You swallow hard, not sure how you feel about being viewed as a hero when you’re not. But you don’t say anything for fear of having to explain. It’s not like you told your own family the true story. “Yes, what an amazing feat,” Duke Winsor marvels. “You must be very prideful to have such a hero in the family.” Your mother is visibly pleased while your dad plops a hand on your shoulder. “Y/N is indeed turning out to be the best sorcerer in our family.” “You would be too if you studied more,” Taehyung mutters to Lia and nudges her while she glares at him. “What about you, Mr. I’m-too-tired-to-practice-magic.” “Children,” your mother’s voice is full of scolding but a pleasant smile is placed on her features. It’s frightening and jarring how different her expression can be from what comes out of her mouth. “Oh, you must be so eager to see your old friend.” The Duchess turns over her shoulder. “Yoongi was here just a moment ago.” You nod stiffly, tight-lipped. “I’ll make sure to send my greetings to him later.” The middle-aged folks continue talking as you and the rest of your siblings stand there like stone statues that are decorating the castle. But as you look around the crowds, fearing the worst, you feel Jin poke you. “Was that the guy you were sending letters to every day?” he asks, referring to what Duchess Jacquelyn said. “Shut it.” Taehyung raises his brows with an amused smile, but no one speaks. It’s become a sensitive topic but always has been — you’ve never let any of them see your letters and you threw a big fuss on several occasions when Lia tried to sneak peaks. Now you regret it. Why did you spend so much time doing such petty, futile things. Eventually, you’re granted mercy when the Duke and Duchess continue welcoming new arrivals and everyone disperses for drinks. And unlike what they said, you’re not eager to see your old ‘friend’ at all. You’re trying to steer clear of him. “What are you doing standing here in the corner?” Your mother finds you reclusive with a flute of ale. It’s not the most sophisticated drink, but does enough to put you more at ease. Though, much to your dismay, she pries the glass out of your grip. “You should be socializing! Making connections. Like your brother!” She turns and you see Taehyung by the refreshment table with a younger girl who looks visibly uncomfortable. He barks out in deafening laughter, startling a few other guests and your mother sighs while you hold back a smile. “Maybe not quite like him.” “Is there something you want to say, mom?” It’s not like her to be so vague and to encourage you to talk to others. She’s always been apprehensive about you mingling, assuming you’re trying to scam them — which you usually are, so her caution isn’t unreasonable. “There’s a divine soul sorcerer,” she announces and instantly, you groan. “Of course there is.” “Don’t give me that look. You haven’t even spoken to him yet.” Unlike how you receive your magic from a legendary phoenix, divine soul sorcerers are blessed individuals who have a connection to divine beings. Whether they align with an ancient prophecy or their ancestor is an angel. They’re undoubtedly someone who could match the status of your family. You’re starting to suspect the reason your mother even came all the way over here was to get you to meet him. “Fine, I’ll talk to him,” you say, just to get her off your back. Your mother’s wrinkles crease when she smiles. “Good to hear. Now that’s one less issue off my plate— “ “I think Taehyung’s trying to impress that girl,” you interrupt, tilting your body over to the youngest who’s about to set the tablecloth on fire. Your mother practically swears underneath her breath and goes marching over without bidding you farewell. There’s a faint smile on your features and as a Halfling waiter passes, you grab a glass of manycherries wine. You release a long exhale, feeling your eyes bags deepen as exhaustion sets into you. Your eyes flicker to the fire roaring underneath the mantle. The rose and orange flames glow against your cheeks. Your fingers. And incidentally, it grows stronger. You feel the fire envelop you. The chatter of the room simmers down as you focus on the crackle and pop of the inferno. But unfortunately, it doesn’t last long. Not with the shrill voices close to you— “It’s a surprise, no? Even the Duke’s fiftieth birthday wasn’t as extravagant as this. All five houses are here and they even extended the invitations to families beyond Pegan.” “Well perhaps they had a good season or maybe one of the houses expanded their territory and we just haven’t heard about it yet. The Duke and Duchess looks after the entire territory and all the faction houses. It’s only natural they benefit from any changes, right?” “Don’t you two know?” “Know what?” “The reason this celebration is lavish….is because it’s practically an engagement party in disguise.” You exhale out of your nose, downing the glass of wine and when you finish, you see a familiar face in the midst. It’s a slender half-Elf with long blonde hair that’s half tied up and reaches to his ribs. Yorril. You remember his name after beating his ass with Yoongi in Bogsburrough a year ago. The memory causes the corner of your mouth to tug in a smirk. He sees you too and immediately turns away, walking off with his eyes wide. There are lots of people from different factions here, but you don’t know any of their names and don’t care to. Though out of the corner of your eye, you catch sight of a tall man in a white cape fluttering behind with his eyes focused right on you — undoubtedly the divine sorcerer your mother was referring to by his blinding aura — and you take Yorril’s inspiration and walk away as well. You drop your glass on a nearby table and zip into the dark hallway without looking back. You’re not sure where you’re going, merely winding down the corridors. But eventually your steps slow. Goosebumps raise all over the back of your arm. It feels like you’re being watched. Like there’s someone creeping. That there’s a presence behind you. But before you can turn around to discern what it is, a husky timbre makes you halt. “...alright?” At once your body seizes, freezing in its stop. Your blood runs warmer and your back meets the stone wall. There’s a sliver of light coming from the parted door inches away and you pull your orb out from the secret pocket you sewn into your dress. Gripping the object, you channel your magic and cast clairvoyance. The hearing sensor is placed behind the door. “Thank you, Yoongi.” It’s an unfamiliar soft-spoken voice. You hear his hum. “You’re welcome.” “I’m sorry. I know there’s a lot of people out there. I didn’t think my mother would invite so many people. It’s usually not like her to do this and—” “Hey, it’s okay. You don’t need to apologize. I don’t mind as much as you think I do.” “Really?” “I can’t say I enjoy it, but it’s not so bad every so often.” You swallow hard, feeling your heart clog your throat. Though before you can hear another thing, a hand plops down on your shoulder. And you nearly shriek in surprise. Out of all people, you turn to find dad wearing a mischievous smile that Taehyung and Seokjin inherited, and he nudges his chin to the door. “Your mother wouldn’t like you eavesdropping, you know. Come on, let’s go back.” You nod, following after him. The two of you return to the main room and step out into the terrace, away from the crowd. “There’s plenty of other men out there, Y/N.” “I know,” you mutter without looking at him, unable to help sulking. The older man smiles, having an inkling of why you’ve been so quiet. “It’s okay for you to be upset. Everything’s a process of trial and error. And it’s something that’ll come and go in due time.” You sigh lightly, trying to muster a smile that never really comes. “You want me to meet that divine soul sorcerer like mom, don’t you?” “Heavens no.” Your dad pats you on the back as you look out into the gardens. “I just want the best for my daughter.” You meet his eye and he grins. It’s moments like these that you’re glad you came home. “Elden!” The pair of you turn around as an older woman with cat-like eyes and a piercing stare steps out onto the terrace, her slender black dress sparkling like the stars. “My goodness, it’s been ages!” “Hyoyeon.” Your dad gives a laugh. “You haven’t aged a day!” They come to an embrace and she pulls away. “Oh, you’re too kind. Have you met my son yet?” Your worst nightmare emerges. Yoongi is dressed in a black tunic, pants, boots and a black velvet cape draped over his left side. He looks less like a knight on a quest and more like a prince. But one thing that hasn’t changed is his duckling-like hair. Strands of pale yellow that stand out. His eyes immediately center on you in surprise. As if he wasn’t expecting you here. And of course he wasn’t. You hated functions and celebrations like these, but once you heard the rumours, you couldn’t help but beg to come. Or maybe he’s giving you that expression because of how odd you look. You suppose he’s never seen you in anything other than braids and that peasant dress that you used to disguise yourself in. Now, your mother wouldn’t catch you dead in attire like that. But with him comes the Duke’s daughter, Fesan Klarinda, the Marquise of Pegan. She’s petite with spiral curls and dimples dotted in each side of her cheek. She’s the epitome of delicate. Instantly, the girl looks between you and Yoongi, realizing that your gazes are locked into one another’s. “Y/N.” He breathes it out and something swells inside your throat to hear him call your name. It’s hard to keep your face blank and impassive. Yoongi’s mother glances at him and then you. “You know each other?” “She was my partner during my adventure.” “She helped you defeat the dragon? Y/N from the great Phoenix family?” his mother gasps and nudges him. With her teeth gritted, she mutters, “Why didn’t you tell me that? Had I known….” Your dad’s laugh cuts through the suffocating tension. “Such a small world indeed. But I’m glad to finally meet the man who protected my daughter. Congratulations on your engagement, son.” “It’s nice to meet you,” Yoongi’s fiancée says with a demure smile and you give a curtsy without uttering a word. “Is your eldest son here, Hyoyeon?” “Oh, Hoseok unfortunately couldn’t make it to the occasion. He’s busy studying arcane magic in a monk temple in Baldur's Gate. So I only have my youngest with me today.” “Not at all! Education is of the utmost priority for the children.” While they speak, Klarinda clears her throat. “There must be a lot to catch up on since you and Yoongi are fairly close, I heard.” “Yes, he is a great friend to me, my lady.” Yoongi’s eye twitches, but you pay no mind. You don’t speak a single word to him and while it’s terribly awkward, you seize the opportunity to leave. “I find myself a bit parched. If you'll excuse me.” You get away as quickly as you can while grabbing fistfuls of your heavy dress, feeling more strands falling out of your updo. But being out of his presence doesn’t mean you’ve escaped. You feel the weight of Yoongi’s intent gaze on you all night, from across the room to the table. You’re barely able to survive dinner and the food’s not at all charred enough to your tastes. You’re beginning to regret coming here. Even when you knew you had to see it for yourself. “Excuse me. I believe you are Lady Y/N, right?” After dinner, the divine soul sorcerer finally corners you at a moment when your guard is down, having been too focused on Yoongi. The man has silver hair neatly coiffured, but the colour isn’t from age nor is it lackluster. It matches his cape and white attire. Undoubtedly, the sorcerer has an otherworldly appearance. He’s handsome and practically radiant to that of an angel’s. And he draws attention, causing girls to turn their heads and swoon for him. You can only imagine his power and it’s no wonder your mother has insisted that you meet him. But you are far from being impressed. “You are?” “Allow me to introduce myself! I am Jinha, a favoured soul sorcerer. Son of the magnificent Concordia House here in Pegan. My ancestor was the chosen one of the Goddess Mystra.” His palm opens and he glances at your hand. But you don’t entertain the idea of him kissing your knuckles, so he retracts his arm after an awkward moment. He clears his throat. “You look absolutely ravishing. The most beautiful person at this party aside from myself of course,” he quips. You deadpan, “Thanks.” “Are you enjoying the party?” Hardly. “I am.” “Have you tried any of the crab-stuffed lobster tail yet—?” “I much prefer the wine.” You grab a glass from the tray of a stubby butler passing by and you down half of it. When you lower the glass, you find that he’s still there, smirking like an idiot. While this relationship would be textbook perfect, you hate sorcerers. You are one, have three siblings that are, spent your childhood surrounded by them. So you know best how arrogant and entitled sorcerers can be. You bet he spends his free time looking in the mirror. Plus, there’s already enough magic in you for two people. “I happened to speak to your mother earlier, Lady Y/N.” “Did you?” “She said you’ve been traveling before. I have been traveling across the lands myself, so we have quite a bit in common.” “Yes,” you answer in a monotone and then your eyes light up as you spin around on your heel to him. “Actually, she might’ve not told you but I run a business.” “A business?” “I’m a business woman. It’s gotten a bit pushed to the side since I’ve gotten home, but maybe I should start it back up again.” “What kind of business is it?” Jinha stands straighter as if to show how capable he is. “I would love to help.” “Would you?” A feigned coy smile comes across your face and you lean in to graze his shoulder. “I have quite a bit of valuables collected and a lot of ancient potions I sell. All from my travels. You’re actually very fortunate since I have one with me. Would you like to buy one? I’ll be willing to give it to you at a reduced price of ten gold pieces.” Since the first time you’ve arrived, you feel energy return to you. But then much to your dismay, the damned sorcerer apologizes— “I don’t actually have any gold on me right now.” “How about your ring.” You point downward, never breaking eye contact. “This is once in a lifetime opportunity.” Either your skills are rusty or he’s denser than a rock because your persuasions don’t get through. “I would never dare to give you such a worthless ring, Lady Y/N! With so many shiny valuables practically overflowing out of the hundreds of rooms at my enormous manor, you deserve something much more precious. Perhaps we could arrange a time when you could come visit my massive estate.” You audible sigh, not even trying to hide it. For the next ten minutes, the sorcerer bores you with speech about himself, his family, how he personally knows the Duke, how he’s expanding his manor to have two more gardens and five more fountains, and how delicious the crab-stuffed lobster tail is. You barely manage to escape, simply excusing yourself to find your sister. But as you turn the corner, away from prying eyes and ears, you grip your orb in your pocket and channel your arcane magic. You cast disguise self and at once, you take the form of the stubby butler from earlier. A foot shorter, larger, and white tailcoat with black breeches. Your empty glass even turns into a tray and you strut down the corridor with your head held high. You’re going to leave. Out the front door. Never to return. Coming here was a mistake — and confronting Yoongi isn’t something you think you have in you. You’re better suited to having no real relationships, no commitment, no attachments. Merely traveling around and scamming others is what you do best. After all, things were easier back then when you had no direction. There was less emotional turmoil. Fewer obligations. Fewer consequences. But regrets are a little too late, so in the heat of the moment, you throw away your hard-earned compromise with your mother and decide to run. Yet, before you can even think of launching yourself out the open arched window, your eyes grow wide at the man at the end of the hall. Yellow strands of hair catch your attention first. Then it’s the sleepy eyes. The tender features. Immediately, you pull your gaze away from him and stare ahead. It’s not too hard to make yourself unsuspicious when you’re disguised as a butler and Yoongi seems to pay no mind to you either. He merely walks past and you breathe a sigh of relief. But then strong arms wrap around your waist and your back meets a firm chest. The spell breaks. He saw right through you. Right through your illusion. Yoongi’s soft exhale causes goosebumps to rise all over your arms. “Thank god, it’s you. I was worried that it was really the butler.” His timbre is huskier than you remember. You stumble out of his embrace and turn around. “I apologize, sir. I wasn’t trying to create any trouble. ” “Sir?” Yoongi’s brows furrow, deep enough that it looks like it hurts. Neither of you say anything for a long moment as he stares at you and you divert your vision, preferring to admire how smooth the white pillars of the castle look. Then, his hand suddenly reaches out to graze the loose strands of hair that have fallen from your updo. It’s a gentle gesture and he quietly comments, “Your hair’s gotten longer.” But you don’t react. “How have you been?” he asks faintly. “Fine.” You keep your reply curt and short. Distant. “Congratulations on your engagement, sir.” “Y/N.” He sounds annoyed. “Let me explain—” But when you finally meet his gaze, your eyes are painfully stinging and his voice tapers off. You curse underneath your breath, having tried so hard to keep yourself together. Yet the effort to prevent humiliation is being swept down the drain, so you grab fistfuls of your dress and march away. “Y/N!” Yoongi doesn’t chase after you. You snivel violently, doing all you can to not let tears shed. You fail to watch where you’re going and you run into your older sister. “Where have you…..are you okay?” Lia looks down at you, her eyes wide at your state. You merely shake your head and her lips pout as she pulls you in. She doesn’t need to ask. “It’s okay. There, there. No one’s going to hurt you.” She’s wrong. You’ve already been hurt. // Min Yoongi is a bastard. You’ve sorely underestimated his abilities. He manipulates emotions better than you can, but you’re more so angry at yourself for misinterpreting memories. For allowing your imagination to take its course. After all, it’s easier to transform your hurt into anger than reveling in sorrow. You’ve never been the type to be passive. The morning after the banquet, there are tournaments out on the East field. You’re seated at the rows near the Duke and Duchess with the rest of your family. Taehyung is watching intently while Seokjin prefers to wave to girls seated a few seats down much to your mother’s dismay. You’re sitting beside Lia who has her parasol to shield the sun away and is fanning herself to keep sweat from her face. She hasn’t teased you about last night, not when it looked serious enough. But she hasn’t pried either, even though you know eventually she will. Curiosity has always been a fault in your family — second to recklessness. You watch as two men below fight, one with a bow and the other with a mace. You don’t recognize them, merely knowing they’re from different factions. And that they seem to be taking their hatred out on each other. “Ooh.” Taehyung sharply inhales when the Elf with the mace slashes the Half-Elf holding the bow. “That looks like it hurts.” The Half-Elf surrenders and the Halfling referee calls an end to the match. “It’s so hot out,” Lia pants and wipes her forehead with a handkerchief. “Since when did you care about sweating or not?” you ask, lolling your head to the side. She clicks her tongue. “Tch. Don’t you know how many potential suitors are here? I have to look my best. You should too.” “Can I leave?” you ask your mother, tilting yourself to her. Seokjin whirls his head around. “I second that.” “Absolutely not,” she hisses and glances over her shoulder, making sure that the Duke and Duchess aren’t listening. “We are honoured guests and it would be very rude.” “At least wait until the intermission,” your father adds with a charming smile. With that said, you sit back and try to get comfortable. From below, the Halfling referee steps up to his podium and announces through a cone, “For our next match, on the right is Jinha, divine sorcerer from the House of Concordia. And to our left is Yoongi, knight fighter from the House of Min and the Order of the Black Sun!” Your breath hitches in your throat. Immediately, Lia nudges you. “Who’s that?” Her eyes are pinpointed to the obnoxious man from last night who emerges while sweeping his hair back, his golden staff carried in his grasps. But you’re preoccupied with the other man. Someone with pastel yellow hair. Even from far away, it’s all too stark against his heavy armour. And you swear he’s looking right at you. Or maybe not. It could be for his fiancée who’s diagonal to where you are. That would make more sense. You damn yourself for being delusional again. “So that’s him?” Taehyung turns to you, asking, “The one you sent letters to?” “I never did such a thing,” you mutter. The Halfling shouts at the top of his lungs and the match begins. Yoongi grips his rapier in his hands and closes the distance. He hits twice, slamming down the blade onto Jinha with narrowed eyes and then surges forward for a critical hit. His accuracy and precision has become more refined since the last time you saw him fight. Yet, Jinha never bumbles or falls to his knees in spite of the brutality. He tightens his grip on his staff, jaw clamping down. He casts burning hands. His fingers spread and a thin sheet of flames shoots forth from his outstretched fingertips. It causes Yoongi to stumble back and the sorcerer turns his head, flashing a bright grin towards the rows, undoubtedly for you. But you aren’t fazed — not when you’re at the edge of your seat, gaze placed on Yoongi. Lia, on the other hand, is the one who’s impressed. Her jaw draws open, a soft gasp befalling her lips as she covers her mouth with a gloved hand. Across the field, your eyes lock into Yoongi’s. And then he’s moving again, blade slashing thrice. Jinha surrenders. “I should challenge you!” Taehyung suddenly breaks both you and Lia’s trance with his loud and startling voice, looking directly at Seokjin with a rectangular grin. “Do you want to fight?” “Actually, that doesn’t sound like a bad idea.” A wide smile spreads into your older brother’s face. “Do you think you could take me on?” Taehyung’s already rolling up his sleeves. “You’re just going to have to wait and s—” Your mother immediately pulls him down with the force of gravity itself. Her eyes pierce into your siblings. “Absolutely not! I won’t have any of my children fighting and hurting themselves!” The Halfling referee turns. “Does anyone want to challenge the victor of this mat—” You stand. “I do!” Your mother is absolutely mortified. Your father is taken aback. Taehyung is already smiling with a murmured ‘awesome’ while both Seokjin and Lia are visibly amused. There’s little your parents can do too when the Duchess starts clapping and hollering for you to enter the field and the Duke wishes you luck, citing that he’s excited to see the true capabilities of your household. “For our next match on the right is Y/N, phoenix sorcerer from the Kim Phoenix Household. And to our left is Yoongi, knight fighter from the House of Min and the Order of the Black Sun!” From the distance, no one can hear the two of you. No one can discern the way Yoongi’s looking at you. How he’s deflated, sword drooping by his side, his form not at all ready. “I’m not going to fight you,” Yoongi declares with the furrow of his brows. You scoff. “Then you’re weak.” Gripping your spellcasting focus, your blazing red and orange swirling orb, you channel your magic and cast fireball. A bright streak flashes from your pointing finger towards him, blossoming with a low roar into an explosion of flames. But it misses when he nimbly dodges out of the range. The spectators cheer, on the edge of their seats. Yoongi, realizing that you’re not conceding, moves towards you. He grips his rapier and hits twice, bringing his blade down to slash. You sharply inhale, but keep your feet rooted into the ground and as he raises his arm for the third time, it slips. The weapon falls to the ground. “Pick it up,” you spit at him in Elvish, straightening out your spine again. Gasping, you cast Melf’s Minute Meteors and six tiny meteors manifest. They float in the air and orbit you until you send both of them towards him. It misses, exploding on the ground instead. Yoongi grabs his sword, but when he hits you, it’s weak. It barely skims you. Doesn’t even break through skin. And he drops his rapier again. “Keep going! Don’t stop!” This time, the shout isn’t coming from you but from Duchess Jacquelyn who’s crazed as she grips the banister and cackles maniacally. The Duke stares at her in discomfort at how wrapped up she is and Yoongi’s fiancée, Klarinda, shakes her head. “Mom.” You have no plans of surrendering. Even if you drop dead here. You cast fireball again and this time, the blossoming roar of the flames consumes Yoongi. You hear him cry out in agony and you send two meteors orbiting you his way. One misses, but the other one explodes on his chest. Yoongi’s teeth clenches. His knuckles turn white. But before he surges forward with his rapier, the smoke dissipates and he sees you. Tears in your eyes. The trembling of your bottom lip. The quivering of your entire frame. And no one hears when you softly curse him— “Bastard.” Yoongi drops his sword into the dirt. “I forfeit.” At once, Klarinda races down the rows, grabbing fistfuls of her dress. “Excuse me, pardon me!” She races down the field undignified, but to resume to her fiancé’s side. She searches his expression. “A-Are you alright, Yoongi? I can heal you.” She casts cure wounds and presses her palms to his pectorals over his armour. And after she does so, she looks between you and Yoongi. But by that time, you’ve long grabbed your own dress and marched off the field, leaving the two lovers behind. At the exact same moment, a ghostly presence fades from the open arched window on the fourth floor, their eyes having been pinpointed on your figure for the entirety of the match. // There’s someone watching you. You can tell with the way goosebumps raise all over the back of your arm, hairs on the back of your neck lifted, how there’s a sudden weight of someone’s stare on your shoulders. It feels like there’s someone creeping, a presence behind you. Your heel pivots. “Yoon—” But it isn’t him or any of your siblings. A translucent force tries to push itself into your body, causing your words to choke in your throat, your weakened knees to stumble back. Your lungs wither and your throat dries as the remaining air inside you wheezes out. But you resist. With all the strength left inside of you. You use your remaining energy to prevent the force from taking control, from entering and intruding. And in the next moment, it slips out and flounders in front of you. What would be a terrified shriek ends up as coughs as you gasp for air. “W-What in the holy fuck—” It’s a ghost. A chubby man in white sleeping silks, his dark hair brushing against his shoulders, but his form translucent and feet floating inches off the cobblestone hall. Your seething fire running through your blood flares. It seeps out and magically wreathes around you as your eyes glow as hot coals. You lift your finger to him, threatening to attack and he steps back. “Hold on there! Don’t be hasty!” the ghost spits in panic. “I sincerely apologize for my blunder!” “Who are you?! What were you trying to do to me?!” “My name is Leo and I just wanted to borrow your body for a bit! You see...I have some unfinished business.” There’s an extended silence. Then you lower your arm and the fire drawn back into you. Your stare is unwavering and Leo musters a smile on his thin lips, wrinkles around his eyes creasing. “In hindsight, I should have asked. I apologize for intruding.” You scoff, guard still up. “What’s your unfinished business?” “Ah, I would like to see the sunrise one last time.” The ghost turns to glance out the window. “Someone once tried to banish me away, so now I’m in a quite unstable form. I am only able to venture in this realm when it is day or night when time itself is stable. I disappear every time there is a sunset or sunrise.” Your brow lifts. “So you’ve been haunting this castle?” “Well, I can’t leave if I have unfinished business.” Leo smiles at you, eyes almost hopeful. “Whoever tried to banish you should’ve done it properly,” you deadpan. Getting rid of this ghost could be your birthday present to the Duchess. “I don’t know the banishment spell unfortunately. But my older brother does.” You start to march down the hall, but the ghost follows after you frantically. “Please don’t banish me! I beg of you! Please!” It’s an opportunity and you seize it. Your feet halt and you twist to him with a smirk growing. “Then what will you offer me?” “Offer you?” “As payment.” Your arms cross. “We can strike a fair deal. If you want to borrow my body, I’ll let you. But only if you can give me gold.” The ghost bursts out in hearty laughter that streams from his chest. “I don’t have anything to my name anymore, dear sorcerer. Certainly not gold. I’m dead!” Your face morphs into impassivity, lips drawn into a tight line. “Then I’m afraid I can’t help you.” Yet, he still follows relentlessly, floating to your left and to your side, eyes plastered onto your profile. “Oh, but can’t you offer me even half a day out of the kindness of thy own heart? Surely you must feel pity for a ghost like me that’s forced to wander this castle with no end. I will leave when my business is complete, that I can assure.” “Why don’t you go bother someone else?” “But you are special.” At that, your steps slow and he smiles again. “You know magic well and it reminds me of a certain someone.” “Who?” He hums and frowns. “I can’t seem to remember.” You scoff. After years of your business, of persuasion and deception, you can tell he’s not being entirely truthful. But before you can press on and coax the ghost’s true intentions out, there’s a noisy interruption. “Y/N!” Taehyung approaches with his mouth lopsided. “Who are you talking to?” You turn to your side, but the middle-aged ghost has vanished in thin air. “It was a ghost.” “What?” He looks at you as if you’ve gone crazy and maybe you have. “There aren’t ghosts here. Are you okay?” “I’m fine.” “I came to tell you that mom’s looking for you.” At your exaggerated sigh, Taehyung grins. “Trust me, it’s a lot worse than what you think.” He’s right. Your mother’s caught wind that a few youngsters are going boating and of course, she has to push her children into the private affair. You’re largely unamused, not a fan of being stuck in large bodies of water, even if it’s just a lake. “You have to go.” The moment she sharply enunciates the word, she pulls on the strings on your back laced bodice with all her might and you choke on air. “How else are you going to get married?” She doesn’t see you roll your eyes in the mirror. “My plan isn’t to get married.” “Well you never know what might happen. Keep an open mind.” Somehow, she thinks marriage will quell her troublesome daughters, especially you. But you can’t blame her for holding such an idea. At this point, she’s trying everything she can. “It’s time to be a little more ladylike after the whole tournament fiasco.” In the meanwhile, Lia is sitting in the corner, amused. She has a frilly, puffed up skirt of her own, a shade of light pink and on top of her head, a giant hat with flowers. She’s always been the prettier one. But as you turn to the mirror in your own blue summer dress your mother’s putting you in, you find that you aren’t half bad. Your mother knows you tend to get yourself dirty and that you don’t particularly enjoy being dressed up, so your attire is much less obnoxious and more subtle. It’s proof she’s thought about you. Eventually, your eyes drift off of your reflection to the flames dancing in the fireplace. You stare at the crimson light it gives, the way the subtle smoke that rises from it, curling towards the chimney. “There we are.” Your mother secures the last pins in your hair and smooths out your skirt. “Not too shabby, darling,” she says with a smile as if satisfied from her own work. You wonder what’s the point of trying. It’s not like anyone will be enamoured with you. The person who matters the most after all has already been taken. “You look absolutely beautiful this fine afternoon, Lady Y/N.” Your trance shatters and you look at the man blankly. “Jinha.” “Dare I say, you may be more lovely than you were last night!” He grins and you answer him in silence. You allow the noise of the surroundings to respond instead — the cawing of the birds, the sloshing of the water on the edge of the grass, your brothers laughing as the boats bump into the pier. The only mercy given to him is when Lia quite literally bumps into you and clears her throat loudly. “Ahem. Hello. I don’t believe we’ve met before.” The sorcerer’s smile widens. “Excuse me, but you are?” “I am Lia, Y/N’s older sister. But I’m not that much older. Only by two years. I’m turning twenty four.” You’ve never seen Lia flounder so much. It’s amusing to behold. “Oh, I knew Y/N had a sister, but I would’ve thought you were the younger sister,” Jinha says smoothly and her expression lights up even further. He takes her hand, placing a kiss upon her knuckles and you’re glad she’s taken his attention. Heaven knows you aren’t interested. But as you’re about to walk away, your line of sight falls to a familiar girl with dimples. Klarinda, the Duke’s daughter, is wearing a brimmed hat and her expensive silk skirt flutters with her. If she’s here then where’s— Yoongi’s staring right at you. As if he’s a predator and you’re merely the prey. Immediately, you return to Lia being overly flirtatious with Jinha. It’s bearable for a few minutes until you join your brothers who are horsing around and threatening to push one another into the lake. But out of the corner of your eye, you watch Yoongi and look away when your eyes meet. You know he’s watching you too. You try your best to stay focused on your surroundings. The strangers around were from different families and factions, civil with each other when they’re on the Duke’s grounds. At most, they send glares to their enemies. So you allow the polite, peaceful chatter to engulf you before everyone slowly gets onto the boats to row out and enjoy the lake. “Finally!” Taehyung suddenly twists around, holding a rope in hand. “I got it untied!” Jin facepalms himself. “You idiot! You’re supposed to untie the rope after everyone’s gotten in!” “What?” “Not to worry!” Jinha announces with a grin and nimbly hops inside the boat before it drifts too far off the pier. He holds out his hand for Lia and she gladly takes it with a giggle, being guided in. You watch at a loss for words as the boat gets farther and farther. Still, the divine sorcerer boldly holds out his hand for you. “Lady Y/N!” You hesitate. The boat is already full with four people and you’re not sure if it’s worth jumping in and potentially getting pulled into the lake. But suddenly, before you can make a decision, your waist is pulled back by strong arms. “It’s okay. She can come with me. There’s one left.” “Yoongi!” your gasp is sharp and you look up at him. But he remains unfazed. Your siblings have their brows raised. But by then, they’ve already drifted off and Taehyung wordlessly rows away. You don’t have time to react or object — not when Yoongi’s grabbed your hand and you stumble after him. The last rowboat rocks back and forth violently and you drop into a seated position on the seat before you can fall in. It takes three seconds. The rope is untied and Yoongi rows away from the pier. You notice his fiancée meters away in her own boat, sitting closely with girls chatting and giggling together. Yet, she pays no mind to her friends. Instead, she stares at the two of you. “Shouldn’t you be with her?” Yoongi follows your line of sight and mumbles, “It’s fine.” You’re stuck with him. Yoongi rows where no one else does and you watch the water cascade back. The soft sloshing fills the background as it gets quiet and much too uncomfortable. Yoongi’s husky timbre breaks the tension. “How have you been?” “Well, I’ve just been trapped in my house ever since I’ve returned, but things are great.” Your voice drips of venomous sarcasm, but when you lift your eyes, his gaze locks into yours. The blonde man wears a somber expression, his irises darkening and you sigh, speaking at a quieter volume. “I actually worked out a deal with my parents. As long as I behave and don’t tarnish my family name, I can do as I please. There’s more freedom than before. But it’s a work in progress full of compromise. If I want to leave, I’ll have to write a plan so they know where I’m headed. I just haven’t decided what I want to do next.” Your muttering gets quiet and your face hardens. “Obviously, you’re doing well.” Yoongi stops rowing. He allows the boat to drift. “The engagement was set up by my mother.” “Oh please, Yoongi.” Your eyes roll and you cross your arms, ready for his excuses that you knew were coming. “It was arranged. For all I know, I haven’t proposed to anyone yet.” “That doesn’t change that fact that you’re an engaged man!” Your teeth grit. “It doesn’t change the fact that you’re going to go off with her and have a bunch of kids and a big family together, so congratu-fucking-lations.” It’s unbearable. There’s nowhere you can run. He’s truly trapped you here to confront one another. “And when were you planning to tell me? All those letters and you didn’t mention it once!” Your eyes sting painfully as your vision floods, overwhelmed with emotion. You feel blindsighted. “I thought I wouldn’t have to tell you at all. I was going to take care of it. I didn’t know you were going to be here.” “You really think it’s easy to call off an engagement with the Duke’s daughter?!” you spit and he takes your onslaught of anger. The pain is visible on your visage. “If I didn’t come, were you going to tell me when you got to the altar? Or after you got back from the honeymoon? I...I feel like an idiot.” “I’m sorry.” Staggering exhales pull from your lungs after your tangent and silence fills the large distance between the pair of you. Yet, Yoongi’s gaze is too tender for you to bear. “My biggest regret is not kissing you that night,” he murmurs. “Or rather, not asking you to come with me.” “It’s too late.” “It isn’t.” “What are you going to do, Yoongi?” “I’m going to call it off.” “How?” “I’ll try.” His voice is low, eyes half-lidded. “Then what?” you spit in exasperation. “What reason would you have to call it off? It’s a great arrangement! A beneficial marri—” “I want to marry you.” The inside of your chest stutters. Your breath catches in your throat. Warmth rises to your face and heats your cheeks like a furnace. Yoongi isn’t a straightforward man, blunt but never honest with his feelings. That trait has bred so many uncertainties within you. But in this moment, you feel his sincerity. You can see it, how hard he’s tried to reach you, to tell you his intentions. It reminds you of that night in Rutherglen. The festival and fireworks, when you were so close to one another, when you would’ve gone anywhere with him. “You’re an idiot, Min Yoongi.” You stand. “I don’t feel like talking to idiots.” You pull your orb from your pocket and cast shape water. The waves rise and it splashes him. Yoongi’s yellow hair is soaked along with the entire side of his head. His visage washes over into impassivity, akin to a glare. But you don’t dwell, palms laying flat in the air as you manipulate the water and push the boat back to shore. The minute you get to the pier, you pull yourself up. “I learnt more spells other than fire magic since our fight with the Remorhaz,” you add, “if you even remember that.” You know it’s unfair, but you rush away before he can discern how in a few words, he’s given you hope. The very hope that you know can easily break your heart again. // It’s been less than two full days, but it feels like an eternity. You’re slouched over an open arched window, elbow propped on the stone with your chin rested in your hand. The valleys of Pegan are out in the distance behind the fogged clouds, countless adventures and creatures out there for you to discover and explore. But you find yourself rooted in your place, a sense of uneasiness and yearning preventing you from leaving. At sounds of quacking, your eyes drift from the scenery to the first floor. By the staircase is a white duck with an orange beak trotting along with a row of pale yellow, baby ducklings behind her. They follow their mother religiously, teetering from side to side, trying not to get too curious of the world around them and a smile graces your lips. “Are ducklings your favourite animal, sorcerer?” Your spine straightens in shock and the wandering ghost, Leo, grins at you. Your hand presses to your chest as you steady your breath. “Are you trying to scare me to death?!” “Of course not! That would be defeating the purpose. I can’t borrow your body if you’re dead like I am,” he chortles, arms behind his back as he floats from your right side to your left. “I wanted to merely apologize for this morning. I didn’t mean to be so invasive or startle you.” You glare at him, not yet accepting his apology. He continues nonetheless— “Also, I want you to help me.” You snort unattractively, having known he had other purposes in approaching you again. “Unless you agree to my deal, the answer is no.” “Please,” Leo pleads. “I can’t move on.” You push yourself off the wall and walk away. He follows after you, even after you quicken your steps. “Why can’t you possess someone else’s body and watch your stupid sunrise?” “That is not my greatest desire.” The ghost comes in front of you and you halt in fear of him entering your body. “I’m afraid I haven’t been entirely truthful to you, dear sorcerer.” Your brow lifts, waiting patiently and Leo swallows hard. “I await another lost soul and I wish to depart this world together with them. I can’t move on without them.” Your frustration makes your voice shrill. “It’s not only you who has problems, alright? I can’t even fix mine! What makes me think I can fix yours?!” As your annoyance boils over, you start running. It’s useless to try to elude a ghost who can’t get tired, but you try anyway. “Sorcerer!” And without looking, you turn the corner and collide with another body. “Woah!” Jin steadies you before the two of you can topple over. “Why are you not looking at where you’re going?” Lia is with him and regards you with wide eyes. “Are you okay?” You glance over your shoulder. The ghost never comes. “It’s nothing,” you mutter in a sigh. “Mom’s looking for you again.” “What is it this time?” The words come out in a tired exhale. Your older brother shrugs. “Might have to do with tonight’s dinner.” “Hey, Y/N.” Suddenly, Lia takes your hands. “Tell me honestly, do you like Jinha?” “No.” You warily eye her, not sure where she’s going with this. The corner of Jin’s mouth curls. “Why? You like him?” “Well, if she doesn’t like him, she should give him to me,” Lia mumbles, then quickly turns to you. “Of course, if you do, then by all means, our sisterhood is my top priority….” You pull your hand away from her. “I don’t like him, Lia. But he’s not mine to give away either. You can do whatever you want.” Your sister’s eyes twinkle with a kind of enthusiasm that makes you scoff with a smile. Jin’s mouth is quirked as well, but his curiosity has been piqued and he doesn’t hesitate to ask— “It’s because of him, isn’t it? He’s the reason you’re not interested. The youngest son of the Min faction. What was his name?” “Yoongi.” If possible, Lia’s features light up further and she steps forward, cornering you. “What happened on that boat ride, Y/N? It seemed like you were having a really intense talk.” “It was nothing,” you murmur. “He practically pulled you into the boat with him. I mean, did his fiancée mind?” In the midst of the interrogation, Jin shifts to you, eyes unwavering. “You started sending him letters the minute you got back, but now he’s engaged and he happens to pull you aside like that— What really happened on your adventure together?” Millpass, Bogsburrough, Rutherglen. The memories seep back into you. The fireworks and festival, the night at the roadside tavern, fighting together at the underground market. The way he rushed in front of you in the face of the white dragon, how the two of you sat on the hill and watched the sunset together. It’s overwhelming. “Who is he to you?” “I said nothing!” you lie and push past them, stomping in the other direction to get away from your overbearing siblings. “Hey!” Lia shouts after you. “Mom’s still calling you!” You ignore them, turning the corner then down the staircase lest the wandering ghost plagues you again or you run into Taehyung, your mother or father. For good measure, you depart outside without any direction but merely feeling the soft grass underneath your boots. You’re about to turn yourself invisible for a moment of peace or disguise yourself as a maid to escape, but with your unfortunate luck that’s been bestowed to you since you arrived, you run into dimples before you get the chance. A petite figure with spiral curls and an evening dress of modesty. Her brown eyes sparkle as your eyes lock with one another’s. With half a mind and all the etiquette training that had been slammed into you at childhood, you curtsy. “Hello.” “Good evening.” Klarinda smiles at you without a trace of malice. “What a coincidence meeting you here. I was about to head to my greenhouse.” “Yes.” You stiffly nod. “If you’ll excuse me…” But before you can march off, she twirls around. “Would you like to join me?” It’s an open space. The gardens seem to stretch on for miles, plant walls that border the perimeter. In the center of it all is a structure made of glass. The ceilings are high to let in sunlight and there are rows and benches of potted plants and flowers. “Some of these I grow simply because they’re beautiful. But a lot of these herbs have medicinal purposes.” “You’re a cleric, aren’t you, my lady?” “I am, like my mother. And you don’t have to address me by such formal titles. A friend of Yoongi’s is a friend of mine.” The girl smiles. “Klarinda is fine.” You nod and she quietly hums a song as she waters flowers. You follow after her until a particular plant catches your eye — verdant leafs, yellow petals and plump berries. “It’s a sunberry plant,” Klarinda says when she notices your curiosity. “Would you like to try one?” The Duke’s daughter happily plucks one off and holds it out in front of you. The second your teeth bites down, the sweetness explodes into your cheek. She giggles at your reaction. “Good, right? My dad likes to come in here and eat them when they’re in season, so they’re always gone.” “Good enough to sell. You should cast a protection or barrier spell on them.” “I should.” She grins, dimples dotted on both sides of her face. “But between you and me, I actually don't mind so much. It makes me happy that he enjoys something from my garden, even if he has to sneak in.” Most of your first impressions aren’t wrong. Within minutes of conversation, you can figure out if a customer is going to chase you down and try to fight you or might come back at a latter time to buy more. And you can tell her innocence isn’t a feigned facade. The Marquise is endearing enough that you like her for it. For a moment, you almost feel envious of Yoongi. But they’re undoubtedly a good match. A stoic, strong knight capable of shielding away a virtuous maiden who knows nothing of the world, but is kind and generous to a fault. It’s a portrait perfect couple. “This place is really beautiful.” You force yourself away from the thoughts that form a lump in your throat. “Thank you. It can get lonely though.” You hum, supposing a vast yet empty estate would do that to someone. “Don’t people from Pegan visit often?” “They do. They mostly arrive for business. I used to play with all kinds of children from the different factions, especially during holidays. But they can be……” “A bit much?” Klarinda laughs. “Yes! Some might say crazy or competitive, but much is a good word too.” You grin. “I’ve barely gotten to know how the factions work, but I can already tell. Some of them are so conceited.” Her eyes sparkle. “Like Jinha?” “Yes!” She giggles, her dimples creased deeper and her teeth shown in the light. Like this, she’s less of a proper and demure lady, niece to the king, and more like a girl you would’ve known on your travels. “He can be quite a gentleman, but he has an arrogant nature.” “My sister likes him, but I’m not sure why. Personally, I think she could do better. Then again, they wouldn't be bad together.” With the divine sorcerer’s willing-to-please nature and Lia’s incessant demands and high maintenance personality, it might work out better than intended. “I’m envious that you have so many siblings,” Klarinda says with a tender smile and you’re caught in surprise. You didn’t know it was possible she could be envious of you when you were envious of her in so many ways. “I’m an only child, so I’ve often wondered what it would’ve been like to have an older brother or younger sister. There’s nothing that beats family after all.” “You’re not missing out on much, trust me. Siblings can be quite annoying.” She laughs again. “Still, I think it would’ve been nice to belong to a bigger family.” A comfortable silence simmers as you follow after her and she moves to prune a plant. You break the quiet. “Actually, I was away from my family for quite a while. For a number of years.” “I thought you went adventuring for one year?” You shake your head. “They told everyone I went to go study arcane magic, but it isn’t true. I ran away and was gone for three.” Klarinda looks at you with a gentle expression, recognizing your solemnity. “What matters is that you’re here with them now.” You nod. “I don’t regret coming home. I’m glad I didn’t have to return when there was a funeral of my parents.” “Even if they’re overbearing?” she asks with a tiny smile. “Even if they’re overbearing,” you confirm. “You met Yoongi during your travels, right?” Immediately, you freeze, but she focuses on her plant, only stealing a simple glance at you. “He told me a lot about you from day one.” “Is that so?” “The engagement was a surprise to the both of us,” she murmurs, placing her shears down. “It happened less than a month ago. Suddenly my mother sat me down and told me about the arrangement. It was strange considering she had never spoken to me about it before and she’s never been one to make such an agreement. Anyway, a few minutes after I met Yoongi, he spoke about you. Rather fondly.” “Really?” You plaster on a polite smile. “Well, I’m flattered. He’s a great friend.” “Is he sincerely a friend to you?” Klarinda asks. Her gaze is piercing and you raise your guard. She’s going to threaten you — you know it. But you weren’t the one who made the decision and you don’t want any part of it. It doesn’t involve you. It never will. Having learnt from the best, your face becomes blank. “I am very happy that he’s finally engaged. He’s always been very popular, so settling down just seems right for him.” At once, the cleric grips her necklace. Against your will, she casts an enchantment spell and a fifteen foot radius sphere sweeps out from her. It keeps you inside. A zone of truth that prevents lies. “I’m sorry. But I need to know.” She looks at you solemnly. “Do you like Yoongi?” You cuss in Elvish underneath your breath. You can’t be deceptive, but you can still be evasive in your responses as long as it remains within the boundaries of the truth. “It’s not like I dislike him.” “Please be honest with me.” She searches your expression earnestly, pleading with you. Being with Yoongi has made you soft. You’re used to protecting your vulnerabilities until the end, but the truth spills from you as if it’s been dying to be said— “I’m in love with him.” The spell dissipates. Klarinda smiles. “Then I’ll call off the engagement.” “What?” “They can’t force me to do anything and I’d rather keep two great friends than having an unwilling husband for the rest of my life.” Her dimples crease. “I wouldn’t want that for him, myself or you.” “Wait! J-Just because I feel a certain way doesn’t mean he does or even that the engagement should be called off! This...this is something you should talk about with him, not me.” Her smile becomes sweeter. “Isn’t it obvious?” You blink at her. “Yoongi loves you too. What’s more that needs to be said?” The girl is so certain as if the answer has never been clearer. She’s a hopeless romantic. Utterly so. Someone who believes that love prevails above all and suddenly, you want to give into that urge as well. But before either of you can move, there’s a rumble beneath your feet. The ground itself tilts. Klarinda catches herself on the bench and you find your own balance. The pair of you tear your eyes away from one another to the roaring noise. The castle is shaking in its foundation. She notices the smoke that’s rising in the air. “Is...that fire?” Your eyes widen and you rush over, instincts screaming. The girl trails behind you and you pull yourself inside. There’s fire eating at the walls and you take your orb out, focusing your magic to snuff out the flames. To the best of your abilities, you extinguish it. Klarinda stays with you, using her own magic to try to aid you. “Sorcerer!” In the midst of the pandemonium, a familiar voice and form comes from the walls. Leo, the ghost, floats to your side. “I need your help. You must come with me. Please!” Klarinda’s eyes widen. But you don’t notice. “Don’t you see what’s going on?! I can’t help you!” The ghost vanishes. There is smoke filling the halls, flooding the corridors and you cover your mouth with the sleeve of your dress, coughing into it. Members from different factions are rushing past with their own weapons and shields, swords gripped or magic at their fingertips. There’s shouting above the chaos, but you don’t know what’s going on. Not until you enter the main room and find your mother and Taehyung. “Mom!” There’s a dracolich in the center of the circular room, towering high enough to graze the dome ceiling. It’s a monster — once a dragon until it became undead. Now what’s left of it is bones instead of flesh and blood, open eye sockets and decayed wings. But instead of being buried underneath the ground or burnt to ash, it’s come back to life, roaring and whipping its tail to a group of terrified, screaming wizards. There are several death knights as well. Decayed bodies with rotting flesh and pinpoints of light in place of eyes. They’re undead warriors who have revived, having once been rangers and barbarians until they fell. And one of them lunges at Taehyung until your mother casts finger of death, causing it searing pain and making it drop to its knees. Three rays of fire shoot past her, firing onto the death knight. She turns her head. “Y/N!” “Where’s Jin and Lia?” “They went to go find your father. He’s with the Duke!” Another death knight comes running forward with an axe and Taehyung screams before splashing a bubble of acid on it. A beat later, your mother’s grasp on her wand tightens and she sends a frigid beam of blue-white light streak on the monster. A coldness sweeps through the room and you follow up with casting firebolt. The monster has slowed down, barely staggering and obviously wounded. Yet, it tries to swing and misses Taehyung by a long shot. “Not bad,” you comment. “Hey, I’ve improved a lot since the last time you saw me fight!” A rectangular grin is plastered on Taehyung’s face. But the conversation is cut short by the dragonlich’s tail. He jumps away before he’s attacked and joins the other side where a paladin is fighting another monster. “Go!” Your mother shouts. “It’s too dangerous!” “I’m not leaving!” You don’t know where these undead creatures came from, how they even came alive again, or who revived them. There’s no time to think and in the midst of the anarchy, you’re trapped. Sheer seconds as you realize you’re about to be struck, but you’re unable to do anything. You merely brace for the impact. But the monster drops dead in front of you. Yoongi pulls his rapier out in one smooth tug, the silver blade slicing through the air. You gasp for air and he immediately engulfs you in an embrace. The man with the light blonde strands of hair holds you tight as your breath steadies and you savour his warmth. There are no words spoken, nothing that needs to be said that can’t be translated through his desperate yet affectionate gesture. “Sorcerer.” The moment can’t last long when you’re interrupted by the ghost. It floats to you and Yoongi is on guard, lifting the tip of his weapon. But you place a hand on his arm and he eases. “Listen to me.” You’re calm enough to finally pay attention, to hopefully be given answers. And answers are what he offers you. “There is a lich where the old castle resides. You must find the phylactery and destroy it before things become worse.” “A lich?!” Liches are among the worst creatures of humanity — undead spellcasters of great power. They’re creatures who traded in their souls for a chance to exist forever. There are untold treachery and blasphemies they’ve done just to become what they are. But they’re given immortality unless someone destroys their phylactery, an object that stores their life essences. Before you can ask any more questions, the ghost dissipates in thin air. Klarinda, who noticed the transparent form, runs to you. She grabs your hands and searches your expression. “What did the ghost say?!” “T-There’s a lich in the old castle!” “I know where that is!” The Dragonlich roars deafeningly as a warlock casts hold monster and it becomes paralyzed. At the same time, Yoongi pierces a death knight that was barreling towards you. You turn to your mother who gives a glance and she doesn’t even take a moment of hesitation. “Go!” She trusts your decisions — her gaze tells you that. Klarinda nods and Yoongi takes your hand. The two of you follow after her as she twists through the halls. “How did you come in contact with that ghost, Y/N?” “I don’t know. He was the one who approached me after the tournament and he’s been bothering me since yesterday.” Klarinda turns down the hall. “Do you know who that ghost is?” “He told me his name is Leo.” “He’s King Lionel,” she says and your brows raise. Yoongi doesn’t appear surprised either. He wears a solemn expression, having recognized him as well. “There was a section of his life in my history textbook of Pegan. This place used to be his castle.” You’re baffled, completely rendered speechless. She continues, “There was a rebellion a thousand years ago. This whole place burnt down, but it was rebuilt during my grandfather’s generation.” “Were there ever mentions of a lich? Or someone who traded their soul?” Yoongi shakes his head. “No.” “He never had a wife. But there were rumours that he had a mistress. A wizard from far away lands.” Your eyes meet Klarinda’s. “His kingdom was taken down before they could get married.” “But why now?” You’re running out of breath as she climbs a staircase. “If this...mistress traded in her soul a thousand years ago, why is she trying to revive dragons and knights now?” “It isn’t just now,” Klarinda murmurs, her brows drawn into a tight furrow and jaw clenched. “Members of the royal family in Pegan have gone missing for generations. They’ve always swept it under the carpet and kept it a secret, but I think I’m about to find out the reason.” The three of you turn another corner, but come to a grinding halt when you see a flailing lady. “Mother!” Duchess Jacquelyn is in the middle of the corridor, wearing a bountiful and extravagant gown while her arms are full of jewelry boxes, dangling strings of pearls and diamonds. One string slips from the pile and rolls on the cobblestone to your friend’s feet. “D-Darling! What a surprise! What’s going on? The noise has been startling me!” Klarinda steps forward. “What are you doing?” “T-This?! Nothing! I was just re-organizing! Yes. Reorganizing.” “That’s grandmother’s ring.” She points, eyes narrowed in. “You’ve never brought it out since her funeral.” “Well...sometimes change is needed, sweetheart.” They stare at one another while you exchange looks with Yoongi. There is a pregnant silence, tangible tension that’s suffocating. Then you notice how Duchess Jacquelyn slips her hand to her side and something glistens in your eyes, blinding your vision. Your mouth draws open. “You’re not my mother!” — “Watch out!” The dagger strikes her. Klarinda cries as the back of her right hand is sliced. Yet she grabs the opportunity and grips her necklace, her spellcasting object. The girl’s left hand comes out and she holds her mother’s double by the wrist, casting inflict wound. The creature screams horrifically in sheer agony. “What did you do to her?! Where is she?!” You grip your orb, casting scorching ray. One beam of fire hits it and it screeches. A moment later, Yoongi lifts his rapier and strikes it twice, causing the monster to stumble onto its back. Its weapon clacks out of reach. Klarinda grabs the dagger and holds the creature to the floor. She presses the blade to its throat. All traces of her kindness and mercy have dissipated in the face of her rage. “Where is she?!” “O-Okay! Okay! I surrender!” It puts up its hands and shifts. The form of the creature is no longer the beautiful, middle-aged Duchess but a tall, elven gray-skinned humanoid. Its face is formless and eyes are pale and bulging. Its voice croaks, “I’m a doppelganger! I didn’t have a choice! The lich made me do it!” “My mother!” Klarinda shrieks and you lower yourself, squeezing her shoulder and she eases. Tears have filled her eyes, but when she glances at you, she’s able to compose herself. “She’s dead. Her soul’s been consumed.” Klarinda breaks down into sobs. You wrap an arm around her and she lets up on the doppelganger, but Yoongi makes sure to keep his foot down on its shoulder. “We have to get it.” She wipes at her tears, teeth sinking into her bottom lip. “We have to kill that lich, Y/N!” “We will,” you promise her. “We will.” Seconds later, you see Jinha come forward and he rushes over trying to get a grasp of the situation. “Can you take care of this?” you ask and he easily agrees. “O-Of course, lady Y/N.” He binds up the doppelganger and Klarinda casts cure wounds on herself, healing her gash. She takes your hand afterwards and you hold it. Yet, even as her frame shakes, there’s determination in her steps. A type of anger that has solidified her resolve and given her courage. “This is the passageway.” She pushes open a small stone door to reveal a crawl space after Yoongi helped push a bookshelf to the side in the corner of the library. “I found it as a kid, but I never went in too far. The servants found me and they tried to cover it up.” The three of you crawl through before it opens up and Yoongi helps you down onto the landing. There is consuming darkness until Klarinda casts light onto the dagger she has and you ignite a flame to dance into your hand. The empty void is collected with cobwebs, spiders and eyes of bats staring back at you, quietly observing your forms. Each of your steps echo and a cloud of dust emerges. You move slowly, scared that the steps of the staircase winding downwards will collapse under your weight. But you’re able to look around, at the crumbling paintings, the fragmented pillar pieces, the stone walls with scorched markings, and the ancient statues long lost and eaten by time itself. Never would you have guessed that the basement of the castle held all of this. That they had rebuilt themselves on top of what was once the castle of the entire kingdom of Pegan. You can imagine what this would’ve been like a thousand years ago. Children running with servants scolding them, advisors walking by King Lionel’s side, his lover waiting for him. Then you envision the screams, the devouring fire. You can see the charred marks along the banister. You can almost hear it, but you quickly shake it off before you can become frightened. “Destroying the phylactery is the only way we can get rid of the lich without it coming back, but how will we know where it is or what it is?” It could be any object in any room. You turn with the flickering fire in your palm, looking all around you. It’s endless. “If that monster is down here, there has to be a reason,” Yoongi offers, standing by your side. “It could’ve moved anywhere but it might be protecting its phylactery.” “I know where it is.” There’s a low voice and a familiar ghost descends in front of you with a saddened smile. “Your highness.” Klarinda bows her head. But you remain still, even after knowing his identity. King Lionel looks at you with his brows knitted together. “I am sorry for deceiving you, dear sorcerer. Or rather, holding the truth from you. I feared you would have denied my request had I been forthright about it. In hindsight, I could’ve prevented the devastation that has wrecked this place. Had I only known….” “Do you know where the lich is? Or where the phylactery is?” “It is in the last place where I perished.” The King smiles. “In our chambers.” He turns, floating away and Klarinda follows. You and Yoongi trail behind her and when you feel the back of his hand grazing against yours, you grasp it. Yoongi looks at you and you release your held sigh. “Why is it that we always find ourselves in adventures like these?” “You mean these life or death scenarios?” The corner of his mouth curls and he squeezes your hand. “We always manage. But you should’ve told me that you were talking to a ghost.” “I don’t think we were on speaking terms until recently, duckling.” Yoongi grins at the nostalgic nickname, the one you used to start each letter, and your own smile is tinged with sadness. You don’t know if either of you will live. If the pair of you have it in you to be an actual hero and defeat the greatest monster. And as these doubts fill you, so do the regrets that you harbour for not hearing him out, for not trusting in him. With such little time, you wonder if this is it. If this will be your last opportunity. Your steps slow. “Yoongi. I—” “How dare you enter my lair?!” There’s a snarling voice resounding above and instantly, the ghost of King Lionel vanishes. Klarinda turns behind her and looks at you and Yoongi. The hall has ended with a crumbling stone door in front of her. “Leave!” The voice shrieks deafeningly into multiple layers. “Leave!” You nod at her and she pushes the door open. The dust billows out, sweeping in front of your forms. The fire in your hand smothers and the strong gust of wind pulls through your hair. You can’t open your eyes, so you shield yourself away. Yoongi feels his grasp on you loosen. Your touch fades away from him. He shouts after you until his throat is raw, but it’s to no avail. He scrambles blindly until he’s able to open his eyes and finds himself in an empty void of darkness. “I know your greatest fear.” There’s a whisper in his ear and he jolts, turning around while drawing his rapier. But there’s nothing there, not even a shapeless figure. “Min Yoongi. I have read your thoughts.” “I have read your mind,” a second voice crackles to his left. The right snicker. “Your greatest fear is betrayal of your loved one.” “Whether that would be no longer sharing your affections.” “Or choosing another person to be with.” “Get out of my head,” he commands from deep within his stomach, his impassivity ruined by the furrow of his brows. But Yoongi feels a cold breath on the nape of his neck. “A lick of poison from her would destroy you for good.” Fire. You see it in front of you as you’re collapsed on the floor. The orange and rose glow are illuminated on your face. You’re sitting so close it seems to lick at your cheeks. Yet you’re brought into a lull as you listen to the crackle and pop, as you allow the smoke to fill your senses. You’re brought in a trance as you watch the fire burn a house down, a quaint home with a picket white fence and large windows with pink curtains. “Your greatest strength is your greatest fear.” There’s a murmur in your ear. It’s unrecognizable. “I know,” you mumble. “You are afraid of one day no longer being able to control the flames that seethes to be unleashed.” “But repress it no longer, dear,” the left voice seductively whispers, hissing softly. “Worry no longer.” “Your magic is incredible and oozes from you.” — “Give into it.” — “Allow it freedom.” “What….about...Yoongi?” you ask, tearing your eyes away from the fire into the darkness. You stand back on your feet, finding balance again. “No.” There’s a sharp inhale to your right. “Leave him.” You scoff automatically, the idea so utterly ridiculous that it’s unfathomable. “I’m not going to do that. I finally found someone that doesn’t find me annoying….” “You could be powerful.” The more it talks, the more you’re coming to your senses. “I already am powerful!” You twist around, dispelling away the hallucination of the burning house with the flicker of your hand. “And I already know how to control my powers! You think I’m some kind of amateur sorcerer?! It doesn’t control me. I control it!” Again, you ignite a fire in your hand and narrow your eyes. In the distance, you catch strands of pale yellow. And you run after him. The voices scream for you to stop, but you fight against the magic that threatens to pull you back. The moment you smother out the flame, you leap at Yoongi. Your arms are thrown around him in an embrace and immediately, his hands wrap around you. Yoongi stumbles back with an infectious smile expanding into his cheeks. The spell dissipates and you find yourself back in the underground remains of the ancient castle. “Don’t let go of my hand again, brat.” “I’m sorry,” you mumble against his neck. Suddenly, there’s a piercing scream that ricochets through the air — one belonging to only Klarinda. You pull away from Yoongi, eyes locked into one another and he sets you down. Your fingers interlace and you follow the sound, turning down the hall once more and entering through the large double-doors to the decaying chambers. A frame of a bed sits in the wide expanse of the room, grayed cloth ripped and drifting over the canopy. Ash and soot sits in a layer on the floorboards, the wardrobe and vanity along the back wall destroyed. There’s a large painting on the wall, but the faces of the couple have been torn and scratched by bleeding fingernails. Your eyes sweep the room within seconds before landing on Klarinda who’s been blighted. She’s fallen over and you come to cover her with your body as you look upon the lich. It’s angular and skeletal with withering flesh stretched tightly across visible bones, dressed in regal finery, reddened drapes that once was vibrant. Yoongi’s knuckles turn white at his grip and he runs towards the creature. He misses, but hits on his second try, slashing it across. He surges forward, yet it does little to the lich that still stands. “Foolish children,” she hisses and grips the blade of Yoongi’s rapier, rendering him immobile. “You aren’t heroes. Your recklessness will bring forth your death. I will not spare you from the choices you have made.” You cast immolation and flames wreathe the lich. She lets go of Yoongi’s weapon and the light of your magic is so bright that you’re forced to look away. At the same time, Klarinda cures her wounds and slowly comes to her feet again. “Do you really think you could defeat me?!” The lich’s snarling voice booms across the room. Pinpoints of crimson light burn in the empty sockets of where her eyes were before they rotted away. She glides forward as if floating on water and a sphere of poisonous gas billows to all corners of the room. “Yoongi!” You cover your mouth with your hand and the yellow-green fog obscures your view. You hear the clanking of metal where he hits the lich and you feel your vision blurring from the poison. But as you narrow your eyes, you’re able to make out the faint shadow of the lich’s form. And a thin green ray springs from your pointing finger in the spell disintegrate, allowing you to hear it’s deafening shriek. You give permission for your phoenix magic to unleash and you’re magically twined in swirling fire, eyes glowing as hot coals. Your flesh sheds bright light into the fog. Behind you, Klarinda murmurs words of restoration and you feel yourself being healed from the poison. The lich is toying with you. You know it. The moment you stepped into here, it could’ve immediately killed any of you with a single word, but instead, it chose to manifest those hallucinations and slowly suffocate the three of you in this poison. The lich glides towards you, but is stopped by Yoongi. Before you can pull him out of the way, she lifts her finger, and he drops to his knees. He screams from the sheer agony that courses up his body. “Yoongi!” The lich casts detect thoughts on him, probing his brain, tearing apart bits and pieces of it. It hums and muses, “How selfless yet foolish. Even in this much pain, you are still thinking about how much you love her.” Yoongi grits his teeth, bumbling upwards to his feet and strikes the monster thrice. The force is enough that she staggers back and tense silence fills the air. You steal the opportunity and come forward next to Yoongi. Your palms press towards the monster to cast fireball, but the roar of the flames never comes. The lich has counterspelled it. Klarinda cries and runs forward with her dagger. “You killed my mother!” “And her soul was delicious to consume,” she snarls and grabs her blade, tossing it aside as if it were a toy. “Yours will be too!” Klarinda sobs as something catches the corner eye. But there’s no chance — not when the lich takes your spell of choice and magic blooms out of her thin fingertips. Fire blossoms from her flesh, thundering out in the force of her rage. You immediately turn to hug Yoongi, arms embracing his body to protect him. But when his hands reach to the back of your neck and he presses your face to his shoulder, you’re not sure who’s protecting who. Yet, the fire never reaches you. Even when it rumbles through the room and the ruins of the ancient castle. Even when the walls begin to crack further and fragments of the ceiling dust down. Even when scorching flames has filled every corner of the space. You raise your head, finding that the ghost of King Lionel is facing the lich. One of his last fragments of magic has been channeled into an aura of life spell, shielding the three of you away. “Enough, Karlis,” he calls out to her softly. “You have done enough harm.” “I thought I banished you!” she snarls out, crouched over as the pinpoints of red lights of her eyes glare at him. “I won’t leave without you.” “Why?!” The voice is jarring to your ears. “The girl you knew is long gone!” Neither of them notice Klarinda who staggers upwards towards the vanity in the corner, struggling to grab her dagger along the way. “Even so, I won’t leave her behind again. I won’t leave you behind. So come with me, Karlis. Leave your anger behind and come with me.” His arm outstretched but the monster cackles horrifically. “Foolish, man! I will not stop until I have destroyed the bloodline that ruined us.” “No one ruined us. It was I who ruled poorly, and you who chose to give up your soul and walk down this path by your lonesome in the wake of your grief. Karlis.” “Never!” she screeches and a gust of wind pushes him away. Then the lich screeches in torment. Klarinda digs the dagger’s blade into the heart shaped necklace on the vanity — the phylactery that holds the life force of the lich. She plunges the weapon several times until her arm strains, until the dagger’s curved against the vanity’s surface, until it slips from her trembling hand and she tosses it aside in the midst of tears. The lich’s bones collide against the floor. Her screams are audible around the room and the red clothing flutters in the air as it drops. You look away with Yoongi, but King Lionel gazes at her until the last moment. Gone. After centuries of terrorizing Pegan’s royal family, just like that. // The sunbeams pierce the sky in pastel shades, painting the clouds in watercolour hues. It breaks away the darkness of the night and the stars of the horizon. Klarinda is silent as she looks onward from the open arched window with her arms behind her back. But you know it’s not her. She’s been possessed by King Lionel, having granted his wish and allowed him to borrow her body. “My last duties as a King have been complete,” he murmurs in her voice. “My business is finished now that I know she hasn’t been left behind.” He turns to you and Yoongi with a dimpled smile. “Thank you. Sorcerer. Knight. Without your help, I wouldn’t have been able to free her from her own treachery.” “It’s not like you gave us much of a choice,” you mumble half-heartedly and he chuckles. “I guess I didn’t. I’m also sorry I’m not able to give you gold or any semblance of a reward when you have bestowed to me such a great favour.” “Having our lives is enough,” Yoongi says, bowing his head and you scoff lightly. The ghosts’ eyes twinkle as he looks at him and then to you. “You really do remind me of her,” he says. “But more strong-willed and self-assured. Something she had greatly missed and led her to her demise.” A sigh releases from him. “The world is blessed to have such great heroes.” The pair of you exchange expressions. “I’m not so sure about that….” You still don’t feel like heroes — he was the one who protected you and Klarinda was the one who destroyed the phylactery. Both you and Yoongi barely did anything other than waltz in there without a plan. In retrospect, that was probably a bad idea but there wasn’t really enough time to figure out battle tactics. Or at least that’s the excuse you’re going to hang onto. The ghost gives an all-knowing smile and turns to the horizon. “My time is here. Thank you for your help, heroes.” Within three seconds, he dissipated from her. Klarinda stumbles and is steadied by Yoongi. She smiles, thanking him before gazing at the pair of you. Two dimples are marked in each corner of her cheeks.

The chaos has come and gone. The moment the lich’s life source was destroyed, the monsters no longer swarmed and spawned on the grounds. The place is no longer haunted either. It’s finally what it looks like — simply, a castle. You came here to find the truth and to confront Yoongi — you never expected to encounter a ghost and a lich. It’s a wonder how it’s possible trouble can find you in so many ways no matter where you go. “Aren’t you cold?” A husky voice pipes up behind you and you’re brought out of your trance. Pale yellow hair joins your side, reminding you of ducklings. It’s still dawn, but you’re at the bottom steps of the garden's gazebo instead of seeking refuge on a soft bed. It was the only way you could get some peace and quiet from your siblings. “I’m never cold.” You turn to him, a fire flickering in your palm. Yoongi tenderly smiles. “How did speaking to Duke Fesan go?” “He’s bedridden, but he’ll make it. He wasn't too badly injured. But he’s grieving with his daughter.” You nod. “And your mother and father?” “They’re fine. A little shocked, but they’re using the opportunity to boast about me. A lot.” A laugh bubbles out of you. “Well, it’s not like they have no reason to. You’re amazing, Yoongi,” you breathe it out with a second thought, as if it were factual and you don’t notice his gaze on you. “How about your own family?” “They’re fine. My sister’s well enough to flirt with Jinha and my brothers are bickering loud enough to give my mom a headache,” you say and he hums. “But we’re leaving in a few hours. They already called the carriage for the afternoon.” “You’re heading back home?” You nod wordlessly. The tension is suffocating. You decide to break it, turning to him while masking a smile. “How was breaking the...other news to the Duke?” “Easier than one would expect. Klarinda asked to call off the wedding and the Duke said it was the doppelganger’s arrangement anyway. It was trying to amass as much wealth for itself as it could.” “That’s good.” “It is.” “Get that sorted and out of the way.” You steal a glance at Yoongi pathetically to find he has an impassive expression and is blankly looking onward. After a moment, he yawns tiredly and then his eyes flicker to you. Instantly, you divert your vision elsewhere, not noticing his smile. “You know,” he says, “the Duke thought it would be unfair to me. Even though it’s going to be called off, everyone already knows about the arrangement. It might be an opportunity for gossip to be made towards the Min faction.” “And what did you say?” “I said that I already had someone else in mind from the start.” Your eyes meet. Pools of deep brown locked into yours. Strands of his blonde hair nearly pricking into his lashes. And it’s an intimate moment as your voice quiets. “Did you really mean what you said on that boat ride. About regretting not asking me to come with you?” The man exhales, “Every day.” “A wedding with me would be awful,” you murmur, barely coherent. You feel how warmth rises to your face and heats your cheeks like a furnace, and for once, it’s not because of the magical fire inside your blood. “My mom would have to have a whole show and if you thought having three siblings was a lot, wait until you meet my cousins and extended family. They multiplied like damn rabbits.” Yoongi tries to put on a stoic face but fails. His grin is all too gummy. “I don’t mind. You haven’t met my brother yet, but he’s just as overbearing. And if anything, my mother would be ecstatic. She loves noble titles, so she’d hit it off with your mother.” “I still want that great big house.” “I would like one too.” “If you haven’t noticed, I really like my food burnt to a crisp like a fiend.” “I don’t mind.” He shrugs. “I always liked my meat especially cooked anyways.” “I’m a con artis—” “No matter what you say, I won’t change my mind, Y/N.” Yoongi’s brow cocks, challenging you straight on, albeit more gingerly than you’ve ever witnessed. “Your persuasions won’t work.” “Yoongi…” “You still owe me that refund.” What? He grins mischievously and you roll your eyes, having no idea why he’s bringing this up and ruining the moment. “Are you serious?” “Very. You scammed me over a year ago and I expect a full repayment. Also, I happen to collect interest. It’s a hefty, hefty interest fee.” “Okay.” You play along. “What do I owe you now?” You’re not sure what to expect. You’re never sure when it comes to him considering he’s so hard to read. But your breath hitches as he lowers himself to one knee and looks up at you with his tender features relaxed into the softest expression. He pulls something out of his pocket. “Nothing. It’ll be me who will owe you, if you would so graciously choose to spend your life with me—” You throw your arms around Yoongi. The both of you collapse onto the soft bed of grass and you giggle infectiously, pulling yourself up from him. “You’re an idiot, you know that? I really thought that for the rest of your life, you were just going to send me letters.” Yoongi grins a gummy smile. His arms wrap around your body and he reaches up to finally capture your lips on his. The two of you kiss each other, making up for the moments where you should’ve done it sooner. It’s sweet, but less than innocent with how eager it is. You only manage to pull away when out of the corner of your eye, you catch curtains shifting from upstairs. “Nosy, aren’t they,” Yoongi laughs. At the left window, your family is crowding around. Taehyung and Lia are shoving each other to get a look, Seokjin has his palms pressed against the glass, your father is grinning while your mother is absolutely astounded. At the right, both of Yoongi’s parents are peeking out owlishly. You see different members of the faction watching in both horror and confusion, having not yet heard of the news that the engagement is broken and assuming that they’re catching him in the midst of a scandal. But more importantly, you see Klarinda smiling infectiously at the top of the tower with her dad coming to look too. “Exciting, isn’t it?” Yoongi teases, “With so many guests watching.” “Is it so hard to get some damn privacy? This is why I prefer being on the move,” you whine and cast invisibility on the both of you. Yoongi laughs, closing the distance to kiss you again.

[Epilogue] “What if this is a trap.” “Then we’ll grab our weapons. But I don’t think it is.” There’s a house in the middle of the peaceful suburbs, placed in the middle of the street in a row of other homes. Built with bricks covered in render and an oak roof with a chimney on the side, it stands tall in a fairly asymmetrical pattern. The windows are large and it looks like the structure has two floors. More importantly, they swear they see the curtains shift on the left side. The two young adventurers step up on the wooden porch, facing the oak double doors. “Do we just….knock?” “I guess.” His fist raps against the surface while she braces herself for an attack. The door swings open. She hitches her breath, but an onslaught of offensive spells never happens. Instead, they see you. In a simple, brown dress and your hair braided in an updo with loose strands framing your full features. Your eyes glisten, giving a smile and the door widens. “Good afternoon! You children look so tired! Come in, come in!” The pair of them exchange expressions before stepping inside. The interior instantly takes their breath — cozy maple and fresh flowers at the entrance way, mementos on a shelf near the open staircase with a magical pull to them. It’s clear that the owners of this house have made it their own. They can tell each object carries its own meaning and memory, not merely for decoration or the purpose of luxury. “My name is Y/N,” you announce, with a light twinkle in your irises. “And I am a servant girl to the lord and lady of the house. May I ask who has entered the home?” “I-I am Park Jimin. It’s said that there’s a great and powerful sorcerer who lives here and a dark knight who’s been to Shadowfell.” “They’ve defeated dragons and liches before,” the girl beside him adds, brows furrowed as she regards you with a healthy amount of suspicion. “Well, it’s very nice to meet you. I’m afraid they’re not here at the moment. They went out to do some bidding, so you might have to wait a few hours until they return,” you inform and the two of them look at one another. “Can I ask for what reason you’re searching for them?” “We have received a prophecy and were sent by Mirla Nistar.” Jimin steps forward. “When lightning strikes twice, a man of darkness shall usher forth a country's doom and the end of wealth. We have reason to suspect that this man is the demon lord, Abraxas, who is trying to rise from Shadowfell.” You hum. “Alright. I’ll let them know as soon as they get back. Would any of you care for tea? I have the best honey and sugar available!” But suddenly, the dimpled boy feels a heavy weight on his mind. It’s a presence pressing on his brain, probing deep and whispering around the caverns of his skull for permission to be let inside. He grips his temples with a groan and his partner turns to him. “Jimin?” He looks off at you and she follows his line of sight. Before she can ask you what you just did, you slip something out of your pocket. In one split second— “Potion?” You hold up the stoppered bottle with the milky liquid sloshing inside. “You have a headache, don’t you? I know it when I see it! Must be from your long travels! Nothing like a rejuvenating potion to feel better.” “I..I’m alright.” Jimin lowers his hand. “Nonsense. You don’t want to miss this chance!” you emphasize. “I bet it wouldn’t even cost you a dime. You’re probably going to spend the same amount on some food or a place to stay at, so why not fork out some now? And it might be helpful for any upcoming adventures or expeditions!” “How much?” the skeptical girl slowly asks and you know you have it in the bag. “Ten gold pieces.” Your eyes glimmer. She digs into her satchel. But then— “What’s with the ruckus?” A rounded face and sleepy features lug down the stairs. He runs a hand through his baby yellow hair shagging in front of his forehead, having just woken up from a long nap. “Who are these people?” “They’re adventurers trying to defeat some demon punk—” “Demon lord,” the boy tries to correct. “—who’s apparently coming back to wreak havoc and steal children.” “Close enough,” he sighs. Yoongi makes a noise of acknowledgment, his expression impassive. Then his eyes dart at them and the potion in your hand. He points. “Are you trying to sell them that?” The corner of your mouth curls. “Maybe.” “Poor folks,” he exhales, utterly ruining your business transaction and not remorseful at all for it. “You’re going to get us into trouble one day.” You scoff. “When haven’t I gotten us into trouble. It’s not new news now.” Your husband grins and comes to sling an arm around your shoulder. He kisses you shamelessly in front of the two strangers, yet it’s a soft and tender gesture. It makes you smile against him. Suddenly, the door shuts behind them and the surrounding warm candlelight ignites. It billows a dim luminescence into the warm home that you’ve both made your own, glowing against the numerous mementos on the shelf that display the many years of your travels and journeys. Yoongi hugs you to his side and you quirk your head onto his shoulder with a sly smile. The adventurers finally come to recognize who the people in front of them are. And the pair of you turn to them. “What was it that you needed again?”

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #yoongi fanfic #yoongi scenario #yoongi fluff #yoongi adventure #bts adventure #yoongi as the stoic knight #and OC as the angry phoenix sorcerer lol #FINALLY AN END TO THE SERIES :D #hope you guys enjoy it #this is gonna be one of those ones that you're gonna need to read the original before the sequel lol #i think it's a hard one to understand without reading the one before

[fallinfromasnowytrain]

Bucky Barnes Loves Dogs

Summary: following Bucky throughout life as he wants a dog.

For: @falcon-chill​. It’s been simply lovely to talk with you over anon, and I loved writing this. I’m excited to chat off anon now and get to know you better! Much thanks to @nottodaylogic​ who helped me with writing this and @metalbvcky​ who set this all up! A very happy holidays to you all!

-

Bucky Barnes had always wanted a pet. 

A PET was the first thing written on every birthday list, right before toy soldiers or gum or whatever new thing he wanted that year. 

Once for Halloween, he got a baby sister. He didn’t know you were supposed to get presents at Halloween. 

Around his seventh birthday, he asked his dad why he never got a pet. Pa had ruffled his hair and laughed. 

“You’ve got enough brothers and sisters, Jamie. Isn’t that good, bud?”

He’d just mumble “sure”, not wanting to upset his Ma who’d made his brothers and sisters. 

-

When he lived with Steve in their own little apartment, he still wanted a pet. 

Both of them knew it was impossible. With rent, food, and Steve’s frequent doctor visits, there just wasn’t the money. 

Even though Bucky still couldn’t have a pet of his own, he enjoyed petting the stray dogs in the street or the dogs of rich ladies who lived near his parents.

-

Once the United States joined World War Two, Bucky got sent to Camp McCoy to train for the army. He heard that some folks were training dogs to assist the soldiers. He immediately wrote home to Steve.

Stevie, you’ll never believe it!

Dogs are being trained to assist soldiers!

You know I’m being trained as a sniper, but I wish I could be a dog handler.

Maybe when I come home a war hero we can get a dog and a big house with a big lawn for the dog to run in.

How are you? How’s home? Are you staying out of fights? I miss you lots. Sometimes it gets real cold in the barracks, and I miss our home and the blankets your ma made. 

Anyway, I’m doing pretty well.

All my best, Buck

-

The base in Italy was wet, cold, and terrifying. Bucky had never been out of the States before, and now he was in enemy territory with Axis soldiers trying to kill him.

Bucky was scared any time had to leave his barracks (even though he knew a roof wasn’t going to do much against bombs).

The only part of the camp that resembled something normal was the mess hall. The food was rarely any good, but mealtimes brought all the soldiers together like battles didn’t. Sure, you trusted your brothers in arms during battle, but meals were different. Battles brought out fear and anxiety, while meals brought out laughter and stories of back home.

“What I miss the most is the ocean. Big blue waves crashing on the sand. And the sun! Fellas, it felt so good to just lay on the warm sand with the sun in the sky over ya’.”

“Aw, shut up, Frankie, we’ve heard enough about the sun,” Bucky said, laughing.

“Well, alright, Barnes, what’s somethin’ you miss?” Frankie shot back.

Bucky rubbed at the back of his neck. He missed his family, and he missed his bed and home-cooked meals. He missed working at the docks and going to dance halls when he could scrounge up enough change. Most of all though, he missed Steve. 

But the soldiers didn’t want to hear about Steve. 

“I—I miss seeing the dogs that the rich ladies have. Those ladies walk ‘round all near my parents’ place with their silk coats and pearl necklaces, and the dogs are sometimes looking nicer than my brothers! What with their fur all neat and those bright shining collars. I know it’s real over the top, but I wish I could have a dog to spoil like that.”

He did want a dog, that wasn’t a lie.

But what he wanted most was to be at home, curled up with Steve in their bed. 

-

Strapped to a cold metal table and experimented on somewhere in Austria, Bucky had frequent fever-dreams.

Usually, he’d dream about Steve. Even though in reality Steve got into fights all the time, that was a rare occurrence in his dreams. Most of the time he’d dream about coming home from a long day of work to a warm supper on the stove made by a Steve who was healthy. Other times, he’d dream about the house always being warm and sitting and listening to the radio with Steve.

Occasionally, he’d dream about having a puppy. Steve would always be present in the dreams with a puppy. Steve and Bucky would take their soft golden puppy on walks at night. Sometimes when it was warm they’d stop at Coney Island for some ice cream, and they’d let their dog splash in the waves.  

But no matter how much he dreamed, it never came true. No puppy, and certainly no Steve. 

-

Once again, Bucky was being shaken awake. 

Even though he despised his alarm clock from back in Brooklyn, he found himself longing for it now. Getting shaken awake got old fast. 

He groggily opened his eyes, expecting to see the bald German scientist hovering over him. 

He did not see the bald German scientist. 

He saw a man who looked just like Steve, only taller and with more muscle.

He must be hallucinating. 

The man shook him again. “Buck, c’mon, wake up.”

That voice was Steve’s voice. Bucky would bet his life on it.

“Stevie,” he mumbled, tired from days of experiments and dozing on the metal table.

“Yeah, it’s me, pal.” Steve pressed a large, cold hand to Bucky’s cheek. “I thought you were dead, Buck.”

“I thought you were smaller.”

Steve laughed, a loud, real laugh in the middle of a war. “Let’s get out of here.”

-

Back at base, Steve and Bucky were rushed to the medical tent.

A nurse bandaged Steve’s scrapes, put some ointment on his burns, and declared that other than a few minor injuries, he was fine. 

Bucky, on the other hand… Well, no one was quite sure what had happened to Bucky. Aside from a few burns from the fire, he had no visible wounds, but his head pounded something terrible, and his muscles felt achy. A nurse gave Bucky some water and placed a cool rag on his forehead and then left with a promise to return soon.

She returned with Colonel Phillips, and Steve paced beside Bucky’s cot as the nurse and the colonel discussed something quietly.

Bucky fell asleep.

When he woke, Steve was sitting in a chair beside his cot, hand clasped together, head bowed.

“Ste—Steve,” Bucky muttered out.

Steve’s head jerked up. “Oh, you’re awake. Here, let me get you some water.”

“No.” Bucky reached out, fingers grasping the sleeve of Steve’s shirt. “Stay.”

“Alright.”

Bucky turned his face towards his friend. “Are they sending me home?”

“They’re sending all of us to London.” Steve’s lips lifted, however slightly. “Giving us a break from duty for now.”

“You too? You’re gonna come with?” Bucky pulled at a thread in the blanket. What if they sent him away from Steve? What if Steve wasn’t coming too? HE wouldn’t be able to handle that. 

Steve placed his hand over Bucky’s restless one. “Of course me too. Think I’d let them send me somewhere without you?”

“Y’know what?”

“Huh?”

“I want a dog, Stevie.”

“Go back to sleep, jerk.”

-

The streets of London were loud, though to Bucky, everything was loud. The pounding in his head had never really gone away.

Even though the sounds made his head hurt, Bucky didn’t mind the noise all that much.

It was nice to be able to walk outside without the fear of being attacked by enemy troops—or at least, less fear of being attacked by enemy troops.

He liked being able to spend time with Steve. They would walk all around the city together. Brooklyn would always be home for Bucky, but he couldn’t deny that London was beautiful too.

One day while out walking with Steve, Bucky had seen a fluffy brown dog running in the grass and catching a ball thrown by a young boy.

Desperately wanting to pet the dog, Bucky approached the young boy with much less confidence than he would have before the war.

“Can I pet your dog?” Bucky asked.

The boy smiled. “Sure. Her name is Teacup.”

“Thank you.” Bucky knelt down, scratching behind Teacup’s ears. “Such a good doggy.”

-

All Bucky wanted was for the new year to bring about the end of the war. He wanted to go home and see his ma and pa and siblings and go to work and dance halls and live with Steve in their little apartment.

Bucky never seemed to get what he wanted.

Instead of home, the new year brought the Howlies boarding an enemy train—in a terrible snowstorm no less.

Granted, they were doing this to capture Arnim Zola, the man who had experimented on Bucky.

So no, Bucky would not mind capturing him, and he would not mind his death, either. He would just prefer to go home instead.

Steve and Bucky landed on the train as planned, but when they entered the car, armed soldiers were ready for them.

Bucky shot at a soldier while Steve slammed his shield into another’s head. Two more soldiers came in. Bucky shot one and was aiming at the other when suddenly he was blasted backwards.

Wind was whipping around him, and the deep ravine was below him, and how did he even get here in the first place when he just wanted to go home?

He saw Steve leaning over the side of the train, reaching a hand out to him. “Hold on! Hold on, Bucky. Grab my hand!”

Bucky stretched, trying to grab hold of Steve’s hand, but there was a crack, and the rail he was holding onto broke.

And he was falling through the sky, down, down, down.

And he saw Steve’s heart break into a million pieces.

And he landed hard on the ground. So hard that it rattled his teeth and his bones.

He couldn’t feel his left arm. He couldn’t really feel anything at all.

It was cold.

He wanted to go home.

-

Once again, Bucky found himself strapped to a cold metal table.

His arm was gone. His head hurt.

In the beginning, he had tried to fight the HYDRA bastards who captured him but soon learned that fighting just got him punched and denied food.

Sometimes he’d hear Steve’s voice, and Bucky would bolt upright, looking everywhere for the source of it.

The agents would laugh at him.

“Captain America isn’t coming for you, Sergeant,” they’d say, mocking.

Bucky was so tired.

He wanted to be home. He wanted to curl up in bed with Steve, and he wanted to go on evening walks with a dog, and he wanted to go home.

Soon enough, he lost track of how long it had been.

-

The Soldier couldn’t remember anything.

Well, that wasn’t quite true. 

The Soldier could remember blue eyes, but the handlers said he was imagining things.

-

The Soldier was instructed to take out Captain Rogers.

Captain Rogers was a good fighter.

Captain Rogers threw the Soldier in the air, and when the Soldier hit the ground, his face shield fell off.

The Soldier got to his feet, glaring at Captain Rogers.

“Bucky?” Captain Rogers said, mouth open in shock.

What was a Bucky? No, Captain Rogers was addressing someone. Captain Rogers was addressing the Soldier. “Who the hell is Bucky?”

-

The Soldier—no, James. 

James found his own little apartment.

He went out now and then but mostly tried to stay out of the way of everybody. 

He didn’t want to be noticed. 

James would cook himself meals in his apartment. He would water the plant that sat next to his bed.

Some days he would forget to water the plant.

Some days he would forget to eat.

Some days he would have a hard time, memories swarming in from all directions, and confusion overtaking his mind.

Some days, though, he wouldn’t have a hard time. Those days he would go for a run, maybe pick up a book from a small bookstore near his apartment.

He slowly started to remember things. He liked science. 

He liked to look out the window and see dogs passing by on the street. 

He wanted a dog. 

-

James just wanted to buy some fruit, when all of a sudden he was accused of killing the cat man’s father.

He did not kill the cat man’s father.

He didn’t do that anymore.

But he still found himself in Siberia after fighting the cat man, two flying robots, and a spider kid.

It turned out one of the flying robots was actually Tony Stark.

Howard Stark’s son.

He didn’t mean to kill Howard Stark, but that didn’t seem to matter to Tony. 

His arm was gone, his arm was gone.

He had just wanted to buy some fruit, go home, and water his plant.

-

Things were getting better. 

James was living in an apartment at the Avengers compound with Steve.

James was going to therapy. 

James was starting to remember things.  Steve was his friend. Steve liked to draw. James liked to listen to music. James liked to read and do puzzles.

James had gotten a dog, a golden retriever. Both Sam and his therapist had suggested it.

Pluto was a good doggie. James and Steve would go for walks with Pluto. When James was having a hard time, Pluto would snuggle against him, grounding him. 

And Steve? Steve was a good friend to James. Steve helped him to remember; Steve helped when he had a hard time.

Steve was special to James.

-

Bucky had been reading on the internet. There was a lot to learn.

He always knew that he liked more than just girls.

Now, there was a word for it. 

Pansexual, he figured, fit him. 

He told Steve, saying, “I’m pansexual. Means I like girls and boys and other people, too. If you want me to leave, just say.”

Steve broke out in a smile. “I like boys and girls, too, Bucky. Bisexual.”

“Oh.”

“And I… Bucky, I like you. I love you. I’ve always loved you.”

Bucky must’ve been quick for a little too long as Steve said, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m sorry.”

“No!” Bucky said. “I just… there’s a lot of things going on. There’s a lot of things that have happened. But… I think I loved you before, and I like you a lot now.”

Steve just stared at him.

“Could I miss you, Steve?”

And Steve just leaned in, and Bucky put a hand to his cheek and kissed his lips softly, and it was nice nice nice.

“Would you like to go to Pride?” Steve whispered.

“I’d like that, Steve.” And he kissed him gently.

-

“Hop in, buddy,” Bucky said to Pluto, who was wearing a sign that said: PLUTO LOVES YOU.

Bucky himself was wearing shorts and a t-shirt, with pan flags painted on his cheeks.

“Ready, Buck?”

Bucky slid into the passenger seat of the car. Steve, wearing a bi flag tied around his neck, smiled at him. 

“It will be good,” Bucky said, taking Steve’s hand.

“It will be,” Steve agreed.

They kissed.

It was good.

#stuckygiftexchange2020 #stuckysecretsanta2020 #writing #steve x bucky #em writes

[ladynestaarcheron]

Like Pristine Glass - Chapter Twenty

ao3 - ff.net - masterpost

(tagging these cuties: @humanexile @skychild29 @rhysandsdarlingfeyre @candid-confetti  @rhysandsrightknee @missing-merlin @azriels-forgotten-shadow @books-and-cocos @sezkins79 @city-of-fae @someonemagical @dusty-lightbulb @messyhairday-me @rinad307 @superspiritfestival)

i’m back with chapter twenty! this fic is now officially a year old, so thanks to all of you for sticking with me. i love you. also thanks to taylor swift for folklore and illicit affairs which is my new nessian anthem.  i love you too, taylor.

enjoy!

---

February 12 - 4 years after

Nesta's nearly out of breath when she knocks on Amorette's door, having practically sprinted from her house. Only half her mind had been present all day with Cassian and Ollie, and then with Avery and Nicky when they came home from nursery. As soon as they had put the children down to sleep, Nesta had told Cassian she was going to see Amorette for an hour or so, given him clear instructions on what to do if Ollie woke up coughing again, and bolted out the door.

Amorette appears almost instantly. "How's Ollie?" she asks, ushering Nesta inside.

"Fine," she says. "We've got a new tonic to give him. The usual, they said, slow development and weaker lungs, but now the healer says it'll even out by the time he's twelve." Nesta calms herself enough to grin-how can she not?

Amorette takes her hand and squeezes it. "That's wonderful, Nesta. What's wrong, then? Here," she adds, handing her a glass of wine.

Nesta downs half of it in one go before saying, "Cassian and I kissed last night."

Amorette's eyes widen. "Oh. Wow."

"Thanks. Anything else to contribute?"

"Well..." Amorette hesitates, then says cautiously, haltingly, "I'm not...quite sure what it is you want me to say."

Nesta tosses her hands up. "Anything other than the downward spiral that's been going around in my mind for the past eighteen hours would be welcome."

Amorette chuckles. "Well...did anyone catch you this time?"

"No, thank all."

"So..." Amorette swirls her wine in her glass. "You're spiralling because...you enjoyed it, I assume?"

Nesta straightens. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nesta," she starts, then stops. Her small lips are set patiently and her blue eyes are gazing thoughtfully at a spot above Nesta's head. "Here's what I think. I think you should let yourself be happy."

Nesta tenses again. "What-"

"Nesta," Amorette says, moving closer to her on the couch and setting a hand on her thigh. "You kissed a male you are bringing up three children with. You liked it. You are bound to no one and nothing else besides the children. You have no blood ties to any land. You have no duties outside motherhood beside what you assign to yourself. You are free. At this point, Nesta, dear, there is nothing stopping you."

Nesta holds her hands tight against her middle. That can't be true, can it?

"Spell it out for me," Amorette says, not unkindly. "It'll help you sort through it all."

Distantly, Nesta nods. She's not looking at Amorette anymore, rather at the tiny details on the teal cushions. "Well, you're going to leave, aren't you?" She doesn't mean to sound so blunt; she's thrilled for and proud of her friend, off to a big Ciyaluck hospital to cure whatever horrible vaginal disease she's currently specializing in.

"I don't know yet. But you shouldn't count on me staying here," she says gently.

"So you're gone," Nesta says, almost to herself. "And then...the shop...we're looking to spread out. So I could be sent...oh, but I don't think that's what I want!" she exclaims.

"What's not what you want?"

"I don't want to leave! And I don't want you to leave, either, but I've got no say in that."

"I wouldn't go that far. You've got some say. I mean, if they ever make a formal offer-"

"When they make a formal offer-"

"I'm definitely going to want your opinion. But continue. You want to stay here."

"Cassian can't stay here, though," she says, the words falling so plainly and simply from her mouth. Amorette has that effect on her. She frowns a little-she's changed so much these past years, hasn't she? And yet, some things are still exactly the same. While she can admit to herself what she wants, she still can't bring herself to do anything about it.

"You want Cassian to stay here?"

"I mean..." Nesta rubs her forehead.

"Paint me a perfect picture," Amorette suggests.

"A perfect picture?" Nesta pauses, but really, she doesn't need to think about it. "You're here to stay. I'm here to stay. The shop is...doing as well as Adil wants it to, but I don't have to do any travel. My children go to school here. They learn to read. My sisters are here. Cassian is here."

"In what capacity?"

"In my capacity," Nesta says, then burns scarlet.

Amorette is patient. "And yourself? Besides being here."

"I'm...under control." She doesn't have to go to the lake anymore, in this perfect picture of hers. The magic inside of her is either gone or permanently dormant. She doesn't have to learn about it and she never worries it will rear its ugly head again.

"Zeyn is married to some nice girl," she adds.

Amorette smiles slightly. "Some nice girl?"

"Someone who makes him happy," she clarifies. Nice girls make people happy. Elain is a nice girl. Perhaps in this fantasy vision where her sisters live here in Sugar Valley, Zeyn falls in love with her. Nesta dwells on this image for a few moments: cheery people, leading peaceful, easy-going lives.

"I think it's time for you to make your feelings clear."

Nesta winces inwardly at the words. "Haven't I been clear enough?" she asks, knowing the answer.

"Evidently not."

What hurts her the most is that to her, her feelings for Zeyn are perhaps the only thing in her mind that is clear right now. Everything else is jumbled up, but with Zeyn, the one person who has always been nothing but good to her, in the most perfect way...

"I know," she mumbles. And it's not fair to him, truly. "I'll talk to him."

"Collect your thoughts," Amorette offers. "Tell me what you're going to say to him."

So she does, thinking all the while that even though this is only one of the two looming dramatic conversations she needs to have, it will still grant her monumental relief when it is over, alongside the inevitable pain.

---

May 16 - 1 year after

Every day of pregnancy seemed to be worse than the last, with every realization that her body seemed less and less like her own accompanied by the truly terrifying thought it would soon somehow expel three people from it, and that she was supposed to find someone or some way to care for these tiny people. Worse still, was the utter cheer of other Sugar Valley residents as they pointed this out to her.

"Won't be long now!" said Leyla, from Sugar Books.

"They can play together!" beamed Classia, a female from Prythian with her own baby.

The worst by far was what Zeyn said to her. "What if you had the babies today? You'd share a birthday!"

Nesta had jerked so hard she spilled some of the isti Zeyn had given her on her hand. "It's-it's too early," she stammered. If only because it wasn't, really; not for triplets.

"Suppose so," he had said, and proceeded to indiscreetly hint at whatever surprise he had planned for the day.

Nesta's birthday was not something that she had ever been fond of in a while. First, it was just one more year without her mother, then her family had lost their fortune and it was another day they couldn't afford to celebrate (though Elain tried-for each of them, every year), and then as a Fae it just felt pointless. What was special about the years passing by if they would never stop?

And this year, of course, she was so spectacularly unenthusiastic about the passage of time, for a myriad of reasons, but it didn't seem as though Zeyn had given her much choice, as he followed her home that day, holding a large bag of food.

How had he even found out about today, she wondered. And who were these guests he was going on about.

"You don't strike me the type who likes a surprise party," he said.

"I am not."

"So it's a dinner! Right here, in your house. You don't even have to go anywhere. And I'll cook! Well, Miri's cooking, too."

Nesta sighed inwardly. "Zeyn, thank you-"

"Don't thank me yet. You haven't seen the cake." He winked at her. "Your pots are this drawer?"

Cake was always good, at least. "On the right."

Nesta tried very hard not to think about her last birthday-and Zeyn did make it easy, regaling her with tales of his own celebrations. And then his "guests" arrived-turning out to be her fellow employees of the shop and her healer, Amorette.

Leyla complimented her on her decor. "I love the red," she said, pointing to the throw pillows Nesta picked out for her new couch.

"Thanks."

"You painted in here," she noted. "Are these all from Sugar Books?" she asked, referring to the slowly-growing collection on Nesta's bookshelves.

"Of course," she said. "Wouldn't want to throw away business elsewhere."

"Gracious," Leyla said. "I actually don't keep so many at home. I just...read whatever I want at the store, you know? Keep more room in the house for my things."

A valid way to live, Nesta thought, for an archivist, but she liked to own books. She never again wanted to live in illiterate squalor.

"Ooh, these are pretty," she said, turning to a set of glass berries she had purchased while visiting a neighboring town with Zeyn.

The rest of the evening mirrored her conversation with Leyla. Pleasant, calm. Not particularly exciting.

It was not what a heroine in a book would strive for, but normalcy was still a luxury. If a quiet dinner party was the most she got, was that really so bad? She had been hungry; starving. She had been unloved and entirely alone. Sharing a potato stew recipe with a neighbor was not one of the adventures she'd dreamed she'd have as a young girl, but having enough was so much more than what she had for a long time.

After her guests had helped clean up and she was putting herself to bed, arranging her pillows to support her head and belly, a few things became clear to her:

The first, Cassian and her sisters were not writing back. In retaliation for her leaving or ignoring them or whatever reason. If it had not happened tonight, it would not happen in the future.

The second, she could not go to Prythian and risk being turned away in person. She would not survive the mortification.

And the third, whether or not the children growing inside her were hers, she still owed them this much: she would not let them ever live as she had in that small village. They would not need to beg. If no one wanted to respond to her reaching out-fine. She was going to stop trying. She could waste her energy on this no longer.

You owe them this, she told herself sternly as she choked back tears.

She would be a model expecting mother, from now until birth.

After that...well, it was anybody's guess.

---

May 16 - year of

It was officially spring in Illyria, and that morning was the first since she arrived that Nesta thought she didn't have to don any outerwear. When she entered the kitchen, she saw Cassian didn't have on his uniform with the thicker sleeves, either-although he was wearing a smirk.

"What?" she asked, scowling.

He shrugged and passed her a glass of orange juice, but his expression didn't change.

"I'm going to be late," she said shortly. Which was not true, but her skin felt too hot at the idea of staying here.

"Have a good day," he called after her. She mumbled something in response.

She tried to dissect the situation logically in her mind. The only way Cassian could know her birthday was if either she or Feyre or Elain had told him. She had not, there could not be more than a sixty-six percent chance of him knowing. Since she wasn't entirely positive Feyre knew her birthday, that lowered it, too. But surely when Elain was brought into the equation, that raised it indisputably, because Elain would never let Nesta have her birthday without a celebration. Then again, she probably would have sent her a gift, or at least another one of her letters, wouldn't she? But Cassian always left them for her on the table, and no new ones had been added in the past week or so. Perhaps she had sent it early? Or Cassian had hid this one? No, they were in a good place; if ever she suspected him of reading her mail, now would not be the time. But what if Cassian had told her sisters she was ignoring their letters...and now they were coming here? Was that why he had smirked at her? Was all of this some-some joke? The rapport they had between them now, was that nothing? After feeling settled here, finally, with a job she actually enjoyed, were they planning on dragging her back to Velaris? Well, she had news for them-

"You know, you look particularly cross today, considering it's your birthday," Emerie said, interrupting her chain of thoughts.

Nesta blinked. "How do you know it's my birthday?"

Emerie shrugged a little. "You're the High Lady's sister. I think it's common knowledge."

Nesta put down her pen. "It is?"

"Yes. I have this chocolate for you. It's got those nuts you like in it." Emerie handed her the blue-wrapped rectangle. "I assume you already have dinner plans."

"Thank you," she said, taking the chocolate gingerly. The same brand Cassian had once given her. "And no. Not that I'm aware of."

Emerie huffed in amusement and rolled her eyes. "All right. Sure."

Nesta whipped around and began busying herself with rearranging some stacks of paper until she was sure the red in her cheeks had disappeared. "I haven't made any plans."

"Romantic dinners are supposed to be a surprise, are they not?"

"There aren't any romantic dinners." Her entire face must be crimson.

"All right," Emerie said again, in the same tone as before.

"Are we investing in swimwear this year?"

"You can leave early, if you want some extra time to get ready," Emerie said, in the closest thing to teasing Nesta had ever heard from her.

She did not stay early. Instead, she stayed as late as she possibly could, until Emerie physically ushered her out of the store.

"Honestly, he's not going to bite you," she said while locking the door behind Nesta.

Of course not. And they ate dinner together all the time-sometimes with Emerie, and sometimes he was away, but most times were just the two of them. That wasn't new. But Nesta had had a whole day to think about what would happen if Elain or Feyre were waiting for her when she arrived, and she didn't like any scenario she imagined.

Though it took her significantly longer than usual, she did force herself to trudge back, craving for the first time in a while a drink.

She steeled herself before she opened the door. She did that slowly, too, letting her shadow fall in before taking a step inside, and watching it lengthen before picking her head up to survey the house.

There were no decorations-no vines of flowers that Elain used to drape or multicolored faelights the people in Prythian used. Wait-there on the table, between two table settings, was one, glowing a pale pink.

"I was beginning to think you had gotten tied up with the new rope," Cassian said.

She turned and looked up at him. "What?"

"Your new rope. At the shop."

"Oh."

"Tied up with the rope. It's a joke."

"Oh...yes. Very funny." Were those new plates? She didn't recognize them. And what was that bottle on the table? It couldn't be champagne. There was no way he would give her any.

Cassian snorted. "You seem really amused. Come sit. I kept the food warm."

She squinted down at the floor when he pulled her chair out for her.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"Fine. Thank you," she added, as he ladled some duck onto her plate. Her favorite, the kind he made with the lemon.

"You have nothing to be scared of, you know."

"I'm not scared."

"Sure. That's the face you make when you're comfortable."

She scowled at him before straightening and relaxing into what she hoped was a smile, but at his laugh she guessed was more of a grimace.

"Come on, Nesta, give me some credit. I haven't mentioned anything, have I?" His tone was laughing but the slight crease between his eyes told her he was uncertain.

"I don't mind that it's my birthday," she said, offhand and ever-casual.

He raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Really," she said, pausing to swallow some duck. "I mean. I don't really see the point in birthdays anymore. But it's not...whatever. I don't really care either way."

"Well, if you don't care either way..." he grinned at her. "Humor me, will you?"

She rolled her eyes. "What do you want from me?"

"Minimal to no effort on you part, I promise." He shook his head slightly as he uncorked the bottle of bubbling amber liquid. Nesta caught a whiff as he poured it into two flutes-definitely not alcohol. Far too sweet. But she took it when he handed it to her, albeit hid her smile.

"When I first met you..." he started, then trailed off. "We didn't get off to a good start the first time. Or the second time." His eyes darted around the room a bit before meeting hers again. "I have the Mother to thank for not messing up the middle of my second chance. I know you don't believe in Her, so I'm not sure what it was that convinced you to go along with it, but I thank that too."

Nesta didn't move for the next few moments. Neither did he. They only looked at each other until he started again.

"I'm not sure I know how to quantify in words what these past few months have been, but...I suppose I'm going to have to try-" here he paused to laugh, and her own lips tugged upwards slightly-"so...they have been...wonderfully unexpected." He paused again, opening his mouth a few times before finally saying, "When you're really there...when you don't give up on yourself? You're the most incredible person in the world. And I...am grateful to a lot. For everything. Happy birthday, Nesta," he finished, clinking his glass against hers.

He had it to his lips, tilting his head back, when he paused. "You're not going to drink?" he asked, for she still had not moved.

"It's poor etiquette to drink to one's own toast," she said softly.

"Oh." He put his glass down.

"You can still...drink...if you..."

He was hesitating now, his finger outstretched towards her but still very much on the table. His eyes lowered from hers to her lips back to his glass. He was going to drink now, make her toast to him so she would be allowed to drink, and then he would make fun of her for following the etiquette rules, and that would be the end of it.

The vision of the rest of the night played so vividly in Nesta's mind just then, as he lifted his hand. The night that would play into tomorrow, and the next day, and the next...nice and pleasant and nothing more.

And although she could have sworn on her mother's grave just that morning that birthdays did not matter to her...perhaps that was the reason why tonight, she decided she wanted-more.

So she grabbed his hand before he could touch his glass, and his gaze shifted starkly to her. He opened his mouth to say something, but this time, she was faster, making good use of her inhuman speed for the first time. Standing in front of him while he sat on the chair, they were about the same height. She was even a bit taller. Her left hand was still clutching his right. But her right was on the back of his neck, and before she could lose her nerve, her mouth was on his.

It was chaste, small. Quiet and soft. The same way she might kiss the top of his head.

She opened her eyes before she stepped back, still so close their eyelashes touched.

He wasn't saying anything.

Her mind went blank. It was times like these she envied the Fae and their pantheon, her sister's newfound faith, for she desperately wished she had some higher power to call upon to intervene now.

She drew her hands back to her chest. "I'm...I don't know what came over me," she said-or tried to say. Her voice caught, coming out barely a whisper. "I'm-"

He stood up, nearly knocking the table over. His arm shot out to still his glass before it tipped. She blinked at the sudden movement, and then he was kissing her again.

It was decidedly less chaste this time.

Less chaste, perhaps, but still soft. He held her delicately; very close against him, but his hands were gentle. She almost could not reconcile this tenderness with what she had seen him do in battle. Almost.

Her courage tonight had shocked her, but it was running out. She didn't want to push him any further than he went himself, so she tried to meet him with the same sort of caresses as he was stroking down her back, loosening her hair. But it proved a more difficult task than she could've imagined. How could she not tug his hair when her hand was wrapped in it? How could she not claw at his shoulders, his back, when her nails were quite possibly the only thing that would allow her to stay tethered to this moment? And how could she not lock her leg around his waist in an attempt to hoist herself upwards when she-well-when she wanted to?

Nesta may have been able to, in the right setting, deny her cravings for drink, but this was different. Cassian was sweeter than wine. And his hand fit perfectly against the small of her back...oh, would he not move it? Did he not feel this same rush of heat throughout his body?

Evidently he did not, because just then he broke apart from her, and breathed out, rushed, "That's your souffle."

Nesta blinked. She lowered her leg. "What?"

"The timer. I have a souffle..." He unhooked her arms from around his neck and turned, rather mechanically, to the kitchen.

She rubbed at her forehead. He must have...that wasn't one-sided. It was not. He was just...he just still had the presence of mind to not burn the house down. That was all.

"Here," he said, placing it on the table.

Did he want them to sit back down? Was he serious.

"Bit early for dessert," she said dryly.

"It is not," he said. "You were late for dinner."

"Hm."

He sat down. Nesta wanted to die.

So that was...all right. Fine.

She would just-well. She would. Move. She supposed. She tried to tell herself this calmly. Nothing was wrong. Just-the worst mistake of her life, and she would move in with Emerie. Everything was fine, and she didn't need to rush to her room or outside or slit her own throat-

"Hey, Nesta," he said, interrupting her slippery slope to suicide. "Sit with me." He pulled her chair next to him and yanked her into it.

He threw an arm around her and covered his face with the other. Nesta kept her own folded in her lap, her jaw locked, and her face pointed downwards, so it was a moment before she realized he was shaking with laughter.

"All right," she said angrily, standing up. "I'm-"

"What! Nesta!" He pulled her back, forcing her to look up at him. "Why are you-what's wrong!"

He couldn't even make his voice go up, so overcome with the stupid grin on his face, laughter still lacing his voice. She latched onto her anger the same way she latched onto his shoulders, because otherwise, she would cry. And tonight would not end with Cassian seeing her cry.

"Stop laughing," she snarled.

His eyes widened. His laugh turned surprised. "But I'm happy! Sorry, Nesta, we can't all keep our emotions clean off our face! Not all of us learned how!" He shook his head, still grinning.

Nesta stilled. Her fists relaxed. "You're happy?"

"Are you out of your mind? Of course I'm happy."

She couldn't bring herself to look in his eyes. "Then why did you stop?"

"So that your souffle wouldn't burn."

Was he really as stupid as she first thought he was in her family's estate? "Then why are we sitting at the table?" she said through gritted teeth.

He laughed again. At her this time, she knew it. "Oh, no, sweetheart-look at me. I just...I don't want to mess this up, all right? We don't have the greatest track record. I think it would be better if we went slowly."

They had been going slowly, had they not? And why did slowly have to mean they weren't allowed to have sex, anyway? Why did sex have to be the endgame? And who was he, to make these executive decisions?

"I'm not going to lie to you, I'm thrilled that you seem to hate that."

"Shut up," she snapped.

"Happy birthday. Really. And a happy Wednesday to me. Ouch," he added when she pinched him.

"Hush," she said, but without most of her bite.

He kissed the top of her head. "Happy birthday," he said again, softly.

And it seemed as though it was.

---

February 13 - 4 years after

"Are you absolutely sure?" Adil is asking her.

"Positive," Nesta replies firmly. "Cassian is at home and the healer said there's no reason to expect anything amiss as long as we give Ollie the tonic as she instructed. It's just a few hours in Chokecherry. We'll be back before dinner."

"I can go with Maz," Zeyn says.

Nesta rolls her eyes. "Please. This is important."

Zeyn laughs, but Adil doesn't look any less anxious. "Are you sure?" he asks her again.

"Do you want it in writing?"

"Just-go, then. And...hurry back." Adil gives her an odd look.

Zeyn shakes his head. "Let's go, then," he says, and heads out to meet the carriage.

"Nesta," Adil says, when he is out of earshot. "Do...what's right for you. He can take it." He gives her a short nod before walking away.

Zeyn will take it, she knows. It'll hurt, yes, but ultimately it's not him she's worried about. Nesta knows that someone losing her isn't too bad as she doesn't have so much to offer in the first place. But what is she going to do if she loses Zeyn as a friend?

---

June 12 - year of

Nesta knew she had not had the happiest life, what with her mother dying young, her father all but abandoning her and then dying too, losing her sister twice to the Wall, watching her other sister be violated in the most horrifying way she could imagine and then experiencing the same violation herself...but even if at all had been a walk in a rose garden up until this point, she still thought the past month would've won the title of best of her life.

They had been going as slow as Cassian deemed necessary, yes, but even then, it was still a high she had not ever experienced. While their tentative friendship had included spending most of their downtime together, the ante had been upped considerably. Cassian was now always sitting next to her, always touching her. He was not always talking, but he was certainly talking a lot. About everything. The trace memories of his mothers (in such detail she felt they were her own), meeting Rhys for the first time (she took great joy in knowing Cassian had loathed him at one point), and, consistently spurring an onslaught of emotion she was never sure she enjoyed or not, her. About her hair and her skin and her hips (a rather lot about her hips, actually), and about things she did that she didn't think there was anything to note.

"I love when you're preparing to flip a page in your book," he had said to her laughingly one night.

"What?"

"Like when you're still reading that page-" he punctuated this with a point at her book "-but you can't stand the wait of the second it takes you to flip the page, so you start lifting it as you're finishing reading it, so you can start the next page immediately after finishing that one."

She rolled her eyes, but she no longer fought to hide when her face flushed around him.

Nights had been spent separately, at first. But towards the end of May, he had gone for a short trip to Velaris, and when he had come back, they had started sleeping in the same bed.

She hadn't expected him to come home in the middle of the night. He never had before. So when he had been gone two days, she figured he would be there tomorrow afternoon. But she still missed him, missed his scent, and she didn't see the harm in sleeping in his bed

He woke her up when he came back that night, just past three.

"I missed you too," he whispered. "So I left as soon as I could."

She meant to say You didn't have to do that or Don't be ridiculous but instead she had only mumbled "good" and fallen back asleep against him, to the sound of his low chuckle.

There was no sex yet, to her eternal disappointment, but still. A girl could do worse than sleeping next to Cassian every night.

In mid-June, when they come back from another trip to a neighboring camp-he told her nobody terrified the lords like she did-Emerie was waiting for her at the shop, a slight smirk on her face.

Nesta glared to keep from blushing. Emerie had walked in on her and Cassian in the supply closet last week, and-well.

"How was your mission, Lieutenant?"

"It wasn't a mission. I'm no one's lieutenant. We should mark these coats down. People will still buy last season's coats in June if they're marked down."

"Well, either you're his lieutenant on official Night Court Military business or he just made up a reason to bring you along."

"Do you want your shop to go under or not? Mark these down," she snapped.

But Emerie only laughed. Really laughed. Emerie. "It's good to see you like this."

"I'm not like anything."

"Sorry. Could've sworn you were happy."

Nesta only made a show of rifling through some papers.

Emerie rolled her eyes and gathered the coats out of the closet. "You seemed happy when I found you in here last week," she said under her breath.

Nesta jerked her head up. She was never going to live that down.

---

June 1 - year after

Two weeks after her vow to herself and her unborn children, Nesta was deeply regretting it.

Her due date was rapidly approaching-Amorette guessed the second week of July at the very latest-and her body was not up to the task.

"It's not that you're not strong enough," Amorette had insisted. "It's that your body knows to focus on what matters. What matters right now is preparing yourself for labor."

So other things were deemed inconsequential by Nesta's body-like walking, apparently.

Bed rest. From now till labor.

She was allowed to go to the kitchen and spend a grand total of thirty minutes outside each day, but other than that, she wasn't to move. And Amorette checked up on her.

And so did Zeyn. Sometimes bringing along Miri or Leyla, sometimes joined by Adil, but he was there. Every day, without fail.

He brought her new books to work on from her bed, and sometimes things to read. He told her he didn't want her standing up to cook so he prepared meals for her and brought them to her bed. He never failed to offer her a back rub or to draw a bath.

Nesta wasn't stupidly argumentative. If her healer told her she needed bedrest, she would go on bedrest. But some of the protective measures were ridiculous-if she felt okay standing up, didn't that mean she was allowed to?

"You always say to listen to my body," Nesta complained to Amorette during one home visit.

"Well, normally your body speaks your language. You listen to me for now. Next pregnancy you'll know what to do."

"You take that back," Nesta snapped as Amorette laughed.

"You have a taker, at any rate."

She didn't answer. Yes, it was painfully obvious now, Zeyn's feelings for her. She was almost embarrassed to be accepting his help so brazenly, but what else was she supposed to do when she was all but forbidden to move and he carried plates of roasted squash to her room?

He had tried to bring up the subject of the children's father and she had firmly steered the conversation away. She was by no means ready to discuss that. But perhaps that would help...make it clear where her feelings were.

In the meantime...she felt devious doing so, and cruel, but she let him sit by her. She tried to make herself as unappealing as possible-although how she looked right now should have done it-but she didn't want to be...well...mean. She was naturally short-tempered enough that some of it came naturally to her.

Everyone who had liked Nesta prior to Sugar Valley had had to work at it. What was in the water here that made her attractive to these people? Perhaps it was the jam.

---

February 13 - 4 years after

Neither Nesta nor Zeyn are pleased to see that Chokecherry's bookstore is doing well, but they do take solace in the fact that their newest publication isn't selling as much as they had clearly expected it to, judging by the marketing all around the town. Zeyn even manages to chat up a local author and slip them Sugar Books' card.

He comes back to sit with her on a bench. She hands him a sandwich she bought him.

"Guess we have to go back now," he says. "Kind of a shame. I'd like to spend the night here, actually. Maz told me they have a diner here with a breakfast better than Jamal's."

Nesta supposes that's as good an opportunity to segue as she'll get. "Maybe...you should stay here."

"Oh, calm down. I'm not saying their diners are better than ours."

"No," she says, swallowing, "that's not what I mean. I mean...I need you to understand, Zeyn, that when we go back to Sugar Valley...we're not going together."

His smile falters. "You're going somewhere else?"

"No." If she dropped dead she wouldn't have to have this conversation, right? But Zeyn deserves better, she reminds herself, and so she forces herself to continue. "Zeyn. When I came here...you saved my life."

He stills. He's not smiling anymore.

"You never stopped being lovely, right from the beginning. Even when I wasn't. And as if that wasn't enough, all your kindness when I arrived and your incredible generosity during my pregnancy...you were everything with the children. You-" Nesta stops to catch her breath. She sees Zeyn's eyes start to fill with tears and she can feel some pricking in her own. "Everyday I could tell myself if I wasn't good enough, they would still have you and Miri and Adil. You're their family. You'll always be the first male they ever loved.

"And I have...bastardized that. Because of my own cowardice. You found the strength to give everything to a bitter, pregnant female, and then her children, every day for three years...and I could never find the nerve to tell you what you deserve to know. I-I'm not in love with you, Zeyn." She sobbed a little, but forced herself to maintain eye contact with him. "I never will be. I'm sorry. You're-it's not-you're the most wonderful, greatest-"

"Please don't," he says immediately, voice hoarse. "Please don't-don't tell me I'm the greatest right now."

She wipes at her eyes. "I...suppose that's fair." She pauses to catch her breath. "Can I-can I tell you that I love you and that I want you to be happy?"

He manages a laugh. "Of course."

"And...I'm sorry."

"No. Don't."

"I would..." Nesta stops to take a shaky breath. "People get what they deserve in this world. There's a balance. That's what your Cauldron says."

"Yes."

"So one day...I swear to you, Zeyn, you're going to have someone just perfect for you."

"Nesta..."

"I've been to more places than you, right? It's a really big world out there. She's there. And I swear to you...when you have children...I'll try and give them everything you gave mine."

There is silence except for Nesta's muffled cries for an unbearable two minutes. Then Zeyn says softly, "They...I always loved them as I would my own."

"Please don't stop."

"Of course I won't!" He looks at her, appalled.

"I didn't mean that you would," she says hurriedly. "Just-I don't want you to." How best to phrase this? "I know...you might need time. But...I'll be here when you're ready."

Zeyn laughs bitterly. She's never heard him like that before. "That's what I told myself when I first fell in love with you."

Another tear slips down Nesta's face. He really is so good. She really does not-she would not be right for him! Even if Cassian had never come back!

"I'll go now, then," she says quietly, and stands up to leave.

He doesn't call her back and she doesn't turn.

Nesta doesn't pray much. She doesn't see the point-the Cauldron hated her, so if indeed it is the product of some omniscient Mother, shouldn't She as well? But in that moment, Nesta knows there's nothing she wouldn't beg to grant Zeyn peace, and a friendship with him again one day.

---

Chapter Twenty-one

#nessian au #nesta archeron #cassian #actoar #never know what to tag this as #PLEASE tell me your thoughts #i'm dying here #thoughts on folklore and thoughts on this chapter #SPOILERS IN THE TAG AHEAD DO NOT READ BEFORE READING THE CHAPTER! #SPOILERS IN THIS HERE TAG that was my first time writing a kissing scene! was it good? #it was so hard to write!! #come talk to me people<3

[tobesoadores]

Chicago

In which Derek is arrested for crimes he didn’t commit and his girlfriend, Lennon, learns about his past

Masterlist: x

Derek and his girlfriend, Lennon, were sitting on the sofa after dinner. His mother went above and beyond with the meal, regardless of the fact that it was her birthday. Derek wanted the most important women in his life to meet and that’s why bringing his girlfriend along on the home visit worked out so well. His sisters were coming back, too. They all loved her. No one expected Derek to find someone who would be the complete opposite of him yet remain ever so amazing. The man adored the way in which they interacted, it felt easy, practically natural for them to bond. He couldn’t have asked for a better experience. They dined and conversed and it tired everyone out. Sarah and Desiree hit the bed quite early on, both of them being fairly exhausted from not only travelling but also from previously working full days at their jobs. Fran, their mother, was overjoyed by the company she had and celebrating tired her out. That left the lovebirds alone with each other.

“You were right,” she told him after a while of simply gazing at his side profile. The stern jaw, smooth skin, perfectly curled ear and narrow nose, always managed to make her get lost in her own world. Morgan was used to it, he loved it, in fact. He noticed her staring but didn’t mention it as he watched the TV with a beer in his right hand, his left resting on her knee. She pulled her legs to her chest as she sat with her feet tucked under his left thigh. Derek faced the television and she faced the cabinet on the right.

Turning to face her, he hummed, “Yeah? About what?”

“Your family,” she smiled sheepishly, making him grin even bigger. At first, she had her doubts, genuine insecurity nipping at her insides when Derek brought the topic up between them. Although the two had been dating for almost six months now, she still found it to be early to meet the parents. Then again, much like Morgan, she never had a proper relationship before him. They were both new to this, so, their approaches to milestones like this were going to be different to what she’d heard. With that being said, she felt this meeting went wonderfully, so much better than her mind could’ve ever imagined it.

“Wanna tell me how you came to that conclusion?” he raised his eyebrow, hooking his finger under hers until they linked and he gave it a gentle squeeze.

“They’re amazing which I didn’t doubt but you know how unsure I was about their opinion on me,” Lennon admitted, even though Derek knew this and tried to change her mind on multiple occasions. No matter how many times he’d mention that his sisters and mother were ecstatic to meet her, it didn’t change anything. He knew it wouldn’t, not until they actually met. “I think they like me.”

“See?” he chuckled, placing his left arm over her legs, the underside of his arm on her stomach as he leaned closer. “I told you, baby. Not one thing to dislike about you.”

“I’m sure there’s plenty,” she rolled her eyes, finding his compliment to be a little blown out of the park.

“Nah-ah, none of that,” he denied. Reaching his arm out, he could cup her chin to bring her face closer, connecting their lips in a soft kiss that made her sigh against him. Morgan couldn’t hold his smile back, breaking the gesture almost immediately. Her little sounds drove him crazy and if they weren’t in his mother’s home, tangled on her couch, he would’ve made sure to listen to his girlfriend all night long. “You’re everything, you hear me? Funny. Loving. Kind. Smart. Compassionate. A little crazy,” he broke a smile and she blushed. Whenever he’d tell her these things—and it happened often—she didn’t know how to take it so she sat there, cheeks burning, ears prickling, and let him tell her. She liked the sound of those words from his mouth, they were powerful coming from him, seeing as he truly meant each and every one of them. “But that’s how I like ‘em,” he added, making her chuckle.

This time, she initiated the kiss. Moving around, Derek settled between her legs and she wrapped them around his waist. He hoisted them upwards and encouraged her, simply because he enjoyed their closeness, the warmth and weight of her against his body. Pushing his hands under her, he held her as she connected her arms around his neck. Their mouths linked until he swept his tongue across her bottom lip, inviting a gentle sigh out of her throat that allowed him to deepen the kiss. She moaned into his mouth as their tongues touched, tangled and hot, yet still innocent and soft. Neither of them was looking for sex, it was a pure moment between them, where kissing meant more than anything else in that moment.

Derek broke apart to catch his breath, his eyes already set on his girl. He couldn’t even look away from her for longer than needed, much more preferring his attention focused on her than anyone or anything else. He loved the way her eyes fluttered open, oh so innocent to what they may find once fully aware of her surroundings. The earthy, brown buttons felt like dark holes at times, a path to get lost in forever. He loved her eyes because they watched him and loved him, where her words couldn’t possibly explain her feelings for him, they did the job.

He pulled his right hand from under her and traced his index finger down the bridge of her nose. Intently, she watched him, never taking her pretty eyes off of him. Derek swam in the attention, the care that those irises radiated.

“Derek?”

“Sounds like music to my ears,” he flirted with her because he knew she’d giggle and feel flustered, then proceed to try and play off the way his words made her feel. Six months and he knew her better than she knew herself. Granted, the fact that he read people and their behaviour for a living played into his pocket, he was sure he could’ve done well without that advantage, too.

“Stop it, I’m trying to be romantic,” she swatted at his chest then placed her soft hand on the side of his neck. Derek rolled his lips in his mouth, wetting both of them soon after. “You no longer need to win me over. I’m yours, aren’t I?”

“What’you talking about, woman?” he laughed. “Of course, I gotta win you over. Just because we’re together, doesn’t mean I stop being a gentleman.”

“Okay, whatever,” she sighed.

He leaned down and kissed her lips. “What were you going to say?”

“Huh?” she furrowed her brows.

“Before. You said my name. What’s next?”

“Oh, right,” she smiled, making him lose his breath and his heart miss a beat. God damn it, baby. He thought. Still giving me the butterflies. “I just wanted to say that—,” much to his dismay, she stopped midsentence. Interrupted by loud knocks on the front door, they both whipped their heads in that direction. “Who’s that?”

“Sarah probably ordered some food,” he sighed, getting off of his girl as he pushed his weight into his left arm, pressing himself up by using the back of the couch. “There’s this milkshake place, they do delivery all night.”

“Oh,” she breathed. Then feet padding against the steps could be heard, rushing, before Derek and Lennon saw Sarah slide across the floor in her socks, planting her hands on the door. All three of them laughing, the woman looked in the peep hole but even without saying much, it was easy to tell her milkshake wasn’t on the other side of the door.

“What’s wrong?” Derek asked his sister as he got up properly, his girl going right after him.

“Why is the, um, police here?” she asked, gulping as she furrowed her brows while her brother stepped beside her.

“Huh?” he looked at her confused, looking through the tiny glass. “What the hell?”

His girlfriend stepped closer to Sarah to see, only to be welcomed by four men, two dressed in police uniform, the other two casually. One of them was on the bulkier side, no tie and loose shirt worn under a brown blazer, the other skinny, slightly smaller in height and bald. He wore a tie, tightened till he couldn’t breathe, black blazer and matching trousers. His hands were on his waist, a scowl on everyone’s face.

“Gordinski?” Derek asked with one hand on the door handle still. He was confused, Lennon could tell, and it made her nervous. If he had no idea why the police were here, then it couldn’t have been good. She knew Derek used to work for the Chicago Police Department, but that was more focused on bomb squad than anything else. To her knowledge, anyway.

“You armed?” the bald man asked, almost expecting an answer but never making it clear. He seemed sure of himself and it made Lennon worried. She wasn’t sure why they asked that because it wasn’t like Derek was a threat to anyone.

“Excuse me?” Morgan asked as though he didn’t hear it right.

With an attitude, the bigger man asked, “Are you wearing a gun?”

“What’s going on?” Lennon asked at last, not being able to stand the situation anymore. Derek didn’t take his eyes off of the police but he reached backwards and grabbed her hand, squeezing it gently as his way of reassuring her.

“No,” he gave the answer. Then added, “Not right now.”

That was all it took for the bald man—she didn’t know his name and she wasn’t too bothered by this—to reach for his handcuffs while he said, “Then turn around,” in a sure, authoritative tone, the metal clinking as he grasped it in his hand. Lennon was about to say something when Sarah took a hold of her other hand, making her look at the sister and she shook her head.

Derek scoffed, looking from one of the officers to the other as he eventually pressed, “This ‘some kinda sick joke, right?”

“Don’t make us get physical,” the bigger man said in a cocky tone and Lennon wanted to speak up. Who were these men trying to arrest her boyfriend? He barely made it back home to celebrate his mother’s birthday and on the night of, the police show up? This had to be a joke. “It’ll only make it worse for your family.”

The last sentence made him look back at his mother, his sisters, his girlfriend. In the process, somehow, he let go of Lennon’s hand and he didn’t manage to notice it. Rubbing his ring finger against his thumb, his lips slightly parted, he felt his heartbeat increase as his eyes met hers. She was worried about him and he knew but there wasn’t anything he could do.

“You’re under arrest, Derek.”

/

Lennon paced. Up and down. Up and down. She didn’t know what happened. Well, she did—the police came, cuffed Derek and they drove off. Most likely to the police station. The man he addressed as Gordinski seemed rather proud of himself for getting that done, only making her blood pressure rise and her hands ball into tight fists.

That was last night. It was the morning now but nothing has changed. Derek was still not back.

“Hey, sit,” Desiree called to her when she couldn’t take Len’s moving anymore. She was stressed and angry and nervous and nothing was going to help her calm down. Derek was arrested and he stated he didn’t want anyone going to the station after them. It pissed Lennon off, it made her feel like he was hiding something and she hated the thought. Derek never lied to her, not to her knowledge, anyway, and she would’ve preferred if he didn’t start doing that now.

“I don’t get it,” she shook her head, searching through her thoughts as though she’d be able to find an explanation for what was happening. “What did he do?”

“Lennon, I’m sure it’s a misunderstanding,” Sarah sighed as she sat down at the table. The girlfriend furrowed her brows, now officially confused. Who arrests someone based on a misunderstanding? “Gordinski always had it out for my brother. Anything he can pin on him, he will.”

Before she could’ve answered, there was a knock at the door and Fran was the first to reach it. Opening it, Lennon found out a little later, it revealed the same bald man from before and two familiar faces. Spencer Reid and the new addition to the team, Emily Prentiss. She sighed, feeling slightly more relieved, knowing that his colleagues were here, hopefully to get this shit sorted. If Lennon had to go there herself and sort that detective out—it shocked her to find out the man’s position within the department—then it wasn’t going to go down pretty or quietly.

“Spencer, is he okay?” she asked immediately, without any welcoming or catching up. She had to know.

“Yeah, he is being interrogated right now, or was, when we left,” he responded honestly. While she knew Derek could handle questions thrown at him because he was much harsher when he was in position of power, it didn’t make her feel better to know he was cornered and blamed for something, whatever it was, he didn’t do.

“He wouldn’t let us go there with him,” his mother added, shaking her head as she sat on the chair, Desiree standing behind her, hands on her shoulders. They were all worried for him.

“He’s fine. Our boss is with him,” Emily added in a reassuring tone, glancing at everyone in order to make sure she was heard. If Aaron Hotchner was with him, he had to be in good hands. He would do everything in his power to get Morgan out of there, she knew it.

Then, in a very annoyed tone, knowing that the bald man was there to hear, Sarah directed her words at Emily and Spencer, “Did he tell you Gordinski’s been harassing him since he was a kid?”

“Why’s that?” Spencer questioned, intrigued. Lennon noticed the bald man’s posture change at that, rubbing his eyebrows with his hand. He disagreed with Sarah’s comment.

“Well, you’d have to ask that bastard,” Sarah said, making Lennon scoff. She had a couple of ideas as to why he had it out for her boyfriend.

“Oh, Sarah,” Fran said in an alerted, surprised tone since an official was standing in the room. Multiple officials, but the man with CPD threw the mother off more.

Standing up for her sister, Desiree said, “It’s true, mum.”

“Sure, it is,” the man behind Emily said, fingers on his lip while the other rested on his waist. Lennon scowled, though expected him to defend his boss.

Before Lennon could have said anything—she had too much she wanted to put out there—Sarah interrupted, “What are you even doing in my mother’s house?”

“They asked me.”

“Not really,” Spencer added, making Len chuckle under her breath as their eyes met for a short second. The two of them got along well.

Emily then spoke to the man and told him to cool off. It was better that way, than if Lennon had to interfere. All those built up emotions she stuffed down inside of her were begging to show but she couldn’t go crazy in front of Derek’s family and colleagues. It wouldn’t have been appropriate, no matter how much she hated the situation.

“I don’t understand how they could think he did this,” Fran spoke, putting one of Len’s thoughts into words. Truth be told, she was busy setting the man in the suit on fire in her brain. He was the one to cuff Derek last night and had almost a smirk on his face while doing so.

The rage she felt inside of her was getting to her head. She no longer participated in the conversation between the sisters, mother and FBI agents. She could not focus on what was being said. The only thing that made sense to her was to get up and go to the station. Why didn’t Derek want them there? She wanted to be there. She needed to be there to support him. Waiting around all day was not going to do it for her.

/

“Where is he?” she barely caught her breath before her eyes found JJ, a phone pressed to her ear. The blonde woman turned around in an instant and Lennon, standing under the arch of the main room inside the station, repeated her question. “Where is Derek?”

“Lennon,” she called her name, excusing herself from the call right after. She pressed a button and slid the phone in her pocket. “He’s fine. Come, sit.”

“Where is he?” she questioned again, ignoring what she told her. She didn’t want to sit down. She didn’t want to know if he was fine. Of course, he was fine! Derek was always fine.

“He’s not here,” JJ answered eventually.

“What?” she spat, looking around frantically. She only saw local police officers, no one else. Spencer was still at the house, Emily was gone when she left, Aaron must’ve been off somewhere else and she assumed that Jason was with him. That left JJ here alone. “What do you mean he’s not here?”

“The door was left unlocked and no one kept an eye on him. He found the opportunity and snuck out.”

“Did he say where he was going? Is he on his way home?” she asked.

“No one knew he left until an officer checked on the room,” JJ told her and that’s when Lennon decided to sit down. Burying her face in her hands, she couldn’t believe this was happening. She didn’t sleep the whole night because she had no idea what was happening with her boyfriend and now that she was here and ready to see him, he was gone. She’d never been to Chicago and it was never a topic between them that Derek talked about in detail, so she had no idea where he could’ve gone.

“Derek snuck out and no one noticed,” she repeated the words, laughing at the end because that was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard. A 6 feet tall man managed to sneak out of a police station. The past however many hours have been the most hilarious to ever have happened to her. She was sure of it.

JJ’s phone rang. She excused herself as she said ‘Hotch’ but the rest was unclear. Lennon prayed it was about her boyfriend as she sat on the chair, elbow rested on the table. Her chin sat in the palm of her hand, fingers over her mouth and touching her nose. Her right leg bounced up and down which she didn’t even notice until she stopped. Curling her fingers inwards, she bit down on her nails, watching as the blonde agent walked back to her.

“Hotch—Aaron, is on his way here to pick you up. They found Derek.”

“How does he know I’m here? And where is he? Is he okay?” Lennon asked immediately. The phrase ‘they found Derek’ could mean a lot of things and the worst of those came to her mind.

“All you need to know is that you’ll see him soon and he’s fine,” she repeated with reassuring eyes and a gentle touch to her shoulder. JJ wanted nothing more than to soothe the woman because she knew she loved Derek. That was precisely why she knew Lennon wouldn’t stop asking around and stressing until the two were together. “Let’s go.”

Stepping outside, the familiar black SUV stopped just as the door closed behind her. The window rolled down, revealing Aaron, who told both women to get inside. JJ declined and said she needed to take care of paperwork and she’ll gather their belongings so they’re ready to leave when everything is settled. None of that mattered to Lennon. She wanted to be there, wherever they were going, already. Jason asked if she was okay and if she needed anything but she only responded with one worded answers, a yes then a no. The two agents at the front glanced at each other and left it at that.

The journey to the location was fast and quiet. Lennon focused on the cars passing, the trees melting, the lights blurring together. Almost there. She knew Derek would be okay but she couldn’t be sure. Her heart couldn’t be sure until she held him.

When the SUV stopped, she threw the door open. She saw police cars outside and officers standing by. Locals. They watched, observed what was going on. It was the youth centre, she realised, the one that Fran spoke about before Emily left. It only came back to her in short flashes, she didn’t remember the exact conversation just a man’s name—Carl. Carl and him helping Morgan in the past.

“Ma’am, you cannot go in there,” the officer stepped in front of her, making her settle back into reality. All shaken up by what was happening, she lived inside her head, barely speaking. To her, it made sense to want to burst in there and drag Derek out so they could go back home.

“Why? What is going on?” she asked the only question she could but like before, she never got an answer that fulfilled her expectations. Feeling stupid for repeating the same damn sentence all day, she couldn’t help it.

Aaron and Jason walked up to her, asking the same question. The officer explained that Detective Gordinski and Detective Dennison—so that was the bald man’s name—were in there already, waiting for a confession from Carl Buford regarding the murders of all those innocent boys. Lennon gasped, suddenly realising what was happening. They framed Derek for murders when the person who committed these crimes was someone who people trusted and looked up to. She listened in on Hotch and Gideon’s conversation from time to time on the way, she knew bits and pieces but nothing specific.

“Come on,” Aaron nodded towards the door, urging Lennon to follow him. Jason stepped behind her to keep her going. She could hear people arguing—Derek, was arguing with someone. Lennon gasped and stopped in her tracks, afraid of what she might find. “You okay?”

“I—,” she began but stopped, when Morgan’s broken voice filled the air. Loud.

“They’re not lies! You did the same thing to me,” he shouted in a hoarse voice, so deeply filled with emotion that his girlfriend couldn’t stop the tears that prickled at her eyes. She felt them burn and her lips parted at the realisation.

“I did nothing to you. Or James,” another man spoke, his words carried out in a deep tone.

“One by one, they’re going to pile up, until there’s so many accusations you can’t say that they’re all lies!”

“Do you have any idea, how many kids I’ve helped get out of this neighbourhood, hm? How many lives I’ve provided?” the man, whom she believed to be Carl Buford, tried to make a point, but began to get and sound upset once he realised Derek wasn’t seeing it his way. “Look at you… you’d probably be dead by now.”

Then, not expecting it to happen again, she heard her boyfriend speak, pain shooting through each of his words as he asked, “Yeah, well, it wasn’t for free, was it?”

“I pulled you out of the gutter.”

“I’ve pulled myself out of the gutter! All the way to the FBI. I did that!” Derek exclaimed.

“You’re saying I had nothing to do with making you who you are?”

“No, Carl… actually, I’m saying you have everything to do with making me who I am,” Lennon wasn’t sure when she let her tears flow free but from one moment to another, they began wetting her cheeks and she wasn’t sure if it was from the pain that Derek’s voice carried that nipped at her heart or from the relief that he was standing up for himself and he was physically fine. “Because of you, I’m somebody who gets to spend the rest of his life making sure guys like you go down.”

“Look… Derek… I never hurt you. You could’ve said no.”

That. That comment was the one that set her off. She gasped and stumbled back. She didn’t know why it hit her so hard and she didn’t care. Her heart was aching and it was aching bad.

“You’re under arrest, Carl,” said Gordinski. That let Lennon know that maybe, he was capable of doing his job and arresting the people he should be arresting.

“I’ve helped a lot of kids,” he tried to argue.

“Let’s go.”

“The neighbourhood won’t be the same without me. It’s gonna be worse—without the centre.”

So then, Derek said, “Somebody will keep this centre running. The neighbourhood will. I will.”

“Wait… wait,” Carl struggled, trying to shake the hands of the detectives off of him. “Derek, isn’t there something you can do for me?”

“You go to hell,” he spat, watching as they took him away. His eyes locked back onto Gordinski, who said nothing to him. Their eye contact remained until the man was out of the room and that’s when Lennon pushed past Aaron.

“Derek,” she called for him, arms reaching to the front with tears down her cheeks.

“Baby,” he breathed, bringing her close to him and hugging her like his life depended on it. Hiding her face in the crook of his neck, she sobbed, and he tightened his arms around her body. One of his hands crawled into her hair, holding the back of her head as the other one remained on her waist. Being surrounded by his warmth and smell, Lennon’s heart could finally rest. “Sh, sh, sh, it’s okay. I’m okay.”

“I’m sorry… god, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry,” she repeated as she clung to him, refusing to let go or loosen her hold. Almost a whole day without him, not knowing what was happening, yet it felt like weeks she could barely get through.

“Lennon, baby girl, look at me,” he tried to pry her off of him but it turned out to be a struggle. He chuckled under his breath but he finally got her to look at him. Raising his hands, he wiped her cheeks and caressed them with his thumbs. Derek sniffled as the tears in her eyes made him get a little emotional. “There’s nothing for you to be sorry for. Nothing.”

“You didn’t deserve that, any of it.”

“I know, baby. But it’s over. It’s done. He’s never gonna hurt anyone, ever again,” he reassured her and it made her feel guilty because she should’ve been the one to say that. She did the only thing she could do in that moment. Rolling onto her tiptoes, she held his face and kissed him. Lennon didn’t care who saw. She needed to kiss him for herself and for him. She needed to be close to him.

“I love you,” she told him, interrupting the kiss to whisper the words onto his lips. Derek nudged his nose against hers, feeling her tears still. “That’s what I wanted to tell you last night. I love you, Derek Morgan.”

“I love you more, baby,” he said with closed eyes and their foreheads touching. He brought her closer for one more hug, wanting to feel her against him. “Let’s get out of here, hm?”

Lennon nodded, sniffling as she let go of him, only to grasp his hand, her fingers slotting between his. Gideon and Hotch were no longer in the doorway which surprised Lennon but she was glad they didn’t witness that moment between them.

She was exhausted, emotionally and mentally, and all she wanted was a bed and her man in it to hold and kiss goodnight. Yeah. That sounded like the most perfect dream.

#derek morgan #derek morgan one shot #derek morgan x oc #criminal minds

[songfell-ut]

Chapter 9 is done, urgh

This one was quite the exercise in rewriting All The Phrasing. Stoopid fortunes. I ended up splitting it off again. Here it is! Hi, @lostmypotatoes! Next one very soon!

Sans and Frisk did not have a slumber party that night.

No, once they returned from the festival and she finished telling Sans exactly what she thought of his behavior, Frisk sent him to his room, then went to the office and stayed there. Not on the couch: she sat down at her desk to make a few notes while the fortunes were still fresh in her mind. By the time she was done, it was after dawn, her hand was one solid cramp, she'd lost all feeling in her rear, and she had filled up five sheets of paper.

Regarding the child – the one from her nightmares – there wasn't much to write, just key phrases that she suspected would be more intelligible when she'd tracked down the man who spoke in hands. Would Sans have mentioned it if he knew some way in which he didn't belong here? It could simply be his stay in the castle, but it felt bigger than that. She'd had nightmares about that horrible child throughout her entire life, and it had never wanted her to do anything before; had it known she'd meet him, and would its "business" be finished if she killed him?

For now, it was all morbid conjecture. She'd put it aside until she could talk to Sans without wanting to pull his arm off and slap him with it.

So. If she didn't open the box, her life would be adequate. There was a lot to be said for adequacy. Her children would have wealthy, loving parents, and never suffer from hunger, loneliness, beatings—the kind of pain that was all behind her now, the same way a loaded wagon is behind the horse pulling it. Staying busy with her lessons in the strict, orderly convent and then her duties as High Priestess had kept Frisk going, preventing her from having to look over her shoulder. Would marrying Luke keep it that way?

She had gone years without really thinking of her life before St. Brigid's, except for fleeting apprehensions about having to explain the scars to her future husband. Why in God's name would she want to dig that up in the course of remembering something even worse?

By definition, she didn't know the exact contents of the rosewood box. She just knew that when she was about thirteen, one of her teachers had finally explained to Frisk why she couldn't recall anything between her tenth birthday and her second month at the convent: "We could do nothing with you when you first arrived. No food, no rest, just tears and 'Take me back, please' for weeks on end," Sister Clair had told her, almost accusingly. "Your father came to see you for himself, and he was so distraught that he gave the Mother Superior his blessing to do whatever she thought needful."

Frisk had always accepted that the sisters knew best; her father's influence had probably been a factor, but it wouldn't have pushed them to take such a drastic step if it hadn't been absolutely necessary. She herself had done her fair share of comforting frightened or homesick new arrivals, and no matter how distressed they were, none of them had had their memories removed.

She also had come to terms with her father returning home from his visit without her. Her first solid recollection at the convent was of the Mother Superior taking her aside to tell her exactly who her father was, ensuring she understood why he hadn't been a more direct part of her life and why she would be staying here from now on. Accustomed to receiving girls born out of wedlock, the Mother had emphasized how lucky Frisk was that her father had come forward – discreetly – to acknowledge her and pay for her education, and that he would ensure she had everything she needed from then on. Even as a child, Frisk had appreciated how superior the convent was to her prior circumstances, and agreed that she was fine at St. Brigid's.

The only mystery to Frisk was why she had initially been so desperate to leave. She couldn't have been crying for her father; she'd always been told that he was dead, and never thought to question it. Frisk had seen over and over again that mistreated children never wanted to leave their parents, no matter how awful they were, but her mother had only visited her every few months throughout her early life, and once Frisk realized that Mama was never going to keep her promise to take her with her, Frisk had grown to hate seeing her. She hadn't been attached to anyone at the group home where she'd stayed as a very little girl, and when she was old enough to work in the castle kitchens, her only goal had been to avoid being noticed. What had she wanted so badly?

Since Sans had arrived, she had been more and more tempted to try something stupid and just crack the orb or chip off a few figuratively bite-sized pieces. But that wasn't how the magic worked, was it? The sisters had been very specific on how to take the memories back if she so chose, and her fortune had also made it clear that this was an all-or-nothing proposition. She would fully open the box and reclaim the contents, or throw them away for good, no peeking allowed.

At that point, Frisk almost stopped writing and tossed her notes into the fireplace. What was she doing? Why wouldn't she choose a long life with a respectable husband and four children? True, her efforts to free monsters from slavery wouldn't work, but that didn't mean she'd be totally useless. Besides helping humans – always a full-time job – there was still plenty she could do for monsters in captivity, and she'd lay the groundwork for others to finish what she'd started. After centuries of hatred and mistrust, it made sense that humanity wasn't ready yet to accept monsters as equals; she couldn't change the entire world on her own, so—

Except that she could. She could change the world for the better if she worked hard enough to achieve her goal, which she knew in her bones to be humans and monsters living in peace. But how could her lost memories possibly be the one thing that made the difference? And if they were, how was she supposed to deal with that much pain, knowing it would also affect at least one other person?

...But what about the joy, the love, the power, also to be shared? What about the child she'd bear in time for next year's All Souls festival?

That was another worry: the ferryman had said "your husband" for the first future, but "your child's father" in the second. That didn't seem accidental. Frisk knew herself, and she had no idea what would induce her to conceive a child with someone she wouldn't or couldn't marry, no matter how attractive he was or how lonely she might be. With her own morals and her mother's example to go on, she'd sooner die than let a married man near her, and she'd kill him if she found out after the fact!

Surely the fortune-teller would've mentioned the child resulting from violence or coercion? Its wry tone had implied that the father would be unable to talk her out of going to the festival, not that she'd escape from his clutches, which also eliminated the possibility of one night with someone she'd never see again or a man who would die before the baby was born.

So, in summary, she would have little triumphs, large regrets, old age, a decent husband, money, kids, in-laws, and grandkids. Very simple.

...Granted, it...didn't sound quite like the life she'd always craved, with joy and love, real parents, a huge family, and monsters freed in her lifetime, not to mention a man she loved enough to have his illegitimate child...and maybe Frisk could see Luke assuring her with a straight face that he'd "take an interest in her happiness," and maybe it was already making her cringe. Maybe she was already wealthy enough to marry anyone she wanted. Maybe she intended to keep working hard enough that, when she thought it over, she found she would much rather have one child than divide her attention between four who could very well end up being raised by servants. Maybe all these things were true.

...What was she trying to say again?

Right. Maybe all these things were true. There was still no avoiding the fact that she'd be exchanging a life of peace and stability for every bit of the heartbreak that had nearly killed her as a child, and somehow also share it with someone else. Was she stupid enough to open the box anyway out of curiosity, like the woman in the fable?

A treacherous little voice whispered in reply: Are you selfish enough to keep monsters enslaved because you're afraid of being hurt?

Frisk shoved the papers into a drawer and eased out of her chair, shaking her hand vigorously as the sun peeped in through the high window. It'd be time for breakfast soon. She wouldn't take Sans to pieces; she'd let him sleep in, then have him experiment with the alfalfa mixtures while she napped, though they'd need fresh seedlings before he could really get started. The supplies she had already ordered should be arriving this afternoon, which would enable them to try even more—

Sans was not sleeping. Sans was sitting in the middle of the workroom floor with no clothes on. He was holding a book up over his head and squinting at the words as though he'd never seen letters before, and gave a very elongated "Heyyyy" when he heard the door open.

Frisk stopped dead. "Hey," she responded. "What are you doing, Sans?"

"Wheeee," the skeleton said, and demonstrated by falling onto his back. The book stayed up, and his legs fell every which way, one bumping into a chair pulled away from the worktable and the other almost hitting the bedroom door. "'s hot in here," he explained, pointing at the ceiling.

Frisk looked at the ceiling, then at the windows. They were all wide open, and the workroom was freezing. She had the completely irrational urge to cover her eyes, and compromised by turning her back and heading to the windows. "We're going to pretend that it's not hot in here," she said carefully. What on earth was wrong with him?

In the time it took for her to shut one window and place her hand on the latch, Sans had appeared inches away. One enormous phalange wobbled its way up to push her hand aside. "No, 's hot," he explained.

The priestess was equal parts annoyed and concerned now, especially when he teetered against the wall. "Sans, if I did not know better, I would say you were drunk. Have you been mixing things without telling me?" She eased away from him, just in case.

The skeleton seemed to take umbrage: his eyes lit up. "Ya don' know better. I am absolutely drunk!" Just as quickly, his sockets were blank. He peered at the tiny-looking book in his hand and turned it to her, tapping a random word. "How d'ya say this? It's human. How do you human. Please."

Frisk eased back a little more, trying not to look at his pelvis, which was far too close to her eye level. "That's the word 'the,' Sans. If that's not the one you mean, I will have to ask you to be more specific." Should she make a break for the bedroom, or just put up a barrier while she had the chance?

Sans laughed. "Damn, yer cute! Lessee." He dropped the book and continued trying to flip pages in midair. A moment later, he realized his mistake, scowled, and lifted the book on a wisp of red. "Hold on. 's tryin' ta get away." Even the magic had trouble staying steady, she noted uneasily.

Someone knocked on the double doors, and Frisk heaved a sigh of relief. "You can find the word while I answer that, all right?" She lifted a foot to step around him.

Unbelievably quick, Sans sat down, extended a hand, and caught her around the middle in a loose, ironclad grip. Across the workroom, the bar on the doors glowed red and lifted; the doors swung open. "There," said the boss monster, tugging her closer and frowning at the book. "Who's what y'want?"

It was Dr. Serif, who stopped on the threshold, raised an eyebrow as high as it would go, and closed the doors behind him. "Good morning?" he inquired.

"Hands," the skeleton replied, still searching the pages for that errant word.

The priestess was still trying to comprehend what was happening. Was this some kind of bizarre prank, or a distraction from talking about last night? The longer he held on, the less likely either possibility seemed—he was too calm and too comfortable, as if this was something he was doing simply because he wanted to do it.

Here they were, then. With Sans seated and her standing, the giant skeleton could fold his arm and hold Frisk against him like a child cuddling a teddy bear, fingers spread across her upper legs and torso, her shoulders resting on his clavicle. This wasn't quite as scary as the last time he'd grabbed her, but...

Frisk tested his grip and was unsurprised to find that, though his phalanges were angled not to dig into her, they were about as movable as solid rock. "We're having a very interesting morning," she said to Dr. Serif, and mouthed Help!

"I can see that," said the doctor, who gestured for her not to move, then came forward a few steps. Sans' head swiveled, eyes fully lit, and the royal sorcerer turned his next step into a half bow. "I am glad to hear that you had a good time at the festival last night, my lady. Rumors are brewing about a woman with a highly interesting fortune who was called 'Your Eminence,' but no one is willing to swear that it was you."

That sounded like one problem too many. "Good" was all she could think to say.

"I can't find it," complained Sans. He tossed the book out the window. "Gimme another one, pl's."

"You can have it later," Frisk said acidly. That was her old science textbook from the convent, with her notes and doodles in the margins!

"Sans," said the doctor, "where are your clothes?"

The skeleton blinked at him, sockets still wide orange. "Off," he said, as though the sorcerer was being stupid.

"Of course. How silly of me." Dr. Serif bowed vigorously, letting the motion carry him forward. "Tell me, what did you have to drink at the festival?"

"This asshole was comin' onta her." The skeleton's now-free hand patted Frisk very lightly on the head. Despite her irritation, the priestess couldn't help smiling. "I hit 'im with cider," said Sans. "Damn good cider. 'sat why those people were goin' at it, Frisk?" he asked curiously.

The priestess was no longer smiling. "Sans intervened on my behalf when a man wouldn't leave me alone," she explained to the straight-faced doctor. "We tried some apple cider—why can I still smell it on you, Sans? And yes, we saw a couple who couldn't wait until they found somewhere private. I have no idea what they'd been drinking, but it wasn't what we were having."

"Hmmm." Dr. Serif watched Sans, who was examining the back of Frisk's head, then produced a scroll from his robe pocket. "The monster Snowdrake has been confiscated from his owners, effective immediately. I've brought the paperwork for you to take official custody, my lady. He will be here once the captain of the guards has finished questioning him."

Sans started. Frisk tugged at the skeleton's enormous metacarpals. "Let me go, Sans, please."

Very reluctantly, his hand uncurled to let her wriggle free. Trust the doctor to be a step ahead of everyone, she thought as she accepted the scroll, unaware that Sans was staring fixedly at him. The priestess smoothed out the papers on the worktable and began skimming through it.

Sans turned around so that he stretch out on the floor lengthwise. The doctor wrinkled his nose at the colossal skeleton, then peered over Frisk's shoulder as she came to several blank lines for an address. "Where is that, my lady?" he asked as she began writing.

"It's a house I own on the edge of the city. I've been renting it out, but the current tenants have already moved for the winter, so I'm putting it down as Snowdrake's official residence."

"Well done." Dr. Serif glanced at Sans, then suddenly flicked his fingers across Frisk's back. "Forgive me, Your Eminence," he said as she jumped, "there was a spider. We'll have to have your rooms cleaned soon."

The High Priestess scratched her back, gave him a terse nod, and went back to the scroll, moving away from him.

Sans was on his feet. He said to Frisk, "'Scuse us, kitten," then grabbed the doctor and vanished.

She wondered why he was so upset, and why he'd teleported Dr. Serif just a few feet away into the office. Well, at least he'd let go of her without a fight. Should she check on him to be sure he wouldn't hurt the doctor?

After a moment, she shook her head. She'd have to let them hash it out. What was the worst that could happen?

 ~

 The moment they reached the office, Gaster dropped his disguise, summoned six extra hands, and gripped the boss monster's arms before Sans could dismember him. "Easy, now," the older skeleton cautioned him. "Don't disrupt Her Eminence any more than you already have."

"Oh yeah? 'll disrupt yer fuckin'—"

Smack. "Hold still," the doctor rasped, and Sans jerked convulsively as a hand gripped the back of his skull. A moment later, the hand disappeared and left Sans with his eyes shut tight. "Can you think now, insofar as you are capable of it?" snapped Gaster.

Sans blinked at the hands grasping his arms. They disappeared, too, and Sans looked down at himself. "What." He twisted around to look at his backside. "The hell are my clothes? What'd ya do?"

"I sped up the metabolism of the ethanol molecules that were causing you to lose track of your clothing and treat the High Priestess like a toddler with his favorite toy. In short, you were drunk, and you no longer are. Would you care to tell me how much alcohol it took to inebriate someone your size so many hours after the fact, and how you did so without the lady knowing?"

Sans had gone red. "All I had last night was turkey an' cider!" he protested. "She wouldn't let me try anythin' else! She had the exact same stuff, 'n she didn't get plastered!"

The older skeleton regarded him with narrowed eyes, which was extremely creepy. It made Sans think of Frisk's first question, the one about the child from her nightmares—had Frisk been talking about him? If so, then how did he not belong here? Did the kid's unfinished business with him involve murder? Why?

Why should they beware the man who spoke in hands?

Gaster started to speak, and Sans cut him off: "Were you tryin' ta piss me off back there? Are ya after Frisk, or d'you just wanna screw with me? Whaddya want?"

"To help," the doctor said calmly.

Sans sat down with a mighty thmp. "Ta help. Of course. Why didn't I realize that already?" He tapped his phalanges on the carpet. "Who are you helpin', besides yerself?"

"That is a very large question." Gaster also sat down, on the edge of the desk. "My most immediate goal since Frisk became High Priestess has been to aid her in restoring peace between monsters and humans. The longer I have worked with her, the more I find that, frankly, I like her, and I would like her to be happy if possible." No sooner had the words left him than a hand sprang up in front of Sans, who was already fully aglow. The hand held up a finger long enough for Gaster to add, "Which is to say, I admire her caring heart, her singing voice, her magical prowess...her determination. Would you agree?"

Sans' eyes felt ready to burn clean through his skull. Frisk would get even more upset with him if her office was destroyed, so he tried to say something civil, or at least something okay, or something that wouldn't get him smacked again. But he couldn't.

The hand waggled again, then vanished. "Everything I say and do is for one ultimate purpose, my boy: to gather data. I can help no one if I have insufficient information. Take you, for example." The older skeleton folded an extra set of hands in the air over his lap, like a lecturer settling in at the start of class. "Since the High Priestess made you her apprentice, I have considered your intractability to be an impediment to her plan. I ensured that she had a means of preventing your escape, and I have been monitoring your relationship to see if you were developing any kind of rapport. Now that you have, though, you have become a very different sort of problem."

The boss monster was still at a loss. Gaster was quiet, but it didn't feel as if he was trying to antagonize him again; this seemed more careful, almost sad, thought Sans. "In that respect, I have all the data I need," the doctor said. "I assure you that I have no personal designs on Her Eminence, and I will not imply anything further to that effect." He was looking through Sans now, almost talking to himself. "The more I resolve to be of use, the more difficult it becomes to discern where usefulness ends and interference begins. I am more inclined to let matters go where they will from here on, especially after the advice Her Eminence received last night. But..." The slashes on Gaster's face deepened. "It cannot hurt to exchange information. For example, did you notice that the 'ferryman' is a monster?"

"I..." Sans got his thoughts back in order, contemplated the fortune-teller and his cat-shaped table, and found himself nodding slowly. "Yeah. Yeah, I kinda did. He didn't seem very human."

Gaster chuckled. "It's strange how these things work. Where I come from, he is the ferryman in the Underground."

"Where you come from?" A chill crept down Sans' spine. He tried to force a laugh. "We just have a coupla Royal Guards runnin' our ferry. Wha, is there more'n one Underground 'round here?"

"No. There is not." The smile faded. "Now, my turn. None of the people who heard Frisk's fortunes told were listening closely to her first question, or the answer. What exactly were they?"

Sans still had that prickly feeling, like someone had held a door open too long and he'd glimpsed something he couldn't unsee. He probably shouldn't tell the man who speaks in hands that they were supposed to beware of him, should he? "Yeah, she asked about something from her nightmares that wanted her to hurt somebody. He said it's a child who wants Frisk to kill someone who doesn't belong here, something about it having 'unfinished business,' and that Frisk was its connection."

The doctor waited patiently as Sans hesitated. "I'm pretty much positive she meant me," the boss monster continued. "I saw the kid once, and I could tell it hates my guts." The boss monster took a moment to indicate that he didn't have guts, ha ha, but Gaster was unamused. "So that means I don't belong here, and some freaky little ghost wants Frisk t'finish me off? I guess? Any chance ya know what any of that means?" He scratched his patella, wondering if it was his imagination or if his body was feeling a little more touch-sensitive than usual, like his human self.

Come to think of it, he could sort of smell the air in here, though it wasn't as strong as any of the ones he'd encountered at the festival. And now he could vaguely remember Frisk being right up against him a minute ago, and that her hair had smelled like...a smell. All he knew was that he had liked it, and letting her go had sucked.

...Crap. What were they talking about again?

"I see," murmured Gaster. He looked down at his extra hands. "Forgive me if this sounds dramatic, or if it's very personal, but have you ever felt especially out of place, or dreamed vividly of things that you are sure never happened to you?"

It was more than a chill this time. "Yeah, but I figured everybody feels like that sometimes. I've had the same nightmares my whole damn life, over and over. They stopped when I came here and started sleepin' inside her barrier. So..." He scowled, trying to cover his fear. "Somethin' is makin' us both see things? Is that it?" He suddenly sprang to his feet. "Is that why I used ta dream about ya? Are you behind all this shit?!"

Two skeletal hands flew at him and stopped just short of his eye sockets. Sans froze, feeling sick and cold inside as he stared through the holes in the palms. Those hands, coming at him—

Gaster gave a long, tired, defeated sigh. "Data. I am sorry, Sans. This will be very unpleasant, but I need to know if it is familiar to you. Hold still, please."

Before the boss monster could react, a third hand dropped onto the top of his skull and—

 ~

 It was cold. Dark, darker, yet darker.

Papyrus wasn't moving. Sans struggled out of the restraints, threw himself onto the tiles and screamed at his brother, trying to shake the little skeleton awake, but pieces were already flaking off. Helpless tears streamed from Sans' sockets, soaking the dust into pink mud.

"Messy."

Sans whirled around, choking with grief and rage. He'd always promised himself he would kill the bastard before he let him hurt Pap! Why hadn't he—

Hands smashed into his spine, his ribs, and one square over his face, the palm large enough for both his sockets to see out through the hole. "I never could fix that design flaw," their creator said in distaste, poking at the red streaking Sans' cheekbones. "Strange...I always thought you'd break first. Ah, well." A philosophical sigh. "Now, the question of whether to finish with you and create a better set, or try a fresh copy of that one first. What do you think, Sans?"

There was a deep sound from behind Dr. Gaster, almost a snarl. It was Gaster's turn to whip around, his face contorted in surprise and every one of his hands flung up to defend himself. A flash of light, searing pain—

Footsteps. A dark figure bent over him. Sans whimpered as Gaster loomed back into his field of view. He should have known better than to hope he was dead!

But...Gaster seemed different, almost another person—paler, the cracks in his face more shallow and less splintered than the ones Sans had stared down his whole life. The hand that rested on Sans' forehead was...gentle? "I am so sorry, child," the scientist said quietly. "Forgive me."

Sans couldn't answer. He felt as if his bones were getting softer, his body lighter. When Gaster sighed, Sans watched tiny bits of himself blow away in the puff of breath. It was almost a relief to feel his SOUL flicker out like a candle and finally die.

 ~

 Sans clawed his way back to consciousness, sitting up so hard that he nearly banged his head on the desk. He looked around, but there was no laboratory equipment, no tile floors or piles of murky dust, just the desk in her office.

Frisk's office. He was here. He wasn't dead, Pap wasn't dead, Gaster wasn't—

"Please do not move."

The boss monster froze in place. "Now, tell me," the doctor said, shutting the door. "Have you had that nightmare before?"

Sans nodded imperceptibly. "Yeah. Long...a long time ago." He couldn't stop shaking.

He flinched as Gaster patted his shoulder blade. "Please don't be frightened, Sans. It was only a dream. I have never hurt you or your brother, and I have no intention of ever doing so." A black coat drifted past Sans' peripheral vision as the royal sorcerer went behind the desk. "To answer your last question, no, I have not sent any of your nightmares, or hers. As I said, I am here to acquire information. I try to avoid collateral damage in the pursuit thereof, but it is not always possible. For that, I sincerely apologize. I've asked Frisk for her help in calming you down."

Sure enough, a sound was coming through the door behind him. It was faint, but as Sans listened, he recognized her humming a slow, sweet little song. Out of her entire repertoire, that one was probably his favorite; he hadn't heard it in so long that he'd been on the verge of swallowing his pride and asking her to do it again. Had Gaster requested that one specifically, or did she know?

Gaster watched the tension fade from the boss monster's massive frame, and the smallest movements of his skull as he bobbed his head along. The doctor examined the center of Sans' chest, his eyes going very wide. Sans was too mellow to ask what he was looking at...probably his SOUL. Eh, whatever.

Presently, the royal sorcerer said, "Snowdrake should be en route now. Her Eminence is still checking that the papers are in order, as well as the deposit she will have to put down until the Church finds another buyer for him." A dry chuckle. "If I know Frisk, Snowdrake will not be sold again. In the unlikely event that someone discovers she's lost track of him, she will be rebuked and lose her deposit, and that will be all."

Sans moved his shoulder back. "She's not gonna get fired or locked up?"

"They wouldn't dare. Not for her first offense, and not for neglecting a single low-ranked monster. Our High Priestess is protected by very powerful connections."

That word took Sans right back to the child from her nightmares. "Why'd you show me that horrible thing with me 'n Pap, and how? I didn't see the ghost kid anywhere. Is the little psycho mad about that dream 'cause it wanted ta kill me first? What the hell is it, anyway?"

"One thing at a time, please. Overall, you may be on the right track, but that's a matter I would rather discuss with Frisk. I—"

"Quit callin' 'er by name. I thought you weren't gonna pull that crap anymore."

Gaster merely smiled. "If you'll bear with me for a moment, the best answer I can give you is that the mind is a terrifyingly powerful thing." Sans bit back his impatience as the doctor settled himself again. "When someone has suffered greatly, especially early in life, it is natural to try to move past those experiences as quickly as possible. But if the mind is active, intelligent, and magically gifted, failure to properly acknowledge these experiences can backfire very badly. Inner demons may become reality, or outside forces with malevolent intent take notice, or both."

"Geez." Sans rubbed the corners of his eyes, wondering where the hanky was. "Yeah, that'd explain why I never got any sleep before I shacked up with someone who could block 'em for me."

A beat of cold silence. "I am not talking about you."

The giant skeleton paused mid-rub. "Ya mean—"

"Most people in a great deal of pain will express it as destructive behavior toward themselves or others. It takes remarkable determination to turn that negativity into the drive to protect other people, rather than lashing out." The doctor shook his head. "I am impressed that she has not seen anything worse than the specter of an evil child. The fact that it can be stopped with a barrier suggests it is primarily external in nature, and her recognizing its intent without acting upon it is also a good sign."

Sans winced. "So, is she seeing it 'cause she's mad at me? Am I in any actual danger?"

Gaster laced his fingers together. "Its power and its ability to work through her will depend both on her intrinsic strength and the energy she has left after dealing with other problems—say, a protege who interrupts an expensive fortune-teller with crude questions in front of dozens of people, and then says 'See you next year' as she tries to get him away."

At this point, Sans would have been surprised if word of that incident hadn't gotten around. "Ya think she's still mad at me?" he asked sheepishly.

"I am not her, so I cannot say for certain, but I can ask you whether you've apologized yet."

"I didn't get a chance! She reamed me out 'n made me go straight t'bed!"

"After which you were drunk this morning, which I still do not understand, and during which you took sizable liberties." A hand popped up to rap Sans on the skull. "At the risk of interfering further, I strongly advise you to ask yourself whether you want to be a friend or a problem."

Sans digested this in silence. The royal sorcerer glanced at the door. "We have a few more minutes. I'd like to ask you a few more questions—nothing terrible, just some odds and ends I've wanted to discuss for some time now. You may do the same."

The boss monster thought it over for a moment. "What's everyone sayin' about her second fortune, the one with the box?"

"Your turn is already over." Two more hands appeared over Gaster's head, one holding a pen and the other a small notepad. "Now, you were a normal skeleton for most of your life, correct? And Papyrus remains as he was?" The hand with the pen swooped down and tapped on Sans' upper leftmost fang, then the top of his skull. "Hm. Intact. How interesting."

Sans swatted at the hand, which evaded him as nimbly as a bug and swooped back up to scratch something on the notepad. "Yeah, Pap's still Pap, and I wasn't born a big ol' freak. Don't ask how that happened, 'cause I don't wanna talk about it."

"Fair enough. Tell me, Sans, do you or have you ever smoked?"

"Smoked? From where?"

The doctor laughed. "I'll take that as a no." Scritch, scritch went the pen. "Do you have a predilection for violence? If so, is it against other monsters, humans, or both?"

"Uh...yes? Humans?"

"I see." Scriscritch. "What is your favorite food? Do you prefer any condiments in particular?"

"My favorite food's whatever I can eat! Haven't you heard what's happenin' in the Underground? Where the hell are you from, exactly?"

Gaster tsked. "In that vein, have any monsters besides yourself become more violent than usual?"

"Not...really. Undyne's more psycho than ever, but I think that's just her."

"Is the situation such that anyone has contemplated resorting to cannibalism?"

"Hell no! Don't even joke about that!"

"I am not joking, Sans. Has the Underground seen a marked increase in sexual activity?"

Great, now he was baffled and embarrassed. "Weren't you listening? There's no damn food! Why would anybody want to have kids right now?"

"A valid point, but to your knowledge, have any of the monsters been engaging in indiscriminate, non-procreative sexual activities?"

"Wha—why the fuck would I know that?!"

That earned him another smack on the head, though not very hard. "Language." Scriscritch. "Now, please be honest. Have you ever contemplated keeping a human as a pet? If so, do you believe you would treat her well, or would you—"

"That does it!" Sans lurched to his feet, eyes and face blazing. "I dunno what kinda sick fantasies ya got goin', buddy, but I'm not gonna play along!"

The royal sorcerer held up his hands, and the extras holding the pen and notepad vanished. "Let's move on, then. Tell me whether this is correct: the second fortune explained the consequences of Her Eminence either opening or disposing of a box. One result is a very dull and safe future, while the other would be shorter and more painful, but ultimately much more fulfilling. Yes?"

Sans sat back down, poking at a scuff mark on the carpet. "Yeah, that's pretty much it."

"Unsurprisingly, many people are fixated on the latter possibility, because it would result in the High Priestess – if it is her, of course, which no one will say for certain, though they're certainly saying it – having a child by this time next year." One side of Gaster's mouth lifted. "It is a very popular misconception that human gestation lasts nine months, but in reality, medical experts consider a full-term pregnancy to be roughly forty weeks, or ten months. I will not contribute any sordid conjectures to the narrative, but if this aspect of her fortune is accurate, the necessary timing of certain events is self-evident."

"If?" Sans sat forward eagerly. "Ya mean it might not happen? No boring husband sometime soonish, no havin' a kid right away?"

Gaster stared at him for a little too long. "Where do you see yourself in this, Sans? Where would you like to be?"

Sans blinked. "Wha?"

"You escorted her to the festival, and mutual convenience led you to present yourselves as a couple, but you are not her husband. You are her apprentice and personal guard for the next twenty or so days, after which she will return to the usual course of her duties, and you will return to the Underground to report to King Asgore that the humans are interested in reopening diplomatic relations."

"Actually," Sans said, trying not to sound smug, "once my time's up, she's probably gonna come back Underground with me. She's got this big plan ta have monsters work with humans instead of bein' slaves, and it's too much fer me t'decide on, so—"

"So you would risk her life by bringing her directly to Asgore?" The doctor stood slowly, and the room seemed to grow darker as he glared down at Sans. "You idiot! Do you have any idea what will happen if the High Priestess is delivered to your King as he is now?"

"You mean, if he doesn't like her idea? Then I'll...uh..."

"You'll what?" Gaster's voice dripped with such scorn that Sans couldn't muster a response. "King Asgore is not interested in making peace! He would only meet with her in order to take her SOUL!"

The boss monster's mouth opened and closed. "But...if I didn't—"

"Asgore's sole aim is to become powerful enough to take vengeance on humanity. The King knows very well that only women with strong inborn magic may become High Priestess, and the moment he saw Frisk's SOUL for himself, he would be willing to fight her, you, and perhaps even Toriel to acquire it. Do you understand?"

Sans had never felt so small and stupid. Why hadn't it occurred to him that Asgore would notice how powerful Frisk was without being told? All he had thought of was the excuse to take her with him, not even bothering to remember how he had immediately noticed her SOUL and tried to kill her for it. He was smarter than this!

There was no time to beat himself up. He had to think. Her first fortune had said her efforts wouldn't bear fruit, and Gaster had mentioned Asgore "as he is now"; for the second future to come to pass, with Frisk changing the world and achieving her goal, the King would have to be more like his old, sweet-natured self, who would never have killed someone without at least hearing her out. "Whaddya think is in the box?" Sans asked abruptly.

Gaster frowned. "That's an excellent question. I couldn't even venture a guess without seeing the box myself, but I doubt Her Eminence would be willing to show me. After what you said last night, I don't think she would be receptive to you asking, either."

Sans let himself fall onto his back, staring at the wallpapered ceiling. Who the hell put wallpaper on the ceiling? "Nope. She'd kick my ass from here to the Underground and back."

"Crude, but accurate." Gaster sighed, twiddling his thumbs in elaborate swirls. "How very frustrating. We have so much information, but the most crucial component may be forever beyond our gr—"

The door banged open. "Excuse me," Frisk said to Sans, who got up and watched her shove the couch aside.

Gaster quickly resumed his disguise; luckily, the priestess was so fixated on the couch that she hadn't noticed. "May we help you, my lady?" asked Dr. Serif.

"No." The young woman yanked at a floorboard, and both monsters watched in astonishment as she pulled it up to reveal a makeshift safe. She removed the barrier and rummaged through the safe, extracting a thickly folded paper. "Here we are." Frisk scowled as she tried to remove the packet: the safe was so small that the paper was stuck lengthwise against something. The priestess dug downward and shoved the offending object up and onto the floor. "Here is the deed to my house in Riverview, and here's the key. You and Snowdrake will be able to stop there on your way, and no one will...Sans? Hello?"

The men weren't listening to her. They were looking at what had tumbled out of the safe: a rosewood box.

Frisk slapped at it, sending it tumbling back into the safe, which she resealed and covered with the floorboard and couch in rapid succession. "Don't even think about it," she said to them, dangerously calm, and marched out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

The royal sorcerer scratched his cheek. "Memories."

"Hm?" Sans glanced at him. "What about 'em?"

"That type of wood is useful for preserving magical objects, but that shape and size are not common. Given the context of her second fortune and the emotional pain therein, it must contain at least one memory." Dr. Serif drummed his fingers on the desk. "How curious. Memory excision has historically been so abused that it was outlawed by King Stephin's great-grandfather. Nowadays, the procedure can only be authorized on a case-by-case basis by a Church official higher than an archdeacon, or the very highest ranks of the nobility or royalty."

Sans suddenly remembered a night not long after he'd arrived where Frisk had mentioned her father, and how loyal her mother had been to the duke she worked for. Just for grins, he'd looked up the hierarchy of nobility in one of Frisk's books, and a duke was the next best thing to being a royal. It all fit, except for the fact that what the hell was in the box? How did you keep memories sitting around like that? Why would you need to carve something like that out of someone's head, and how would getting it back make the difference between a future of "stupid perfect husband she didn't even like" and "monsters going free" plus "having sex sometime soon"?

One more thing came to mind, and before he could stop himself, Sans said, "Hey, Gaster. Doctor. Whatever you are right now. You say you're from another Underground or something?"

The doctor narrowed his eyes at him again. Even with a human face, it gave Sans the creeps. "Why do you ask?"

Sans almost said "Never mind," but the air still faintly smelled of Frisk – he'd have to ask her what it was, exactly – and he wouldn't get a chance to ask anyone else who might know, so, fuck it. "D'ya know if it's possible for a monster and a human to have a kid together? Biologically?"

The royal scientist raised his eyebrows. "Well," he said after a painfully long moment. "It is quite rare, but I am aware of several instances where a human woman married and had at least one child with a monster." He coughed. "With a skeleton."

But before Sans could even start feeling things about that, much less sort through them, the doctor half-smiled. "None of them, however, involved a boss monster." He stood, and walked to the door. "I'm sorry." He slipped out, leaving Sans to stare up at the wallpaper ceiling.

#songfell sick of not answering questions yet very soon i swear

[mhdiaries]

Diary of Kieran Valentine

You’ll steal my heart if you read my diary.

May 1st

When I left Monster High after Draculaura’s Sweet 1,600 birthday party, I was angry, humiliated and stinky from falling into that pit of eternal body odor. I stank so bad, Mom wouldn’t even let me in the house: I had to sleep in the guest room above the garage. Looking back, I can see it was probably the best thing that could have happened to me. Even my considerable powers to charm were no match for the power of the stench that surrounded me. My powers slowly weakened as I was deprived of what sustained them: the love I selfishly took from others. I was in a stench-induced imprisonment - rarely leaving the garage - but it allowed me time to do some serious thinking, and I realized I wasn’t being true to myself. Then one day there was a knock at my door, and I opened it to see a little old goblin woman with a cane staring up at me through thick glasses. “I’m Mrs. Goblin, but you can call me “Mrs. Goblin.” I’m a friend of your mother’s.” She said, “you need to get out of that room, and I need some help, so let’s go.” She turned and walked off, and, with nothing left to lose, I followed. It turned out that she ran an unwanted-creature shelter and couldn’t keep up with all the cleaning, feeding and daily upkeep. It also turned out that she had no sense of smell. “Lost it back in ‘72,” she told me. Mrs. G. ran me through the daily routines and gave me the tour. “You can start today,” she said as she handed me a mop and a bucket. It’s hard to believe I agreed, but I didn’t have any other options. The shelter was home to an unusual collection of exotic creatures: gremlins, flying monkeys, lap dragons, miniature manticores, and many others that had been picked up as strays or turned in by monsters who didn’t want them. Even though the work was hard, and not always pleasant, I began to look forward to it. In fact, I usually felt more energized after I finished a day than when I started. I felt my powers returning and every day I got stronger. Eventually, I mentioned it to Mrs. Goblin who snickered, “You emotional vampires never get it - stolen love is just empty calories. I’ll never sustain you for long.” She could tell I still didn’t get it. “Love that’s freely given is the most powerful source of energy in the monster universe. You’ve been coming here every day, taking care of these critters, showing them kindness, and the only thing they have to give you is their love - and believe me, they have a lot to give.” I couldn’t believe what she was telling me. I must have been standing there looking stupid because she said, “Close your mouth before the the flies get in and go clean the flying monkey cage. They’ve been throwing stuff again.” I was in a daze. Why had no one ever explained this to me? Rather than dwelling on it, I was just happy I finally knew.

May 3rd

I now know that I did it - stealing love - because I thought that’s want an emotional vampire was supposed to do. But it never felt quite right. I thought if I kept doing it, it would eventually feel right. But it only made me angry and frustrated. Then when Draculaura called me - well, Toralei, really - I thought that if I could get the heart that got away, it would change me and everything would be fine. But I was just a real pain in the fang to everyone and made a fool of myself. So I’ve come to a conclusion: being myself has to be easier than not being myself, right? Back then, I hated the thought of who I really was, and that conflict made me become someone who wasn’t me. It’s time to be true to myself, but it’s scary.

July 1st

Today was my one-year anniversary at the shelter. As I left the garage, I ran into Mom. She sniffed. “You don’t stink anymore.” It was true - the stench was gone. I gave Mom a hug and told her it must be due to what I’d learned from working for Mrs. Goblin. I thanked Mom for telling her I needed help. Mom looked at me strangely, “What are you going on about? I don’t know a Mrs. Goblin.” What? I ran to the shelter but when I got there it was boarded up and empty. How could this be? I crawled through a broken out window. A thick layer of dust covered everything and it looked like no one had been there in years. Then I noticed a piece of paper on the table where Mrs. G. used to sit and drink her tea. It was a not addressed to me:

V,

There’s nothing more I can teach you. The rest will come when you put what you’ve learned into practice. Know that you are loved for what, and who you are.

Sincerely,

“Mrs. Goblin”

P.S. Do the right thing or I’ll come back and make you clean out flying monkey cages again.

July 2nd

I decided that I would try and “do the right thing” by heading back to MH to try and make up for my mistakes. I thought if I hid in the shadows and helped the couples of MH, you know be a Cupid to what was my destruction of love, I could make a difference and they would see that I was a changed monster. Well, my intentions were good, but things did not go as I had planned. I kinda, no, did, mess things up. Luckily, it all seemed to work out in the end, I guess, just not as I had hoped. I don’t think any of Draculaura and her friends will ever really trust me. And while I hope one day they can see I have changed, I know it will take time, too. I guess I can’t expect them to just forgive me right away. I will say one good thing hopefully came out of it. While attempting to hide in the shadows I bumped into a student I didn’t recognize. He said his name was Spelldon Cauldronello, he had only been at MH a couple weeks as he had been traveling with his older sister. Meeting him totally made me space and forget to send a text that was supposed to help Clawd. He asked if I went to MH and I said I was just visiting, but I would love to go to MH one day if I can. He said he’d keep me up on the groanings on around the halls if I wanted, so I gave him my number. At least the trip wasn’t a total stake. I do wish I could figure out how to make it up to Draculaura and her friends though. I know now that real friends help each other with their problems, not try to solve them for them.

July 7th

I was tempted to stay in my room today and treat myself to a monstrous blue funk, but, instead, I walked aimlessly outside until I found myself sitting on the beach watching the sun go down. That’s when I noticed something unusual partially buried in the sand. I pulled it out and die-scovered it was an ornate lantern caked with seaweed. I brushed it off... and got the shock of my unlife! The lantern began vibrating and glowing, like I had awakened something inside and it was not trying to get out. I dropped it like it was hot and fell back as smoke swirled up and out of this thing. When the smoke cleared away there was a ghoul floating above me. “I am the djinni of the lantern. What is your wish?”

July 10th

The djinni’s name is Whisp and we have something in common: the direction of our unlives changed because of Monster High. We shared our stories and struggles; neither of us has made the beast decisions, but we both want to be better monsters. We talked so much that Whisp had to remind me I had three wishes. I asked her I should wish for and she said, “I cannot tell you what to wish for, nor can I tell you what not to wish for, but I can say be scareful what you wish for.” I laughed and told her that sounded ominous. She didn’t see the humor in her statement. “Wishes are tricky things,” she replied, “They often have a mind of their own and don’t always come true in the way you expected.” I thought for a moment, and wish I could go back to Monster High and fix the things I had broken. Whisp rose into the air, her eyes glowing, and said, “As you wish.” Instantly, I was back at Draculaura’s Sweet 1600 party, only I was dressed like a repairman - tool belt and all. Headless Headmistress Bloodgood stood in front of me with her hands on her hips. “You need to repair the barrier around the pit of eternal body odor before another monster falls into it!” This wasn’t what I meant by “fixing what I had broken,” and there was no way I was getting close to that pit again. That’s when the other students saw me. A very large minotaur pointed his finger at me, “There he is again! Throw him back into the pit!” I wished myself out of MH and back in my room just in time to avoid another dunking. Two wishes down, one to go.

July 12th

Whisp has been very apologetic but she needn’t be. I wished for something so general that it could have been granted in numerous ways. What I really wanted was a chance to do something unselfish for the monsters I hurt - to give and not take. When I started working for Mrs. G., there were times I wished what someone else would do the dirty work so I could just play with the creatures. Now I know I just wished it to be easy. Whenever I was in the middle of something particularly loathsome, Mrs. G. would cackle, “Sometimes work stinks, doesn’t it?” The first few times she said it, I wanted to drop everything and go home. But I stuck it out, and, although I still have a long way to go, I’m a better monster for it. Unlife is a lot of work and I guess some problems aren’t meant to be solved by wishing them so. Speaking of wishes, I need to think of something non-ambiguous for the last one...

August 1st

I summoned Whisp today to grant my final wish. I admit I put it off because I was being selfish. I’ve never had a friend like her, and once my last wish is granted, the lantern will move on and I will probably never see her again. I considered freeing her from the lantern, but I don’t think she wants that: she loves being a djinni, appearing in new places and granting wishes. But I know she gets lonely at times, so this was my wish: “Whisp, I wish we could always be friends.” Whisp rose up, her eyes glowing: “As you wish!” I could see her smiling as she turned to smoke and returned to the lantern, which shot up and disappeared. I thought for a second that my wish wasn’t granted, but then my iCoffin lit up and I noticed a new app icon that looked like a little mirror. I tapped it and there was Whisp! Now, not matter where in the monster universe she is, we can talk to each other! “Yes, Mother, I’m talking to myself down here.”

#monster high #monster high diary #kieran valentine #alright alright alright #text post #sdcc 2015

[supernaturalmarauders]

A real family (Pt 1)

Summary: Robert Downey juniors teenage daughter lives with her mum, after her parents divorce. Robert doesn’t get any access to see her, and knows nothing about her life. After her abusive step dad goes to far and puts him in hospital, can Robert save her before

Basically I’m going to take on the evil step sister approach but make it male version. But whilst adding in physical abuse

Warnings: abuse, depression, hospitals.

“Y/N” your dad screamed from the kitchen. You couldn’t remember a time your dad hadn’t been screaming. Your house echoed so much you could have sworn that half of the bloody town could hear your mums shreak.

“I’m comming” you yell from your room. Big mistake. But it was to late now. You should have just kept your mouth shut, but then again, that outcome wouldn’t have been any better of an outcome.

You slowly make your way down the stairs into the kitchen where you see your two step brothers, and step father sitting around the kitchen table. You know sneaking in unnoticed isn’t an option so you except your defeat.

“What have I told you about yelling” says your stepfather in a sturn voice. You don’t reply, instead you keep your head down and look into your lap

“WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU” he screeches at you throwing his plate at your shoulder causing it to shatter and cut into your shoulder blade, making you wince

“Answer me you worthless piece of shit ” he screames at you and you can see your step brother preparing to throw their plates

“Not to do it” you mumble.

“ WHAT WAS THAT” he roared at you, slowly raising from the table, causing you to fall back off your stool and against a wall.

“Nothing sir, you told me not to do it” you say clearly with the small bit of confidence you have left. Suddenly a sharp object collides with your eye and you feel a stinging, painfully burning sensation. Your chew down in your lip to not make a scene.

“Was that talking back” you hear your oldest step brother say, whilst slowly decreasing to ground between you.

“ANSWER US” you hear your brother screech throughout the ringing in your ear.

“I’m sorry sirs, it won’t happen again” you say hiding your face in your hands.

Suddenly a foot collides with your tiny figure and you feel a snap, you know you’ve broken your second rib in a week, but there’s nothing you can do.

“I have heard that excuse far to much Y/N, I think you deserve a punishment” said your father breaking the ground between you and the group of towering men.

You wished that your mum was still alive. Maybe everything would be peaceful if your mum was still alive. If you hadn’t caused her death, as your father said.

“Please no” You beg, before you were sudenly shoved against a wall hearing even more bones crack.

“No more talking back” said your step dad dragging you by the hair up to stairs and into his bedroom door, locking it after being followed by your “brothers”. You closed your eyes as tight as you could, trying to ignore the horrendous pain that littered your body, and distract yourself from what you prayed would never come.

The screames of protest and pain that came next could have woken up the whole country if anyone listened hard enough, however living in a very remote part of the town meant no one could hear the cruel ness that your “family” was subjecting you to.

Xxxx

Robert was trying to sleep, he had to be up early for filming tomorrow, however there was something else on his mind. You. You were officially turning 16 tomorrow, and for a parent that is a very scary time, however this birthday was fillled with sadness and regret.

He had fought long and hard for custody over you for two years untill the court concluded that your mum could take better care of you. The last he ever saw of you was a seven year old little girl crying because she would never see her father again. Your mother would not let him ever speak to you, no matter how hard he tried, and he could not find you on any social media. He wished you were safe but something in his gut was telling him that something was wrong.

He couldn’t act on his feeling however as he was not granted any access to see you, therefor he would be breaking the law.

The last he remembered of you was your long ( hair colour) hair, and smiling face ripped away from him. He was sure you’d grown up by now and had changed physically greatly. However he wished you remembered him. He wished you and his current family could live together happily celebrating big milestones together.

“Can’t sleep” said a voice from behind him. Robert hadn’t noticed he’d moved from the inside of his trailer to the outside seating area.

“Umm, I’m just thinking” he said

“I’s this about Y/N ?” Said Chris Hemsworth taking a seat next to him.

“Yeah” said Robert sadly.

The entire avengers cast new about You. It had come out on a drunk night on the town, however no one had seen it effect him this much... ever.

“It’s her birthday tomorrow, her 16th” he said sadly.

“I’m sorry mate, I could never imagine not seeing one of my children, even living without them for that fact” said Chris trying to console your father to the best of his abilities.

“Something just isn’t sitting right with me, i know somethings wrong with her” said Robert.

“Have you tried getting custody again, even just visiting rights” asked Chris

“The case is to small, It’ll just be dismissed” said Robert sadly

“Keep your head up mate. Not long untill she leaves home , and then I’m sure she’ll want to meet her father” said Chris

“I guess your right” said your dad sighing in defeat”. However he still couldn’t shake the feeing something was wrong. He’d been feeling it a lot lately, and a fathers gut is never wrong

Xxxxx

“Y/N, pick up the pace” said your gym instructor. Of course today was the day you ran the mile. Every bone in your body was aching, and you were sure your body was running on adrenaline. You couldn’t get the disgusting feeling of betrail, and violation off you. You remembered every moment from the previous night, from the almost shattered shoulder bone, to the moment you were violated and entered. It made you want to cry however crying was a weakness. Crying was more reason for them to beat the emotion out of You.

You weren’t the slowest runner, actually you were quiet good, that’s why your gym teacher was so tough on you, she knew you had potential, if only she knew what was going on at home.

You finish the Lap slower than your usual time, however you could feel your body start to shut down.

“Everyone go get a drink.... Y/N not you, I wanna talk” said your coach watching everyone leave. You could see your vision start to loose focus, causing you to reach for your bottle, and chug half of it down.

“Honey, what’s going on. Your average is dropping, I’m getting worried”

You couldn’t reply, your ears started to ring, and your long sport top was causing you to sweat and fall of the seat, onto the floor, hitting your head. You could hear the distant ringing of your name however your to far gone. You feel your body start to go limp, and everything to go dark, you start to fade out of consciousness and the last thing you heard was screaming to call 911.

Xxxxxxxx

Robert had just finished filming and it was lunch time for the avengers crew. Almost all the crew members were there today, it was a big day for shooting and very busy, so getting to finally eat lunch was a blessing.

He took a seat around a table seating, Scarlett, Mark, Jeremy, Chris Evans, Chris Hemsworth, and Tom hidleston. They were all in the middle of a conversation when they saw Him sit down.

“Hey, you doing alright” said scarlet dropping the previous discussion.

“Peachy” he replied taking a bite of a sandwich. He suddenly saw one of the producers running up to the table with a frantic look on him face holding the main phone.

“You need to answer this. It’s important”the feeling of dread once again sat in the bottom of his stomach. he instantly answered the phone, his face Pailing almost imidiately, causing the other members of the cast to drop their food and commence worry.

“ I’ll be there as soon as I can” said your dad hanging up the phone.

He looked towards the manager receiving a nod.

“Take all the time you need, we’ll rearrange the schedule, let us know how it goes” said the director taking back the phone.

Robert quickly took of from the set, already on the phone to his wife.

“Honey I’ve got to go to Arizona, Y/N’s in the hospital

Xxxxxxx

You could feel your head pounding. The beeping around you didn’t stop. The fact that you couldn’t move your body didn’t help much either. The black vision slowly started to become brighter causing you to squint your eyes in pain. A forced wince came out of your mouth. Slowly you opened your eyes and started to see the white hospital room around you.

You could see the countless wires connected to you and the beeping of the heart monitor, was ringing in your ears. You tried to sit yourself up but you found that your body was restricted, and you were struggling to sit up.

“That’s not going to work honey, you’ve cracked your ribs, and we can’t risk them breaking again” said the nurse walking in.

“Oh” you say in a quiet voice resting your head back on the pillow.

“How are you feeling honey” said the nurse bustling around the room.

“I’m fine”

“Sweetheart, I’ve had my fair share patients. And the lies I’ve heard... I can’t help you unless you tell me the truth” she said

You sigh and look down to your lap.

“Everything hurts” you say in a quiet voice, trying not to gain any attention

“I suspected, your not afraid of needles are you” asked the nurse kindly.

“Not really no” you say.

“Y/N, You have to be honest with me. I’m only trying to help you” said the nurse politely.

“Umm.. I haven’t had a needle since I was 7. I’d have no way of knowing” you say as honest as you could.

“It’ll just be a pinch, you’ll be fine”. Said the nurse.

Suddenly you feel a pinch in your arm. You’d been through much worse, this felt like nothing.

“All done” said the nurse putting a plaster on your arm.

“Can I ask you a question”

“Go ahead”

“What’s going to happen the them” you ask.

A small sigh left her lips. not knowing if you were ready for the news she hesitated...

“All three of them are missing. Found out you were in the hospital and did a runner. The police have locked down the surrounding boarders to try and find them” said the nurse.

You sighed and nodded your head.

“Why are they taking such large measures” you said.

“Y/N there’s some things you haven’t been told... how much to do you know about your father. Asked the nurse with a smile on her face.

“Mum never talked about him. I haven’t even heard him mentioned since I was seven. I didn’t think he’d want anything to do with me” you say slowly lowering your head towards your lap.

“I can assure you hon he wanted so much to have you in his life. He’s right outside that door and he wants to see his little girl”

“What do you mean” you asked.

Suddenly there was a nock on the door, and In walked another woman, in a very fancy dress suit

“Hello Y/N” said the lady taking a seat beside the white framed bed.

“What’s going on” you asked sinking deeper into the sheets of the knitted white sheets.

“ I have your father outside this door as I’m sure you’ve been told... and he’s very keen to meet you... how would you feel about meeting him”

You didn’t get to sat another word before a medium sized man walked into the room. You couldn’t believe your eyes... the world had to be playing tricks on you... there was no way.. no way at all.

“You have to be kidding me”

To be continued

#the avengers #marvel #mcu au #robert downey junior #daughter #father #children #family #hospital #team downey #iron man #safe root #teenager #infinity war #fanfic

[prismcaster]

I just had the most amazing experience!!!

I am going to do a little back story here, because it has been quite a while since my last post...

So, my grandfather, who was the the only person in my entire 35 years of existence that I never felt the need to question if he really loved me. Any way, super long story, shortened because I don’t feel like getting into that right now, he passed away three months ago.

In the time since then, i began to question my choice of kicking spiritualism from my life. You see, since my father, i chose that purposefully, because calling him dad would insinuate that he ever truly gave a fuck about me, or my sister.... but anyway, he used and still probably does, use his religion as an excuse to punish his children for doing him wrong.... which is typical narcissistic behavior.

Which speaking of, i recently read a book called Narcissistic Father, and it literally explained him to me perfectly! It actually made the fact that he has something wrong with him mentally, make me feel so much better about myself somehow.... because well, it turns out, it really is his fault, and none of it is mine. So definitely check out that book!

So since I have all these odd feelings for him because of these things... I cast “religion” out of my life completely. I figured, religion had to be fake, because no religion would keep a parent from their child, so i cast it out 100%. It was so bad, i began to believe that when you die, you just go. I believed that when you go, there is nothing, it just ends, and that your body decomposes, giving it back to the earth you were born from, and that is that.

Then the depression came in. Because there is nothing. Nothing else. And if I couldn’t have my family back, the way i thought it should be, and that at the end of all this pain, there truly is nothing, then what is the point in being in pain forever? And contemplated suicide while laying in the floor in my art studio in complete darkness.

But i thought,” that’s stupid, you didn’t die from cancer and you’re thinking about this right now?! What the fuck, you idiot!” And i got up off the floor, switched the light back on, wiped the tears from my eye’s, and started to draw again. This eventually led to me cutting my arm open, and telling someone months later, and finally getting the help i needed to be able to get better.

Therapy was such a blessing. I truly recommend it. Talking about your problems with someone you are literally paying to listen to you, and paying to keep their opinions to themselves, is a blessing in and of itself. I also strongly suggest journaling. When ever i felt bad, i would write to myself... it helped me explain what i was feeling to myself so that i could finally start to process what was actually happening in my mind so that I could start to slowly solve my own problems.

As i did this, a strange sense of accomplishment came over me suddenly, as i realized that the saying is true, you have to create your own happiness, and also, that you have to love yourself if you ever hope to love anyone else.

So i kept working on myself, and one day, my sister mentioned to me that she had picked up a ouija board at a garage sale. Immediately, for some reason, i said, let’s do it! And we called our other sisters, and planned our first seance. The four of us went all out. We put white candles everywhere , took it very seriously, and experienced the magic of ouija for the first time.

Now, it took a while of hitting dead ends which what we were communicating with, but one day, the mother lode of insane things happened! My cousin came through the board, and after confirming neither of us were moving the planchette, and that this truly was who they said they were, i realized that the end isn’t really the end, but that there really is more, and my life started to change more and more.

I eventually decided that since I didn’t enjoy coloring any more, that I should make a coloring book instead, that way other people can color my art work, and make it their own.

Then, in the midst of this, I decided that I wanted to make my own ouija board, but not call it a ouija board.... so the google searches began.

My sister and I started a podcast, and i used that as an excuse to do an episode on the ouija board, as an excellent excuse to do deep dive research on the boards themselves.

Using this info, I knew I needed to make a spirit board, so I started to work on drawing a design, while also trying to figure out how to make it.

One day I realized “hey, i could make this design up on my ipad and turn the background off, and turn this into a png file, and cut it out with your cricut!”

So i immediately set to work on that, while still trying to figure out how to make them. Finally one day, i discussed this idea with my husband, and he suggested resin on wood. And so it began.

So far, i have made around 30 or maybe more, boards, and yet, i still do not have my own! Maybe some day! Anyway, so that was done and in progress, I left my job that was sucking me dry physically and emotionally, started pushing myself harder, was finally trying to live my life for me, instead of trying to live it the way i thought my father would have wanted me to.

I was truly happy.

And then my grandpa left us.

I collapsed hard. But I had to try to keep it together at the same time because my grandma needed me... my mom needed me.... and my sisters needed me. I fought it as long as i could.... but eventually i broke under the pressure, and re visited my therapist, whom I have decided I am just going to continue to see monthly just in case.

Turns out, I was handling grief the right way.... which I am sure surprised her a little, being as how she had diagnosed me with ptsd a few years prior.

Since his passing, i have not touched a board, or held a pendulum, and not because I am afraid he will talk to me.... but because I am afraid that he won’t. As a 100% Irish Catholic man, I am not sure if he would come through the board or not, although, i do think that he would think it would be funnier than hell to scare us.

I have however found something to believe in. Paganism. No judgements, no frills, just love, paganism, and I will never look back.

After I decided to “come out of the broom closet” so to speak, and openly declare that I am a magical being, things started changing fast...

I finished my coloring book, and most importantly, feel mentally healed. I can’t even begin to explain it, but I will try....

First, after grandpa’s passing, I realized I had learned a few things. For example, that you shouldn’t take those you love for granted, which is when i realized he was the only person who had shown me unconditional love my entire life, no matter what. I also learned from that, the passing of the person who took care of me like a dad, that all I was doing was punishing myself for something someone else did, and that I needed to stop. And you know why?! Religion!

The same damn thing that i tried so hard to keep out.

You see, my grandpa was a wonderful dude. In my entire existence, i never heard him say a negative word about anyone. And most notably, whenever he heard me say anything bad about anyone, he would tell me that I couldn’t change them, but I should say a prayer for them.

It was this phrase, which i had repeated to me over and over again, that now finally made sense after finally realizing the true power of religion. You see, I couldn’t change my father, but, I could change the way he effected me. So, i made a little testament outloud, i moved on.

But then i realized, that if that was the case with that, maybe I needed to be more open to the idea, of religion being legitimate. So i started some research again. But this time, as homework for the tribe I was planning to join. I researched goddesses, because If I was going to pick a deity to start working with, they had to be a strong female.

First up, came Athena. And i truly believe she has been with me, allowing me to get through all of my life’s battles, without me even knowing, for years.

I studied greek mythology in college because I was fascinated by it, and was floored by the parthenon, and the giant statue of Athena that stood inside, and even insisted on visiting the replica while in Tennessee for my sister’s birthday.

Coincidentally, it also turns out that she is the goddess if wisdom, arts, and crafts, so i knew she was the one for me.

Tonight, after my full initiation into the group, i went to the full moon ritual, and was asked some very prying questions by what I will refer to as the “mega crone” and I was forced to question a lot about my choices right then, in front of everyone, and ended up crying while explaining all of that to them , and not really all that well.

But i left there thinking that I needed to let go of the idea of needing to know everything, and just go with the flow.... knowledge is nice, but too much knowledge can have it’s downfalls as well. But also left me wondering how I ended up on this path.

So here i am, telling a long ass background story to get to the damn point!

I was feeling emotional after getting home, and decided to light a candle for my great aunt who is in the hospital, and try to meditate for a while.

Normally, when I try to meditate, I don’t feel anything, and also don’t normally see much, but It’s like I can envision it, even though I can’t actually see it... imagination! Which is something I had cast out of my life a long time ago as well.

So tonight i was ready. Whatever happened was going to happen.... and if grandpa communicated with me while i was meditating I would deal with the emotions and just go on. I turned on my favorite meditation video, and jumped right in... and it fuckin worked! I could feel the ground and see lights, it was so magical! I wish I could explain the trees!

Then, after i processed that I am magical, that I can truly take my own pains away, which set off a mini party if thoughts in my mind, i refocused, and realized that athena had actually been with me my whole life. She got me to grandpa somehow when he was living thousands of miles away, so that I could continue to see and feel what true love is. She was with me through the shit storm that was my youth... and stood with me as i learned to fight for myself, and get up.

It was right now that I realized I am truly magical.... i am loved.... i am perfect the way i am..... i am enough. And if anyone ever should stumble upon this ramble, and stuck with it until now.... know that you are all of those things too! And if you don’t agree, i hope maybe my path will inspire you to get to know yourself, and see what incredible, life changing things could be in store for you.

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me - Chapter 26

WARNINGS: mentions of PTSD, panic attacks, profanity

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @alievans007​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​

They haven’t spoken since they left the house; a rather brief and terse conversation about where Millie had left not only her shoes, but the noise cancellation headphones she likes to use on trips out of town. That was twenty minutes ago; halfway into their drive to Port Douglas and not one single word has been exchanged, nor even a sidelong glance. They’re both on edge; the aftereffects of the long and exhausting night before, Esme’s brief yet intense battle with a PTSD ‘flare up’, and now the raw and anxious nerves surrounding the visit with Tyler’s father.

The nightmare plays on a continuous loop in his mind; the old man’s booming voice and vicious words, his mother’s tearful begging and pleading that only cease when the beating begins, Austin’s appearance as a grown man and his refusal to lave Millie behind. It’s all there; every vision, every sound. Even the feel of his heart breaking deep within his chest and the scalding sting of tears as they rolled down his face. And the cravings linger, his brain and body desperate for those old vices. The only coping mechanism he’s ever known or practiced. It’s the familiarity of the old life that he misses; not the dirty work or the blood on his hands but the escape the job had provided him with. He’d constantly been on the go; jumping from place to place, relying only on his skills –and his confidence in them- to get him through each day. He hadn’t had time to think; too busy trying to keep himself and others alive.  Now it seems as if he has all the time in the world to think. To dwell.  And it’s slowly tearing him apart inside. He knows he should be grateful for what he’s been given; a second chance at life, a normal existence surrounded by people who love him and depend on him. And he IS. Yet at the same time, the past won't leave him alone. It had been his way of life for half of his years on earth, and both his brain and his body are struggling to let go.

Guilt. So much guilt. Over the fact he just can’t it go. That he can’t leave the past where it belongs and be content with a normal existence. He’s one of the lucky ones; he’d gotten out of the game relatively healthy and with most of his sanity still intact. He was able to find someone to have a family with; someone that not only understood the hardships and the horrors of the job, but didn’t judge him for the things he’d done or the mistakes he made or the number of broken and often dead bodies he left in his wake. Tons of mercs would give anything to be in his shoes, they’d kill –figuratively and some probably literally- to get even a taste of love and happiness and domesticity.   And yet he was taking it all for granted and practically pissing it away.

He casts a glance through the rear view mirror. Millie with her earphones on, her face intense and her eyes riveted on whatever game or movie she has playing on the tablet in her lap; her baby sister fast asleep in the car seat beside her.  She’d forgiven him quickly. He’d sat down next to her on the patio and had never said a word; giving her the time and the space to brood and to get over her temporary hate for him. And in a matter of minutes she’d been climbing up into his lap and wrapping her arms around his neck and he in turn had been apologizing profusely for hurting her.   He’d never meant to pull her hair or yell at her afterwards; explaining that he had a lot of things on his mind and they were making him angry and anxious –and even sad- and that he never should have taken them out on her. And even though she’d held his face in her hands and kissed his cheeks and said “I still love you, daddy” in that little voice of hers, he had still felt like complete and utter shit for what he’d done.  

He looks over at his wife next; sitting with her elbow resting on the window ledge, her eyes closed with her palm pressed against the side of her face and two fingertips massaging her temple. The color has returned to face; she looks healthy again, vibrant. But her shoulders remain incredibly tense and her jaw tightly clenched.  

“It’s why you have a headache,” Tyler points out, and she glances at him out of the corner of her eye. “Your jaw. Clenching it like that. It’s why you feel like shit.”

He braces for it. A smart-ass comment or just a ‘fuck off, Tyler’, but neither come. Instead she gives a shaky smile and closes her eyes once more; thumb and forefinger moving up to rub at the bridge of her nose. But he notices her jaw relaxes and her shoulders drop slightly; it’s a good sign, he figures. She hasn’t told him where to go and how to get there and she’s finally starting to relax. So he takes it one step further, dropping a hand from the steering wheel and reaching across the middle console to lay it on her thigh. Feeling his own sense of relief when she doesn’t shoot him a dirty look or yank her leg away.  

“You look really nice,” he says, giving her a soft smile and squeezing her knees as he admires her simple cotton sundress. A light orange that reminds him of the tail end of the sunrise, with a neckline that sits off her shoulders and a hem that just skims the bottom of her knees.  It’s hard sometimes; finding just the right words, even when it comes to the simplest of comments or what should be the easiest of compliments. He knows what he wants to say but doesn’t always know how to get the thought across. Usually he’ll rely on body language and facial expressions; she’s always been on expert on reading them, right from the start.  That second morning in Dhaka when she’d told him that his eyes did all the talking for him.

Her eyes open once more and this time she turns her face towards him and gives a smile of her own. Then lays her hand on top of his own and pushes her fingers through his.  

“I didn’t mean it,” he says. “What happened with Millie. I didn’t mean to pull her hair. It was an accident. My mind completely wandered and...”

“You know what’s not what upset her, right?” Esme gently interjects. “It’s not that you pulled her hair. She knew you didn’t mean to do it. It’s that you yelled at her. You hurt her feelings. You scared her.”

“I didn’t mean to do THAT either.”

“What’s going on with you? First last night, now freaking out on Millie.”

“I had a nightmare. I’ve had nightmares before.”

“I’m not talking about the nightmare. I’m talking about other things. When we were...you know...” she peeks over her shoulder, making sure that Millie isn’t paying attention. She’s fallen asleep; her head resting on the side of her booster seat, hair falling over her face and those long, dark lashes brushing against the tops of her cheeks.  “You were rough,” Esme continues. “And I’m not talking about your usual rough. The rough that I like. I mean like hard core rough. It wasn’t you, Tyler. It was...I don’t know...scary.”

He doesn’t know what to say. Or if she even wants him to say anything. At first, he’d thought it was all part of the game she likes to play; how she gets when she’s egging him on to be aggressive and manhandle her. It wasn’t uncommon for there to be pain involved; hair pulling, choking, bite marks and bruises left behind. It hadn’t even occurred to him that her resistance and her fighting back were genuine; not until she’d started to cry, and he realized that not only were the tears real, but so was the fear in her eyes. Suddenly it wasn’t a game anymore and he felt sick. That he could ever cause that kind of reaction in her when he’d spent years doing everything in his power to protect her.

“I know we joked about this morning,” she says. “But that? Last night? That was not you. That wasn’t even Dhaka Tyler. I don’t know who that was.”

He swallows heavily. There’s bile sitting square in his throat and he’s not sure he wants to vomit or cry.  “I said I was sorry.” Tt sounds lame, even to his own ears.  

“I don’t want you to say you’re sorry. I want you tell me what’s going on. And don’t say nothing. Because it’s been building and building. For days. You’re like this wire that’s being pulled too tight and you’re ready to snap. Things were fine. Things were good. So good. Is it us? Is there was the real issues? You’re not happy and you don’t want there to be an ‘us’ anymore?”

“What?” He can’t help the incredulous laugh that escapes. Of all the fucking things she’d think, that is the most ridiculous. At least in his eyes. “Baby, you know that’s not it. That it’s not us. You and I are the only thing that’s NOT going to shit right now.”

“Then what is it?” she presses. “I know you, Tyler. Better than you know yourself most of the time. I know there’s more going on than you’re telling me. What is it?”

“It’s everything,” he admits. “Every single fucking thing. It’s Ovi and it’s Nik and it’s Millie’s birthday and it’s my father and it’s...everything.”

“Then tell Nik you’re not doing it. Call her and tell her you changed your mind. That she needs to find someone to train him. Because if it’s going to tear you apart like this...”

“I can’t. I can’t back out now. I bailed on her once. I can’t do it again.”

“Fuck Nik. You did what you had to do to keep your sanity and come home to your family. You CAN back out. And you need to know if you feel you can’t do it or if it’s only going to make things worse for you. Stop being so fucking stubborn and like yourself for once. Jesus Christ. Why do you do this? Why do you not care about what you’re going through?”

“I have to do it,” Tyler insists. “It’s Ovi, I can’t let him down. No matter how pissed off I am. No matter how much I want to fucking strangle him. If I don’t help and something happens to him, I’ll never forgive myself. And that’ll be a hundred times worse than what I’m going through right now.”

“I don’t want you doing this if it’s going to break you, if it’s only going to tear you apart from the inside out. I don’t want that happening to you. Because there’s six people that you need you, Tyler. Whether you think we do or not. I do not want this destroying you.”

“I just need to get through it,” he reasons. “I just need to bust his ass and hope it either breaks him and he gives up, or that I did a good enough job to keep him alive.”

“And if you have to go in and get what? What then?”

“Then I pray I don’t fuck up and I make it home.”

“Well that’s reassuring,” she mutters, then inhales deeply and exhales slowly, grip on his hand tightening. And minutes pass before she speaks again. “Do you miss it?” she asks, her eyes focused on the road ahead. “The job. Do you miss it? I want you to be honest with me. I want you tell me the truth even if it’s going to hurt. Even if you know I’m going to hate what I hear.”

“Esme...”

“Tyler,” her tone is firm. No nonsense. “Tell me the truth. Because lying about it will only make it worse. For both of us. Do you miss it?”

“Sometimes,” he admits.

“How often is sometimes?”

Sighing, he releases the hold on her hand and scratches at the back of his head. A nervous habit. “Lately? Every day.”

“Wow...” her eyes widen, and she nods slowly. “...I was not expecting THAT.”

He’s immediately on the defensive. “You wanted me to tell you. You told me to tell you the truth. So I am. You...”

“Every day, though? Every day for how long?”

“A couple weeks. Maybe more. A month at the most.”

She blinks in disbelief. “A month? A fucking month? Addie isn’t even a month old You’re telling me that I was still pregnant with her...trying to keep her inside of me so she’d stand a chance if she was born too early...and that entire time you were missing the job? While I’m trying to keep your daughter safe and alive, you were thinking about THAT? Are you fucking kidding me right now?!”

“I don’t want to fight,” he keeps his voice and calm and even, despite the fact he feels every remaining of control being chipped away. “You told me to tell you the truth and that’s what I’m doing.”

“I mean I expected you to miss it and a hard time giving it up. But a month? You’ve been away from it for half a goddamn year. So five months you were fine and now all of a sudden...”

“It’s just because of Ovi. If he’d never come to me with that shit....”

“That was a week ago. Not a month ago. What explains the three weeks before he said anything? Are you serious right now, Tyler? What the fuck?!”

“I don’t know what more you want me to say. Do you want me to say I’m sorry? That it makes me sick that I miss it? That I fucking hate myself for even thinking about it? Is that what you want to hear? That I feel like a shit human being because of it?”

“I want you to hear you say that you don’t want to go back to it!”

“I didn’t say that’s what I wanted. I said I missed it sometimes.”

“What is there to miss? Getting stabbed? Getting shot? Getting fucked over by guys like Mahajan? Killing people?”

“No,” he scowls. “I don’t miss that. What the fuck? Is that what you think of me? That that’s who I am? That I enjoy that shit?”

“Then what the hell is it? Because it didn’t end well, Tyler. It didn’t end well in New Zealand and it sure as hell didn’t end well in Dhaka. What is there to miss?”

He struggles to keep his composure.   “Esme, I don’t want to fight. Can we do this later? Can we not wait until we get home to talk about this? Can we just get this visit out of the goddamn way before talking about anything else? I just want to get to my dad’s, stay for a bit, and then leave. Then we can talk about whatever you want.”

“A month? A fucking month?”

“Esme...stop...please...I don’t want to fight.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this before? Why didn’t...”

“I said I don’t want to fucking fight!”  He roars, and his foot slams down on the brake. Bringing the truck to an abrupt and violent halt in the middle of the backwoods country road; tires crunching on stones and gravel, sending plumes of dust and dirty swirling and dancing around them. His chest feels impossibly tight; his heart races and his lungs with every breathe he tries to draw in.  He’s dizzy, nauseous; sweat gathers across his forehead and at his temples and back of his neck. And he’s suddenly aware of how hard he’s gripping the steering wheel; knuckles turning white and cracking, wounds reopening.

*****

“Tyler...”

He’s vaguely aware of the hand on his bicep and the sound of her voice; urgent and concerned. It seems as if she’s far away; distorted and muffled, as if he’s underwater and can’t quite make out what she’s saying to him. And as the pressure in his chest builds, it becomes fight of flight. He chooses the latter; throwing the truck into park and reaching for his seat belt, fingers numb and hands trembling as he struggles with the release. Frustration sets in; profanities slipping from parched lips, hot, bitter tears streaming down his cheeks.

He feels as if he’s on auto-pilot, no longer in control of his actions. And the gravel cracks and pops under his feet as he finally escapes, fresh air feeling as if it’s scalding his already aching as he draws it in large, choking gulps. Wobbling slightly with each step he takes, hands on his hips as he repeatedly paces the length of the truck. The simple counting begins to settle him; one foot in front of the other, reciting the number of steps in his head. The same way he had almost seven years ago on the Sultana Kamal Bridge. When he’d first stepped onto its war zone and began that long and tedious journey to freedom. He’d been in agonizing pain; quickly losing blood, growing weaker with each inch, yet continuing to advance. Spurred on by what he had waiting for him once he finally made it.  

And then Saju’s dead body and the sniper and his useless right leg forcing him to drag himself to safety. A tearful Ovi at his side, begging him to get up.

Dhaka. Fuck. Fucking Dhaka. It makes the panic build again. Makes it all so seem real; like he’s right there again. Tasting his blood in his mouth and feeling that absence of strength and hope. But he hadn’t been ready to give up just yet. Because he had something...someone...to lose and was going to fight for them. And there’d been that glimmer of hope; when he’d gunned down those last two assailants and limped his way towards the finish line. But that little bastard Farhad had shot him from behind and...

Fuck Farhad. Fuck Dhaka. Fuck Amir and Gaspar.  

He forces all thought and memory of it out of his mind; closing his eyes as he leans back against the grill of the truck. Concentrating on better things...happier things. Getting married, experiencing the birth of his ‘rainbow baby’ and all the others that came after her. Reminding himself that he has people who love him. Unconditionally. That rely on him and depend on him and make him want to be a better man. He would have given up a long ago; had he NOT had them. If Esme hadn’t have been there when he woke up in the hospital nearly seven years ago.

His breathing has returned to normal and the dizziness and nausea nonexistent when he hears one of the doors open behind him. The sudden press of her shoulder against his is comforting; it grounds him. Brings him back to the here and now. She’s done this before; talked him down from many a ledge. And he has no idea why she sticks around and keeps giving him chance after chance, but he’s thankful she does.

“Hold your daughter, Tyler,” she says, as Addie lays along her arm. “Hold her and feel how real she is. Feel that she’s here. That YOU’RE here. Not wherever your brain is telling you you are.”

“I can’t. Not like this. What if I hurt her? What if I...”

“Take her,” Esme insists, and he relents, bringing that baby...HIS baby...up to his chest; one hand on the back of her head, a forearm under the bum. She’s so tiny...so light...so fragile.  So perfect and pure. And he places his nose against the side of her head; feeling her hair against his skin, taking in the soft scent that clings to her clothing and hair, feeling her warm and the beat of her heart against him.

“That’s your reason,” Esme tells him. “Your purpose. Why you have to keep fighting and not let this destroy you.”

The tears come again, a mixture of shame and guilt. That he can have so much but not even realize it or appreciate it. That he was even given these things in the first place. All the bed decisions, all the blood on his hands...

“I’m sorry.” he manages. “I am so fucking sorry.”

“For what?” Her hand is on his back, resting between his shoulders. He can’t bring himself to look at her; afraid of what he’ll see her eyes. Disgust. Disappointment. Regret. “What are you sorry for?” she asks.

“Everything. Everything fucking things. All the shit I’ve put you through. That I STILL keep putting you through. I fucking hate myself for it.”

“I know you do. And I don’t' want you to. You have no reason to hate yourself.”

“Dhaka.” He says simply.  

“Dhaka has nothing to do with this. I’ve told  you a million times that I don’t blame you for how things went. You did everything you could that day. For Ovi. For me. It was out of your control. There was nothing more you could have done. You don’t think I realize that?”

“On the bridge. You shouldn't have had to do what you did.”

“That’s not your fault either. I don’t blame you for what I had to do or what I saw. I don’t you responsible for that. And I sure as hell don’t hate you. What will it take to make you realize that? To stop all that guilt and all that blame and all that hate for yourself. What more do you need me to say? Because I’ll say it. Whatever you need to hear, I will tell you.”

“I don’t know,” Tyler admits. “I just don’t fucking know.”

“This has to stop. The way you shouldn’t try to deal with every goddamn thing on your own. Stop keeping shit inside and letting it eat you alive.”

“Why do even stay with me?” he asks. “When I’m such a fucking mess?”

“Because I love you. Because you’re my husband and my lover and my confidant and my best friend. Because you have a huge heart and you’re a good man that was forced to do terrible things.”

“But my brain...”

“Is troubled and beautiful and it’s going to be okay. You’re not only in this Tyler. Stop acting like you are. Let me help you. Let me love you. Please.”

Esme curls her arm around his waist and rests her head against his arm, and for several minutes never of them speak. And eventually the tears subside, and he takes a long, shaky breath and places his lips against the side of Addie’s head.  

“Are you okay?” she asks, and presses a series of light, feathery kisses to his shoulder.

“Yeah...I’m okay.”

“We should just go home. You can call your dad’s and tell them that something came up and reschedule. I don’t think...”

“I’m fine. I told Millie I’d do this for her.”

“You know,” Esme muses. “You’re going to have to eventually say no to her. She's going need to learn about disappointment at some point in time.”

“Not today though. Let’s just do this. For her. Okay?”

“Okay. Do you want me to drive or...”

“You are NOT driving my truck,”

She smirks. “I think you love your truck more than me some days.”

“There’s nothing I love more than you.”

She smiles at that, and he kisses her softly. “I’ve driven your truck before,” she reminds him.

“And I’ve had it every time. You know how long it takes me to reset everything? Mirrors? Seat? I get in and my knees are up by my ears.”

“I have little legs! I can’t help it. Just because you’re absurdly tall...”

“Have you ever considered I’m normal height and you’re absurdly short?”

“You’re not normal height,” she laughs.  “Not even close to it. You’re all legs and torso. And so are you kids. Well, except for this little nugget,” she smiles down at Addie. “This one is all me.”

“Poor kid.”

“Hey!” she objects and pinches his side. “That’s not nice!”

Tyler grins. “Can we still be friends?”

“Maybe. Depends how you make it up to me.”

“I’ll buy you tacos for lunch.”

“That’ll do,” she says, and stands on her tip toes to kiss him. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

He nods.

“I just want you to be healthy, Tyler. That’s all I want. Because I love you and I worry about you and I don’t anything happening to you. You need to stop torturing yourself so much about Dhaka. I’ve never blamed you. Or hated you. What happened is not your fault. I need you to realize that.”

“I’ll try,” he promises. “I’ll try remembering that.”

“You saved my life. Not just there. In general. In every way a person CAN be saved. Don’t ever forget that.”

“I love you,” he says, and kisses her once more. “So much.”

“I love you too. Which is why I stay. Don’t ever ask me that again.”

“I won’t.”

She presses a kiss to his shoulder and rubs the middle of this back. “When you’re ready,” she says, and gives him a small smile before returning to the truck.

He wonders if he ever will be. Ready. If he’ll be able to truly let the past go.

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fic #tyler rake fan fiction #extraction #best part of me #chris hemsworth character

[myrandomfandomramblings]

Arrowverse Science Fair AU

~2004 National Highschool (Gr. 8-12) Science Fair

Projects:

Felicity Smoak (Gr. 9) – Computer software to detect card counters. She may or may not have hacked into online card games to test it (this wasn’t included in/on her project.)

Cisco Ramon (Gr. 8 or 9) – Piano playing robot. He thought it played better than Dante. His parents didn’t agree.

Caitlin Snow (Gr. 9) – Analysis of physiological response to various stimuli. She wanted to find stimuli that would help kids cope with traumatic experiences (say crashing their bike or losing their father.) If she was able to find something that made her mom show some/any emotion that would be a bonus.

Barry Allen (Gr. 9) – Growing crystals (lots of different and cool ones). His project started out as an attempt to make something special for Iris for her birthday but turned into an elaborate project. It ended up being a good choice because 1) it reminded Barry of his parents (the first science experiment they did together was grow Borax crystals on pipecleaner and 2) it followed Joe’s ‘your science fair project must make, not destroy things’ rule instated after Barry’s Gr. 6 project.

Alex (Gr. 9) and Kara (Gr. 8) Danvers – Birds in my Backyard. Eliza had insisted on Alex getting Kara involved in her science fair project this year. Alex was excited to show Kara the science fair experience she enjoyed but wanted to pick a topic she knew more about that Kara (her knowledge of math and science was intimidating enough without the superpowers). Seeing Kara’s interest in birds they decided to study birds in their backyard. With Alex’s design and Kara’s powers they built tall post’s and attached bird houses and feeders with differing properties. They then monitored which kinds of birds built nests and ate from where (with some help from Kara’s flight and X-ray vision). Alex also picked 5 nests from different species to chronicle the embryo and chick development. Kara enjoyed doing the project and learning about birds from Alex. The actual science fairs, not so much but those were Alex’s favourite part. Note: Streaky was locked in the house for the duration of the project so he wouldn’t eat any of the birds.

Winn Schott (Gr. 11) – Pop-up room/ room in a suitcase. Being in the foster system for the last couple years inspired Winn to design a room that collapsed to the size of a suitcase for easy transport but could expand in less than a minute into a nice-sized, fully-furnished, sound-proof room, so no matter how many times a foster kid was moved around they always had their own space and stuff. Also good for camping, travel and special short-term events (like waiting in line at conventions).

Lena Luthor (Gr. 5) – Oxygen absorbing/releasing crystal that could allow breathing underwater. After her Mum drown when Lena was four, she was determined to develop a simple way for people to breath under water. She was able to do just that by synthesizing a substance that absorbed and stored large amounts of oxygen then released it slowly (so if someone held in in their mouth, they could breathe underwater). She was happy and excited that her mom and older brother were interested in her project but a little frustrated and concerned that they were so focused on its ability to absorb all the oxygen from a room (in a big enough amount). Although she supposed it could be used in that capacity to control/extinguish fires. Note: although in elementary school, Lena got to compete against the high schoolers since her project was so advanced for her age.

Sara Lance (Gr. 11) – The Biomechanics of Dance and Martial Arts. As punishment for skipping classes, then sassing her teacher and principal when they tried to discipline her for skipping classes, Sara had to complete a science fair project. To make the best of it Sara chose something that interested her. In hindsight she wished she hadn’t. Her project was so good she was chosen to represent her school at the state and national science fair.

Ronnie Raymond (Gr. 9-12?)- Structural design to minimize Superman related damage in Metropolis. Ronnie was proud of his project and had enjoyed analyzing the powers of Metropolis’ hero, but he lost any chance he had at winning when he decided to leave his project to go flirt with Caitlin. At least Kara, whose project was next to his, seemed interested.

Hartley Rathaway – something to do with sound waves

Lily Stein (Gr. 11) – designing and comparing different miniaturized forms of renewable energy sources. She had some help from her dad.

Patty Spivot – Recreation of crime scene evidence using food models. A bunch of her friends (her whole cabin actually) from her summer camp for those interested in law enforcement came to support her.

-       Maggie Sawyer – seemed really interested in the bird project

-       Ralph Dibny – found every project that said it was OK to touch. His favourite was slime. To Patty’s surprise he didn’t break anything.

-       Dinah Drake – hung out with Patty most of the time. Talked to Hartley, beside her, about his project on sound waves for a bit (seemed kinda interested). Patty joined her when she got into a conversation with Sara, across the way, and Laurel about the implications of her biomechanics project in fighting and self-defence. The rest of the time they talked about that Vince guy from camp Dinah thought was cute.

-       Eddie Thawne – he hung out with Patty most of the time too but did do a lap of the fair with Iris, who was there supporting Barry, when she accepted his offer to buy her something at the concession.

Notable events:

- Clark came to see Alex and Kara’s project and brought James and Lois with him. Kara and Clark (very subtly) tested the models on the project beside them that had been abandoned and were said to be superman proof/resistant. They were very impressed to discover the models did indeed stand-up to heat vison, freeze breath and super-strength leading Clark to believe the student had a bright future. James spent most of his time talking to Winn about his pop-up room project because, “Don’t you think these would be way better than cubicles, the Daily Planet should definitely purchase some.”

- Cat Grant, a young reporter from the National City Tribune pushing a stroller, came around and interviewed all the contestants because, “What better place to find the next world changing innovator or innovation” as she put it when she stopped to talk to Clark (more like flirt Kara thought). Alex used Clark distracting Cat as an opportunity to play with the baby in the stroller. This was the only time during the entire science fair Alex was distracted, except maybe when Maggie had come, but they mainly talked about the project like Alex did with everyone, which left Alex wondering why it felt different. During their entire interview Cat called Kara Kira, much to her annoyance. At least the baby seemed to like her. This interview sparked a conversation between Kara, Lois and Clark about journalism which Iris overhead while she was visiting Barry and joined in.

- Graduate students Ray Palmer and Curtis Holt were volunteer judges and ticket takers. Curtis wore a varsity jacket over his shirt and tie which covered his name tag, but at every project he judged he would describe every aspect as terrific, so the contestants started calling him Mr. Terrific. While judging Barry’s project they began a discussion about their favourite elements/minerals/gems. Barry couldn’t decide so joked he liked Barium. Ray shared his love for dwarf star alloy with a ‘quick’ lecture about its rumoured properties and potential uses. Curtis listed at least 10 compounds essential for modern tech as he flip-flopped back and forth trying to decide a favourite and Lex Luthor who was visiting his sister’s project beside them interjected that he favoured kryptonite. While taking tickets Curtis witnessed the following interaction. He asked Damian Darhk, who was carrying baby Nora, what brought him to the science fair. He responded with “These are the brightest young minds in the country and being young means they are malleable. So, there is nowhere better to recruit future talent for my enterprise.” Malcolm Merlyn, who was behind, him added “I know exactly what you mean with what the world’s coming to we’re going to need a bright mind to save it.” This led Tommy, who was accompanying him, to say “I thought we were just here to support the Queen’s.” Then one of the other judges, Dr. Harrison Wells aka Eobard Thawne in disguise, added “No your Dad is right. This world’s next HERO could be in this very room. I’ve already made a list of students to keep my eye on.” He pulled out a small piece of paper from his pocket. On it Curtis saw four names: Hartley Rathaway, Cisco Ramon, Caitlin Snow and Ronnie Raymond. This led to a long conversation between the three men about numerous threats to society, the country and the world and the possible drastic solutions that would need to be employed to stop them. When they left Curtis turned to Ray and asked, “Was it just me or were those Doomsday Dudes really creepy?” “What” Ray replied his attention clearly being pulled from elsewhere. But before Curtis could answer a voice behind him said “Doomsday Dudes is a terrible nickname you should call them the Legion of Doom.” Curtis turned to find Cisco. “Just saying,” he continued, “anyway I heard there’s free Big Belly Burger for the contestants. When’s that coming?” Ray had missed the entire conversation Curtis was asking about because he had been making funny faces at baby Nora the whole time hoping to make her smile or laugh but she had just stared at him with her big blue eyes.

- Queen consolidated gave out a $1500 scholarship and a summer internship at the applied sciences division. This year Moira and Robert had made Oliver come and brought 9-year-old Thea. Oliver was tasked with watching Thea who ran around the entire science fair wanting to look at and touch all the projects even the ones with big ‘Do Not Touch’ signs on them. She spent at least an hour trying to get everybody around the robot pianist to sing and dance with her. Most people ignored her although she was able to get Cisco, Winn, Stein, Joe, Kara (who kept trying to get Alex to join) and to Oliver’s surprise Malcolm Merlyn all to sing with her and they were all surprisingly good. She also got many people to dance including the Lance girls. She even convinced Cisco to make the robot play some of her favourite songs from Disney movies. Barry was very happy that he was able to convince Iris to dance with him for a couple songs with just a little encouragement from Thea and despite Kara’s constant encouragement Alex only agreed to dance when Maggie asked. Oliver had to present his family’s award which went to Felicity. When her name was announced Donna yelled “Woohoo, that’s my daughter! Way to go sweetie!” which earned a whispered “Mom, ssshh” and accompanied eye roll from Felicity as she headed to the stage with her head down and cheeks flushed. When she got onstage Oliver presented her with her award and Felicity began to babble, “Thanks. This is so cool. I’m such a big fan of yours… well not yours… your company… your family’s company. But uh you seem cool too. I could be a fan of yours, but not like a creepy stalker fan just like a normal supportive fan, ya know. I’m sorry, I’m rambling, it’s just, I don’t know what to say. Your very handsome… and I just said that out loud. I’m so sorry.” She stops and whispers “come on Smoak, pull yourself together,” then takes a deep breath before addressing Oliver again, “Thank-you again for the award and I look forward to working with you, or for you. I’m just gonna go now.” Oliver couldn’t help smiling as she left and thinking that just maybe if she had been around when Thea was partnering everyone up to dance he may have just participated.

- Kara quickly got bored of standing by her project and started wandering around to talk to the other contestants. She spent a good chunk of time talking to Barry. Tried to join in on a heated debate between Felicity, Cisco and Winn about the best language to code in but quickly left when she had no idea what they were talking about. She ended up spending most of her time with Lena. They talked about their projects, their lives and interests and about dealing with new and scary situations especially when you feel different from everyone else and learnt that they were both adopted. However, the whole time they were talking Lena’s eyes kept scanning the room as if waiting for something to jump out and scare her. Kara learnt why when a woman Kara thought must be Lena’s mother showed up and menacingly questioned why she was distracting her daughter.

- J’onn came in disguise to check out the Danvers sister’s project

#arrrowverse #this got way out of hand #supergirl #legends of tomorrow #the flash #arrow