#“lest we forget”. you did fucking forget. or rather you never cared to know in the first place.

[mangled-by-disuse]

when over ten million soldiers (mostly teenagers and men in their early 20s) and at least as many civilians were being blown to pieces and their twitching, bloody bodies were being carried off the battlefield over a muddy morass made up mostly of dead men and horses

how many of them d'you think thought "hey, this sucks, but it's going to make a SICK lawn ornament"?

Don't think for a second, I'd forgotten about Poppy Watch.

Displays like these are outright disrespectful, and there's a whole new industry around producing these appalling silhouette cutouts that didn't exist when I was growing up.

[redisaid]

The World Will Only Darken Without Candlelight - Chapter 3

Torches

In which Zelda agrees that Link is a horse girl and I regret writing this much action even after I pared it down.

5566 Words

Read it on Ao3!

I got a venom like a snake running out of my mouth. It's got you burning at the stake. Innocent or not, you're not a bet I care to take. And Father Ignorance will make brothers of us all, As he sets our torch aflame. Chasing down the flimsy specters that we co-create.

“About earlier--”

Zelda cut her father off with a simple, “I don’t want to talk about it now.”

They were both well-aware of exactly how much time they had, and how that did not lend itself to a serious conversation. Zelda didn’t want Rhoam to use that as an excuse to weasel his way out of it. And knowing him, he’d be happy to take that as the easy way out.

She wasn’t about to let him off so easily.

The show would start regardless. The pieces were already moving on the board. Even now, both of them sat in the royal box in the middle of the grandstand, watching the lone rider light the torches around the edge of the arena to signal the start of the tournament.

Rhoam coughed into his hand, ruffling the beard he’d fluffed out for the occasion of being king.

Zelda always hated that beard. She’d never seen him without one, though. He probably looked worse.

“Well,” he offered to cover the relative silence between them. The crowd on either side of them had begun to settle and weren’t doing enough to ease the discomfort that filled the gap between their thrones. “At least you’ll get to see the new show in its entirety.”

Zelda had no comment in return for that. She had only attended rehearsal up until the point she wasn’t needed anymore. She didn’t need to watch an hour’s worth of stage fighting. Not when there was other work to be done, at least. Costumes to organize with Purah. Props to sort with Impa. Gerudo Town to be repaired with Urbosa and her dancers.

Anything and anywhere but here, really.

Mostly for the fact that she would now be stuck watching this very show almost every night for the rest of the summer. She had evening after evening of trying not to look bored to look forward to. She would strategize how to keep the mosquitoes at bay while staying in character, though the thick fabric of her costume didn’t let all that many through to her skin, blessedly. She would sweat in the heat of the summer nights with only a paper fan and a plastic goblet of ice water to help. But the greatest fight of all was having to stay awake, especially after a long day of walking around.

Walking around and dodging Link now, lest she forget.

The rider passed their booth on his way to the final torch. Whoever it was seemed to have a good handle on the process at least. The dark bay he was riding wasn’t the least bit scared of the torch he was holding to kindle the others with. And he was managing to make it fast.

At least this part of the show had received a much needed upgrade. Last year, her father had old Sir Peter the Ponderous, one of his favorite old knights, riding with the torch. The beginning of the show had always dragged, but never so much as when Peter was responsible for starting it.

Zelda instantly regretted her mental compliment, though, when the rider wheeled his horse back around dramatically, and flipped down his black hood with the hand not holding the torch.

To reveal that, in fact, she’d thought he was rather short for a reason. It was fucking Link.

Of course it was Link.

Rhoam turned to her with a grin before he stood to address Link and open the show.

Of course it was Link. Link who could ride like that, throw axes, sneak past her attempts to find him, be the darling of the crowd without saying a word, and apparently protect her from whatever bullshit her father didn’t want to tell her about.

Of course.

Zelda stilled the scowl that threatened to form on her face, but only just.

“Word of your deeds this day proceeds you, oh Silent Knight. I hear that you have come to my kingdom, the great land of Hyrule, to challenge my Champions?” Rhoam called down to him.

Link nodded fiercely up at him. Even through the concentration of trying not to glare at him, Zelda noticed how he nudged the horse with his leg just slightly, and how the beast responded in kind by snorting and stamping a hoof.

Oh great. He was a horse girl. Horse guy? No, it didn’t have the same connotation to it. No, Zelda had decided it. Link was a horse girl, and this somehow explained everything.

“Very well then,” Rhoam continued, nodding back down to him. “My honored guests and I bid you to entertain us tonight with your skill and bravery. My Champions know well that courage is the mark of a true warrior. Let’s see if you have any, hmm?”

Another nudge. A different leg. This time the horse only snorted, no stomp.

Well, at least his damn horse was well-trained.

Though Zelda supposed Link was too. He was just listening to higher orders than she could give.

But he didn’t have to be so damn competent about it.

Rhoam leaned out of the royal box a bit more, gesturing first to the left, then the right side of the crowd. “What say ye, people of Hyrule? Shall we have this young man prove himself a Champion first? Shall we have a joust to test he’s worthy to face my finest?”

The packed opening day crowd was already roaring their assent, but Zelda’s brow was furrowing silently for a different reason.

He was making Link do the joust too? And then the Champion fights after? After a day of following her and acting out all these scenes?

Whatever her father was paying him wasn’t enough. That was so much work. So much physical, exhausting work.

And then to do it all again tomorrow?

But the crowd was cheering, and the usual crew of jousting knights were filing into the arena on their horses.

Usually, the joust was reserved as an opener to the theatrics. It would end in a draw, with the last two knights both unhorsing one another and being unable to continue. To that, Rhoam would call for his Champions to show the crowd a display of true skill and have them do their little tricks.

But this would mean that Link was meant to win this, and then compete with the Champions as well.

Zelda reserved to go easy on him tomorrow, for this at least.

And because he’d gone to Rhoam to ask him to talk to her. So, maybe he did have some sense in that little skull of his.

“Horse girl,” Zelda muttered to herself as a reminder.

Horse girl indeed. Link rode off to don some jousting armor in one of the outer tents while the other knights did their thing, introducing themselves and placing their banners in front of the royal box.

This, at least, wasn’t all that different from before. They all had their cheesy lines they’d shout at the crowd. Their terrible stage names. Sir Isaac the Ironic was actually just a guy named Steve. He did her dad’s taxes and had equestrian experience from playing polo of all things.

Most of them couldn’t aim the lance very well, or at least didn’t know how to make it break in a fun and dramatic way. Not that Zelda could blame them. It was still a giant, heavy piece of wood that they had hold in a difficult and awkward way, and aim at a specific spot on their opponent in order to break it well. Hit the other man’s head and you might send him to the hospital. For that reason, bouncing off the chest ineffectively was the vastly preferred option if you were otherwise not confident in your aim.

Zelda had always wanted to try it. Her father never let her, though. He told her it was too dangerous. And that she wasn’t confident enough around horses.

Well, maybe if one didn’t bite her when she was eight, she’d feel more confident about it.

Maybe if her father hadn’t raised her in a place where she was constantly around stupid horses and having to be afraid of being bitten again, she would feel a lot more confident about a lot of things.

Link appeared again on the back of that same dark bay, the both of them outfitted in a set of armor. This was just another suit of the faire’s, perhaps modified to fit Link’s slight frame, but still looking dented enough to have seen some use. He wore green and gold for his colors, carrying a banner that was emblazoned with a Korok leaf. Compared to those of the other knights, who all represented noble houses from Hyrule’s ancient past, it seemed simple and plain.

But that didn’t seem to bother Link. He rode out onto the field, visor open so he’d be recognized, to the raucous cheers of a crowd that was otherwise starting to get bored with the lack-luster joust. He placed his banner alongside the other knights, and wheeled his horse around dramatically again.

The same horse, Zelda noted. Not one of the faire’s own jousting horses. The white one named Snowball was fine. But the chestnut gelding Link’s opponent was riding was the meanest thing in the entire stable, and while he wasn’t the horse who had bitten her, was Zelda’s most recent excuse for avoiding that place all together.

“I haven’t seen you this interested in the joust in years,” Rhoam whispered to her as he caught her staring.

“You’re making him do it,” Zelda muttered back. “Any reason?”

“He’s good. You’ll see,” Rhoam promised.

Zelda was pretty sure she was tired of Link being good at things. But she watched regardless.

Link was up against a long-timer who’d been declared the winner of the previous joust for the fact that he had actually managed to break one of his three lances. Thus far, the only break of the night.

This, of course, was expected of Sir Jason the Joker, who usually managed to do fairly well at the joust, even if he’d spent most of the day in the beer tent. In reality, his name was Jerry and he was an IT contractor during the rest of the year. He thought that working at the ren faire was a good way to get nerdy girls, and was absolutely creepy about the way he’d repeatedly told Zelda this when she was only a teenager.

She’d never seen him take a girl home.

“New horse?” Zelda asked of her father as Link and old creepy Jerry lined up at the rail.

“His horse,” was Rhoam’s explanation.

She was right. Absolute horse girl. Brought his own fucking horse. No wonder he’d worn cowboy boots throughout rehearsal week.

Neither Link or his horse even so much as flinched at the whole affair, though. Zelda watched as he took the lance from a squire with relative ease, even though the damn thing had to weigh almost as much as him. He held it as though he’d done this thousands of times before.

And that horse of his had no problem carrying him at full speed right towards creepy Jerry.

Link’s lance tip absolutely smashed itself right where it should have, on the special plate designed both for this and to deflect the debris from creepy Jerry’s neck. Creepy Jerry, for his part, only bounced his lance off of Link’s shoulder.

This was how it went, each time, every time. Three times, to be exact. On the last one, Jerry even made a good show of falling out of his saddle after his horse had slowed a bit at the other end of the lists.

But with the way he wobbled as he did it, Zelda couldn’t be sure if this was for showmanship’s sake or because he had indeed spent too much time in the beer tent earlier.

Link did his little victory lap around the arena to yet even more cheers. And while it was nice to have a jouster who was, you know, good at jousting, Zelda had once again lost interest in his continued success. Really, how dare he be so good at pretending to be good at something?

“Your bit is coming up,” Rhoam warned her as he stood again.

Link picked up his banner, and something else that an assistant ran up to him from one of the darker corners of the arena. He completed his lap with the banner flying behind him, and showing a purple-hilted sword to the crowd.

Ah, right. That lovely little fake Master Sword of his. How could she forget?

But the people clapped. They were loving it. People love fairy tales, after all.

“Now I see why you are so courageous, young challenger!” Rhoam roared down at him as he stopped before the royal box, still holding the sword aloft. “Why didn’t you show us that in the first place? It is not every day that someone comes to my castle bearing the sword that seals the darkness!”

What followed was some lengthy speech Rhoam gave to invite Link to be one of his Champions if he should prove himself worthy of the title. Zelda had to admit that her father was a natural at this, even if his writing on the script was overly flowery. Prior to buying the castle and starting the renaissance faire, he’d hammed it up on stage to the collected works of the famous Sheikah Court Poet of old--the nameless author of the ancient era’s great plays. Rhoam had spent his youth with a troupe that performed just these works throughout Castle Town and its surrounding suburbs. Oh, and apparently convincing Zelda’s mother, an aspiring young doctor, to put up with him.

Zelda dutifully did her part as he mentioned his daughter, his princess, courtesying down to Link and offering him a demure wish for good luck.

Though she sat back down hard enough to make her throne squeak.

“That’s an antique, you know,” Rhoam chided her quietly as the show progressed on the arena floor, trumpets announcing Revali’s entrance with Rito-flavored fanfare.

“That you painted gold with spray paint,” Zelda reminded him. “Actually, that I painted gold with spray paint because you told me to. I remember how it got stuck in my hair.”

This time it was her father’s turn to not dignify that with a response.

Revali’s portion of the show was mostly the same, only this time his archery tricks were punctuated with insulting Link. Link, who’d changed into his Champion’s tunic again, this time without the black hooded cape that had served to cover most of it during the opening torch ride. This portion of the show had previously been for the Champions to individually boast about themselves, but was now tuned to be more about them doing that to Link.

Link, who stood around most of the time and watched.

He did this for Daruk too, but clapped and did offer him a little smile as he broke boulders and hurled rocks clear across the arena. Even for Urbosa, he mostly just stood and watched as she performed a sword dance that Zelda normally would have clapped a little too loudly for.

But not tonight, not if she too was hiding something from her.

Mipha, though, didn’t really do much of her usual spear and water show. Instead, this was replaced with yet another vomit-inducing scene between her and Link, where he once again mostly stood there while she simpered on about how she would be so honored to fight alongside of him as another one of the king’s Champions, but how she couldn’t let her heart get in the way of her responsibility to test him honestly.

Zelda just had to look over at her father and make the slightest of gagging noises at him to announce her displeasure.

“It’s romantic,” Rhoam said in his defense.

“Are you reading those raunchy novels Urbosa likes or something? I can put you on a dating app, you know, if you need to be reminded of how real women attempt to be romantic,” Zelda told him.

Rhoam’s beard flapped out from a sigh, but he just turned back to the show.

He hadn’t dated anyone since her mother died. Perhaps that was a low blow.

Zelda spent the remainder of Mipha’s scene trying to justify it regardless.

She stood with her father after that, as he gathered all the Champions to the front of the royal box to bid them to begin their tournament in earnest. Zelda, for her part, stood there as silently as Link did below.

Maybe he was thinking the same thing she was. That this new version of the show felt awfully long. It was getting late. The sun had well and truly set nearly an hour ago.

Poor kid. She’d probably made him miss his breaks by using hers to evade him. He was just doing his job.

She’d talk to him about it. Or talk at him. Explain herself. Attempt to, at least. Probably just end up ranting about her father and how he’d dragged her into this little land of make believe with him when they’d lost her mother. That it was all some sick coping mechanism that he’d gotten away with for fifteen years now. Maybe he’d listen. Maybe he’d just stand there and go blank and take his mind out somewhere else.

She wondered what Link thought about when he stared off into nothing.

Probably horses.

They sat back down and watched as he fought the Champions, one by one.

He missed a target when shooting shot for shot with Revali, and Zelda almost took a moment of joy in that. Almost, because the miss was scripted, and had Revali going in to insult him again only for Link to turn and shoot at his target, filling the bullseye with his remaining arrows. Revali retaliated with a purposeful wide shot at him for Link to dodge, which he made a good show of looking like it was closer than it was. And the next. And the next after that, until Rhoam had to make a show of declaring Revali to be the loser of this contest for poor sportsmanship.

Daruk was next, who immediately judged that it wouldn’t be fair for him to judge Link’s strength against his own. Link did a funny little bit where he tried to lift a boulder anyway, but Daruk instead declared they should have an eating contest. Link, in turn, seemed to be the most excited for this than he had been for anything else, and mimed his disappointment well for the crowd when a plateful of rocks was brought out.

Zelda knew, from asking Impa why there was a container of brownies sitting in the sound booth, that Link’s rocks were, in fact, made of mashed up brownies. But he still ate them. A disgusting amount of them, actually, in order to beat Daruk at this contest.

Urbosa challenged him to a duel on a full stomach of said brownies. Zelda found herself queasy at the notion of having to move around that much after eating two brownies, let alone what probably amounted to a dozen of them. But that didn’t stop Link.

He fought her admirably, showing a level of experience with stage combat that rivaled Urbosa’s. Urbosa, herself a former stage actress, who had been working at the faire and doing this for fifteen years now. Urbosa, in her mid-forties with more abs than most people could achieve at their youngest and strongest. Urbosa, who knew how to make this look very real, having this young kid go step for step with her, never so much as missing a single beat of the choreographed fight. She grinned even as she took her scripted loss to him, clearly pleased with how well it had gone.

Mipha was last, of course, to build up some dramatic thing about her childhood crush on him or some bullshit. Zelda went to her happy place during most of it, admittedly, which was thinking back to the one archaeology class she’d managed to sneak into her schedule last semester.

The clashing of spear against sword stirred Zelda from those thoughts as she was surprised to find Link and Mipha actually fighting. Granted, she was giving a cheesy monologue as they did, but still dueled him. Mipha’s stage combat had never been the best, and while she lacked the fluidity that Link had in his movements, it seemed she must have gotten some pointers since last year. They had a pretty good little fight. One that still ended with Mipha surrendering and saying she didn’t want to fight him, but far more than Zelda had expected either way.

And with that, the crowd cheered again. Despite the late hour, the heat, the bugs, the smoke of the torches. They loved it.

Rhoam stood and bid her stand with him, all the while clapping himself. Maybe at himself.

Well, at least he was pleased with all this work. Zelda would be happy for him in her own little way, and she was, really.

She just wished he wasn’t keeping something from her.

---

“I didn’t really get your whole speech at the end there,” Purah later told her in the dressing room. “Was it supposed to be about him and the sword or what?”

“That confused all of us during rehearsal, honestly,” Zelda replied, then jumped as Purah scratched her back in the process of removing her corset. “Easy with your nails!”

“Oh sorry,” Purah apologized. “I keep forgetting I have these acrylics on. Typing with them is a nightmare. I have so many regrets.”

“I thought it was about him and Zelda at first,” Impa piped up from where she was hogging the airflow of a nearby box fan, despite being the only one in the room who had enjoyed the blessing of air conditioning for a majority of the day.

“Ugh no,” Zelda spat back.

“What’s the matter Zelda? Don’t you like Linky?” Purah taunted from behind her as she continued loosening the corset’s laces, with a bit more caution this time.

“Leave it, Purah,” Urbosa warned from her vanity. She was busy wiping the blue lipstick off with probably the third or fourth makeup wipe. It was on there that thick. “Rhoam didn’t tell her about the whole following her around like some sick puppy dog thing. She has reason not to like him.”

“He’s short,” Zelda retorted.

“I like short guys,” Purah continued to tease. “But don’t tell that to Robbie.”

“Zelda doesn’t even like guys,” Impa sagely noted.

Zelda, did, in fact, generally prefer women. Generally. Mostly. She wished she only liked women, really.

“Zelda thinks that is none of your business,” was what she had as an answer.

“So you do like him then?” Purah questioned as she pulled out the last lace. “Oh, is that why you looked like you were gagging at all of Mipha’s scenes?”

“No, I was gagging because they were like something out of one of Urbosa’s romance novels,” Zelda told her, holding the corset to herself as it fell loose.

She enjoyed a few deep and full breaths without the restrictive garment. The first she’d had in over fourteen hours now.

Why the fuck had she agreed to do this again? The days were long. The pay was pretty bad, worse for her because it just went straight to the bank and never in her hands. The gratitude was…nothing. It never had been. Not even a thank you. A hug. A kind word of appreciation from her father for supporting his dream. For being a part of it.

If she got home before him, she’d be in bed by the time he pulled up to the house. On the rare nights he got home before her, he’d be asleep on the couch, TV blaring by the time she arrived.

She wasn’t supposed to be here. She was supposed to be back in Hateno, hanging out with her friends from college, working at the disease research internship she’d put her heart and soul into getting.

“My novels aren’t nearly that bad.”

Urbosa’s deep laugh at her own comment was enough to stir Zelda back from the brink again.

“It’s late. You girls can go,” she continued, shooing Impa and Purah off. “I’ll help her with the rest from here. Be careful.”

“Careful of what?” Zelda ventured to ask.

Urbosa stared up at her, an odd vantage to have for once. Even in a ratty t-shirt, sweatpants, and without her traditional makeup, she was still quite intimidating, betraying no other emotion except to dare Zelda to question it as she said, “It’s dark in the parking lot. They could trip and fall.”

“I’m gonna trip and fall into bed,” Purah threatened in response. “Opening day is gonna have me going to bed at old person times.”

“It’s nearly midnight,” Urbosa reminded her.

“Yup, old person times. Night!”

Impa followed her out of the dressing room with a nod, only rolling her eyes a little bit at her sister.

Zelda turned from them to find Urbosa handing her the pile of street clothes she’d left folded on her own vanity that morning. It seemed like weeks ago she’d last worn those.

“Thanks,” Zelda said, taking them and turning away again to slip into the sports bra, tank top, and shorts that she so dearly missed throughout the long day.

“Listen I--”

Whatever confession Urbosa was about to offer was cut short by her phone ringing. Loudly. At least the ringtone was a very catchy little Gerudo tune.

She picked up the phone, and listened to whoever was talking on the other end of it for a while. Nearly a minute, actually, before saying, “Stop that. Don’t panic. It’s just a flat tire. I’ll be right there.”

“The parking lot strikes again?” Zelda commented from her own vanity as she sat to take her own makeup off.

Urbosa shook her head and hung up on whoever she was talking to before sticking her phone back into the oversized purse it had come from. “Apparently. My niece Riju, you know, the one I introduced you to last week? She’s selling her sand seal plushies here this year. She’s got a flat out there. She just turned sixteen. She doesn’t know what to do. Don’t they teach that in driver’s ed anymore?”

Zelda laughed at that. “I panicked and called my dad the first time I got a flat. It’s okay. Go help her. I can close up here.”

Urbosa looked as though she didn’t want to take that answer, but looked over at her purse again, then toward the door.

“You’ll call me when you get home?” Urbosa requested.

“I’ve been the last to leave many times before, Urbosa. But I’ll call you if you feel like playing mama bear tonight,” Zelda offered. “I still have to steam that dress anyway. You know how long that takes. You’ll probably have that tire changed well before I’m done.”

The phone in Urbosa’s purse rang yet again to prove a point.

She sighed again, but picked up the purse. “If you forget to call me, I’m calling the cops,” she warned Zelda as she left.

“Love you too,” Zelda called after her.

In all honesty, she liked being alone at the faire. And she wasn’t all that alone. There were still grounds crew out there, cleaning up the mess the guests left behind. They were the ones that actually closed up the faire for the night to the tune of locking the gates. And they’d be here until the early hours of the morning.

But until then, there was the eerie emptiness of a place meant to hold a lot of people. That should have scared her, but it didn’t. It felt fitting. The ruins in which the faire was held had this time to just be ruins again. Quiet, enduring, full of mystery.

Was it weird that Zelda wanted to be among that? Maybe. Not as weird as wearing cowboy boots as casual footwear, though.

Zelda used the time she spent steaming out her princess dress and hanging it back up precisely the way that Purah had instructed to think up how she could succinctly apologize to Link. Each time, her thoughts just spiraled and spiraled. How could she even explain herself without giving him her life story?

He wouldn’t want to hear it. She was a mess. He could do no wrong. He couldn’t possibly relate.

Fine. She’d let him just go on silently hating her, trying to get rid of her or whatever he’d promised her father he’d do. Zelda resolved that it was a useless endeavor by the time the dress was devoid of wrinkles. She’d just try to be less shitty to him tomorrow. That would have to be good enough.

It was late enough when she left that she only spotted one groundskeeper on her way to the parking lot. She’d given him a little wave, but he didn’t wave back. Probably didn’t see her.

That was fine. She’d been seen enough that day. Too much.

And while the parking lot was indeed dark, her car was still easy enough to find, even without clicking the remote to unlock it. There were only a handful left that weren’t permanent fixtures like horse trailers and a handful of trucks and cargo vans belonging to vendors. Hers was the only white sedan among them, at least. Even Urbosa, her minivan, and her niece were nowhere to be found.

Zelda, for her part, didn’t feel the need to pay all that much attention to the night. She was on her phone, searching up the hours for her beloved pizza place to see if there was any chance it was still open. She’d hardly eaten all day and was starving, and that sounded much better than stopping by the drive thru on her way home.

So the last thing she expected was for a gloved hand to block her view of the screen as it pulled her head back. Nor did she expect a knife to be held to her throat.

“Scream and I’ll kill you,” a voice threatened directly into her ear.

She dropped her phone. Her keys.

This was real. This was actually real. Someone was holding her mouth shut and had a knife on her, sharp enough she could feel the edge just beginning to bite painfully into her neck.

And she was so shocked that she couldn’t even scream if she wanted to.

Hands grabbed her hands, pulling them back, wrapping something around them. It tightened uncomfortably around her wrist, but not all the way.

Not all the way, because whoever it was was startled by a scream from behind them.

A battle cry that Zelda knew, even if she’d never actually heard the voice behind it speak.

She turned her head to follow it to find Link charging at them in just a pair of cargo shorts and nothing else. Not even shoes. Not a single cowboy boot to be found.

But he had her attacker on the ground faster than she could even process. The knife was slapped away from her throat and kicked across the gravel of the parking lot, clinking away into the darkness.

Zip tie. It was a zip tie on her wrists. What the fuck? What the absolute fuck?

Zelda pulled it off and tried to figure out where her phone went.

“I’m calling the police!” she shouted as she searched over the sounds of Link struggling with her attacker.

Her attacker, who was wearing a red and black hoodie and a black ski mask. She tried to remember this so she could tell someone and be useful, but this was all happening so fast. Link had him on the ground one second, then aimed a punch at his temple that he dodged. Then the next second he was up and running, and Zelda still hadn’t found her fucking phone.

By the time she did, under the rear bumper of her car, with the screen now slightly cracked, he was gone. He was gone and Link was left panting, shirtless, and staring at her. A thin cut on his forehead dripped blood onto his cheek. The gravel hadn’t been kind to his knees either, and had left them bloody too. But other than that, he was alright.

And so was she. Thanks to him.

“Are you hurt?” was the first thing Link ever said to her.

His voice was soft and gentle, like he was talking to a frightened animal.

Well, he was.

For once, Zelda had nothing to say in return. Nothing she could say. Shock still rippled through her system, threatening to make her weak in the knees as the resolve of finding her phone and doing something about it left her.

She just shook her head.

[mypoisonedvine]

Hi hello I keep thinking about somnophilia with Zemo mix in some breeding kink and hnnng

mannn I wanna make this as dark as possible so we're gonna get wild with this one... warnings for noncon (somnophilia, duh), drugging, breeding kink, brief reference to abortion, implied kidnapping/forced marriage and zemo being The Worst

You really should've known better than to accept a drink that Baron Helmut Zemo offered you.

But, in your defense, it seemed like a peace offering at the time, and you were trying to be a good teammate to Sam and Bucky by tolerating this guy even though he gave you the creeps.

"Cherry blossom tea?" he proposed as he extended a mug to you, the dark pink liquid inside steaming and warming your face.

"Thank you," you nodded, trying to ignore the way your fingers brushed over his when you took the drink from his hands.

The drug wasn't fast-acting, because that wasn't what it was meant for. It was meant to keep you sedated through almost any stimulation, but to pass through your system undetected; to you, it would seem like a normal night of sleep.

In fact, it almost looked like normal sleep when Zemo snuck into your room that night, making him almost worry that it hadn't taken effect. Except, of course, that he trusted the chemistry and he suspected that he couldn't have even opened your bedroom door without waking you if you were unaffected. He just worried simply because the stakes were so high if he got caught.

A small part of him almost wanted to get caught, though, even if he knew Sam or James wouldn't hesitate to kill him if they found him using you in this way. Honestly, even if you were alert and consenting they would probably still kill him for it. But it might be fun to watch them realise what he had done to you.

And you... if you knew the ways he was going to defile you, you would be horrified. And as gratifying as that could be to some, the truth was that the Baron would rather see you submit than struggle. He longed to see your smile, to feel your touch and return it in a way that was wanted. But, knowing that was impossible, he had to resort to other means.

Further, he had purpose for you far beyond gratification. See, after careful consideration, Helmut had realized that you would be the perfect candidate to carry a new heir. And even in a world where he could seduce you, he certainly couldn't get you to be bred willingly. No, his best bet was to impregnate you now, secretly, and do his best to make sure that by the time you found out, you were too attached to terminate. Or, perhaps, too imprisoned to be able to do anything but become his new and unwilling-but-convincable Baroness.

Of course, if he wanted to be especially inconspicuous, he could artificially inseminate you. But the natural way was going to be a lot more fun.

He slipped into bed with you, absorbed the warmth of you as he held your pliant body in his arms. You were distinctly and firmly unconscious, your breathing steady and your heartbeat strong if slow. He surprised himself with the way he was drawn to your sleeping form, to the neutral expression on your face. He was so used to seeing you scowl or glare at him, it was nice to see you like this.

"Draga," he mumbled to you as he pulled you closer, rolling you onto your back and finding a place between your legs. You only slept in a sports bra and underwear, a sight that had him hard in an instant even before he began to carefully undress you.

With your body fully exposed to him, he found you already a bit wet and wondered if you'd had a filthy dream earlier in the night... or if you'd been having naughty thoughts during the day. Honestly, with the way you acted so shy and anxious around him, he sort of suspected your disdain for him was not based only in fear but in an arousal that you hated. But he couldn't blame you... you were attracted to power. You knew he had that, and you couldn't forget it.

He slowly rubbed your clit with his thumb, watching you sleep soundly beneath him, feeling your cunt get warmer and wetter by the second. Two fingers into your channel made him force his eyes shut with a sigh to try to compose himself.

"You're tight, darling," he hissed into the silent air of the night. "Fuck, I hope I'll fit. If I hurt you too much you'll wake up sore tomorrow, and we can't have you fighting out about little baby Zemo until you're too far along for the pill, yes?"

Obviously, he didn't need to talk at all during this... but it sort of came naturally. It was nice to speak to you uninterrupted, for once.

"I'm going to get you ready for me, I'll be delicate with you, draga," he promised in a groan, twisting his fingers within you. "Believe it or not, I really have no desire to hurt you."

Your body shifted slightly and his heart raced for a second at the idea that you might be waking up. But instead you stayed asleep, though your mouth fell slack into a little sigh.

"Oh, can you feel it? Even in your sleep?" he wondered aloud with a smirk. "You like how my fingers feel inside you..."

He curled them again and another sleepy moan left you.

"I need to fuck you. I need to hear you moan for my cock," he grunted as he bent down and positioned himself at your entrance. Just pressing against you was nearly overwhelming, you were so warm he could hardly stand it. He couldn't even remember the last time he had been inside a woman... it would've been his wife, all those years ago, and the memory was so distant that it felt like trying to remember a dream.

But you were here, you were alive, you were real. And as he pushed his hips forward, he couldn't help but moan because you felt like heaven.

"Fuck," he hissed, looking down and seeing your eyes almost flutter, hearing you whimper slightly. "It won't be long, draga, I need to finish inside you. But I wish it could last forever..."

Considering the way your body responded to him so eagerly, considering how many years he had been alone and celibate even to the most innocent of touches, considering how quickly he had become enamored with you despite your clear hatred for him, it was a wonder he lasted as long as he did, but it was definitely not anywhere near forever. He held you close and kissed you everywhere he could reach, burying his face in the crook of your neck and breathing the warm, sweet scent of you until he was pumping every drop as deep into you as he could go. Once he was sure you were full to the brim, he still stayed within you for quite some time... after all, he had nowhere else he needed to be, and nowhere he wanted to be more than holding you.

When he pulled out, finally, after what must have been hours, he dressed you again and tried to erase what evidence he could of his presence.

Of course, his come leaking out of you was a pretty strong piece of evidence, but he had a plan for that.

"You had a dream," he whispered to you, indulging himself in softly kissing your ear, "about the Baron. Maybe you want to pretend that you don't know why, but you do. The dream left you so wet and desperate that you made this precious little mess in your panties, that's all, nothing else."

...hey, I never said it was a good plan, but it was still the only one he had.

He left your room as quietly as he entered it, making a quick stop by the kitchen to thoroughly wash the mug you had used for your tea, lest you suspect something and take the time to test it somehow.

But the way your eyes dodged him the next morning, the way you were suddenly all out of snide remarks and sickened glares, made it clear that you really had dreamed of him. Maybe you dreamed of him even before he entered your room, but he would never know that for sure.

What he did know for sure was that even if the chances were somewhat slim that you were carrying his heir, he was going to take you for himself the absolute second that he had the chance, and make absolutely sure that you were. You were going to make a lovely wife, once you realised he was never going to let you go.

[robininthelabyrinth]

🧿🤠🐇🍲🍯: Lan Wangji does not think it’s safe to raise A-Yuan in Cloud Recesses after the Lans participated in the killing of his zhiji and the entire Burial Mounds community (or more accurately that it’s not safe while he himself is in seclusion and can’t watch over A-Yuan, at least) so he delivers A-Yuan to the one person who he knows did not stand against Wei Wuxian (and got away with it, bc this person has never stood against anything, since standing takes effort): Nie Huaisang.

Little Side Door - ao3

Nie Huaisang’s rooms in the Unclean Realm had a little side door that no one but him ever used.

They hadn’t originally. The Unclean Realm was a fortress, designed to maximize protection and defense; there was no better place for keeping things safe by locking them away. While it had its fair share of boltholes and escape routes, they were not common and universally difficult to access lest the enemy learn of them and use them to their advantage. Even the layout of their open spaces were carefully planned lest the attack come from the sky, a concern that only cultivators had, and not about how they themselves could escape – after all, weren’t they all Nie, ready to die rather than endure dishonor?

The little side door that led to Nie Huaisang’s room opened onto a small rock garden, left to grow wild with weeds rather than reveal its presence to more people. It existed only because his brother had ordered it constructed by those he trusted most, all in secret in the dark of the night. He had never explained why he had gone to such lengths to create such an unwelcome and inauspicious place, but then, he hadn’t needed to – Nie Huaisang had been there, too, when his father had descended into madness and they had been trapped in the familial quarters with no way out that did not take them through him. If his brother had been the one to brave his father’s rage directly, Nie Huaisang had been the one stuck in a small space that was only not claustrophobic because it was so painfully familiar.

Now, though his father was long dead and gone, Nie Huaisang had a little side door.

A little side door, and a little garden that almost no one knew about; in combination with the saber that his brother forced him to learn and the golden core he had so begrudgingly formed, he now had a way to reach the sky and the illusive freedom it represented – the freedom to flee and leave his home behind.

If it ever happens again – his brother had said once, the closest he had ever come to speaking of it.

He did not finish his sentence, as Nie Huaisang had thrown his plate into his face and stormed off, steaming mad and close to tears. He did not raise the subject a second time.

Nie Huaisang did not often use his little side door.

Although he enjoyed gardens, he preferred the aviary he’d constructed, or one of the myriad of well-tended gardens in the main part of the sect; even the vegetable gardens out back beside the kitchens were far more welcoming than that sparse straggle of land. He’d only ever spent time there when he was a child and in desperate need of some quiet, wanting to avoid adults with their arguments and their miseries; he’d taken some friends there because he thought it might impress them, but it hadn’t, and anyway his brother had put a stop to that soon enough.

He didn’t even think about the little side door, most days. It was just a part of the room, a small tucked away corner with nothing in it. Nothing to think about.

And then, of course, years after he’d put it out of his mind entirely, there came a terrible banging noise at that little side door, like someone was kicking at it furiously from the outside.

Nie Huaisang nearly fell over sideways in his scramble to get up, and then once again when he realized where the noise was coming from – almost no one knew about his side door and its little garden, and so no one had ever come to him through it. Who would be knocking now…?

He opened it.

Lan Wangji, white robes stained with blood and cheeks bright with fever, shoved something into his arms. “You have a child now,” he said through bitten lips. “Congratulations. He is called A-Yuan. I entrust you with his care, for my sect cannot be trusted with it.”

And then he turned and staggered away, mounting up on Bichen and flying off before Nie Huaisang could say anything – before he could even finish searching his memories and recalling that yes, in fact, Lan Wangji had been one of the friends he had shown the side door to, years and years before, and thus knew how to find it. Before he could even start processing the thousands of thoughts that had spring to life, fully formed, at all the information he’d just received: the bloody robes, the desperation, the reference to the Lan sect – the Lan sect! – being somehow untrustworthy…

He looked down at his arms.

“Congratulations,” he echoed blankly. “I have a child now.”

The child blinked up at him, and then smiled.

-

“Da-ge!” Nie Husiang howled, rushing into the sect leader’s study where his brother was doing work – luckily it wasn’t receiving hours and he wasn’t in the main hall, as that would have been unfortunate. “Da-ge, you have to help me! I have a child now!”

His brother stared at him, expression blank and mouth slightly agape. The brush in his hand dripping ink onto a now-wasted piece of paper.

“Huaisang,” he said after a moment. “What the fuck.”

Nie Huaisang nodded furiously.

“Where did you get – how – who – what did you do?!”

“I am currently unable to disclose any details,” Nie Huaisang said promptly even as his brother tossed aside the brush and got up, striding over with a storm brewing in his face. “All I can say is that I have to raise this child now. By which I mean, you have to help me raise this child now; I can’t raise children! I’m not mature enough to raise a child!”

“No kidding! Why would someone entrust – to you…” Nie Mingjue trailed off, looking down at the child with a frown that shifted from disbelieving irritation to concern. He pressed his hand to the child’s forehead. “Huaisang, this child has a high fever. We need to get him to the medical wing at once – is that blood?”

“Not his, I don’t think?”

“I don’t want to know,” his brother decided. “Move.”

Some time later, they were both sitting next to the bed in one of the spare rooms in the family quarters; Nie Huaisang thought it might even have been the same one that he’d used when he was very young. A-Yuan was sleeping, and Nie Mingjue was still holding his little hand in his own, having been clocked as the oversize comfort animal that he not-so-secretly was from the very first moment A-Yuan laid eyes on him.

The doctors had declared A-Yuan’s fever to be very severe, but they had applied plenty of medicine – the Lan sect might have more esoteric healing techniques, but there wasn’t anything like the Nie sect when it came to standard medicine for injuries and illnesses associated with the battlefield, and despite A-Yuan’s tender age Nie Huaisang would be willing to bet that his injuries were from a battlefield. They were confident that A-Yuan would make a full recovery, body and mind both intact, although they warned that his memory of the past might be impacted.

Nie Huaisang had thought about all that blood that wasn’t his, of Lan Wangji pale-faced and wild-eyed, and decided that a little bit of forgetting might not be so bad after all.

“Are you going to tell me anything more,” his brother said after a while. “Or should I just give up now?”

Nie Huaisang leaned over and patted his knee. “It’s good that you know your limitations.”

His brother rolled his eyes.

“I can’t believe this is my life,” he remarked.

“What part?” Nie Huaisang asked, curious. “The fact that we have a kid now, because obviously we’re keeping him? Or the fact that someone gave a kid to me?”

“Both,” his brother decided. “Definitely both.”

-

“His name’s A-Yuan,” Nie Huaisang said. “Apparently.”

“Well,” his brother said. “Obviously that won’t do.”

-

Nie Huaisang had the ability to be sneaky when he wanted to be. It wasn’t a matter of stealth, he had explained to his brother, but sneakiness– a completely different concept. Stealth suggested that he was doing something to conceal himself and required skills and talent, or else a lot of practice, and obviously Nie Huaisang was not going to go in for either of those.

Sneakiness, though…

He didn’t need people not to be able to see him in order to be sneaky. He just needed them not to care about him, or wonder where he was.

“Psst,” he said, knocking on the window to the rooms where Lan Wangji was purportedly practicing seclusion. “Psst! Lan Zhan!”

Lan Wangji had given him a child. They were definitely past the ‘Lan-er-gongzi’ stage.

“Lan Zhan!” he rapped at the window with his fan. “We need a courtesy name!”

There was some sounds from within the jingshi, mostly stumbling around. Nie Huaisang waited patiently, and after a few moments the window opened and Lan Wangji stared out at him. He was as pale as a ghost with lips as red as blood, and very clearly not in seclusion at all, but rather in the midst of healing whatever wounds had left him bloody – he probably shouldn’t have gotten out of bed to answer.

Oh, well. Too late for regret now.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Lan Wangji said, voice dull and eyes blank as he stared at Nie Huaisang. It was unclear if he meant in the Cloud Recesses generally, or here in particular, interrupting his ‘seclusion’.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Nie Huaisang said, scowling at him. “We need a courtesy name! A courtesy name for the child, you hear me? You know, of course, that Qinghe Nie don’t use personal names, not even for children – certainlynot for children older than their first year. It’d be a complete giveaway that he’s not organically ours if we call him something like A-Yuan.”

Lan Wangji raised a hand to pinch his nose. “Please go away.”

“Courtesy name, Lan Zhan. I mean, I may be the one who’ll be raising him, but please think carefully: do you really want meto be the one naming him?”

“…call him Sizhui.”

“Sizhui,” Nie Huaisang repeated. “With the characters…?”

Lan Wangji nodded.

“Uh, no,” Nie Huaisang said. “I need a bettercourtesy name. Are you joking?”

“Nie Huaisang. Go away.”

“But –”

Lan Wangji slammed the window shut.

“…fine,” Nie Huaisang said to the closed window. “Be that way, see if I care. Not like we don’t need to build up a decent coparenting relationship or anything eventually.”

He thought he heard a choking sound from behind the door and smirked.

“Don’t you think you can baby-trap me and just walk away, Lan Zhan,” he said in his best ominous tone. “If you wanted someone to raise your kid without ever consulting you again, you should’ve dropped him off in the Lotus Pier with Jiang Cheng, who’d probably be too busy being confused to even question where he came frome – but no. You came to me. I don’t make decisions in the best of times, least of all good. I have questions. A lot of questions.”

He thought about it for a moment.

“Not about how you got him or anything like that,” he said. “I’m not stupid, I can tell a secret when I see one. But, you know, other types of questions. Parenting stuff. Are you a ‘go sit and think about what you’ve done’ sort of parent? Or more traditional discipline, with copying lines and occasionally strikes when they’re naughty? Do you want him to learn the Lan sect rules along with the Nie sect principles –”

There was a muffled sound from inside the house.

It sounded angry.

“…we can talk about it later,” Nie Huaisang decided. He might’ve pushed his luck a bit too much. “Talk later!”

-

“You have a…what?” Lan Xichen asked, his smile a little fixed and stare a little wilder than normal.

“A nephew!” Nie Mingjue gushed. “Isn’t he wonderful?”

“Nephew.”

“He’s so well behaved, too! He plays quietly by himself most of the time, drawing and even writing a little, and Huaisang’s already teaching him how to play the dizi –”

“When you say nephew, do you mean Nie Huaisang’s child?”

“Do I have other brothers?” Nie Mingjue rolled his eyes at him. “He’s obviously not yours. Anyway, I know Meng Yao is expecting one, too, but he wouldn’t be dressed in Nie colors if it was his, would it?”

“Yes, but…are you telling me that…that Nie Huaisang…”

“It’s a battlefield child, Xichen,” Nie Mingjue said patiently. “Obviously. Someone entrusted him to Huaisang.”

“Oh,” Lan Xichen said, looking relieved. “Yes, that makes more sense…wait.”

Nie Mingjue waited.

“Someone entrusted him to Nie Huaisang?”

“I know, right?” Nie Mingjue said, and Lan Xichen didn’t notice how strained his grin had suddenly become, or how thoughtful his eyes were as he surveyed Lan Xichen as if trying to find an answer to a question. “I would’ve assumed they’d go for someone more responsible, like you. Guess you never know…”

“I guess you don’t,” Lan Xichen agreed, looking down at the child with a bemused expression. A battlefield child, entrusted to Nie Huaisang… “They must have been truly driven to desperation.”

“Perhaps,” Nie Mingjue said, and then changed the subject to little Nie Sizhui’s accomplishments, of which he could list many at great length and very great enthusiasm. By the time he was done with that, Ln Xichen was so overwhelmed that he didn’t ask a single other question.

-

“So I’ve got an idea on how to do this whole co-parenting thing,” Nie Huaisang said, cracking nuts to eat. He was sitting next to Lan Wangji’s bedside, and dropping the shells straight on the floor, too, staring dead-eyed at Lan Wangji as if daring him to say something – which he wouldn’t, of course. “Since with Sizhui starting classes soon it’s become much more urgent, on account of me needing you to attend meetings with his teachers and discuss his progress.”

Lan Wangji looked deeply long-suffering. He’d only invited Nie Huaisang inside because Nie Huaisang had threatened to start shouting out his business loudly on account of oh but Lan Zhan, how was I to know if you could hear me in there, I just had to raise my voice just in case because I wouldn’t want you to miss any of the extremelyimportant news –

It was all Lan Wangji’s fault for being born earlier than Nie Huaisang, Nie Huaisang thought virtuously. It was merely Nie Huaisang’s lot in life to fulfill the role of annoying younger brother to everyone.

“See, it’s the music,” Nie Huaisang continued. “You do music, right?”

Lan Wangji’s ice-cold glare suggested that he did, in fact, ‘do music’.

“So your brother has been playing this song for da-ge on a regular basis,” Nie Huaisang explained, ignoring the glare entirely. “And when he’s not available, which is most of the time nowadays, he’s been sending san-ge instead. Even though, of course, poor san-ge’s so busy back at Lanling all the time…ughh, it’s so unfair, you know! Poor san-ge has to do all the work of being the heir and gets none of the benefits, and they pile even more work on him on top of that – really, he gets no respect.”

Lan Wangji’s expression suggested he didn’t care.

“And think about the inconvenience to us!” Nie Huaisang sallied forth, undeterred. “People coming and going all the time, da-ge having to interrupt his schedule of spending quality time with me and Sizhui – and sect leader work, of course, though that’s less important – in order to march over to greet them and host them and listen to them…what a pain it is!”

Lan Wangji appeared on the verge of suggesting that Nie Huaisang consider getting to the point.

“So you should come do it instead.”

Lan Wangji’s expression cracked, suggesting that Nie Huaisang had actually managed to make an impact.

“You remember,” he said, voice low and a little hoarse from all that refusing to speak he’d been doing. Really, if Nie Huaisang wasn’t around to goad him into it, he might’ve lost the voice entirely – he didn’t even have little Sizhui around to force him to speak! “That I’m in seclusion. Right?”

“You’re horribly lonely is what you are,” Nie Huisang said briskly. “You require company. Therefore, coming to take up a semi-permanent posting in the Unclean Realm to play the Song of Clarity for my brother morning, noon, and night is clearly the finest way to solve all of our problems, and for you to see little Sizhui as often as you like.”

Lan Wangji visibly wavered. “My brother,” he said, then coughed. “My brother will never believe it.”

“That’s your problem,” Nie Huaisang said. “Find a way to sell it.”

He stood, shaking the remaining shells onto the chair.

“See you in Qinghe soon, Lan Zhan..!”

Lan Wangji was trying to kill him with his mind, Nie Huaisang thought happily as he wandered off with a whistle and a vaguely silly expression. Good – he’d been inside for too long. He needed the stimulation.

-

“Truly,” Nie Mingjue remarked, strolling around their gardens without any apparent notice of the small child perched on his shoulders, giggling wildly at the feeling of being tall, “I feel far better than I did before! One can scarcely compare it – night and day, really. Your Lan sect’s Song of Clarity is a marvel, even if it does take a while before it kicks in.”

“Mm,” Lan Wangji said, walking slowly with his hands behind his back. He was still unsteady on his feet on account of the absolutely horrific injuries he’d incurred – but if the Lan sect’s response to everything was seclusion, seclusion, seclusion, then the Nie sect’s equivalent response was exercise. These little excursions through the gardens were the result.

Thus far, they were still only doing laps around the main gardens, but Nie Huaisang had plans to eventually force Lan Wangji to go even as far as his own little side garden. He’d made it through his side door once, after all; why not a second time..?

At any rate, Nie Huaisang still wasn’t quite sure how Lan Wangji had talked Lan Xichen into allowing him to come to the Unclean Realm, but it really did make the whole co-parenting business a lot more convenient. And his brother had had so much fun making Lan Wangji stiff and awkward over all his thanks and praise for his decision to come ‘help out’ with Nie Sizhui’s raising until finally, at last, Nie Huaisang had taken pity and revealed that Nie Mingjue knew perfectly well whose battlefield child this was.

Both in terms of who had gifted him to Nie Huaisang, and who’d adopted him originally, and of course even his original surname – The little tot’s been through enough adoptions to make anyone’s head spin, his brother had said, his voice gruff as always. There’s no point in thinking back too far, is there?

Lan Wangji had been very relieved.

“Run, bobo!” Nie Sizhui cried, pointing over at a bird. “We need to get it for Sang-gege!”

Nie Mingjue snorted like a bull but obediently quickened his feet and left the rest of them behind, heading in full charge straight at the wild pheasant that was far more likely to end up on Nie Huaisang’s plate than in his aviary. It was about even odds which one Nie Sizhui meant, anyway.

“Nie Huaisang,” Lan Wangji said, his voice low, and Nie Huaisang looked at him. “The Song of Clarity does not take time to work. These effects should have happened at once.”

Nie Huaisang opened his fan, hiding his face as he frowned. “How odd,” he said. “And after san-ge put in all that hard work.”

“Perhaps he played it wrong.”

“Odd,” Nie Huaisang said again. “When san-ge gets so very little wrong…has your brother sent any word on the Xue Yang issue?”

“…he has not.”

“He’s going to need to pick a side eventually.”

“He does not want to make things difficult for his sworn brother.”

“Does he have only the one?” Nie Huaisang asked archly, and Lan Wangji averted his gaze. “It’s awkward for us if he doesn’t back us, and is a bad look besides…truly, it’s a wonder that san-ge managed to squeeze out the time to come here.”

Lan Wangji’s frown deepened. “Indeed,” he said. “One would think his father might be tempted to stop him.”

“Wouldn’t you just?” Nie Huaisang said. “Wouldn’t you just…you know, maybe when you’re feeling better, we should go visit Lanling ourselves.”

Lan Wangji glanced at him, arching an eyebrow, and Nie Huaisang smiled, fanning himself casually.

“I’m not the only one with a little side door,” he said. “Let’s go knocking and see what we find, shall we?”

[slashingdisneypasta]

Jack Bass x Younger!Reader || Oneshot

Title: Bass's.

Notes:

I have no idea when this is supposed to be set. Just go with it.

I have two things to say about Jack in this gif, though. 1. Does he not know how to carry a tray. And 2. I love this statement, here. Its like 'Bart's Dead, Chuck. I can barely contain my joy, Chuck. Its taking all my willpower, Chuck, to keep a monotonous expression. Also Chuck I am carrying a tray, do you see this?'

Plot: Bart Bass decides to be his creepy fucking self (Not that Jack is exponentially better in any way but whatever) towards you, Chuck's best friend- but thankfully, Jack accidentally walks in on the scene and gives you a get out of jail free card.

Good old 'lesser of two evils' shit. I love stuff like that.

Warnings: BART BASS being predatory, and a bit of age difference (You and Jack. I'm going by actors ages though so there's only a, like, 11 year age gap between him and Chuck which is not that bad if you ask me). Sexual references.

~~~

Chuck looks from his phone, that's flashing Blairs name, to you and your big, wide eyes and lips mouthing 'Don't you dare', then to his father quietly tapping away on his phone on the couch a few feet away... then back at his phone.

"Charles- " You hiss, prepared to threaten his very existence but he cuts you off first- slipping off the bar stool beside you and heading for the hallway.

"I'm going to go to the bathroom."

Why am I friends with him again!? You think, but stay quiet and hope that Bart doesn't realise that you're back there despite having said hello to you earlier when he came in. You think, if you stay quiet like a mouse, he will forget your existence and keep texting until Chuck gets back- although, who knows how long he and Blair can go on for.

Depends what its about, honestly. If its about revenge or espionage... well, the conversation could last quite some time.

Should I just leave?

The impulse to run away is a strong one, as you sit there with your cheeks heating up and you start to feel nauseated. You never liked Bart Bass, from the moment you met him. Before that, actually. You had heard Chuck talking about him to Nate before you even became friends with them, and none of what you heard was good. And then you did meet him, one day when Chuck invited you over to do a school project. Or 'school project' as he so obnoxiously put it. You really did end up just doing a school project, though. Hence your friendship nowadays. Bart was creepy towards you even then, at 16 with terribly died hair and the wrong eyeshadow.

You've been very careful since then to never be alone with him like this. You would talk to him at parties if you were forced to, say hello to him when Chuck had you at his place and the man walked by, but that is the extent of your communication with the creep. Always, always, someone would be around. Chuck, mostly. But also staff, or Nate, or random fundraiser ladies, or Jack who Chuck the bastard never left alone with all willy-nilly like this, unfortunately, or Lily, or literally anyone else possible on the earth.

You've even hidden away in the men's bathroom, which is disgusting no matter how expensive the restaurant, with Nate before to get away from this man when Chuck once ditched you both at a dinner with him. And that's the story of how you got your first kiss, too, and it was from Nate Archibald. Hell yes.

That's how much this man makes you want to grab your bag and flee.

But you don't. You stay glued to your seat, super still, listening only to the tap-tap-tapping noises that Bart makes and the bump-bump-bump noises your heart is making right into your throbbing ears.

Until it stops.

Not the bump-bump-bumping, oh no. The tapping. And, nightmarishly, it's replaced by a groan and footsteps coming towards your turned back.

"Y/N," As soon as he says your name, his hands fall on your your shoulders and you literally jump under his touch. Shit- Shit- Fuck- what's happening- "I've been meaning to speak with you recently but Chuck- ah. Well you know him. He refused to share with me your telephone number. But I knew you'd turn up here at some point, so not to worry."

"Uh... right." You cant even force yourself to be your normal, cheery, polite self in this position. You just want him to get. off. of. you.

"Did you want a drink?" He asks, in that possibly cheery (But only because its slightly louder then his usual husk level) but mostly still scary voice he uses to convey emotion, letting go of you thankfully and rounding to the other side of the bar. You shake your head, though. He raises his brows, picking out a scotch for himself. "You don't drink? Shocking, seeing as you're friends with my son."

Oh I drink. You think, giving him a shrug. Just not in situations like this one. Also, what must he think of Chuck? Jesus Christ. For sure, your boy likes debauchery but what's wrong with that?

"Well, I like that." Bart pauses before pouring his drink, to appreciate you. "Mature."

Damn it. It makes your skin absolutely crawl.

"So... " You take a deep breath, tucking your hair back behind your ears rather then ruffling it back like you usually would to get it out of your face- lest that be recognised as some kind of extremely subtle form of flirting. God, fear makes you think weird things. "What did you want to discuss?"

"Oh- Just, your future. Where are you going to school? Will you be sticking close to us?"

Us? US? No, I'll be far far away, from you.

You don't really want to tell Bart where you're going to be going to school, because in your fear addled brain you know that that will just lead to 'Which campus?', or 'Where will you be staying?' and you really don't want it to go there.

You're just taking another, shakier deep breath, when the front door of the apartment opens and shuts loudly and set of feet trample down the hallway towards you. Immediately total relief plashes over you and you wipe your face. Oh, thank god.

Jack Bass appears in the doorway to the living room, looking as put-together yet somehow simultaneously still totally relaxed, as always, and forces aa polite smile onto his handsome face. "Brother. Y/N? Its good to see you."

You have no idea. "Good to see you too Jack. Uh- Chuck's in the bathroom."

"Thanks. For that... enlightening, information, Y/N. I needed that." You cheeks flare up in embarrassment, but ultimately you just roll your eyes as Jack flashes you a subtle wink, and turns promptly to his - much, - older brother. "Bart."

The older brother in question looks less then pleased at his baby brothers appearance in his home. Right now. And he possibly isn't thrilled about that little wink, either. Like you two are in on some kind of joke together. "Jack... What are you doing here?"

"Simmer down, bro. Just visiting." Even you know that that excuse is weak, but anything that comes out Jack's own monotonous voice right now is blessed where you're concerned so you certainly don't say anything. Or make any faces, which would be more appropriate. "Y/N, I don't think Bart-man here's too happy about my presence." Hm, no. You'd have to agree with that observation- not that you've looked up at Bart since Jack came in. You wont risk it. Jack glides through the room with the practised grace of a man who's lived 3 quarters of his life in suits and the other, happier quarter in board shorts, and ends up right next to your chair, an arm resting on the bench in front of you.

If you weren't already so nervous about Bart, you would blush about Jack.

"At least tell me you're glad to see me."

You grin, which is less forced then you thought it would be prior to trying it. Damn, he's good. You think, realising he just swepped in here and made you comfortable in less then 50 words. "Always, 'Uncle Jack'."

"Oh," He groans, like it physically pained him to hear you tease him like that. A tiny smirk even slips through his usually emotionless - well, not emotionless. He has one standing colour, that being sly, - stone statue of a face. "'Uncle Jack'- Please, stop. I'm barely a decade older then you."

That's enough to make anything else possible, inappropriate. Unfortunately. "Hey, I said I'm glad to see you." You wink, a bit sly yourself. "Count your blessings."

His grin widens a bit, like the dangerously charming Cheshire cat-type that he is. Genes that Chuck inherited, clearly, if his track record with girls say anything at all, but that Bart obviously missed out on. "You've got a point."

"She's a remarkable young woman." Bart pipes up, making your stomach tie itself up in knots again, and you immediately revert your gaze to your lap. Remarkable young woman... you want to barf. "Who, I was actually having a conversation with before you burst in here, unannounced." He takes a slow sip of his drink, then mutters. "And uninvited."

"Well that's great." Jack straightens up, clapping his hands together and finally showing his teeth in a smile. They're really freaken white, compared to his skin, deeply tanned by the hot Australian sun. "A visit would be kinda uncomfortable without a conversation; I'll join. I can converse with the best of 'em, Bart. I assure you."

"It was private." The old man sneers, thinking that he's got the upper hand on Jack, and all you can do is hope to god that he's wrong.

Jack turns his head back to look at you, and you meet his gaze tentatively. Your eyes scream, 'Please don't leave me alone with that guy'. He promptly looks back to Bart. "Well Bart why don't we ask the lady in the room what she wants? We are gentlemen here aren't we?" Then Jack makes a face, all crumpled up and unsure, for a moment. "Err. Well actually... 'gentleman' might be a bold faced lie. We'll ask anyway. Y/N! Do you mind if I weigh in here?"

"Not at all." You say quickly, flashing a tiny, thankful smile. He gives you another wink- this time actually subtle. So Bart didn't see it. Your smile gets a little bit bigger, relaxing. He's got you.

"Great." You watch him pull out the stool beside you, that Chuck - who has still not returned from his phone call with Blair. You assume some, likely cruel vengeance must be involved. Possibly involving that Humphrey guy, - had vacated and settles down in it. He then sets his arms firmly on the bench and looks up attentively at Bart, not breaking eye contact with him. Boy these Bass's like their stare downs. "So?" He prompts, expectantly. And a little arrogantly- a Bass speciality that you truly don't mind at all. "What's on the agenda, today?"

Bart glares heatedly, back.

~

Throughout the awkward discussion between the three of you, which your good friend Chuck has yet to return to discover - at this point you're resigned to him having climbed out the window and scaled the building probably, - , Jack constantly, skilfully changes the subject for you whenever Bart rears to close to somewhere uncomfortable. He makes jokes that make you laugh, he nudges you with his elbow at times - but never touches you any more then that, although you honestly wouldn't mind it if he did, - and takes the attention off you a lot. At times you truly thought you saw steam come out of Bart's ears.

When finally Bart gives up and excuses himself, saying he as an early dinner with Lily, you feel exhausted and relieved. After the door swings shut behind him, you cover your face with your hands and deeply sigh.

"So, what was that about? You looked like a trapped mouse. I recognise that look, I invented that look." You pull back slightly from your hands and glance over at him, to see him thoughtful for a moment. "Well, not by making it. By... causing... it... Either way, it was not good." He shakes his head, taking a sip of his own drink - scotch, - that he made Bart pour for him; Raising his eyebrows at you for an explanation over the rim of the glass.

Jack's always been great, like this. Even when he was horrible, he was the lesser of two evils between him and Bart. Good for a laugh and quality eye candy in a pinch- and that counts for a hell of a lot when it comes to surviving Bart Bass and the Upper East Side. And he had the power and pull of an adult, but knew what the hell was going on like one of you.

So he always made you feel at ease.

You ruffle your hair back, and sigh, straightening your back finally from their hunched over position they live in when you're uncomfortable and pushing back your shoulders. "He was just, saying some weird stuff... and Chuck disappeared to talk to Blair." At that, Jack nods in total understanding. Like ah, yeah. Got ya. Finally, you shrug. "He just makes me really uncomfortable. No offence, but I hate your brother."

As you watch Jack's eyes don't even flicker; He's totally on board with what you've said. Then he finishes the rest of his scotch in one gulp. "Ahh- I hate him too."

"As do we all." Chuck's voice suddenly pops up, as he appears in the doorway like Jack had earlier. You have to practice some serious self control so as to not laugh, at Chuck so coincidentally turning up again at the perfect moment to proclaim his hatred for his father. Jack grins back at Chuck coldly, nodding. Yeah. "Anyway, Y/N, I apologise but I'll be having to abandon you. Blair's waiting for me at her, empty, apartment." He pauses for a moment for dramatic effect, in perfect Chuck Bass fashion, and you roll your eyes, grinning. Jack smirks. "But you're welcome to stick around a while and help yourself to the amenities All on my tab, of course. Good to see you again, Jack." Then he pockets his phone and heads toward the door. The second Bass of the day leaves the building.

"Bye, nephew!" Jack waives as the elevator doors close behind Chuck then swiftly turns around back to you, to which you raise your eyebrows. "So, what do we do now?"

"I dunno." Shrugging you grin and turn your stool to angle your legs towards Jack. "When Chuck says those magical words 'All on my tab'," Those words, oh; You speak them with just as much raw, breathy sexual arousal as the man himself would. As the words demand. 'All on my tab'. Good lord, sex if they were words. "I tend to take advantage."

"An easy girl to please; That's what I like to see." Your cheeks flame up at those words out of Jack's mouth as he turns to look down at the room service menu. Yes, Jack Bass has toed the line, between platonic and flirtatious since the very moment you met the man... but that seemed a little bit more then toeing the line.

And you get a far different reaction to him doing it then you do the other Bass brother.

You don't even really mind the implications of his words.

"You're staying back with me?" You ask, feeling hopeful at the idea.

"Yeah well, I cant in, uh, good conscience," He makes a bit of a show to you, of pressing his hand to his chest totally earnestly as those words 'good conscience' come out of his mouth. "leave you here unguarded in case Bart comes back, can I? Besides, the way you said 'All on my tab'- man, you could sell moonshine at an AA meeting with that voice."

"Ha," You laugh, rolling your eyes and shaking your head. "Well, thanks."

"Oh. Don't thank me. You're just using what uh, your mama gave you. I actually encourage you totally, to do that more often- "

"No!" You exclaim, sighing in exasperation; But there is still a smile on your face you cant seem to shake. "For not leaving, today. When you walked in. It would've sucked if you had, not that I would've blamed you at all."

"Hey, just call me your knight in shining armour." He doesn't look up from the menu, flicking through it. Then turns to you with one of those beach boy/politician, toothless grins of his. "Besides you were automatically, my favourite person in the apartment. I mean, anyone with... uhhh- different, appendages to what I have, instantly gets a one-way ticket access to my rare bouts of chivalry. Now come over here, pick out what you want off here."

You just gape at him and that comment, making him stifle a laugh and return to the menu himself.

Bass's.

[edenmemes]

the witcher 3: wild hunt starters

including quotes from the dlcs hearts of stone & blood and wine

❝  you were always an unruly child. i adored that about you.  ❞ ❝  mmm. yes. of course. the excuse you resort to when you’d rather not talk about something.  ❞ ❝  how many have you killed? how many more might you still?  ❞ ❝  you know who i am. and why i’m here.  ❞ ❝  you're a madman and always have been. a cruel, cold-blooded killer.  ❞ ❝  a man should frame his wishes carefully. it forestalls disappointment.  ❞ ❝  no argument. you knew what you were signing up for.  ❞ ❝  maybe once, in a different time...i’d have helped.  ❞ ❝  don’t train alone, it only embeds your errors.  ❞ ❝  wanna get drunk off my ass. and it’s gotta be on cheap wine.  ❞ ❝  you’re a heartless bastard.  ❞ ❝  try to trick me anyway, anyhow, you won’t go anywhere, you know that. ‘cause i’ll take your head off right where it meets your neck.  ❞ ❝  sorry. i don’t want to talk about it. not now, at least.  ❞ ❝  we are more like a family.   we support each other and help each other survive tough moments.  ❞ ❝  so how’s it feel to be the village witch?  ❞ ❝  realize, please, that you were made for great things.  ❞ ❝  folks say a curse has fallen on that place, a dark power brought down by the bestiality of the murders it beheld.  ❞ ❝  so, now you’ve threatened me and all...are you in or are you not?  ❞ ❝  i know it must sound foolish, but in the dream - well, it was all too real...  ❞ ❝  we may not survive this. in fact, our chances are slim.  ❞ ❝  it’s always been about you. only you.  ❞ ❝  i remember finding your sense of humor both groan-worthy...and somehow endearing.  ❞ ❝  kings die, realms fall, but magic endures.  ❞ ❝  i detest banquets. vacuous conversation, food portions fit for a mouse, drinks that taste like piss...  ❞ ❝  despite what you’ve heard, i don’t lunge at every monster i see, sword in hand.  ❞ ❝  each day’s more dangerous than the last.  ❞ ❝  it’s folks like you that restore my faith in humankind.  ❞ ❝  my power lies in possessing knowledge, not sharing it.  ❞ ❝  the rotten smell brings back childhood memories.  ❞ ❝  awfully noble of you, showing so much concern for the needy.  ❞ ❝  no need to thank me. always glad to save your ass. you’re welcome.  ❞ ❝  i may be inhumanely beautiful, but i don’t have super human senses.  ❞ ❝  anyone can be made to talk, even a corpse. one must simply know how.  ❞ ❝  we’ve done the hardest part. only got the pleasant bits now.  ❞ ❝  there are few causes worth saving. even fewer men.  ❞ ❝  don’t treat me like a child.  ❞ ❝  there’s strange men lurking outside the house. watching me.  ❞ ❝  you must be careful what you wish for lest your wish be granted.    for there are consequences.  ❞ ❝  shall i be free of the suffering? the sadness?  ❞ ❝  i wish to gaze into those eyes, eyes the devil would be proud to have.  ❞ ❝  you were born with a great gift. and only you can decide how to use it.  ❞ ❝  any other words of wisdom? or can we go?  ❞ ❝  what i need is an ally. and something tells me i shall find none better than you.  ❞ ❝  i can see no row can occur here without your participation.  ❞ ❝  i and what concerns me have not been a concern of yours for some time now.  ❞ ❝  if you’d not arrived in time, things might have ended considerably worse.  ❞ ❝  if they can bleed, they can die.  ❞ ❝  a man must display some madness from time to time --- it helps him feel alive.  ❞ ❝  i was deeply troubled. you’ve no idea.  ❞ ❝  done that so many times, but...it felt like our first kiss to me.  ❞ ❝  don’t need to play tough on me.  ❞ ❝  i've lost too many mates already. i won’t risk it, i can't.  ❞ ❝  there’s just not enough of us. it’ll be a hard fight.  ❞ ❝  in lonely woods, screams carry long.  ❞ ❝  things used to be simpler.    monsters were bad, humans good.   now, everything’s all confused.  ❞ ❝  as for your missteps --- i don't rightly see why i shouldn't laugh if they're amusing..  ❞ ❝  i’ve no gold to offer you in reward...but i shall be ever so grateful.  ❞ ❝  if you’re scared, turn back. i’m gonna go on.  ❞ ❝  if anything happens, i’ll defend you.  ❞ ❝  once you say "i love you," a kiss has to taste differently.  ❞ ❝  maybe we should sit? you look a bit dazed...  ❞ ❝  drink it off, sleep it off, whatever it takes...just get yourself together and think things        through.  ❞ ❝  i shall join later, if it’s no trouble. i don’t yet feel strong enough to venture out.  ❞ ❝  awake at last. you writhed like a squirrel caught in a snare.  ❞ ❝  again you plan without even asking what i think!  ❞ ❝  come to see how i’m feelin'? thanks, not bad.  ❞ ❝  i remember that day quite well...there was a light drizzle, yet the cold tore right through you.  ❞ ❝  you gotta keep your eyes peeled wide open. someone’s taken an interest in your work.  ❞ ❝  oof...for a minute, i actually thought we were doomed.  ❞ ❝  you shouldn’t worry yourself --- it tarnishes your beauty.  ❞ ❝  i’d even embrace you...were you not covered in blood.  ❞ ❝  guess i could’ve been someone worse...just a shame i had no choice.  ❞ ❝  facts interest me. not fairytales.  ❞ ❝  hm, odd smell. blend of alcohol, blood and monster stench.  ❞ ❝  i’m old and i am wealthy. i may say what i please.  ❞ ❝  now, be so kind and leave me to my thoughts.  ❞ ❝  in your shoes i’d pack it up and go hide somewhere far away.  ❞ ❝  forgive me, but that's the blatherin' of someone who clearly can't snap out of it after a tragic loss.  ❞ ❝  that all you gotta say? i saved your life.  ❞ ❝  i swear on all that is holy: we shall be together forever.  ❞ ❝  think of me as part of the decor.  ❞ ❝  anyone who’s bold enough to fight is already a hero.  ❞ ❝  if this is a trap of some sort...  ❞ ❝  you can count on me, you know? always.  ❞ ❝  you don’t know how much it means...to have someone you can rely on in this fucking city.  ❞ ❝  i know you. you have no heart.  ❞ ❝  no room for friendship in this business.  ❞ ❝  evil is evil. lesser, greater, middling, makes no difference. the degree is arbitrary, the definitions blurred.  ❞ ❝  hands off, or i'll cut them off.  ❞ ❝  i’ll need to clear my head first. after those deranged dreams, i feel it’s full of cobwebs.  ❞ ❝  on your way? or will you stay longer? it’s far safer with you around...  ❞ ❝  really sad story, but something’s not right. got a feeling you’re not telling me everything.  ❞ ❝  gotta admit, there’s something about you. you’re...different.  ❞ ❝  with each arrow i shoot, i think of my dad. he’d be proud, i think.  ❞ ❝  i merely know when to indulge my pride, and when to swallow it.  ❞ ❝  you were born to greatness.  ❞ ❝  these’re dark, grim times. no room for knights pure of heart or happily-ever-afters.  ❞ ❝  a life without liquor’s like loving without licking.  ❞ ❝  my certainty i walk the right path grows strong as iron, firm as steel.  ❞ ❝  few make me feel awkward, but in your presence, i feel anxiety, discomfort.  ❞ ❝  some men have got good reason to fear their own shadows.  ❞ ❝  some men cannot admit defeat. some keep fighting from beyond the grave.  ❞ ❝  stare into their eyes, feast on their terror. then go in for the kill.  ❞ ❝  forget not that you are a person right and honorable, devoted to doing good.  ❞ ❝  ash shall fertilize the soil. by spring, the valley shall bloom once more.  ❞ ❝  there’s lots of wraiths here. i hear them whispering every night.  ❞ ❝  no one has the courage to face this threat! yet we must kill them, or sooner or later we will all die.  ❞ ❝  you are a step away from losing your head. speak the truth and you might yet keep it.  ❞ ❝  you carry within you the weight of a terrible tragedy. you are a good person, but lost. which is why you come across as grim.  ❞ ❝  if i understand you correctly, you would rather help a monster than kill it?  ❞ ❝  discouraged after a mere eight attempts?  ❞ ❝  easier to pat someone on the back and hope things will work out than it is to face the truth.  ❞ ❝  know that they can’t teach an old dog new tricks?  ❞ ❝  my, you’ve grown beautiful.  ❞ ❝  my swords a promise --- if i reach for it, heads will roll.  ❞ ❝  one condition: no one dies. that clear?  ❞ ❝  patience happens to be my weakness. so dispense with the dramatic pauses and talk.  ❞ ❝  you proved today you can take care of yourself.  ❞ ❝  you under the delusion you’ll complete your tasks, live happily ever after?  ❞ ❝  i will not sit and twiddle my thumbs. i'm sick of waiting, sick of hiding!  ❞ ❝  glad you know who i am. haven’t introduced yourself, though.  ❞ ❝  i’ve seen a great deal --- cruelty, cynicism, greed.  ❞ ❝  you tempt fate, because at heart you are unhappy.  ❞ ❝  we had our chance, but...let it go.  ❞ ❝  come now, you didn’t expect it to be that easy, did you?  ❞ ❝  promise me one thing --- you’ll stop risking your life for others.  ❞ ❝  instead of dwelling on the future, i’d rather live in the moment.  ❞ ❝  i adore love stories. especially the ones that end happily ever after.  ❞ ❝  we are drops of rain that together make a ferocious storm.  ❞ ❝  the path to freedom is paved in blood, not ink.  ❞ ❝  we’ll get our happy ending. one day.  ❞ ❝  i’ll never forget what you did for me...and what we had together.  ❞ ❝  don’t meddle in other people’s lives.  ❞ ❝  i don’t get attached to places. just people.  ❞ ❝  it’s dangerous, there are risks involved. understand that, don’t you?  ❞ ❝  and here i hoped someone would finally take pity on me.  ❞ ❝  seen a lot of dead in my time, but that must’ve been hard.  ❞ ❝  air is strange...like dropping into a deep cellar on a hot day...  ❞ ❝  wouldn’t carry a sword if i didn’t know how to use it.  ❞ ❝  take it you didn't summon me to reminisce about the good old days, so...  ❞ ❝  i was attacked --- had to defend myself.  ❞ ❝  guards have never stopped me, you know that.  ❞ ❝  treating the ill and wounded...it’s my calling.  ❞ ❝  you think it’s enchanted?  ❞ ❝  there are times when a woman should simply not explain her decision.  ❞ ❝  won’t find too many comforts, but try to feel at home.  ❞ ❝  i was looking for you...sometimes i thought you were just a step away. other times, i felt like i was going around in circles.  ❞ ❝  i’ll remember you. always with a smile.  ❞ ❝  i’d rather you not make anymore trouble --- for yourself, or us both.  ❞ ❝  got the stench of corpes on you.  ❞ ❝  you stood to gain --- that is why you saved me.  ❞ ❝  sages invariably have hidden agendas. altruism is simply not part of their constitution.  ❞ ❝  the gods have abandoned us. the mighty of this earth care not for our fate.  ❞ ❝  is that admiration i hear in your voice?  ❞ ❝  i started off heading in the opposite direction, but then turned around.  ❞ ❝  i’m fed up. i won’t have others deciding for me behind my back.  ❞ ❝  where’d you get this idea? what’s gotten into you?  ❞ ❝  i don't expect you to commit now. think it over, what you've heard, what you feel.  ❞ ❝  head torn clear off...takes incredible strength.  ❞ ❝  desperate fathers have been known to do a lot to find their daughters.  ❞ ❝  you cannot kill me. you know this...  ❞ ❝  "i give you my heart”? what kind of spell is that?  ❞ ❝  i’d go anywhere with you.  ❞ ❝  why? because i am a woman? in a frock, rather than plate? i can take care of myself, i assure you.  ❞ ❝  everything we discussed here, hope you’ll keep it to yourself. counting on it, in fact.  ❞ ❝  trusted you once. won’t make that mistake again.  ❞ ❝  shut up. i’ve heard enough of your bullshit. draw your weapon, let’s get this over with.  ❞ ❝  exaggerating for effect, right?  ❞ ❝  well, well...when cornered, you can bite.  ❞ ❝  you cannot win...even if you kill me.  ❞ ❝  you know i’m good at accomplishing the impossible.  ❞ ❝  it’s nothing, really. you’d have done the same for me.  ❞ ❝  you are not ready. you do not control your powers.  ❞ ❝  you’re a tool in their hands, even if you don’t see it.  ❞ ❝  i’d do anything for you, i would. you know that well.  ❞ ❝  this is a land where the fantastic is normal, and the impossible occurs daily...  ❞ ❝  know when a legend becomes a prophecy? when it gain believers.  ❞ ❝  i thought you’d become a stranger to me. that i’d look at you and not feel a thing. but it’s not like that at all. nothing’s changed.  ❞ ❝  to be honest, i just wanted to go on a walk with you.  ❞ ❝  what i really want is to be with you, to...to be together and...  ❞ ❝  this is not the kind of offer one refuses.  ❞ ❝  despair devours you like maggots devour a corpse.  ❞ ❝  before long every soul will kneel before you.  ❞ ❝  i run into dilemmas all the time. situations where it's hard to judge, hard to know what's right, make a decision. this is not one of them. you disgust me. and deserve to die.  ❞ ❝  you know me. i’m rare to praise, but when i do, it’s sincere.  ❞ ❝  i'm not a thug for hire.  ❞ ❝  i like being on adventures, sleeping under the stars, waking up with dew on my face.  ❞ ❝  the dream's within reach now. i’m not about to let it go.  ❞ ❝  unlike you, killing gives me no pleasure.  ❞ ❝  can't speak for the world you inhabit, but in mine, nothing is ever black and white.  ❞ ❝  you cannot possibly imagine how much i detest this place.  ❞ ❝  stones you’ve got. but i didn’t think you’d have the stomach for a massacre.  ❞ ❝  the dead man --- looked like a monster attacked him recently.  ❞ ❝  finish all your business before you die. bid loved ones farewell. write your will. apologize to those you’ve wronged. otherwise, you’ll never truly leave this world.  ❞ ❝  i've had nothing but nightmares lately. pretty horrible.  ❞ ❝  i was wandering through the forest, breathing deep the air, and then i heard a strange sound, unsettling.  ❞ ❝  had a few nice dreams. for example, in one we sat around a fire, drinking good wine, and all around people danced and laughed.  ❞ ❝  they’re all dead! mountains of corpses. yet here i stand alone. all alone.  ❞ ❝  this isn’t a game. men have died.  ❞ ❝  if you wanna listen, listen, if not --- i'd rather you spared me your wit and throw me out now.  ❞ ❝  you fed me, cared for me, had my wounds looked after. we're even now.  ❞ ❝  you’ll return, you shall. our fates are bound.  ❞ ❝  i’ve nothing left. not a fucking thing.  ❞ ❝  i don’t question your abilities. i simply don’t trust you.  ❞ ❝  what foolish things men sometimes do.  ❞ ❝  dare harm me, and against you will rise all the powers of nature.  ❞ ❝  did you destroy the evil powers? have you brought peace to my domain?  ❞ ❝  well, perhaps i shall tell you about it one day. one day, but not today..  ❞ ❝  times like these, you never know what tomorrow will bring.  ❞ ❝  you worry too much. what will be, will be.  ❞ ❝  have you gone completely mad? we must leave here at once!  ❞ ❝  time eats away at memories, distorts them. sometimes we only remember the good... sometimes only the bad.  ❞ ❝  you don’t need magic to strip men of their humanity. i’ve seen plenty of examples.  ❞ ❝  if i’m to choose between one evil and another, i’d rather not choose at all.  ❞ ❝  see what i’ve got on my back? wolves fear it. kings do, too.  ❞ ❝  i missed those awkward compliments of yours.  ❞ ❝  sometimes i think it’s all too lovely to be true…that something’s bound to happen, another war or some other horror.  ❞ ❝  took you a while. did you run into trouble?  ❞ ❝  i just travel a lot. and i don't always happen upon such good and civil company.  ❞ ❝  what can you know about saving the world, silly?  ❞ ❝  done my share of fighting. wouldn't carry a sword if i didn't know to use it.  ❞ ❝  all right, perhaps i wasn’t completely honest.  ❞ ❝  ever thought this day would come? me and you...peace and quiet...bees buzzing, birds chirping.  ❞ ❝  i detect a shadow of impatience in your face.  ❞ ❝  took me a long time to find you. wasn't an easy road to travel.  ❞ ❝  wipe that frown off your face, or i might think you don’t like me anymore.  ❞ ❝  always believed attack was the best defense.  ❞ ❝  once it’s all over, if we survive ... i wish to leave, go far away.   and i’d like you to come with me.  ❞ ❝  naturally, you suspect me of the worst. i don’t deserve that.  ❞ ❝  we can fight another time, in another place, where the walls have no ears.  ❞ ❝  once i was free...i shall be free once more.  ❞ ❝  believe me...a tavern, mulled wine, our boots drying by the fire --- i’d like nothing better.  ❞ ❝  prove it. kiss me.  ❞ ❝  the prophecies do not lie...you cannot survive this struggle.  ❞ ❝  i know you better than you think.  ❞ ❝  you know me. nothing i like more than breaking rules.  ❞ ❝  what’s happened? it’s so quiet, all of a sudden.  ❞ ❝  thank you, for coming with me.  ❞ ❝  i cannot do everything for you. use your head.  ❞ ❝  i'm angry and tired. had to kill a lot of people along the way.  ❞ ❝  we’ve come a long way, and i’d be damned if we’ve come to fail.  ❞ ❝  i sense your pain. i see your fear.  ❞ ❝  how’s this for an answer: kiss my ass.  ❞ ❝  how many have you already killed? how many more might you still?  ❞ ❝  i'm quite alive and extraordinarily well. better than i've ever been in this rotten life of mine.  ❞ ❝  i like it when you smile. come here. everything will be all right.  ❞ ❝  ugh. don’t fall in love with me.  ❞ ❝  i don’t like you. in fact, i feel like slapping you.  ❞ ❝  i'm too old to play the blushing bride...unless you ask nicely.  ❞ ❝  that bit of my life --- forgotten it already.  ❞ ❝  the world doesn’t need a hero. it needs a professional.  ❞ ❝  next time you wonder why i’m so bitter...well, there's your answer.  ❞ ❝  nothing wrong with having a drink in good company.  ❞ ❝  i want you behind those rocks. and keep your mouth shut.  ❞ ❝  nice of you to worry...but i've made my decision, and i won't change it.  ❞ ❝  this is my story, not yours. you must let me finish telling it.  ❞ ❝  after all that toil, i believe we deserve a bit of a rest.  ❞ ❝  i was afraid you were dead.  ❞ ❝  we’ve all some stain on our conscience.  ❞ ❝  leaving the castle walls means certain death.  ❞ ❝  right good jest. had us a laugh. now fuck off.  ❞ ❝  i’ve heard about you. you bring trouble, or thus far have, always.  ❞ ❝  ah, you’ve struck a raw nerve.    memories of a time long past to which i’d rather not return now.  ❞ ❝  we meet again. and it seems you need my help. again.  ❞ ❝  got a relative i can talk to? someone - how do i say this - a smidgen less irritating?  ❞ ❝  miss the target, you owe me fifty push-ups. hit it, you owe me twenty.  ❞ ❝  oh. serious talk coming.  ❞ ❝  i feel like one more lie'd be the last bitter drop in a chalice full of sorrow.  ❞ ❝  romantic? thought we came here as friends.  ❞ ❝  you’re hiding something. and that’s one thing i can’t stand.  ❞ ❝  tell me, how do you do it? always manage to pull yourself together, focus, no matter what’s happening?  ❞ ❝  i go wherever i please, whenever i please.  ❞ ❝  uh oh. i know that look.  ❞ ❝  sounds tempting. so tempting i don’t think i can refuse.  ❞ ❝  so, what do you say to a moonlight ride on horseback...and dinner?  ❞ ❝  perhaps...perhaps you’d stay just a bit longer?  ❞ ❝  how are you feeling? sleep well?  ❞ ❝  such a gloomy subject to broach...  simply shouldn’t have.  ❞

❝  such a gloomy subject to broach...i simply shouldn’t have --- not during our romantic dinner.  ❞ ❝  got it. a bit of blackmail --- just your style.  ❞ ❝  it’s the crack of dawn. where do you wanna go?  ❞ ❝  shut up before you wake someone. last thing we need is a crowd.  ❞ ❝  watch what you say. the trees have ears.  ❞ ❝  no bow at hand, no spear. my sword was all i had.  ❞ ❝  never expected you’d take such an interest in my private life.  ❞ ❝  i’m special. always was the rare beauty.  ❞ ❝  damn. been ages since we last saw each other.  ❞ ❝  some charming orchards nearby. in bloom, even, so you almost can't smell the corpses.  ❞ ❝  you know me. nothing i like more than breaking rules.  ❞ ❝  man spends his whole life learning.  ❞ ❝  if only i was as skilled with my words as i am with my blade.  ❞ ❝  i wished to know what was going on in that head of yours. i thought perhaps i could help.  ❞ ❝  i can tell something’s bothering you.  ❞ ❝  dangerous times. each thinks five times before sticking their neck out.   and i can’t blame them.  ❞ ❝  now i care not in the slightest how you think or feel.  ❞ ❝  i no longer know if i still hate you.  ❞ ❝  i see how you look at me, and i see you wither.  ❞ ❝  one last bit of advice --- find a new tavern. everyone here knows you.  ❞ ❝  you won. no point bothering with ‘what ifs’.  ❞ ❝  it’s time i took fate into my own hands. lived life anew...and truly, this time.  ❞ ❝  ahh, 'cause you thought you'd killed me that time. surprise, sur-fucking-prise.  ❞ ❝  who...who’s that? gods, i’m hallucinating.  ❞ ❝  it’s no exaggeration to say i’ve never met a warrior like you in my life. you’re lithe as an eel and strong as a bear.  ❞ ❝  i’ve a heart again, yet all it feels is grief, sadness and defeat. my life is a ruin.  ❞ ❝  sought only to protect myself. in doing so, i put you in harm’s way. forgive me.  ❞ ❝  there’s a charming grove nearby where  kisses  taste  sweeter than anywhere else in the world.  ❞ ❝  you’ve handled tougher situations. you’ll figure this one out.  ❞ ❝  who you are and why you’ve come matter little. for you’ll not leave this place alive.  ❞ ❝  i’m not panicking. just trying to be realistic.  ❞ ❝  hahahahaha...i can’t believe you fell for that!  ❞ ❝  i was actually going to recite an anthem praising your glory, but if you’re not in the mood...  ❞ ❝  lying didn’t always come so easily to you.  ❞ ❝  everyone wants to rule. i can do that better than any monarch.  ❞ ❝  tell me what you want already, and make it quick.  ❞ ❝  what a mess we made of it all...if i’d only known then how it would end...  ❞ ❝  seems a faded dream now, but there were a time where i was happy.  ❞ ❝  why’d you leave me? you claimed you loved me.  ❞ ❝  never liked boats. not one bit.  ❞ ❝  you must be mad. i’ve no intention to make things easier for you.  ❞ ❝  i don’t wish to look at your face any longer than i must.  ❞ ❝  please, no. i can’t stand spells.  ❞ ❝  we agreed not to keep any secrets from one another. we promised.  ❞ ❝  that i like! a man who boldly dares, damn the risks!  ❞ ❝  i thought you bowed before no man.  ❞ ❝  smile a bit wider. ...you were meant to smile, not bare your teeth.  ❞ ❝  is that blood? have you hurt yourself?  ❞ ❝  no reason to trouble the guards. i’ll go willingly.  ❞ ❝  look at me. promise you’ll stay out of it.  ❞ ❝  the minute we’re in trouble, you make me responsible for getting us out.  ❞ ❝  they say they don’t fear the wrath of the gods. and you, do you fear it?  ❞ ❝  i’ll let that pass. i know grief eats at your heart.  ❞ ❝  we all lie sometimes. but lying to yourself is running away, whereas there’s really nowhere to run.  ❞ ❝  don’t need your sympathy, just your help.  ❞ ❝  your loss -- it must hurt, bad. but there wasn't anything we could do.  ❞ ❝  i wish to leave, go far away. and i’d like you to come with me.  ❞ ❝  i trust you have an explanation for this. a very good one.  ❞ ❝  lot of bitterness in you.  ❞ ❝  i assure you, you’re excellent at covering your tracks --- though not terribly subtle. but i’m even better at uncovering them.  ❞ ❝  glad to see you happy...but i don’t think what we did was right.  ❞ ❝  i look at you, and...and feel like i am exactly where i am supposed to be. at long last.  ❞ ❝  i’m no coward. i'll not run this time.  ❞ ❝  yes, i know you’ve trained with swords. but you’re still shit with them.  ❞ ❝  how many innocents have you cut down?  ❞ ❝  problem is, you’re not ordinary. you were born to greatness.  ❞ ❝  not too late to surrender.  ❞ ❝  men turn honest when they feel a blade at their throat.  ❞ ❝  i'm not gonna drink. why dull my senses when i’m in such pleasant company?  ❞ ❝  it’s bound to come in handy, and each time it does, you’ll think of me.  ❞ ❝  lie still or you will bleed to death.  ❞ ❝  your life is yours, exclusively. you choose who you are.  ❞ ❝  for a minute there, was almost sure you’d leave me to die.  ❞ ❝  there is never a second opportunity to make a first impression.  ❞ ❝  it’s all because of that secretiveness of yours.  ❞ ❝  plead the gods spare us, for without their favor we shall most certainly perish.  ❞ ❝  i must say -- seen a lot, but nothing like this, never.  ❞ ❝  you don’t look like you can get home on your own. i’ll walk you.  ❞ ❝  all’s in the past, never to be restored.  ❞ ❝  you know full well i never hold a grudge. i forgive you.  ❞ ❝  the good gods sent you to me.  ❞ ❝  and the guilt, the responsibility of all this, lies with me.  ❞ ❝  you’ve only been here five minutes, and you’ve already managed to offend me twice.  ❞ ❝  you will certainly fetch me a higher bounty alive.  ❞ ❝  what's wrong with my beard? always thought it added to my dignity.  ❞ ❝  if i’m to die today, i wish to look smashing for the occasion.  ❞ ❝  i was stupid. stupidity costs a lot.  ❞ ❝  even your humblest requests seem like threats.  ❞ ❝  your motives do not interest me. only results.  ❞ ❝  and you laughed, oh, how sweetly, how brightly you laughed!  ❞ ❝  you don’t know how it is. to see someone you love die. because of you, for you.  ❞ ❝  to have a scapegoat --- that’s the key.  ❞ ❝  no need to fear me.  ❞ ❝  sorry, but -- your life story? just not interested.  ❞ ❝  with you...it was love at first sight.  ❞ ❝  gotta understand. you don’t betray people like me.  ❞ ❝  i struggled long to find a place where i’d feel safe, needed. until i finally arrived here.  ❞ ❝  just don’t faint on me.  ❞ ❝  could never be there for you everyday. but i’m happy to see you always. and today, i’m all yours.  ❞ ❝  what others think...your image...that’s all you care about.  ❞ ❝  in these foul times one must be wary, even of their friends.  ❞ ❝  come on, don’t get angry - it’s not good for you..  ❞ ❝  so, apart from the sword play, you know potions and all that?  ❞ ❝  i actually envy your sense of wonder --- common in children, and morons.  ❞ ❝  a lot of misfortune for a small village.  ❞ ❝  who are you? do you seek to hurt me as well?  ❞ ❝  the hand that feeds can also strike its wayward wards.  ❞ ❝  shh. eat now. we’ll speak once you’ve rested.  ❞ ❝  brother has turned against brother, the land is soaked in blood. evil reigns stronger than ever before.  ❞ ❝  good looking and clever. where’ve you been hiding?  ❞ ❝  doesn’t bother you, having monsters for neighbours?  ❞ ❝  stay here --- no matter what happens.  ❞ ❝  i never told you this, but i’ve always felt it: i love you.  ❞ ❝  listen to me this once -- don't take matters into your own hands.  ❞ ❝  love these moments. the air before a battle -- nothing smells as sweet.  ❞ ❝  they tried to get in through the main gate. i’m afraid they could succeed next time.  ❞ ❝  too many claim you’re evil.  ❞ ❝  why are you so eager to help strangers? sit your ass down or there’ll be misfortune.  ❞ ❝  you'd never have managed without me, would you? come, now, admit it.  ❞ ❝  for those who remain, death should never take precedence over life.  ❞ ❝  thanks for coming. thanks for risking your life for me.  ❞ ❝  don’t force me to speak of it. no more, please.  ❞ ❝  when doubt plagues your mind, follow your instincts. should they steer you wrong and land you in muck, you'll land at peace with yourself. and that's most important.  ❞ ❝   just know that i know you're here. one misstep, one error...you'll make a mistake, it's inevitable...i'll be the first to learn it.  ❞ ❝  i do not know you. i’ve done you no harm.  ❞ ❝  try not to panic...just doesn’t suit you.  ❞ ❝  we’ve come a long way, and i’ll be damned if we’ve come to fail.  ❞ ❝  had i known what would happen here, i'd never have come.  ❞ ❝  i can say i’ve seen it all now.  ❞ ❝  these scars have long yearned for your tender caress.  ❞ ❝  i don’t fall victim to curses. i cast them.  ❞ ❝  come outside. we can hold hands and stare at the sky.  ❞ ❝  we’ll work well together --- i can see that already.  ❞ ❝  from the first moment i set eyes upon you that fateful evening, my heart has only beaten for you.  ❞ ❝  i trust you as much as you trust me --- not at all.  ❞ ❝  you’ve gone all red in the face just for talking about it.  ❞ ❝  wake up. it’s just a dream. wake up!  ❞ ❝  i still don’t believe everything that happened.  ❞ ❝  i never miss twice.  ❞ ❝  bit too old to believe in bedtime stories, aren’t you?  ❞ ❝  you humans have...unusual tastes.  ❞ ❝  didn’t think it worthwhile to tell me, warn me of your plans?  ❞ ❝  i think you will not attack one unarmed.  ❞ ❝  the deeper i get into this, the more i gotta wonder...why’re you even helping me?  ❞ ❝  to live in peace, we first must kill.  ❞ ❝  at times fate muddles our path, and life turns toilsome, hard to bear.  ❞ ❝  i fight for whoever’s paying the best. or whoever’s easier to rob.  ❞ ❝  do not let my beauty distract your aim.  ❞ ❝  i’ve seen what is to come, i know destruction approaches.  ❞ ❝  the war awoke an ancient power. an evil one that feeds on bloodshed.  ❞ ❝  guess you’re no stranger to fury, either.  ❞ ❝  think i’m gonna fall for that? no chance, you’re wrong.  ❞ ❝  gotta admit --- you do pretty well with a sword.  ❞ ❝  you dare tell me to calm down?! you?!  ❞ ❝  let's say i go about my business, and when there's coin to be earned, i don't readily turn it down.  ❞ ❝  i wish to know the truth...be it sweet, be it painful, i wish to know.  ❞ ❝  men, the polite ones at least, would call me a monster.  ❞ ❝  even i grow ill at the sight of you.  ❞ ❝  i’m going on a walk. or is that not allowed either? because i could break my leg?  ❞ ❝  plan’s crazier than it is sane...but there’s an irrestistible charm to it.  ❞ ❝  unbelievable! you said something romantic! you!  ❞ ❝  we may not survive this. in fact, our chances are slim.  ❞ ❝  if anything should happen to you...  ❞ ❝  there’s not been a dark cloud yet that didn’t have a silver lining.  ❞ ❝  those are some fresh lookin’ scars you’ve got there.  ❞ ❝  no. no more about the battle. just hold me. and say something nice.  ❞ ❝  stay. this is the only home we’ve ever had.  ❞ ❝  you’re so charming when you try to be funny.  ❞ ❝  not proud of it...yet i considered all the options and found none better.  ❞ ❝  i look far different from when you last saw me.  ❞ ❝  i admire your optimism. wish i shared it.  ❞ ❝  and...try not to draw any attention to yourself.  ❞ ❝  nightmares haunt our nights and days. folk sleepwalk from their homes, never to return.  ❞ ❝  forgive me. it couldn’t be avoided. i truly am sorry.  ❞ ❝  well i’ve departed, escaped, been forced to flee so many times…yet i always returned. you ought to be used to it by now.  ❞ ❝  the human mind is as wild and unexplored a place as any land far beyond the sea.  ❞ ❝  you think you’ve won. you are wrong. i can’t die.  ❞ ❝  you’re something more. something more.  ❞ ❝  barely nicked me, i’ll be fine.  ❞ ❝  it’s just that i felt...stifled, in your shadow. i’d have suffocated had i stayed.  ❞ ❝  come, don’t just stand there. i want a hug.  ❞ ❝  it’s lovely here! i could stay forever.  ❞ ❝  do what you will, but leave me out of this.  ❞ ❝  we should end this discussion -- before i say something i'll regret.  ❞ ❝  you all right? you’re as pale as death.  ❞ ❝  let’s get back to the hut. i’ll protect you along the way.  ❞ ❝  not to keen on talking about it, are you?  ❞ ❝  it’s better to die than to live in the knowledge that you’ve done something that needs forgiveness.  ❞ ❝  i was afraid you were dead.  ❞ ❝  at times one must use reason, rather than blades.  ❞ ❝  need some peace. gotta prepare.  ❞ ❝  i suspected it might not be the best idea, but i was desperate, had no choice.  ❞ ❝  so tell me how it happened. step by step.  ❞ ❝  it was a bit of a lark, a jest. i meant to bring it all back, i swear.  ❞ ❝  if i wanted to kill you, you'd be long dead by now.  ❞ ❝  that is precisely one of the reasons why i abhor your world.    your senseless brutality.  ❞ ❝  i won’t let them take you, you know that?  ❞ ❝  magic...childish hocus-pocus. it’s just not interesting. what i find fascinating are true tales of true human lives.  ❞ ❝  save your praise for others. i couldn’t give a shit.  ❞ ❝  well, well, i am impressed. doubted you still had it in you, frankly.  ❞ ❝  i like you. don’t make me hurt you.  ❞ ❝  you know very little can hurt you being immortal, so you take wild risks, chase extreme sensations. there comes a point you’ve done it all, and all seems boring and monotonous.  ❞ ❝  with you i finally feel...harmony. a calm. feel like things are the way they're supposed to be.  ❞ ❝  i'm afraid the dishwater’s as good as it gets in this establishment.  ❞ ❝  sorry to take so long, but i had to deal with the guards.  ❞ ❝  i’d never miss a chance to spend a pleasant evening with you.  ❞ ❝  you know too much. yet one more reason why you must die.  ❞ ❝  or perhaps you seek to trick me.  ❞ ❝  if you acknowledge any gods...start praying, now.  ❞ ❝  it’s very simple. you either deceived me...or not.  ❞ ❝  i am known neither for my sense of humor nor for my patience.  ❞ ❝  naturally, it would be easier with your help, but...you irritate me.  ❞ ❝  love questions like that. am i holding up? what, my dick?  ❞ ❝  we never hunt in these woods. not even if it means the whole village starves.  ❞ ❝  we’re only ever the ones to know the truth about ourselves.  ❞ ❝  you’re insolent because you believe i cannot afford to hurt you. and you’re right.  ❞ ❝  i detest graveyards, especially wandering them alone.  ❞ ❝  you know too much. you impede me too often. and i find your arrogance an annoyance.  ❞ ❝  i know it’s wartime, but try not to be a hero, all right?  ❞ ❝  i don’t know that i’ll make for engaging company. in truth, i rarely talk to men.  ❞ ❝  you know...had a dream about you recently.  ❞ ❝  i thought i could at least count on you to treat me seriously.  ❞ ❝  don’t ask questions you know the answers to. it makes you look stupid.  ❞ ❝  you’re nosy. starting to piss me off, you know?  ❞ ❝  what did i do to deserve this? have i given you cause to doubt my intentions?  ❞ ❝  don’t fret about me. i always get by somehow, right?  ❞ ❝  i wanted to go with you --- that was my idea.  ❞ ❝  i shan’t stray a step from your side.  ❞ ❝  if that’s what it takes to save the world, it’s better to let that world die.  ❞ ❝  what’s that supposed to mean? that a threat?  ❞ ❝  i’m offering a great and true adventure, an experience like no other, the fate of only the chosen few.  ❞ ❝  that’s like choosing between pestilence and the plague.  ❞ ❝  what’s it matter? i only ever thought of you.  ❞ ❝  did you know you’ve gained twenty-seven new scars since we’ve last saw each other?  ❞ ❝  i need to know the details if you want me to get my hands dirty.  ❞ ❝  don’t know you. go away.  ❞ ❝  ever vigilant, even in your sleep. quite vampire-like, in fact.  ❞ ❝  gotten used to people treating me like a freak, an outcast.  ❞ ❝  we share a cause, then. just like the old days.  ❞ ❝  ever considered becoming a burglar? skill like that’d come in awful handy.  ❞ ❝  there’s never been a frown that couldn’t be turned upside down.  ❞ ❝  honesty's an attribute of the truly brave --- and thus the privilege of the very few.  ❞ ❝  you do not have a monopoly in altruism, my friend.  ❞ ❝  great love demands great sacrifices.  ❞ ❝  i believe it wise at times to share one’s secrets, unburden oneself to those one can trust.  ❞ ❝  it would be nice from time to time if you could sit back and enjoy life, instead of going around solving everyone’s problems.  ❞ ❝  we shall dance until the break of dawn!  ❞ ❝  a man could lose his head for a lass like you.  ❞ ❝  don’t have to come if you don’t want. wait here.  ❞ ❝  never seen this side of you.  ❞ ❝  i’m to kiss the ground you walk on, is that it? but you just did your duty.  ❞ ❝  the day you give me a smile...that moment, that’s what i’m waiting for.  ❞ ❝  i need a soul intelligent and clever, an individual who fears no dare. someone like you.  ❞ ❝  if i was you i’d catch some shut-eye, not go on flapping my tongue.  ❞ ❝  the plan is simple...which does not mean it will be easy to execute.  ❞ ❝  sometimes you really get on my nerves, you know.  ❞ ❝  you shall not turn on me, use what i say against me? you shall not tell anyone?  ❞ ❝  gave you a chance. should’ve taken it.  ❞ ❝  always better to do a bit more and even gain nothing by it,    than to do too little and face regret.  ❞ ❝  it’s lovely out here. the birds singing, the bees buzzing...blissful, really.  ❞ ❝  what a lovely dress. the color suits you exquisitely.  ❞ ❝  pretty fantastic tale. hard as hell to believe.  ❞ ❝  it’s time you discovered my romantic side.  ❞ ❝  you gotta understand the whole world doesn’t revolve around you.  ❞ ❝  can you not see i am out of my mind with worry?  ❞ ❝  every rose has its thorn, and there are no happy endings.  ❞ ❝  pretty quick to reject help. why is that?  ❞ ��  don’t need to like each other. just gotta do our jobs.  ❞ ❝  frankly, if i can do something for you, i'll do it, willingly.  ❞ ❝  you were hired you kill me, were you not?  ❞ ❝  what’s it like, going toe to toe with a monster? knowing you’ve only two options --- to kill or be killed?  ❞ ❝  this place --- there’s evil here. death hangs in the air.  ❞ ❝  intellect counts as much as strength.  ❞ ❝  i run back inside, hasp the doors, and then i hear it --- someone whispering my name.  ❞ ❝  you know i like you. unlike the rest of this lot, you’ve got a good head on your shoulders.  ❞ ❝  if you love somebody, set them free.  ❞ ❝  if you hate me so deeply, why don’t you tell me to my face?  ❞ ❝  i’m afraid you’d not realize which way the wind was blowing if you pissed straight into it.  ❞ ❝  that was courageous. i'd never expect it from you.  ❞ ❝  i am not easily impressed, but i must admit you have succeeded, my dear.  ❞ ❝  kill me if you must. i’ve nothing to live for anyway.  ❞ ❝  aren’t you an extraordinary beauty.  ❞ ❝  never suspected you believed such things.  ❞ ❝  wait...you want to go with me? out of the question.  ❞ ❝  used to it. not the first time i’ve been hunted.  ❞ ❝  enough of this hesitation, this fretting, these feelings of guilt!  ❞ ❝  strange working with you. strange, but great.  ❞ ❝  give me a moment. i must don something more appropiate and concealing.  ❞ ❝  killing comes as naturally to me as blowing my nose.  ❞ ❝  ......   another tale of a life compromised and ultimately claimed by greed and ambition.  ❞ ❝  in the future, though, remember this --- i can look after myself  ❞ ❝  you'd really worry about me if i went on alone?  ❞ ❝  you have many merits. you merely hide them from the world very diligently.  ❞ ❝  is it true virtue always trumps villainy?  ❞ ❝  watch my movements. i’m spry as a cat and sly as a fox.  ❞ ❝  ah, if only this could last forever.  ❞ ❝  few i can rely on like i can on you. kinda hoping you think the same of me.  ❞ ❝  you are angry at the whole world. you feel inferior, feel pain, though you mask this with confidence, arrogance, even.  ❞ ❝  there exist worries for which there quite simply is no other medicine.  ❞ ❝  your bones look thin, your breathing’s wheezy. afraid one punch might kill you.  ❞ ❝  to love is to build a house of cards, or play a game of chess, but one word or ill-thought move and you must start it all afresh.  ❞ ❝  i’m doing what i ever wanted to do, being who i wanted to be. i believe that’s one definition of happiness.  ❞ ❝  you’ve not an ounce of refinement in you, have you?  ❞ ❝  pain rules the body, but fear is born in the heart.  ❞ ❝  either i get burned, or i’ll burn all else down. no other options.  ❞ ❝  should you decide your sword is the sole solution, i shall not stand in your way.  ❞ ❝  c’mon, come closer.  ❞ ❝  would you prefer i treated you like the lying manipulater you are?  ❞ ❝  i regret nothing. one lives but once.  ❞ ❝  i just hope this tale has a happy ending. for me, for you. for everyone.  ❞ ❝  just gonna go our seperate ways? no parting words?  ❞ ❝  you still stand to be quite useful to me.  ❞ ❝  i suppose you wanted to frighten me...alas, you didn’t in the least. after all, i’m a monster too, am i not?  ❞ ❝  i trust no one. learned that long ago.  ❞ ❝  it cannot be! you actually have a sense of humor.  ❞ ❝  didn’t ask for a lecture on probability. need a simple answer --- yes or no.  ❞ ❝  another word, and i shall spill even more blood. yours.  ❞ ❝  you feel resentment, i understand, but we shall work through all the unfortunate matters of the past.  ❞ ❝  stop playing dumb. i know everything...your plan.  ❞ ❝  honestly can’t see what all those dames see in you --- you’re a stick in the mud.  ❞ ❝  not showy, lovely location...perfect for romantic getaways.  ❞ ❝  i hope you’re not upset i came like this, without warning...  ❞ ❝  i’m still a long way from mastering anything. but i am trying.  ❞ ❝  now i know how you do it. just annoy your opponents to death.  ❞ ❝  word on the street is there’s a hefty bounty on your head.  ❞ ❝  for a few days now i’ve been having dizzy spells.  ❞ ❝  i’ve always had a way with ostensibly dangerous types.  ❞ ❝  wound doesn’t look good.    patch that up quick if i were you, before it starts festering.  ❞ ❝  always seemed to me you were a very complicated creature, by nature. not one to resort to such simple methods like drinking your worries away.  ❞ ❝  may i be honest? yes, i’m nervous. i really would prefer to just run off.  ❞ ❝  father always said a wise man learns from others’ mistakes, so here i am, learning from his.  ❞ ❝  ever since that horrid night...everything has changed.  ❞ ❝  what’s wrong? afraid? gut feeling queasy?  ❞ ❝  used to bother me, all your secrets...now i know if you have something to tell me, you’ll tell me.  ❞ ❝  i so don’t feel like going anywhere. sit here a while longer?  ❞ ❝  there’s something i’d like to know...how can you be so damned calm?  ❞ ❝  my knees quake like a carnival rattle.  ❞ ❝  honestly didn’t think this’d work. doubted anything would happen.  ❞

[nimmy22]

A Mistake: Chapter 12

~ The following day, Saturday ~

"Do something, Wesker! These fucking imbeciles at the papers are starting to question my competence as chief all because of a pathetic group of boys you can't seem to dispose of." Irons seethed, slamming his cup of whisky on the desk, knocking his nameplate to the ground.  

Wesker gave nothing away of his emotions, save for a tick in his brow. His hands craved to wrap around Irons’ neck, giving it a swift snap. It's how he felt most of his days at the station. Irons was replaceable. The man didn't realize just how worthless he was to Umbrella. His replacement could arrive this very afternoon.

"We are working on finding the gang's nest. The big players keep using young boys for the jobs but tell them nothing about insider information. There are too many eyes watching us right now. We cannot use any special means to dispose of the group in order avoid questions."

"Just Do your fucking job right. I can't stand the news conferences anymore. the journalist's questions make me look laughable." Irons clutched his glass, throwing it hard against the wall. Tapping a finger on the armrest, Wesker didn't bat an eye at the behavior of the chief of police. One couldn't expect much from such a lowly creature.

"You seem to forget why Umbrella put me as captain of STARS. It isn't to keep up your public appearance but to protect theirs. I'm not the one who isn't doing his job. Deal with the journalists while I handle the little boy scouts." pushing back his chair, Wesker made sure to leave deep grooves on the freshly varnished floors. The scraping sound was like music to his soul. He didn't miss the deathly glare on his way to the door like hot iron rods.

Returning to the STARS office, Wesker ignored the gossiping of Chris and Jill about the newest trouble between their captain and Irons. Shutting the door to his office, he took a seat behind his desk. Through the office blinds, he eyed each present member of STARS. of course, no one was getting any work done, lazing around the office, making meaningless bets.

This simply will not do.

It was time they did some undercover work, gathering information about Raccoon city's newest crime family. These boy scouts wouldn't last long around here, especially since they fell on the radar of the real monsters in the shadows of Raccoon.

---------------

She sat alone on the staircase, elbows resting on her knees, wondering how the hell she got here.  The house was familiar to her. How many times has she looked after Sherry here? Still, it felt strange. It was his space, and she was invading it.

This was now supposed to be her home. The place gave no hints as to who lived here, lacking any personal touch. It was likely the work of an anterior designer following the most fashionable trends. The home of a bachelor.

Speaking of Wesker, he left after dumping her here last night and vaguely pointing her towards the guest room with a 'help yourself' to any food. As always, he gave her the bare minimum of info, not that she asked what he was up to. She didn't care whether he spent the night hiding bodies or doing legitimate police work. She was too terrified to sleep under the same roof, only a few walls apart. Does the man ever sleep? Shower? Eat?

She won't lie. She was glad Wesker left. But even with him gone, she couldn't stop thinking about what happened. More so the kiss than almost becoming a guinea pig. It was a lot to process, and she couldn't even begin.

For the nth time, she forcibly pulled her fingers away from her lips, scolding herself for replaying the memory again. This man was absolute bad news. She needed to get out of the house, and an incoming call from Claire had her scrambling to answer as quickly as possible. Her friend presented an idea, and Cara was all too grateful to join in.  

Pulling up Wesker's name in the contacts, Cara's fingers hovered over the letters, unsure of what and how much to tell him.  Where did they stand? Did he really mean everything, or was it a trick?  Was she free to leave? Did he give up completely on the idea of killing her?

"Going out with Claire. I will be back late." she texted, fully knowing a lot of info was missing. But it's not like he ever gave her a ton.

"Stay out of trouble.' came a replay moments later.

The words were unsaid, but Cara definitely heard them.  'I don't have time to drop everything and run over to the rescue each and every time you get in trouble,'

'I asked for help only once. The other time's nobody asked you to come.' Cara grumbled but deleted what she wrote. she could've gotten herself out of those situations...with a little bit of thinking. Actually, a lot of thinking.

----------------------------

Cara had to walk several blocks away from Wesker's house to prevent suspicion. If by any chance, Claire knew the address of her brother's captain, it would be a hole she did not want to leap into.

Standing in front of an old bookstore, she waited for her friend. The building was slightly rundown, its walls covered in graffiti, but the owners were a kind elderly couple. They pushed discounts her way, and she was guilted to buy something. She ended up buying a useless cat plushie toy after seeing that most books were non-fiction or raunchy romance novels. She would rather die than have Wesker coming across an erotic novel lying around his house.

She stared at the plushie as she leaned against the wall outside the shop. Cara considered giving it to Sherry the next time they met. This would be the first present she ever gave the young girl, and she could almost imagine the excitement on Sherry's face. It made her smile.

A helicopter passed overhead, sleek black and adorned with the Umbrella white and red symbol. Cara watched the chopper get smaller and smaller until it disappeared, heading in the direction of the Arkley mountains. she wondered about their business up there was. Looking around, no one else seemed to notice nor care. Maybe it was best to keep all knowledge to herself.

Seeing a familiar redhead and a motorcycle, Cara waved as Claire pulled up, handing her a helmet.

---------------

The barn smelled of sweat, dust, and old wood. The unmistakable smell of alcohol was thick in the air as it was passed around freely in cheap red plastic cups. She recognized kids from school, but many more were older, likely from Raccoon university. A light disco machine was nailed to the wall, casting the barn in a series of flashing lights. Tall Straw piles of hay distributed across the barn ensured there was no shortage of dark corners for people to disappear to.  For a moment, Cara considered hiding in the straw and then going home when the party was over. But seeing the sparkle in Claire's eyes about hanging out with her best friend threw the idea out the window. With a sigh, she followed her friend.

Over the course of the night, the girls danced and drank, carefree. A blond-haired boy was staring at her, Cara noticed. He attempted to walk up to her but turned around before getting within ten feet. He tried multiple times but always chickened out despite his friends constantly cheering him on. Claire thought it was cute and refused to stop openly staring at him and giving a thumbs up.  Cara swatted Claire's hands before holding them behind her back in a pretend arrest, pushing her against the straw pile.

"Sorry Officer! I was just trying to help you get laid," Claire giggled. "I hope you're into blonde's though,"

"This is so embarrassing. Stop, or I'm leaving," Cara snapped, feeling a blush heat her face as Wesker crossed her mind. Fuck, why now?

"Oh? so you are into blondes," Claire's smile was cunning. "Let me help you,"

"No. Bad Claire, bad, bad girl. No treats for you tonight." Cara scolded, Stealing the can of beer her friend stole from a guy before cracking it open and downing its contents. She wouldn't yet consider herself drunk, just pleasantly buzzed.

The boy ran off again. Cara felt bad for him and was actually tempted to go up to him instead. His friends kept a steady stream of alcohol into his hand.

"H-hey, " And then he did it, with the help of liquid courage, of course.

For the effort, Cara decided not to openly embarrass him with rejection but not lead him on either. Walking away backward, Claire gave her a thumbs up along with a suggestive motion of the eyebrows, making horrid shapes with her hands. Cara covered her face, hoping to purge the image out of memory. She'll get her back in no time.

Ben was a bit shy at first, but soon they got talking and enjoyed themselves. His hair was a few shades darker and shorter than Wesker's. She didn't have to look up at him as they stood at a similar, comfortable height. Slender and skinny, he would shrink to nothing beside the captain. Cara grimaced, realizing she had been comparing the poor guy to a demon. It wasn't his fault that her mind was occupied with someone way out of her league... the legal kind.

The barn was becoming more and more crowded, and the dancing crowd swallowed them. Sticking out like two sore thumbs, they did their best to dance. Cara felt awkward but seeing the dimples in his smile made her feel better even as it became a tighter fit among the crowd. They had to dance closer lest they got separated.

She wondered what it would feel like to dance with Wesker. He seemed like the sophisticated type. The awkward moves of a teenager would never be adequate for him. Did he ever do anything that was remotely recreational? What do villains even do in their spare time? Manipulating the feelings of underage girls looks like. What stupid, stupid thoughts.

She prayed all these ideas would go away soon, as the thrill of the kiss wore off, and everything went back to normal. Did she want to go back? Why in the world would he like her? she knew who he really was, and he still let her live. Why take the risk with her? she was just a seventeen-year-old. Useless to everyone, with no connections and no money.  

Fuck it. Cara refused to think about Wesker anymore tonight. There was a perfectly alright guy in front of her, someone her own age, someone in her league, someone she wouldn't have to hide. Someone who was looking at her with a soft expression, blinking slowly.

Cara placed her hands on either side of Ben's face and pulled him towards her, connecting their lips. He reacted instantly, kissing her back. His hands awkwardly hovered over her arms before stroking them softly.

He was a nice guy, not a terrible kisser, but she hated it. Hated every touch because it wasn't as good as with Wesker. She couldn't stop comparing, and it was frustrating, spurring her to kiss Ben harder.

She continued, out of spite, to kiss the boy who looked at her with affection. in the background, she heard a few boys cheering, likely his friends. This was wrong, very wrong.

A firm hand gave her waist a painful squeeze before it was gone, and she thought it was Ben. Her eyes flew open as she felt a warm breath by her ear. It wasn't Ben.

"If I was not undercover right now, this lesser specimen of a boy would've made some unforgettable acquaintances a lot sooner. You could've done so much better, yet you have chosen to this..." Wesker seethed by her ear, sending shivers down her spine. Her body froze, but Ben didn't pick up the cue.  Wesker's muscles were tense as he pressed against her back. She could almost hear the exhale through clenched, grinding teeth.

Then he was gone, slipping through the crowd just as he came. No one notices anything. Cara broke the kiss and shoved Ben away. "I'm sorry, it isn't going to work out." She hurried after Wesker, but he was already lost in the crowd.  

She shoved her way through the throngs of people but only managed to find other members of STARS in civilian clothes. None seemed to notice or recognize her. They must've been here on undercover work, but why? she put that question aside as there were more pressing things to worry about.

She felt sick and wanted to throw up, but nothing was coming up. she burst through the doors of the suffocatingly hot bran, raking her hands through her hair. The cool night air hit her heated skin, but she couldn't find relief. She wanted to be swallowed by the ground.

She needed to find Wesker. But then what? Apologize? Apologize for making her own choices? They weren't a couple.

She continued to look for him nevertheless. She walked further from the barn towards an old car junkyard. She thought perhaps a fuming man would need some privacy. A strong feeling in her gut told her this was the right way.

Cara walked far enough from the party that the music was nothing but a distant noise. It was dark and quiet, the perfect place for an assault. If Wesker decided to murder her, no one would find her for at least a week, stuffed in the trunk of a car. If ever.  

Grabbed from behind, she was thrown against a car. Sliding to the ground, she cradled her aching arm, squinting in the dark to see her assailant. Wesker kneeled beside her, his civilian clothes dark and expensive.

"Why cut it short? You should've kissed him more while you still can because he will be the last boy you will ever kiss." squeezing her cheeks harshly, he dragged his thumb with heavy pressure over the flesh of her lips, still swollen from kissing Ben.

As Wesker let go of her face, she felt the cold muzzle of a gun pressing against her temple. Her heart skipped a beat, but she glared at him straight in the eye. Daring.

"I don't know what you want from me! You told me to keep out of trouble, and I did. Yet here we are," Cara lied. She knew what he wanted but didn't know why he wanted it.

"Were my intentions not clear enough? Do I have to spell it out for you? But I suppose intelligence was never your strength,"

Wesker pressed the gun harder against her temple, her glare unwavering. "Go ahead. Shoot me. why do you even bother?"

Neither moved, naked eyes locked with no shades between. Cara reached up and pulled the gun out of his hands with ease. He didn't resist, glaring at her with a tense jaw. Looking down, she almost laughed, seeing the safety was still on. This man couldn't bring himself to kill her. It was all a show of intimidation, and she wasn't falling for it. Not anymore.

As she made to stand, his hand pushed her down. Thinking he wanted the gun back, she returned it to his hand and tried to stand. again, he pushed her down. "Can I get up now?" she scowled, staring up at him.

Things happen too quickly for her to process. The hands on Cara's shoulder grabbed her legs, lifting her off the ground as Wesker wrapped her legs around him before slamming her against the car. She was winded, gasping for breath as he watched her with a smirk. She grabbed his arms, digging her nails into his defined muscles.

"You're up now," he whispered before his lips kissed her neck, sucking and nibbling the skin. A moan escaped her lips, and she covered her mouth immediately.

Grabbing both her hands, he pinned them against the car. "I need to clean your mouth of all traces of that boy,"

"Are you going to rinse my mouth with soap or something? This is childish and-" Cara's words settled in a moan as Wesker began grinding a very defined length against her growing sickness. She tightened her legs around his waist, drawing him closer.

Trailing his nose across her skin, he followed the curve of her neck to the ear, taking the lobe between his teeth. She melted against him when his hot tongue entered her ear. His tongue plunged in and out repeatedly like a preview of what he could do to her. Her heart went on an overdrive.

"Just kiss me," Cara breathed, a tension building in her belly. She wanted to taste him. in addition to sparing any additional marks on her neck to hide.

"No,” nuzzling into her neck, he grinded harder against her, earning a series of moans.  

"You know who else wouldn't mind kissing me-" Wesker slammed his lips to hers, kissing her roughly, their teeth clashing. Cara melted further, a smile on her lips as her tongue danced with his. She savored everything, The taste of him, softness of his lips, his warmth, and the building friction between their bodies. There was nothing more she wanted.

Bang. Bang. Bang. Three gunshots were fired.

Cara was barely steady on her feet when Wesker dropped her to the ground, his eyes scanning their surroundings. What little they heard of the music was drowned out by distant screams of the partygoers.

"What's happening?" she questioned, grabbing his arm, but his attention was fixed on the barn.

"Stay here," Wesker warned, already talking to someone by an earpiece she hadn't noticed before.

With his gun ready, he took off, running towards the barn. Cara made to follow him but was pulled back towards the car by her hand.

The fucker handcuffed and left her in the middle of a junkyard in the dark.

[seasonsofeverlark]

Pumpkin Pie and Cheese Buns

Author: @evestedic​

Prompt: Hard working coming home for thanksgiving. Stops at the store on the way to pick up the dessert she didn’t bother to make no one will notice anyway and runs into their ex lover. Tries to leave fast but has to take the walk of shame back to grab the cranberries too. Arrives home not just with the cranberries and pie…  [submitted by anonymous]

Rating: T

____________

“God damn it!” Katniss was not happy. 

It was Thanksgiving, which meant she was being forced to spend time with people she didn’t even know.

Why?

Because they’re family, Katniss.

She could hear her Aunt Martha’s voice. 

Why should she care that her cousin was getting married?

Or that her nephew had gotten into college? 

Or that her godfather was slipping her a 20 buck bill while winking an eye at her? 

She wasn’t a total bitch, so she bore with it, but this was people she saw one fucking time per year! 

If it wasn’t for Thanksgiving, she was sure she wouldn’t see them again as they never even called. Nor did she.

But, be that as it may, Prim loved big gatherings and the attention; she was, after all, quite cheerful. Her father also bore with it, although better than her. 

However, who knew? This year her mother was coming with her new boyfriend. 

Ugh, puke… 

And that was why she was there, November the 26th, coming back from work and on her way to Aunt’s Martha’s house. 

Katniss was not happy. 

She had already left the store not five minutes ago, but something kept nagging at the back of her head while she accommodated the bags in the back of her car. 

Of course, being who she was, she had forgotten dessert. The pumpkin pie with maple whipped cream. Sighing and fuming, she went back to the absolute chaos of the aisles. If she arrived at her aunt’s without dessert…well, she would rather face a biblical plague. 

After perusing the dessert stand and seeing everything was completely wiped out‒not even crumbs were left‒she gave up and thought about getting some canned peaches and cherries.  That’s when she heard it…   

“Is that you, Katniss?” 

That voice. 

She had loved it at one point. Now, it was just nails on a chalkboard. 

Turning around, she set her eyes on a huge blonde guy; he had a perfect gym advertisement body, a smirk on his face, and his arm around a blonde girl with the same perfect gym advertisement body. 

“Cato.” 

“Buying for Thanksgiving?”

“No, just came because I was craving some peaches.” 

“Oh.”

Seriously? It was the most direct sarcastic answer ever, and he had actually believed her? 

Katniss rolled her eyes and was about to turn around when the Barbie clone spoke. 

“Is this the one, babe?”

“Yes, baby, that’s her.”

“Oh, I thought she’d be…I don’t know, prettier?”

“She never wanted to put in the effort, baby.”

“She is standing right here. And if working out turns you dumb, I’m glad I didn’t do it.” 

Katniss had gone out with Cato for two years when they were nineteen. Back then, he had been a kind guy, funny and perhaps a bit silly, but very nice, normal. He had asked her out after a college party, and she accepted; the rest was history. 

However, after one year of being together, he began frequenting the campus gym and suddenly started to change. All he could talk about were diets, exercise, and protein. Katniss was all in for a healthier life; hell, she knew if she kept on eating Greasy Sae’s food every other night, she was going to clog her arteries by the time she was 35, but Cato was relentless. He got rid of all of her comfort food and she had been forbidden to eat chicken and meat ever again. Only turkey and fish were allowed, vegetables, no dairy or eggs, no sugar! She was going crazy; Katniss had reached the obscene point of hiding in the bathroom to eat a Snickers bar, only to quickly brush her teeth and rinse with Listerine at least thrice so that her boyfriend wouldn’t taste any trace of chocolate when he kissed her. It was that night when she knew she couldn’t do it anymore. She no longer recognized the guy she had agreed to date or herself, for that matter. So, Katniss decided to end it right then and there. She skipped her next class and went to their dorm only to find him banging the very same Barbie girl who was in front of her in the canned aisle right now. 

Quickest breakup ever. 

He had said it was her fault for not ‘putting in the effort,’ and she hated him for it. 

“Jealousy doesn’t fit you, Katniss. Well,” Cato gave her a once-over, “I doubt anything does. Have you gained weight?” 

“If I have, that wouldn’t be any of your fucking business. What are you doing here? Came to buy something for dinner? I think there’s a celery and mineral water pack on sale.” 

“Still salty because I chose someone better?” Cato shamelessly licked the girl’s ear, making her giggle in an obnoxious way that made Katniss want to gag. 

She didn’t have to stand here and watch this; she-

Was that a hand on her waist?

“Hey, sorry I took so long. I literally had to wrestle this from an old lady.” 

That voice. 

Peeta Mellark was holding onto her waist and smiling that charming smile that could probably tame a wild animal, while proudly presenting a ham to her.

“Um…” Eloquent as always. 

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t know you were with friends.” 

“Yeah, no…Not my friends.” 

“Aren’t you the baker guy? You’re slumming it with the bakery employee?” Cato laughed while Barbie‒Katniss really couldn’t care less about her actual name‒looked at Peeta appreciatively. 

“I haven’t introduced myself,” Peeta said, extending his right hand but not letting Katniss’ waist go. Cato immediately took it, flexing his bicep as he did so, but his expression faltered when he shook Peeta’s hand. “Peeta Mellark, owner of ‘The Cake Lair’. Have you guys ever been?” 

Katniss was confused. 

It wasn’t as if she and Peeta were actually friends. They had talked, yes. She simply loved the pastries he sold, and because of how she had raved about his cheese buns, well…the double entendre put her in an uncomfortable position, but he had only laughed and thanked her for the compliment, as he had, in fact, baked those himself. 

Peeta always made sure to set aside at least two cheese buns for her prior to the end of the day. 

And okay, yeah, they had exchanged numbers and texted from time to time, but nothing deep. It was always things about the weather, the cheese buns, or how Prim was. Did that qualify as being friends? 

Katniss was awful at being a good friend, hence why she only had two: Gale and Madge. Her sister and father didn’t count; they were family. 

Shaking her head, she returned to the present to find that arm still around her and Cato’s face getting red. 

“Just let go, dude.  You’re about to pop a vein.” Peeta chuckled. 

Katniss directed her gaze at their hands; she could see they were both squeezing the hell out of each other. Cato probably thought he could scare Peeta off with his muscles, but he clearly hadn’t seen Peeta shirtless on a hot day, hauling 100-pound flour sacks onto his back as if they were light cargo. Peeta was strong, like ‘I could iron clothes on your stomach’ fit; he just didn’t flaunt it, and Katniss appreciated that.

Cato huffed and let go, and Peeta smiled once more and winked at Barbie, who was giggling like an idiot. 

“So, we should be going soon if we want to make it, Katniss. You know how Aunt Martha gets if we don’t get the groceries in time for her.” 

So yeah, she had told him about her hellish weekend to come last week, but Katniss didn’t think he would remember. 

With his hand still on her waist and her still not shrugging it off, they made to pass Cato and his doll, but, of course, the bodybuilder felt the need to use the sole neuron in his brain. 

“You know you’re just a replacement, right? I mean, she went and looked for the next guy that kinda looked like me because she clearly can’t forget me.” 

Tuck your thumb over your middle finger to make a proper fist. If you wrap your fingers around your thumb, you’re likely going to break it. 

Her father’s words and the boxing lessons came back in a flash, and before Peeta could hold her back, Katniss pivoted on her left foot, momentum aiding her, and connected her first with Cato’s jaw. She wasn’t an expert boxer or anything of the sort; she just liked the exercise, and she was strong. But Katniss must have been lucky enough to hit the sweet spot because Cato dropped to the aisle floor, unconscious. 

“Babe!” Barbie girl screeched, and suddenly, two more gorilla-looking guys were coming to her aid. 

Friends of his, no doubt. 

“Tell your boy toy, next time he wants to bully me to think twice, lest he finds himself beaten up again by a woman,” Katniss spat at the blonde girl. 

“You did this?” A broad and tall black guy asked. He was actually pretty scary, but Katniss held her ground and managed to nod. To her surprise, he chuckled and sort of bowed to her. “He’s an ass. I bet he had it coming. We’ll take care of him.” 

“Thresh! He’s your friend…” Barbie girl actually had tears in her eyes. 

“He’s not. We’re just in the same weightlifting class. And don’t cry; he’ll come to soon. Finnick, help me bring this idiot back.” 

“You must have a mean right hook, hon,” the guy with reddish hair and perfect teeth told Katniss. 

“I do.” She jutted out her chin proudly; her dad had taught her well. 

“Nice to know you have it all sorted out. Katniss, should we go?” Peeta was pulling her a bit, and she let him, both soon finding themselves out in the parking lot, having decided to leave behind the cans and the ham. 

Once they were in front of her car, Katniss did something she rarely did. 

“I’m sorry I cost you your ham.” 

Peeta seemed surprised, but he simply smiled. “That’s okay. There are a lot of hams left, actually; I just needed an excuse to walk up to you.” 

“Why did you do that?” 

“That guy was an ass, and I know you could’ve handled it on your own, but…,” he leaned in a bit and whispered, “doesn’t it feel good to let him know you’re with someone much better now?” 

Katniss couldn’t help it, she laughed. “You’re full of yourself, Mellark!” 

“Hey! I’m a catch, I tell you. Owner of his own bakery, hard-working; I know how to cook and bake, and I’m easy on the eyes, too.” 

“Not to mention, tons and tons of humility.” 

“That, too.” He smiled, and Katniss rolled her eyes, but she really didn’t feel angry with him. She hadn’t needed his help, but he had offered it freely without expecting anything in return. “So, I guess this is where we part ways.” 

“What are your plans for tonight, Peeta?” Katniss suddenly asked, and he was surprised as well. 

“Uhhhh, not much. Bake something? Eat it while watching TV, nothing exciting.” 

“You can come to my Aunt Martha’s, if you want. Prim would love to see you, and this way I can repay your ‘act of kindness’.” 

“Really? You sure it wouldn’t bother you?” 

“If it did, I wouldn’t have asked.” 

“Sure, I’d love to.” 

“Okay, but before that, there’s something I need you to do for me.” 

“What is it?” 

“Can you drive? My right hand is killing me.” 

                                                °•. ✿ .•°

“Why couldn’t you just buy it?” Katniss whined.

“Because I actually enjoy baking. You should know this already.” Peeta chuckled as he handled the mixer. After a few more turns, it seemed everything was ready. “I just need to flour the containers now.” Peeta patted his hands on his apron and went back to the pantry. 

Katniss took her chance. 

She slowly inched her hand forward, her eyes not leaving Peeta’s back, just in case. 

Two more inches and-

“I swear, Katniss, if you’re reaching for that dough I won’t make any cheese buns for a week.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” she exclaimed, shocked. That wasn’t fair! Peeta hadn’t even turned around, but he knew what she had been about to do. 

“Try me, love.” He then approached the table again, watching a grumbling Katniss cross her arms. “You know you can’t have raw dough while pregnant.”

“That’s a stupid rule. I bet it’s invented. How did women manage centuries ago, then?” 

“Oh, I don’t know. They sometimes died intoxicated, so no biggie.” Peeta was serious now. 

“I wouldn’t die over a bit of dough…” She said it under her breath, but he heard.

Peeta sighed, and Katniss felt a pang of regret. Damn him. “Katniss, do we really have to discuss this again? It’s Thanksgiving, and I’d bet my bank account Aunt Martha would come down here and force you to go to the party if you weren’t so-” 

“Go on, finish what you were going to say.” Katniss knew she was so big she might be in need of her own postal code. 

“-tired. You’re carrying twins, and that’s not an easy feat. The only thing she asked for was the pumpkin pie with maple whipped cream.”

“Every fucking year.” 

“She indulges during the holiday.”

“Why not just get one from the bakery?”

“She wants it fresh.” 

“Why doesn’t she come down here and get it herself?”

“You really want your Aunt Martha here? Right now? Today?”

“…No.” Why did Peeta have to be so logical? 

“I know you’re crabby and your feet are probably swelling. Let me put this in the oven, and then I’ll massage them with some of that lavender cream your mother gave you.” 

“And a bath.”

“A massage and a bath, you got it.” 

Peeta, of course, fulfilled his promise and left Katniss so relaxed she fell asleep and didn’t even notice her husband had gone and come back from the Everdeen’s annual Thanksgiving gathering. 

By the time she opened her eyes, he was sitting next to her, reading a book. 

“Hey…did you all get a proper rest?” Peeta put a hand on her belly, smiling. 

“I think so, yeah; they just started moving.” 

“I can feel. Here, let me help you up.” Peeta’s strength was no joke. He could single-handedly lift her up, yes, even when she felt like a whale, and prop her on the bed so she could sit comfortably. “That okay?” 

“Yes, perfect.” 

“Happy anniversary, love.” He presented her with a huge cheese bun, making her laugh.

“Peeta, just because we fucked for the first time four years ago today, doesn’t mean it’s an anniversary.”

“For me it is! Come on, I bet you didn’t think we’d end up doing it in the bathroom that night.” 

“I seriously didn’t.”

“But here we are, and that’s all that matters.” 

Her husband really was the cheesiest person alive, but she secretly adored that part of him. 

“Shut up and let me enjoy my cheese bun.”

“Your wish is my command.” 

[redmaneroster]

Our Home Away From Home, Away From Home

[1] [2] [3] [4-5] [6] [7] [x-x] [10]

PART 8 – Permutation

Its almost strange to call it home, Yang thinks, staring up at the house she grew up in. She'd spent so much time in a cozy little dorm and a browning two-bedroom apartment that a house in the woods almost seems like a distant memory. (She hadn't spent Summer here either. She was in Menagerie with Blake then Mistral with her dad for a getaway, and the rest she spent kicking back with Jaune).

"A lot happened this year," she says.

Jaune's eying the woods around them, trying to see a break in the pattern outside of a few distant houses lost between the bark and autumn leaves. He swallows cause he knows that, if it weren't for Yang, he'd have been terribly lost. "Hm? Uh… huh?" he garbles, unable to hide the tinge of panic.

"A lot happened this year," she repeats. "What's up with you?"

"The woods are thick is all. How you only got lost in it once is beyond me… So, what's with the nostalgia? Old house got you thinking?"

"Something like that. Mostly, I didn't think I'd end up here, getting ready to reacquaint with Raven, and getting you of all people to meet my parents."

"Yeah, didn't think I'd end up introducing another blonde to my sisters either. Future seemed full of redheads and I stuck with it like an act of defiance."

"Defiance? Why's that?"

"If you haven't noticed, we're all terribly blonde. Even Adrian's hair is a dirty gold and we thought for sure he'd be a brunette. It's either a curse, or fate is terrible at jokes and uncomfortable at parties."

She chuckles. "Calling fate out like a loser isn't going to win you any favors. Besides, can't help it when both your folks are blondes."

"One of my sisters is adopted. A blind adoption, mind you. From Vacuo. You know what we got? Chocolate brown skin and dusty blonde hair. Boom. Curse."

There's the sound of fluttering feathers behind them. Qrow straightens his back with a snap as he shapeshifts. "Ngh, agh! Ha… What are two doing just standing outside? Expecting another invitation?"

Jaune and Yang exchange a look. "Stalling," they say in unison.

"W-what? How did you two…? Nevermind." He pinches his forehead cause the moment is too familiar and he feels an irrational envy creep up his cheeks. "You two coming in or not?"

"Why so impatient all of a sudden?" Jaune asks.

"I don't take enjoyment out of watching a train wreck but if I can't stop it, I'll at least hope it's over quickly."

Yang puts a hand on her hip. "Not very optimistic, are you?"

"I prefer cautious," he says as he waves a dismissive hand and stalks ahead of them. "Besides, I don't want you two walking in there expecting things to go off without a hitch." He glances back to see them roll their eyes at the same time and that uncomfortable shiver is back.

"Now that you're here, a disaster's all but guaranteed," Jaune quips.

Qrow glares but neither of them lose their cheek. He rolls his eyes too, but doesn't show them his smile when he's got his back turned. He isn't too sensitive about his semblance – if anything, he's glad Jaune can treat him like he isn't a wounded animal – but he notices the twitch in Jaune's eye. It's there cause he's too soft a soul to have all the bite that quips demand. He almost wants to say sorry for it. "He's a good kid,"

Qrow thinks.

With a twist of the knob, he opens the door and then kicks up his heel to slam it open the rest of the way. He wanders in with a swagger and a mischievous grin. Both fit him naturally.

"Rae!" he shouts. "Your brat and her boyfriend are at the door!"

Jaune balks and shoots Yang a look. She gives him a quick, "He's just like that when he talks to her," and ushers him in.

"And you didn't let them in like a normal fucking person!?" Raven shouts back and it's like a nostalgic gust has poured over Yang. Raven's every inflection is recognizable, echoing deeply from buried memories. They argued like this often when she was small.

"They can walk through a door just fine," Qrow says, swinging into the archway that leads into a tall kitchen. "And lest you forget, I'm a guest here, too. Not your chaperone."

Jaune lets Yang wander ahead, eying her backside as she inches a trail behind Qrow.

Yang peeks in to see her mother chopping something on the kitchen table by the sink. Bravado has taken a backseat and the very reality of the situation has settled in like a bat to Yang's blindside.

"Do you really have to be difficult with me right now?" Raven says with a huff but there's no bite to it, just lazy exasperation.

"Yeah, I do…" Qrow replies. "This is our normal. The minute I go easy on you, assume I'm dead and you've encountered a terribly tolerable doppelganger."

Raven's cheek quirks and it triggers in Yang things she half remembers, and half convinces herself she'd seen in a dream.

"Hmph. Bold of you to assume I won't just take the trade as an act of divine mercy. Maybe this doppelganger can cook for the house every once in a while instead of free loading off my dinner."

"If you wanted me to cook venison, you could have asked."

"Not the deer again… Tai hates it when you bring the kill into the kitchen. I personally don't care that you track blood on the carpet, but he refuses to agree with my sentiments about a house that's lived in and not one you find sterilized in catalogs. Ugh, I'm getting tired just thinking of that argument."

"I know," Qrow agrees, leaning on the counter. "That's why I do it on purpose."

Raven tilts her head back to give her brother a smirk. "You're a scoundrel, Qrow," she says just before her eyes catch Yang's.

"Hey, Mom," Yang says out of instinct. It's too late to take it back.

"Yang, you–" she crosses her arms, "–who is this?"

Jaune's heat presses against her arm like the partner he is. Not in front like her protector, but beside her like her equal. She can feel the way he's hiding his nerves with the shudder in his arm. "Dad didn't tell you?" she says. "This is Jaune. My boyfriend."

Jaune, borrowing confidence he's learned from her, doesn't back down. "Good afternoon, ma'am," he greets, standing proudly. His fingers twitch against Yang's arm.

"Oh, he told me about him alright. I just wasn't expecting a familiar face." Her eyes lock onto him. She smirks when she sees he doesn't flinch. "You're an Arc, I take it? I recognize that face. Your father was in the news once or twice."

"Oh, you heard about the manticore horde? Or was it the behemoth at Glenn?"

"Neither. He blew up a dust shop."

Oddly enough, Yang feels him relax.

"Yeah," he says, scratching his head, "Arcs really shouldn't have guns."

Raven nods. There's no tension here, and Yang feels it's gone all too smoothly.

"Perhaps you can tell me the story," Raven offers as she turns back to chopping. "I have an old bet with Qrow I'd like to settle."

"What did you bet on?" Jaune asks.

Raven snorts. "And let you lie to give my brother the win? Please. I know you two are friendly." She glances back. It's the only other time through this whole conversation that she's looked Yang in the eye and it's still only for a second. She goes back to chopping. "Why don't you two go into the living room and wait for Tai while my silent shadow of a brother here helps me sort out this recipe."

Qrow shrugs and continues to say nothing other than whisper something to Raven that makes her blush angrily.

Yang peels off of Jaune and her insides broil unsteadily.

"Sounds like she's changed," Jaune says when he's in the living room alone with her on a wide U-shaped sofa.

She shakes her head. "She hasn't though."

"What? But the way you described her before–"

"–is all hearsay. I had a mom who left out of the blue. Before that she was jabbing back and forth with Qrow, needing help in the kitchen, and trying her best to be on top of things. Everything I said about her between that time was just me making assumptions about a woman who wasn't around for me to judge in person. I never actually knew if she changed any since leaving."

"So this is Raven Branwen: Unfiltered? If this is what she was like before, then maybe she's just trying to fit back into place the only way she knows how."'

She raises her knees to curl up but she forces them back down. She doesn't want to appear too obviously vulnerable. Not when her mother is still in the house. She tosses Jaune a meaningful glance. "Is it wrong for me to hate that?"

"Some people might say it is, but I think it's too much to ask someone who has had to raise her little sister all on her own to let her absentee mother just waltz back into her life like nothing's changed."

"I still don't know if you're agreeing with me or not."

"Cause I don't know either. Give me a minute to think on it and I'll probably pick a side but I'd much rather stay right where I am. On neutral ground." He squeezes her hand. "I'm here to be your backup, not your coach." Because they don't solve each other's issues, not every time, but they always help each other along.

She knows this, of course. She hasn't deluded herself into thinking that they could crack every case just because love had lofty ideas about making everything right. Being in love doesn't solve everything, it just gives you a partner to solve them with.

"I think I'm suddenly very tired," she says, leaning on his arm. "Wake me in an hour when dinner's ready."

"Uh… shouldn't it be done sooner?"

"Raven used to wake up at five AM to make breakfast in time for school. She takes breaks cause she doesn't always have the patience for it. Don't expect it to go any faster with Uncle Qrow in there. He's just there to make sure she doesn't skip any steps."

"That doesn't fill my with confidence," he says but she's already snuggling into his arm with a contented sigh.

With the sound of clattered pans and restrained yelling from the kitchen, Jaune decides to shut his eyes too.

-0-

Jaune is violently awoken by someone grabbing him by the collar and shaking him awake.

"You!" says the messy tuft of blonde hair presently pressed against his face. "You're… yer…. Hic!" The scent of alcohol is palpable. The smell is dizzying.

He blinks himself awake. "Uh, you're Mr. Xiao Long, I'm guessing? I'm Jaune. Yang said she mentioned me?"

The tuft of hair pulls up revealing the chiseled scruff of a well-worn huntsman. Faded scars litter his neck and chin, but that's where all the menace in him ends. Despite his tone, Taiyang has the look of a desperate man. His eyes are wide and a solid, beautiful blue. His cheeks have a slight plump to them that make him just shy of an Adonis.

Jaune makes the executive decision not to think along that line any further. But it's clear that Yang's got stellar genes and – No! Bad Jaune! Stop it!

Tai glances at the slumbering Yang, snoring softly against Jaune's arm. "What did you do to my daughter?" he says with a drunken pout that would look more intimidating on a pug.

"Uh, nothing!" he whispers urgently. "Nothing I swear."

He squints so much that he closes his eyes and nearly passes out before he jolts himself awake. "You… You and Qrow really are friends. 'Nothing,' he says… that's just code for plowed her till sunrise."

Still in a sleepy haze, Yang pushes her father's face away until he falls back onto the coffee table behind him. "Dad… leave him alone," she groans. "He wouldn't touch me even if I tore off his clothes and –" Her eyes shoot open, fully awake and painfully aware. Her scream then is almost silent, Jaune thinks, but he's pretty certain that's cause Yang's vivid horror is blasted like shellshock when she abruptly screams louder next to his ear and scrambles over the sofa to hide behind it.

He's still shaking his head to get the ringing out.

Qrow bursts in, Raven meekly peeking behind him. "What the fuck – Oh."

Tai is sprawled over the coffee table, squinting angrily at everything.

"Bird!" Tai accuses, swinging his arm out to point at him but slamming it on the hardwood coffee table. "Ow," he mutters as his aura flares.

"Drunk," Qrow greets. He hoists the man over his shoulder. "Sorry about this, kids. I think Tai's got his nerves bundled up again. I'll get him to detox upstairs after a nap."

"Uh, it looks like he'll be out for the week," Jaune says, shaking his head still. "I doubt a nap will fix him by dinner."

"Nah. Tai can burn all the alcohol out of his system with enough motivation and calories. He'll be ready by the time Rae manages to get something on the table."

Tai wiggles like an insolent child, fists lightly beating on the man's back. "Back off, Qrow!" he slurs. "You're not taking this one – hic – too… guh…"

"That's my twin sister, you dunce."

"Really?" Tai pushes his head up, eying Raven. "Pfft! Qrow, you are not that pretty."

Once the two of them have rounded the corner into Tai's bedroom, Jaune asks the quietly smiling Raven, "This happen often?"

"Not as much as it used to," she says. "Was a time when there were two whole families in this house and it was never quiet. Two men and enough testosterone to make a third made competition between them frequent. Qrow got Tai to drink and you can see that he hasn't acclimated to it as well as my brother does."

"Do you drink?"

"I'm a Branwen," she shrugs, "our blood is two parts alcohol. Small mercy that Yang hasn't picked up our habits. Or Ruby for that matter."

Jaune raises a brow. "Ruby's a Branwen?"

Yang nearly gasps from behind the couch, hands clutching her mouth.

"No," Raven says. "Well, she should have been but Qrow basically raised her all the same. He even knit her a tiny red hood when she was barely a foot tall, and it's been her motif ever since." Raven, eying him, closes her arms a little tighter around herself. As if guarded. Uncertain. "Despite how it may appear," she says, "I am glad my daughter found you but there's something you should know moving forward…"

Jaune prepares for the inevitability of the 'boyfriend' talk. It doesn't come. Raven is beside herself, eying the floor. "No matter what happens today, I do not intend to reconcile with my daughter."

He realizes that she doesn't know that Yang is in the room, just by the sofa. His heart knots. "You don't know if she wants that yet."

She laughs. It's bitter. "It doesn't matter. What Yang wants isn't coming into the equation. She needs to distance herself from me."

"What was the point of coming here if not to bridge the gap between you two?"

Raven chews her lip, wanting nothing more than to end the conversation and walk out of the room. She doesn't. Can't. "To prove that things have changed here. That me and my brother talk, and that Tai has… met me halfway."

"So this – all of this – is for show?"

Her features darken, her face hardens. "Yes."

He pushes himself up, almost prepares to march up to her. His feet don't push him any further. His willful restraint is there but it's paper thin. "And if she wants more?" he asks, inwardly begging her to give him a reason to meet her up close.

Her eyes narrow at the floor. "All you have to do is make her an Arc and she'll live a life better than anything I can give her!" Her gaze is at him, dangerous and unafraid, but its desperate. She's asking him a favor. "Asking me to be a part of her life is like active theft. You will give her all she'll ever want, but me? I'll only ever take things away. And if you give me the chance, I'll end up taking her too. She'll leave you like I did Tai."

The silence wanes and Jaune can hear the thumping in his own chest. She's making claims for things that haven't happened yet. As if she can't promise to give as well as she takes. As if she can't meet her own daughter halfway. As if she can't compromise. His ears strain to hear anything from Yang, but she's so deftly quiet that he feels alone in the room with her mother.

Muscle fastens onto bone, curling his fist inward till digs into his palm. His aura flares. The sound of it jolts him awake. He'd been holding his breath.

Then… he plops down onto his seat. Tension in his skin unwinds. All his disbelief slips away. Any anger he feels pools into his back to weigh him against the cushions. "But why?" is all he asks, looking up at her.

Raven is so taken aback by his sudden shift that she shows the tangled fear she'd tucked away for a moment. The question is genuine and – like her many nights moonlighting bars – she is tempted to bare her soul to a stranger. "Because I'm a Branwen," she says, eyes deadened. Scowling as if the name is a profane. "And even a terrible mother wouldn't wish that name on her daughter."

When she leaves the room, Yang rises from behind the couch. She doesn't focus on anything. She looks bewildered, pained.

Qrow comes down the steps and they look at him. He looks like how she feels. "I'm sorry if this wasn't what you were expecting," he says.

Yang clutches the backrest of the sofa. "I don't know what I was expecting."

Qrow gives her a worried look. "Maybe… maybe it's better that way."

He wanders into the kitchen, leaving them alone.

Jaune doesn't hold Yang. Instead, he fishes her gauntlets from the duffel bag, takes her by the hand, and pulls her outside.

-0-

She sets fire to a dead tree. The blast of Ember Celica ripples through the woods, scatters wildlife, shakes the canopy, and rustles the owls awake. She doesn't care. The blowback from her gauntlets as it makes contact with the deadwood is cathartic. Reflective of what she's feeling inside.

But it isn't anger.

"What does she even… Ugh!" Another blast, sending out a spent shell, light casting over her cheek and hair with accompanying heat. "I don't get it!"

She breathes in and out. Blinks moisture into her eyes. She's been doing the very opposite of crying and drying the liquid in her sockets. She's starting to feel dizzy. She slumps back onto a rock Jaune is sitting on, using his shoulder as a backrest. "I'm not… mad at her. I'm confused. And I'm mad that I'm confused. Does that make sense?"

"About as much sense as she was making," he says with a sarcastic smile.

She's trying to smile back. Even a little one might do but her lips down-curl. Her frown tightens and she sighs into the open sky. "I wanted to give her a chance," she says. "Maybe see where this goes but… now that I know she won't even try? How am I supposed to process this? Do I just do what she wants and not try either?"

He plucks a twig from a dead branch, snapping its length into little pieces. "Do you even want to do that? I mean, if leaving things as they are isn't what you want, then ideally how would you like all this to end?"

She takes half of the twig – snapping it between them. She picks it apart too.

An answer doesn't come.

They gather the tiny bits of branch and bunch it into Jaune's hands. Yang pulls out a fire dust shell from her gauntlet and cracks it open over them. Red particles filter over and into the loose wood bits. He spools them into a ball and his semblance surges over his arm.

His muscles tighten when he approaches the dead tree. It's barely as tall as he is now. His arm pulls back. The chunks in his palm ignite. He throws them like a man-propelled buckshot, scattering burning holes through it.

Even charred, the thing has dangerous embers dancing off its broken pieces.

"We should put this out," she says.

"Mm!" He kicks it down, unrooting it. Then he hoists it up. "Got another good punch in ya'?"

"I've got a few, yeah, but I'll save the rest for later. I only need one for this."

He crouches low, prepping to toss. "Ready?" he asks.

"Pull!" she shouts.

He tosses it into the air, scattering the scent of ash and char, and she swings her fist into it. The sheer force of the blow consumes the flame as it rockets and splinters into a tall rock.

"Y'know what?" she says. "If it's taking me this long to even answer, maybe this isn't what I want."

"So what now, chief?"

She snorts. "Don't give me ideas. Anyway, I say we take the aggressive approach. We got them a present, I say we break it out instead of handing them the box. Invite them to try it with us."

Jaune turns to the house where they left the duffel bag. He winces. "Are you sure about this?"

"I don't see an elegant solution. And it's probably stupid, yeah, but stupid has worked for us so far."

"Really? How exactly has it worked for us so far?"

"In what universe do hickeys stop two primed teenagers from having sex?"

"Ours, apparently…"

"Gets the tension out. Would be genius if I didn't find it by accident."

"Speaking of which…"

He comes up behind her and pushes her hair off her shoulder, exposing her neck.

"What are you – Ah!" she gasps when he bites her neck. Her aura lowers on instinct, letting him mark her.

He pulls away and wipes her dry with a handkerchief. "You taste like saltwater and ash."

She rubs her neck as the pain subsides rapidly. "We should bathe when we get back. What was that for anyway?"

"Revenge, mostly. Feeling petty."

"On me?"

"Your mom."

"Heh, yeah, she's gonna ask questions or implode trying not to. Actually, since we're getting shiners, we should get ones to match."

He doesn't protest but he's not happy about it. With a sigh he leans down but she's already jumped up to latch onto him.

She bites down so hard that he swears that she was actually trying to eat him. He'd be more okay with it if she didn't keep trying to one-up herself.

-0-

Dinner, somehow, is always pleasant. True to Qrow's word, Tai comes in completely sober. Jaune chalks it up to having a very useful semblance.

Tai is a chill dad. He nudges Yang when he sees the hickey, even when Qrow refuses to make eye contact with Jaune and Raven squints while warring with herself to say something but won't. Tai reintroduces himself and sits next to Jaune to strike up a conversation with him.

It takes minutes for Tai to fish out that Jaune has seven sisters, that he met Yang by throwing up on her boots, and that he used to have a crush on Ruby. The last bit comes as a surprise to everyone but Tai who pats himself on the back for having incredible girls in the family.

Jaune finds out that Tai is very much like Yang. Despite closing himself off for a good chunk of her childhood, he's clearly had a great influence on her disposition. Father and daughter joke and jab at each other, laugh just as loudly, crack the same kind of jokes (he tries not to think of them as mom jokes when he looks at his girilfriend).

Jaune eventually gets to tell the story of how his dad blew up a dust shop during his third year in Beacon. Just a mishap with a loose dust feeder, a weapon he didn't know how to use, and a particularly handsy bully. By the end, Raven cheers when she wins the bet. Apolian Arc punched a cop. Qrow bet that he punched a civilian.

They're unwinding in the living room when Jaune's eying the wall of photos. Summer's only in a handful of the group shots. Qrow explains that she insisted on being the photographer and didn't like being in photos herself. It's why she has the hood. It's comforting when she can pretend to be hiding.

She sounds like Ruby.

"I just noticed," Jaune says to Yang, "your mom's smiling in every photo. Qrow's the only one who occasionally doesn't."

"It was a different time," she says. "Qrow told me that she was cheery and crass. Would even crack a joke or two whenever she found the time to stop training and be a teenager."

"I'll be honest, it's still weird seeing her smile so much. I came in here expecting a variation of Glynda Goodwitch, not Qrow Branwen. Speaking of which," he glances back at the adults huddled laughing by the sofa, "we should probably break out the gift."

"Speaking of speaking of things," she rubs the hickey on her neck, "it still stings."

"Oh, sorry. Let me heal it."

She pushes his hands away. "No, I –" Her eyes widen. Pressing two digits into the bruised flesh, she feels the ache but doesn't hate it. "Okay, heal me quick before this turns into a fetish!"

Warmth pools out of his palms.

"Could you not make out in full view of her family?" Qrow calls from across the room, and they realize they're leaned a little too close.

"We weren't gonna!" Jaune calls out.

Yang rolls her eyes cause she's comfortable with them coming to their own conclusions about her relationship but Jaune's stint with Tai made him want to make a good impression. It was already easy enough what with Tai admitting that as long as Yang chose and continues to choose him, then he'll rest easy knowing she's in good hands, but Jaune wants to pile on the goodwill.

Those thoughts take a backseat when Yang reaches for the duffel bag by the coffee table. Goodwill be damned.

It's time.

Yang parts a few clothes and a hollowed-out cushion for their scrolls to fish out a crystalline bottle. "We wanted to hand this off in the box but we figured we might as well crack it open tonight."

With the way they're all staring at the bottle, it's clear they recognize it.

Qrow roars with laughter. "Ha! Diadem, the dirtiest fucking drink on the planet!" He comes up to it and holds the bottle aloft, fingers running over the bumpy, crystalline surface. "Ah, look at it. All prettied up for the upper class. Diadem used to be homemade and brewed in a shack. Used to be so strong that you could feel nothing for hours."

"'Course, the stuff's a little better refined nowadays. You used to taste fire dust in it too cause their shoddy furnaces were held together by spit and prayers. But look at it! Pricks like Jacques fucking Schnee or that Lucius ass-end-of-an-ass Merrigold would down this like it's water, having no idea that they're chugging the equivalent of desert moonshine."

Tai licks his lips and it almost feels like a bad idea before he shoots up from his seat. "I'll get the shot glasses!" he announces.

Raven is the only one not smiling. She's suspicious, but the minute the drink touches her lips and she's made wide awake, she melts into the same stupor as everyone else.

-0-

Yang barely registers what their plan was supposed to be. Loosening Raven's lips with the stiffest drink since frozen stalactites seemed a half-baked plan at best, but they didn't plan passed that. They might have been able to salvage it if they didn't take many drinks themselves.

Jaune took exactly one and he's already left her alone to start an intimate relationship with the toilet.

He did, however, get the ball rolling about last names for some reason. He might have explained why to her but she can't remember.

"They'll lose sleep over a friend who's had a bad day," Raven says with a snarl that isn't sincere so much as it appears to be her permanent tipsy-face. "Worrying up and down but will leave you alone after a smile cause that's all they need to calm their nerves. Their hearts are too kind…"

"Who…?" Yang slurs, struggles to think of the rest of the sentence, then starts over. "Who… who are you talking about?"

Raven scrunches her nose. "The Roses," she answers.

Yang buries her head in her hands and curls into her seat. "No… I don't wanna hear about Uncle Qrow's god-damn garden again…"

Qrow, sporting alcohol like one does water, kicks back beside her. There's something in his eye though. The alcohol is getting to him. "We're talking about the Rose half of the family. Y'know, Summer and Ruby?"

"Hm?" She squints. "Oh yeah… Ruby's a worrywart."

"Qrow!" Tai calls from beside Raven, looping an arm around her. "What's a Xiao Long like then?"

"They're all fucking crazy," he jabs. Yang and Tai simultaneously pretend to be hurt. "But! I've found that the more obnoxious they seem on the outside, the more worth you'll find underneath."

Raven leans into Tai and stares at Yang's feet curled up on the cushion. It's the closest she'll get to meeting her eyes. "They can be in your face," Raven says, "deftly abrasive, louder than foghorns, and wilder than ursa! But they're steadfast partners…" She looks up at Tai who has a half-lidded gawk to him that's like he's falling in love with her again. "Painfully loyal… and… dangerously persistent."

Yang feels a heat roll over her side. She leans into it until she realizes that Jaune's slid beside her and pulling her in by the waist. "She's right, y'know?" Jaune tells her quietly. "You never did listen when I asked you not to pursue me and, yet, here we are. You never did know when to quit but I'm glad you never quit on me."

She wants to return the sentiment somehow but words don't form and she's making faces that she worries he'll misunderstand. She's just mad at herself for not finding words. "F-fuck… That was a human sentence you just made. Why aren't you drinking?" she says instead, pushing an empty shot glass to his lips.

"No thanks. Diadem will literally kill me. I felt like I was throwing up my own organs. I swear I felt my lungs pull up into my throat. I am not touching that decanter ever again." He turns to Qrow who is squinting at them as if they're all out of focus. "Oh, shit, sorry, Qrow," Jaune says. Cause the man is sat alone in front of two couples.

Jaune tries not to wince when Qrow downs a shot and his eyes go glassy.

He is sat slumped at the last corner of the large U-shaped sofa. His scroll, set neatly below him on the coffee table, flashes over his gawk face as he leans into it. His hands are beside him, palms pointing upwards while his fingers twitch like roots animating in intervals. His slack jaw regards them with his deep gaunt, eyes meeting every face before he points his head to the ceiling as he falls back into the seat. Seems he's not quite as adept with so many drinks in him. Or maybe Diadem is a weakness.

He lets each eye blink individually before he announces, "I'm dating again!"

Everyone sits up. Okay, only kind of. They lean out but can't peel off the sofa. Except for Jaune who is sober. "Since when do you have time to date?" he asks.

"I don't," he chuckles, shaking his head as he comes back to his senses. "I flirt while on the job. Closest thing either of us will get to a date at this point."

Yang mumbles something.

Jaune strains his ears to hear her. Maybe the ringing from earlier hasn't stopped. "What was that? I'm sitting right next to you and even I couldn't hear you."

She pulls up before falling sideways onto Jaune's shoulder. "Who!?" she calls out to the room cause she doesn't know where Qrow is. Her eyes are still closed.

Qrow grins. "Winter… Schnee."

At first, when he starts talking about a mission they had together in Mistral, they think he's going to segway into a conquest. But he doesn't. He starts talking about how he and Winter shared in the fact that they both had a responsibility they shirked for duty. To protect the world their loved ones live in, they've chosen to abandon having lives of their own.

No one calls him out for clearly being drunk out of his mind nor for opening up.

He's got an anthology of moments with Winter. And each time he finishes a story, they're surprised whenever it doesn't end in heat. One time they do end it in a kiss, but it was on the cheek. She'd done it comfort him but they both knew it was hollow. It was an appreciated gesture, but it wasn't something that could help. They aren't wired to let something like that heal any kind of wound.

Winter doesn't know what it's like to have a delicate heart anymore and the idea of quiet comforts like a hug or a kiss feels so… unsubstantial to them both. They either needed more or that wasn't the kind of comfort they needed. Realizing this is why they started dating.

The stories are nicer then. They leave a movie theater ten minutes in when they realize that sitting around to watch actors pretend to be heroes isn't for them. They instead find a quiet corner in a bar but they don't drink. They talk and he jokes and she's smiling and they kiss and…

Raven is curled up into Tai now, staring at her brother with a look that can only be pride.

Jaune is smiling sleepily at him. Yang nestles into his chest as they scoop together on the sofa's corner.

Qrow gets up, scroll in hand, and leaves the room to call Winter.

Tai and Jaune fall asleep.

Yang catches Raven staring but is so out of it that she isn't sure if Raven caught her staring instead. The quiet makes the crickets fill the spaces beside something crackling outside.

"What are Branwens like?" Yang asks.

Raven squints, pulling herself out of her dreariness. "…What?"

"If a Rose cares too much but loves unconditionally, and a Xiao Long is a dependable but gets in your face, then what is a Branwen?"

She huddles into Tai, looking vulnerable. "We…" Her eyes narrow at the floor and she hisses quietly to herself. "I…"

A pang of empathy makes her sit up. "Mom…" she says consciously.

Raven stares at her. Yang can't tell if she's touched or just shocked, but when her eyes draw away and she clutches at Tai's shirt, words pour shaking out of her lips. "Branwens… are a curse." Something awful crawls into her cheeks, her features squeezing together so her few wrinkles cast shadows. There's a pain there that almost looks familiar, as if she'd had this look about her forever but only now is Yang seeing it for what it is. And whatever that pain is, it's old. Maybe even older than she is.

Raven whispers something to Tai before getting up. Halfway up the steps, she looks at Yang and Jaune before saying, "You should take him to bed. I don't care what you do with him but I'm sure he'll appreciate a warm mattress over a sofa."

"That's very considerate of you," Yang says as she eases Jaune's arm over her shoulder. "Thanks."

Raven blushes, deeper than the alcohol might, as she marches back up the steps. "Don't get used to it," she says, not meaning it.

Jaune sleepily wakes up with a good shake. "Ugh, babe, could ya' not?"

"Pfft! Since when do you call me babe?"

"In my head, mostly. Giving you a pet name will actively worsen my experience. You've got enough ammunition to tease me with."

"I'll fish them out of you yet. Pick up your feet a little. I'm taking you to bed."

"Please, no," he says, pretending to resist. "I'm still tender…"

She rolls her eyes. Even in a drowsy state, he still finds time mess around. "Don't cooperate and I'll sling you over my shoulder."

He scoffs playfully. "As if a free ride is gonna stop me."

Her eyes narrow. "I'm really going to do it."

"Whoa, whoa! Hey, I'll do it…" He yawns. "See?" His shin hits the coffee table and he stumbles.

Yang grabs him and leads him by the arm.

Tai stirs when they pass him by. "Honey?"

"Go to bed, Dad."

"Good night, Mr. Xiao Long."

"Please," Tai grins, "call me Tai."

Jaune squints. "Yeah, I'm not doing that."

"You're not –" Yang starts. "Oh, hey, look at us. Still in sync!"

"I think there just isn't a universe where I call your dad Tai." His nose scrunches up. "Yup, even sounds weird saying it out loud."

-0-

Yang's room is as she remembers it. Only, for once, it's completely tidy. She always had a habit of leaving a little mess somewhere. Sometimes it was hidden, like in a drawer or a corner under her desk, but not this time. Her dad (or maybe Qrow) keeps it cleaner than she ever would have.

Even her strung-up photos along the ceiling are still there. Dates and names and faces she thought would be her whole world. Only now she has a new circle of friends.

"This feels like a room for a different person," she says to Jaune after she's laid him in her bed. Her comforter is freshly pressed and still warm. "Like I'm looking at old me through a lens."

Jaune's eyes are still closed but he reaches for her hand over the sheets and says, "Or maybe this is the version of you your dad remembers. How different are you now from back then?"

"Not a lot, I think. I mean, we're only over a year apart," she spies a photo of her and Ruby glistening in the moonlight. It's of her last day in Signal. It was Ruby's last day too, apparently. "Or maybe I just haven't noticed." She shoots him a look and he can feel her stare enough to crack an eye open. "Comparing me now to when we met. Was I different?"

He shuts his eyes again, but he finds her hand and tugs once. Yang willfully falls onto the mattress next to him. "Hm… well you used to have anger issues in the ring. Even Ms. Goodwitch is starting to notice how you've mellowed out."

"Heh, I guess I have you to thank for that."

He places a hand over her face. He's still not opening his eyes but his nose scrunches up again. "No you don't."

She moves his hand off her face. "Eh?"

"That's all you, Yang. You made that change. If I helped at all, our friends did just as much."

Her lip tilts. "I was trying to flirt."

"I know but… we can't about this. Part of me still worries we'll do that stupid couple thing and forget we have friends."

"Hey, we've been good so far, I think… Look, we can talk to them and figure things out."

"Yeah, compromises."

"Yeah!" She curls into his arm. "But not tonight, please… I've enough things to worry about right here."

"Right… Okay, big picture later." He kisses her forehead. "Now sleep. We've had a day…"

"Yeah, a day…"

She gets comfortable under the sheets and on his shoulder for exactly a minute before she remembers something. "Fuck…" she whispers as she pulls out.

"What is it?"

"Forgot the duffel. I'll go get it and be back in a minute."

"Leave it, Yang. Come back to bed."

"Not taking any chances without our scrolls. Ruby might call us." She's already at the door. "Just a minute, I swear."

She finds her dad slumped against the railing that overlooks the living room. Steam billows hazily off his skin and through his jacket, his semblance burning away the alcohol. The area smells thinly like Diadem but mostly of water vapor. Yang's nose twitches at the familiar scent.

He's blinking a lot, head shaking.

"Dad?"

He turns in a start. Breaths pass through him in labored chunks, chest heaving. His eyes are puffy. Fingers twitch and his eyes steal glances at her as he turns away. There's a want – need – to reach out but she can tell that he doesn't think he's worthy of it.

So, she crashes into his back and hugs him.

A palm runs down his face. "I'm so… so sorry, honey," he says.

He tucks his arms into his chest so she can hold all of him. His hands clutch over her encircled wrists. "Dad… Dad it's okay. You were in a rough spot…"

"That doesn't matter… I'm still your father. You needed a parent and you ended up having to be one for Ruby. I… I hate myself everyday thinking about how you didn't have anyone… I… I should have… I'm so sorry…"

She knows telling him that he didn't do anything wrong or that he didn't have any control over himself would only be excuses upon excuses, perhaps only a handful compared to the thousands he'd piled for himself over the years. He knew he did wrong, and none of her strength coming out the other end of it is going to change that.

So, instead, she shifts to his front and pulls up his head. She wraps her arms around his neck. "I don't care about any of that anymore… I already forgive you. I did a long, long time ago."

She feels his tears running down her neck. Then she realizes that some of them are hers.

-0-

Jaune winces. He's been up for over an hour now. Yang slipped into bed with him but she'd been shaking and sniffling. He could tell that she'd been crying but the tears had dried and she'd been fighting off all that was left of whatever it was in his arms. Now she's sleeping soundly while he's been trying to piece together what happened on his own whilst constructing a speech in case it's Raven's fault.

Finally, he settles with getting up and loosening his nerves before really doing anything. Yang groans from the missing warmth as he stumbles out, scroll in hand.

"No new messages…" he mutters. "I hope you're alright, Rubes."

Pushing the door open, he notices an orange glow coming from downstairs. Over the railing, there's nothing below but darkness and moonlight through the windows. Even then, dark shadows waft passed the moon, clawing darkness across the floor.

"Strong, windy clouds tonight… It didn't look like it was gonna rain earlier."

The smell of ash filters into the air. "Ick… Wait."

He's awake now as he stumbles down the steps. The shadows in the window are moving too rapidly for any passing cloud. That's smog, and it clears passed the window for a moment long enough to show the orange glow outside.

The forest is on fire.

"Shit!" he howls as he runs back up the steps. Thinking quickly, he sets his scroll to Seven Rapids and blasts the heavy chorus riff at max. Leaving it in the hall, he can already hear everyone else waking up, groans and thuds all.

He busts through Yang's door. She's rubbing her eyes awake. "Jaune, what –"

"Forest fire," he says quickly, pulling out their weapons from the duffel bag.

She shakes awake. "What?"

Ember Celica crashes into her hands when he tosses them at her.

"The forest is on fire!" he says, not even waiting for her as he busts through the door again and leaps over the railing.

He tucks and rolls along the carpet, nearly colliding with a lamp as he slams through the front door into the suffocating smoke.

Heat rolls through the air like he's sitting in a boiling pot. Even his aura flares at the licking flames that whip in the wind, coiling off the trees like infernal tendrils.

Jaune thinks back to the embers they tried to douse. "Did we do this?" He shakes his head. The thought is useless right now.

The fire burns over a host of trees like charred pillars to the darkened sky, but they're all centered ahead. Most the forest is untouched still. They can contain it if they hurry. They can't stop the fire, but they can stop it from growing.

So he speeds towards the outer rim of the roaring flame where the trees are unburnt and pours his semblance into his arms. One enhanced swing fells a tree, then another, and another, but he knows he can't keep it up. He can't cut these down so easily once he's out of juice.

Qrow blows passed him, slicing a tree himself, clad in only his pants and the greatsword in his hands. "I'm guessing you and Yang have the same plan?"

"Cut off its fuel?"

Tai runs by them as sand pours out of his skin in layers. He's using his semblance and earth dust in his palms to cover the dried leaves on the ground. "Fell those quick!" he shouts. "We don't have much time!"

On the other end of the fire, Yang and Raven are busting a row of trees. Yang's fists tighten with every strike, but even if she can split a tree in a single blow, her aura suffers from the blowback. It isn't any better with Raven whose forearms flare with every swing against the sturdy oaks.

"This isn't working!" Raven shouts.

Tai sprints passed them with the familiar glow of Jaune's semblance running over him like a white shell. A layer of sand up to their ankles forms underneath them, burying dry leaves and loose branches. They could really use Jaune's semblance too. Their arms are aching.

"There are people in these woods," Yang says. "We can't let this get any bigger. Vale's never gonna send any help here fast enough without someone getting hurt."

The fire spits pillars of ash and smoke their way by a rogue wind. They turn to shield their eyes. Yang blinks through the haze and sees something in the distant dark of the woods behind them. Glowing red eyes bob rapidly between the trees, charging towards them.

Yang growls. "Ugh, we do not have time for this!" The cylinders in her gauntlets click together as she loads in fresh shells. "Raven, you're clearing the wood better than I can. Keep at it while I cover you."

Raven's hand fall quickly on her shoulder. "No," she says sternly, "this is all pointless. We're destroying our bodies for a cause we've not the strength for."

"I don't care!" Yang hisses. "I'm still doing this. Whether or not you're behind me helping at all won't change that." And with that, she bolts into the dark and the twisting red eyes in the woods collide with her.

Flashes of her gauntlet colliding with grimm flesh light up the yawning dark. Blackened fur rimmed with pale external bone all scorch and smolder with her every blow, a comet to meet the streaks of vicious red eyes.

Raven backs away from the sight, seeing Summer Rose instead.

Jaune comes up behind her and Raven feels a rush of power coursing through her veins. Her pain vanishes. Her strength feels like it's multiplying. Trees fall with ease then, matching rhythm with her daughter as Jaune runs to her side to fell grimm together.

Raven sees Tai in Jaune's place too.

Minutes pass as the fire is choked on all sides but one. Raven sees Qrow and Tai on the other end, making progress. They're exhausted, heaving through labored lungs, and she can feel her own trying to crawl out of her throat.

She dares to glance back at Jaune and Yang. Something looms overhead of them: a single red eye in the canopy. There's no time to parse what it is. Raven's already sprinting over to them.

She cuts a portal mid-sprint and she leaps into it. Her momentum carries through and into the air as she rockets up from the other end of the portal that manifests at Yang's side. Omen surges with dust as she empties the canister in her sheath and swings into the red eye above.

Fire dust surges in a swath against a mass of stone and charred bark. It's a geist amalgamated into solid wall of wood and stone.

Raven swings again, ice dust crashing into it and pushing it up. Again and again and again. Wind, earth, lightning, gravity. The last one splashes a purple glow over the grimm as it slowly floats, all of its form ensconced in a gravity well that tugs it into the sky.

She swings but she's out of dust… And she's falling. Her skin rustles like pinpricks as she starts to shapeshift into a bird, but she stops when Yang zooms passed her. Jaune's semblance is folded over her, making her glow like an ascending meteor as she crashes dead center into the red eye.

With a thunderous crackle, she breaks through and the night sky gleams passed her. She whoops while she's up there against the moon.

Raven falls into Jaune's arms below. His semblance is already working its way to ease the ache but she pushes off of him. "Thank you," she manages behind a heave of her chest, "ha… but the boys aren't done yet. Help them with the fire. They'll need it more."

Jaune nods without hesitating and sprints off towards the remains of the flame.

Yang falls into a controlled descent as Ember Celica slows her momentum with a few blasts. Her arms aren't blasting evenly. They probably still hurt. She lands into a stumble and lets herself fall into a sitting up position. She's breathing a lot.

Raven sits beside her. Somewhere in the distance, the boys are cheering.

"We did it," Yang says.

"You sound surprised," Raven says.

"Cause just like you, I didn't think we could do it either."

Raven lifts a brow. "So why did you keep pushing?"

"To prove to us both that we were wrong."

And Raven laughs, hardy and true till she's tearing up in one eye for a moment. "You really are Summer's daughter," she says. Her smile is infectious.

Yang hides her smile in her knees, huddling them close to her chest. "I'm yours, too."

Raven's mouth thins sadly. "But you shouldn't be."

"I don't think you have a choice."

There's a blue shimmer through the treeline now. The boys are trying to finish this quicker by using ice dust to enclose the largest parts of the fire in pillars of ice. The pale light resembles frosted glass.

"We're pragmatists," Raven says.

"What?"

Raven tilts her head at her. "You asked what the Branwens are. That's it. Pragmatists." Not a curse this time. This is her honest answer.

Yang huddles closer as Raven's gaze turns faraway. She knows what's coming because Raven, in her disheveled shorts and worn shirt, her ragged hair and muddied skin, is vulnerable. Her artifice, the one of strength that championed her tribe, is gone.

"We like to pretend we have room for love," Raven continues. "That's never the case. Never true. My mother and father died at a burning beach while Qrow and I fled with the tribe. Nevermind that our eldest sister died with them, more brilliant than either of us will ever be. It didn't matter that she deserved a life brighter than either us could ever make it. A Branwen is hardwired to protect something bigger than they are. To us, that was always the tribe. The whole of it. Not its members, not its kin, nor the ones we dared to love. Just the tribe. The larger whole."

She sighs slowly, letting her breath catch in the now cold air. "Then Beacon came and Ozpin changed all that. Suddenly the tribe wasn't our greatest responsibility. Ozpin had drilled in us the want to protect the world of all things, and he gave us the means to do just that… I remember being excited to save lives. Plucking civilians from impossible odds and reveling in the praise. Summer and I even seemed like sisters for a while – we were so giddy. Like sisters…"

Yang unfurls when Raven tucks into herself. Yang's hand is warm on her shoulder. "The day Summer died was the day we realized we'd made her a Branwen. That she chose the world over us. Over her daughter." She glances at Qrow slumped against the ice wall. "Over her fiancé."

"It wasn't why I left, mind you. That was different. That was futility on my part. I couldn't save the world from something impossible, not with what Ozpin had us face. The tribe had to be my answer after that. Something I could save. Thought I'd find a little peace in scaling back. Scaling down. It felt like I was regressing but I wasn't like Summer. Didn't have the courage to face insurmountable odds like the compassionate fool she was…"

"Mom…"

"You… don't have to do that. You don't have to call me that. I know it doesn't mean anything."

Yang chuckles. "It means whatever I want it to. And right now, it means this." She squeezes her arm again. She knows it isn't forgiveness – not quite yet – but it's a step in that direction. More than she expects. More than she deserves.

"No room for doubt," Raven says. "You're Tai's alright."

"So, I've got some Rose and Xiao Long in me," Yang says proudly. "Doesn't mean there's any shame in having a part of me still be a Branwen."

Raven's lips thin. "Yang…"

"Hush," she says quickly. "Part of me still wants to save the world but I'm also in it for the thrills. I might not end up like Summer. I might not choose to martyr myself if I know I have people waiting for me. I can be selfish too. We all are. I think… I think there's value in being a part of all three."

"Four," Raven says. "That boy you've tied yourself to. You seem content when you're with him. Comfortable even. If he's involved, you're as much an Arc as you are a Branwen…"

"God…" Yang blushes. "You make sound like I'm married to him already."

"If it comes to that, you have our blessing."

"W-what!? Mom, isn't it a little soon for that?" Yang's shock fizzles at her mother's sad smile. "…Mom?"

Raven's gaze is on the house now. She's tearing up. "It's… it's funny," she says with some difficulty. Not through sobs but grit, almost anger. "I feel like I have everything I dreamed about having. I've got family again, a daughter that might love me, a loyal husband, an honest brother. I've even got a quiet home in the middle of the woods. It already has a rose garden and a dog. All its missing is the white picket fence." Her teeth grinds. Her head shakes in disbelief. "But I have to throw it all away…"

Yang's chest squeezes. "What… what do you mean?"

Raven won't look at her. "By Summer's end, that house will be empty. And it will stay that way until you decide to enter. To come back here." Raven's hand finds Yang's. "Because we – your father, uncle, and I – will be going back to Ozpin. We'll be gone for months doing work for him. And maybe we'll see each other again, but it won't be much and never for long enough."

Yang's skin grows cold and clammy. She doesn't like what she's seeing, the sheer finality in her mother's eyes. Resigned to some inevitability. So this is what it means to be a Branwen. Somehow, she understands but she has coasted along the unknown for long enough.

"What is Ozpin doing, Mom?" She asks. "He sent out Ruby earlier this week and –"

Raven jolts into standing. "What!? He has Ruby!?" Her eyes are white with fear. She doesn't wait for Yang to answer, sprinting back in the direction of the boys. "Qrow! Ozpin has Ruby!"

Yang follows, jogging behind her.

Qrow curses. "No, no, no!" Frantically, he fumbles for his scroll. "This can't be real…" His face is going red with panic.

Tai snatches his scroll from him. "Enough! The both of you!" He breathes. "Enough… If Ruby is with him, then she did so willingly."

"But she… she…!" Qrow stammers.

His hand goes to squeeze his shoulder. "I know…"

"I can't lose another Rose to him," Raven gasps. Her sword is already out, prepared to open another portal. Tai's hand takes her by the wrist.

"And we won't," he assures. "We'll cover every gap and protect her ourselves. Maybe even see her on the field."

Jaune joins Yang's side as the other three huddle together. "What's happening?" he asks her, squeezing her hand. "They mentioned Ruby and I'm more than a little worried right now, I'll be honest."

"I don't completely know either," she says. "But it's larger than we are… Than all of us."

Raven rips open a portal before hugging Tai. She nods to Qrow, and they step into it, leaving Tai behind. With a sigh, he ambles over to Jaune and Yang.

"We should talk."

-0-

Tai explains that they all had a job from Ozpin a long time ago. That there was a serial killer and a disgraced Atlesian scientist, and that those two unsavory sorts were only scratching the surface. It was saving-the-world type stuff, and along the way they lost Summer because of it.

It still isn't done. Those two are still at large and there's word of there being more in league with them. That's all he's allowed to say but Tai has – for the past few years – allowed himself to grow complacent since they went underground.

Not anymore. He, Raven, Qrow, and Weiss's sister, Winter, will spend everyday onward tracking them down.

He lets slip that there's whispers of missing huntsmen in Mistral. Yang mentions that Ozpin had Ruby go out to that kingdom to meet someone. Tai tries not to show how much that bothers him.

They won't be seeing each other much from then on, he says. They'll try to keep in touch but they'll be knee deep in places the CCT has no signal in. He doesn't look forward to it but it'd make Summer proud that they're out there doing what needs be done.

The next morning, Yang wakes up alone in bed.

She stumbles down the steps into an empty living room, but then she hears the clamber of porcelain plates in the kitchen. She runs in only to find Jaune at the sink.

Behind him, the dining table has five plates of a warm breakfast. Omelets, tiny sausages, and a minced venison smothered in soy sauce till it's a blackish brown. Three of the plates are half eaten. They were here but left in a rush.

She slides into her seat. The noise of the chair catches Jaune's attention. He drops a letter beside her. Both their names are scrawled onto the poorly folded note.

He sits beside her. "I didn't get to see them myself but I found this and a set of keys." She shows her the worn keys and drops them neatly by her plate. She recognizes them. They're for the house and they aren't spares. One of them even has the word "FRONT" roughly carved into it. It's filled in with golden stencil. She and Ruby did that, back when they were kids.

She opens the letter and reads it aloud. "Sorry. We'll try to be home by tonight. Don't wait. House is yours."

"Not very eloquent," Jaune says after swallowing, "but they were probably in a hurry."

"Eloquent?" Yang laughs. "Where'd you pick that up?"

"Weiss had a few choice words for my poor poetry back in first year. I told you I picked up a few things from her."

He's already finished the sausages on his plate. Yang remembers to eat.

"So, what now?" he asks her. "We house sit for a few days until Ruby shows up?"

Yang shakes her head. "No… that isn't what they mean by the house being ours. They don't actually know when they'll be back. School year might even end before they do."

"That's… a long time."

"It is, but in the meantime," – she wiggles the keys – "we actually own the house."

Jaune frowns. It's deep and it cuts just as well. "That sounds like a parting gift."

Swallowing an omelet, her head falls onto his shoulder. "It is."

Then the door busts open and they hear Qrow slurring in the next room. He's accompanied with another voice, Winter's, as she shoulders him into the kitchen. She's stringing together insults whilst blushing up a storm. They're quiet them when they find Jaune and Yang.

Qrow squints as if unsure of what he's seeing. "Ohhhh," he bellows before whipping his head back. "They're still here!"

"Ahem," Winter says. "Forgive my intrusion. Present company often ends our meetings this way."

"Which is weird," Jaune says, "cause Qrow can walk just fine when he's drunk."

"He can… what?" She shoots Qrow a glare and he gives her that stupid grin of his. He's not even close to sorry. She shoves him off her and blushes against her pale skin. "You're insufferable. Trying to get a rise out of me.."

He hobbles back a step but his grin seems carved into his cheeks. "Heh, nah. I just like being close to you."

Raven peeks into the room then with Tai close behind. Her hesitation lasts only a moment before she hurries in and Yang's already bolted out of her seat to hug her.

"You came back…" Yang says. Her hands reach out grab her dad so they can sandwich her mother between them.

Raven squeezes. "I'm as much a Rose and Xiao Long as you are. I figured the world could wait till we could all say goodbye. At least."

They pull away. Raven's age shows along the harsh circles around her eyes.

"So, this really is goodbye," Yang fathoms, weaving her digits into that of her parents'. "This… doesn't feel real. Everything's happening so quickly and I just got you back and… and…"

Tai pushes strands of her hair behind her ear. "Life's abrupt," he says. "Especially when you become a huntress. You'll often find that your whole world can change in a day. Adapting to that is a skill you have to learn."

Raven's eyes narrow. "But we're not worried. I was scared for you all my life but every time I looked back, you were already over another hurdle." She holds her daughter again. "And just like then, I'll miss you every day."

Yang's grip tightens around her. Like she's hanging off the edge, held on by a thread. She can feel it slipping, digging into her palm. She knows she has to let go but there's a part of her now that's made her an Arc. She's defiant. Foolishly, optimistically, defiant. And it's with that nonchalance that she peels away and suggests, "We're all home. We should have breakfast. Like a family."

Qrow's already sat down and Winter has already eaten most of his venison. Tai insists on sitting next to Jaune again, and Yang huddles the closest she's had in years next to her mother.

Ruby never makes it to Patch. All they get is a nerve-wracking call from her that's more apology than explanation. Qrow tells them she's in a good hands.

They don't tell him that that isn't the point.

-0-

It's halfway through their second year that Jaune and Yang step back into their dorm rooms. They'd come two days early since they didn't want to stay in an empty house and an empty apartment didn't feel much better.

Jaune finds Ren and Nora snuggling by a bean bag. (Nora's messing with his hair while he goes through a book on Vacuan flora). Pyrrha isn't home since she's with her family, but Sun is lying on her bed and he greets Jaune with the kind of enthusiasm he needed.

It takes him a while to realize that his smile is forced. "Sun, please tell me there's nothing wrong with you and Pyr."

"What? Oh, no! Everything's fine with us!"

"He's been fussing about something else," Nora chimes in as she twists knots in Ren's hair. "And he won't tell his big sister, Nora, so you know it's gotta be big."

"Uh, I'm a year older than you."

She squints. "Why is everyone older than me!? I know Ruby's sixteen but I'm starting to feel like a toddler here."

"Nora," Ren says, "I'm younger than you."

Nora wraps her arms around his head to squeeze him against her chest whilst clasping tightly over his mouth. "Shh, same age, honey."

Sun turns to Jaune. "What…?"

"Nora made them have the same birthday when they were kids. Flipped a coin on who got to keep theirs. Ren lost." Jaune decides not to mention that it was to simplify a holiday for two survivors in the woods. Less stress on their resources when they buy only one cake a year and have to share it. "But enough about them. What's got you all knackered?"

"Knackered? Who even says that anymore?"

"Ylda Braveheart. Now quit stalling! What's going on, man?"

There's a knock on the door. "Come in!" Ren says. He's already put his book down and is snuggling back into Nora. She and Jaune exchange a look. Something's up.

Yang and Blake walk in. Yang joins Jaune on the bed while Blake crouches by Ren and Nora who both drag her into the bean bag with a yelp. They laugh at her expense, and for a moment it seems like it's just a visit.

Then Weiss and Neptune walk in and stand there in front of them all, locking the door behind them.

There's a thickness in the air. Jaune and Yang are already holding each other for strength. Sun curls into his knees beside them but Jaune won't have that. He reaches over and grabs his shoulder. He shuffles a tiny bit closer in response.

Weiss shuts her eyes, squeezes Neptune's hand, and stands tall. Like a performance demands, she is rigid and neutral, but it's too much and her knees wobble. Neptune catches her and reaches for a nearby chair. He rubs her shoulders after he sits her down and she's starting to breathe evenly.

"Nice and quick," Neptune whispers to her, and it's audible in the relative silence.

Yang and Blake have been standing since she buckled, unsure if they should run over and hug her. She spots them and raises a hand. "Sit, please. This will be easier if I do this without having to cry on something…"

Neptune kisses her head. Her hand finds his massaging her shoulder, and her other balls into a fist. "I'm… leaving team RWBY."

PART 9 – Adaptation

Yang is afraid she's hurting Jaune when she hears the news and tenses up, her fingers closing tightly over his. Little parts of her feel pain, like her pulse is bulging in her veins and stretching out of her skin. Then she realizes that it's her body telling her to go and hold Weiss close. Stop her talking cause it's easy to see how much all of this is hurting her and she's still so painfully afraid that her friends are going to hate her.

Yang bites her lip and leans out. Her hand is suddenly cold. Jaune had let go of it. "Go," he whispers.

She's off the bed and crashes into Weiss just as she's inhaling. Neptune backs away just as Blake runs over to join them.

Weiss stops talking cause she can't at this point. Her arms reach around them both but her nails curl into their backs as her fingers twitch and anything she wants to say is lost in her sobs.

"It's okay," Yang says. "We know you have a good reason."

"We'll still love you," Blake adds. "Doesn't matter if you're here or not. We're still a team."

To Weiss, that all seemed enough to uncoil her fears and breathe relief.

-0-

"I have to be his daughter. His heir," Weiss explains when they're all gathered at the empty cafeteria. "I'll have to play his games and do everything I can to keep my integrity and still be me."

Her sister informed her around the time of the boat trip that her father was planning to discredit her and seat her brother as next-in-line. "I know it sounds almost foolish but my plan was always to juggle life as a huntress and as an heiress. To prove that I could follow in my sister's footsteps without needing to make any of her sacrifices." Her hand, the one not holding Neptune's, falls to Myrtenaster resting magnetically at her hip. "Winter gave me so much when she trained me. I wanted to prove to father that none of that was a waste of time. It worked for a while, too. Atlas was abuzz with news on my departure. That I'd taken the strength of the old Schnee vanguard and vowed to marry it with the capitalist empire. That we were still the staunch knights we always were and that our nobility hadn't tarnished that."

"Why can't you just stay?" Nora asks, eyes gleaming like the absent Ruby. "Why does your dad get to take even more from you?"

Weiss smiles placatively at her and wishes Ruby was here too. "Because I've learned a lot in my time here with all of you. I've learned that Remnant will always have enough amazing huntsmen – there's already so many at this table." She eyes them all but stops at Blake. "But I've also learned that there's a lot of good I could be doing. A different kind of good for my people in Atlas. Human and faunus."

Blake gasps. There's a sting in her chest. "I'm… so sorry."

"Don't be. All that time staying up together has given me perspective. The kind I feel is uniquely distinct to a Schnee. I need to use that. Maybe get my brother to see it the same way."

"Will you have help?" Yang asks, locking eyes. "I'm not willing to let you go alone."

Weiss leans into Neptune. "I won't be alone."

"We'll have to keep our relationship secret," Neptune explains, "but I'll be at every function, every gala, every fancy dinner. Dad's a shipping baron so we've already let rumor spread that I'm looking into partnering with the Schnees to get trade into Vacuo."

"In a few months' time we'll be married, too," Weiss adds, giggling in way that's resigned and heartbreaking. "It's hardly the way we wanted it to go but it's how it has to happen so father doesn't marry me off for a business venture. We'd do it today if I was already eighteen."

"Are you sure he won't reject you at the door?" Jaune asks.

"Not when I come in as bargaining chip. I'll flirt my way through a few prospective suitors and he'll see I'm still too useful to throw out." She snuggles into Neptune's side and he wraps an arm around her. "We've spent weeks planning. And though I'm sure things are going to go terribly wrong at some point…"

"…We'll adapt," Neptune finishes.

Even though there's hope here, the moment feels strained. A tension in the air is either like knots in the heart or the tightening of a noose. So Jaune and Yang put on brave faces and stand up.

"This isn't how we should be spending this day together, isn't it?" she asks with a grin.

"It's a going-away party," he says, "so we should have a party. Ren? Join us in the kitchen. Let's bake a cake."

Nora's already on Weiss and Blake. "C'mon! I know a buffet outside of town that sells their raws cheap. I'll even show you two how me and Renny grilled fish! I guarantee that you two princesses won't find anything like that at your fancy dinners."

Blake opens her mouth. "Actually, we–"

"Hush! Mommy's talking."

Neptune and Sun trade looks.

"Should we get the drinks?" Sun asks him. "I know a way into campus we can smuggle alcohol through."

"Actually, just pump me full of sugar. This might be the last time I get to have soda since I'll be spending the next few years getting used to wine."

"Ew!"

"I know!"

-0-

When the semester starts, Glynda Goodwitch announces that Ozpin won't be back for a month or so still, so she'll be acting headmistress.

The sister teams are all worried about Ruby but she sends them messages with a few photos that she's on a mission with Ozpin and what looks to be a farmhand. They don't expect to be back for a while and she isn't even allowed to update them but she slips them messages anyway. (She doesn't know how long she can keep up the ruse that she had a spare scroll from before Beacon).

Yang's nerves get the better of her until Jaune convinces Qrow to give them an update. Somehow the photo of Qrow, Raven, Tai, Winter, and Ruby together like the disjointed family they are is a monumental comfort. She makes it her wallpaper. Jaune promises that they'll all get a chance to get in that picture together at some point.

With Goodwitch so busy, it leaves combat class to Professor Port. It's a blessing in disguise since the extra class drains him enough to sleep through most of his own class. He gets worried for a while until everyone gets visibly excited for what is effectively a free period and some students actually get comfortable enough to sit with him on his desk and share real stories for a change. He isn't always telling them this time either.

The teams spend a lot of time on the roof where they're allowed to grill. Jaune, Nora, and Blake make a show of their techniques and Weiss, who is sitting on the sideline, lets the collective aroma of their sizzling platters soak into her skin.

They also take turns teaching Weiss and Neptune how to cook. It'll be useful when they get a place of their own. They hadn't considered an apartment yet, actually.

"Trust me," Yang says, "after what you two are gonna go through, you could use a getaway that's just yours." She shares a meaningful glance with Jaune who blushes, suddenly unable to keep eye contact.

They make that second boat trip with the same crusty boatman. Sun and Blake tie on the number of lobsters.

They spend a night in the apartment, cramped together and drinking till sunrise. (Pyrrha learned to mix drinks with her uncle over the break and Jaune hasn't puked so much in his entire life).

They joyride in Jaune's new Highway Aries and the boatman's Beluga van to the same cabin they went to with Saph and Terra. Joan can drive too, apparently, and they decide that seating her next to the excitable Nora is a recipe for turning the winding country roads into a roller coaster. (Jaune, Yang, Weiss, and Neptune end up trailing behind the van because of it.)

They rent out a thawed ice rink and have their own school dance. (Jaune spent the week teaching Neptune how to lose his second left foot).

And they skip class on Friday to spend their last day together. Ruby even manages to call Weiss and they find out that they might even meet in Atlas for a while. (Jaune and Yang are starting to suspect that Ozpin already knows about the scroll).

In the next morning, Weiss's bed is empty cause she had to go alone in a separate flight. Neptune has to arrive a day later on a separate trip. It's abrupt and even though they all knew it was going to happen, it still feels like it came out of nowhere. The space Weiss leaves behind is palpable.

She manages to send them all one final message with a photo. She's holding Blake's little triangular team flags she made for them during last year's Vytal Festival against the window of the bullhead.

"We'll always be a team."

-0-

Jaune cracks an eye open at the sound of clicking on screen . He's in the apartment, in his room, but his door is open halfway. Through the dark he can see Yang and Blake's faces lit against a scroll on the couch. Blake is sleeping on her shoulder.

They set her up with the guest room (Yang's long since migrated all her things into his anyway) and they must've gotten up at some point last night to chat.

He shuffles out of bed, scratching his bare chest and blinking away his drowsiness.

Yang can hear him. "Mornin'… Evening? Morning. It's one-AM."

He peels around the doorframe. "Shouldn't we be quiet?" he says in a hush.

"Nope," she says, not even looking up from her scroll. "Blake said she wanted to wake up to the sound of people so the room feels less empty."

Regardless, he sits on the softly beside her. "Is that why she stayed up so late?"

"She used to wake up early with Weiss. Sometimes she'd fall back asleep when Weiss got her early morning shower, but with her gone she's hoping to sync up with me instead."

"Maybe Ren's more her speed. He gets up early to get breakfast prepped for Nora the rest of the team if she didn't eat it all when we got there."

"Too bad they're not roommates."

"Yeah…"

Blake shuffles. Her ears twitch and there's a smile on her lips.

"She seems comfy," he says, laughing. He can't help but think they've adopted a stray though he won't say it aloud.

Yang's thinking the same thing but keeps her mouth shut too. "She met with Sun and Ilia for brunch yesterday. She came in when they were already talking about him losing Neptune. She felt like an outsider listening in."

"She didn't walk away, did she?"

"No, she sat with them and they talked. Even admitted to how she felt. They tried to make her feel comfortable and Sun had no trouble talking about it, but even they admitted that it feels like she's just a step out of her element. She's going with Pyrrha to meet with them again later tonight."

"I'm guessing she's not particularly enthused?"

Yang nods. Blake stirs but doesn't wake. "She thinks losing Weiss is upsetting everything else in her life. She usually doesn't feel that kind of doubt when talking to them. Pyrrha's doing her best to help on her end, too, but she might need some more outside help to get her out of this funk."

Her scroll buzzes. Jaune instantly recognizes the sender. "Ruby?" His voice is hopeful, almost desperate.

She ruffles his hair. "Don't worry about it. If you start losing your cool, then I will too."

He rolls his eyes with a smile. "Sorry, I just miss her."

"She wanted to talk to you but she's only got enough courage to message her big sister. She's still beating herself up for being gone so long. She's afraid you might hate her."

He fishes his scroll out of his pocket, squeezes his face next to Yang and Blake's, and takes a photo. "Morning…" he types, "…Crater …Face." A moment passes after he sends it.

Yang's scroll is then blasted with exclamation points before a video call starts. Their hearts soar when they hear her whine for the first time in weeks. "Yang…! I wasn't ready!"

It's dark wherever she is, huddled in a closet judging by the hangars swinging above her. Zwei is whining and scratching somewhere in the background.

"Sorry, Sis, but we're a package deal now!" Yang says.

"We miss you," Jaune says, the look of him is anything but teasing.

"I miss you guys, too…" she looks away, head half hunched in shadow. Her expression is unreadable.

There's a shuffling on her end of the call, she looks up, eyes wide, as some light pours into the closet she's in. "Ruby?" a hushed boy's voice says. "Is everything alright?"

Her eyes dart and she gets up in a panic. Jaune and Yang stay quiet as the closet is shut and the scroll spins in the dark for a moment before her face shows up again next to the same farmhand in her photo with Ozpin. "Keep this a secret. Please?" she asks him.

"I… sure. Lips sealed. What are you–?"

"Yang, Jaune," she says quickly. "This is Oscar. He's my, um, partner for the mission I'm on."

"I, oh, uh, hi," Oscar stammers. "I'm Oscar." He slaps his forehead. "Stupid. She already said that…" Ruby giggles.

"Aw, Jaune," Yang nudges him. "He's you, freshman year."

Jaune huffs. "I like to think I was as confident as I was awkward." He gets up. "I'm getting peckish. You want any coffee?"

"The orange juice, please."

"Weak!" Ruby teases through the screen. "Milk is the way to go. Keep up the store-bought pulp and I'll be taller in no time!"

"I prefer oranges freshly squeezed myself," Oscar adds before he shuts himself up. He seems afraid to add to the conversation.

"They are freshly squeezed though," Yang says. "Right, Jaune?"

"If two days ago counts as fresh, then yeah. Reminds me of home."

Yang sniffs the air. "Are you cooking tuna and eggs again?"

"What? Clove didn't have much fish and poultry. We had beef, pork, and way too many vegetables."

"It's one-A.M.!"

"And we're out of snacks. Now do you want some of this or am I gonna split it with Blake?"

Blake rolls her cheek up the backrest to look at Jaune. The smell probably woke her. "Mm… You'll have no objection from me."

"He was a farmer?" Yang hears Oscar ask Ruby. "I thought he was a huntsman."

"Huntsman-in-training," Ruby clarifies for him. "He grew up in a farm. I don't think that counts as a farmer but he used to herd cows. Even had this brief stint when he was ten where he'd run with the farm dog and bark at the cows to help wrangle the cattle."

"Pfft!" Yang and Blake snicker. "What?"

"What are you laughing at?" Jaune asks from the kitchenette, stood in the lowlight.

"Nothing!" Yang calls back. "Feeling better, Oscar?"

"Oh. You noticed?"

"It's okay. Meeting new people can be scary. Can't have been any easier with Ruby."

"Actually, she could barely look me in the eye." Ruby bumps him but can't deny it. Oscar stays smug. "Ha ha… Had to ease into meeting her. She caught me in the middle of work and she scared me so much that I almost fell off the hayloft with the way she squeaked her greeting. I thought a mouse got in the feed again."

"Oscar!" Ruby whines. "I'm putting you through the ringer for this."

He looks scared. "Uh… mercy?"

They spend the some of that morning together. Ruby builds confidence enough to promise to make another call if Oscar can keep covering for her. They also find out Ruby is training Oscar and Yang couldn't be more proud.

They're somewhere remote and secret so Ozpin isn't taking chances with the security breach but Ruby hopes that a closet is enough to be inconspicuous. She still can't tell them why she's there but she will when they arrive.

They. As in both of them. Oscar is coming to Beacon. It should be exciting, even just a little bit. It's not going to fill the gap Weiss left behind but it means less quiet. Plus, Penny is with them and she might come too. But Yang picks up the sadness in Ruby's eyes whenever Oscar asks about Beacon. There's something wrong.

When Oscar goes off to distract Ozpin and Jaune takes Blake to the convenience store, Yang asks, "Sis, what's going on that you're not telling me?"

Ruby chews her lip. "I can't say," she says for the umpteenth time, but Yang can feel the weight of it now that it's coming out of her mouth and not through text on a screen. Somehow, that makes it harder to let it go.

"I'm scared for you," Yang admits, "I'm worried that something else irreversible is coming and…" No, she tells herself. She can't put this on Ruby. "It's okay. I trust you. I'm worried but I trust you and before you say anything, nothing you say will break that trust."

Ruby curls closer to the scroll, like she wants to hug her. "Thank you…" she whispers.

"Just come home safe…"

"I love you, Yang."

"I love you, too, Sis."

-0-

The dorm room doesn't have the comforts it used to. Yang almost feels ashamed for leaving it behind half the time but Blake tells her that it isn't something she should worry about. She always made time, even if her memories seem like a blur of blonde hair and blue eyes. It doesn't mean she valued her time with them any less.

No one can blame her for falling in love.

Still, with Blake snoozing under some double-wide bedding across the room, Yang feels alone in the room.

She sits up and she hears a startle somewhere. She realizes the silhouette she thought was Blake has been just a mess of pillows. (Blake pulled her and Weiss's beds together to get comfortable. Didn't work. All she's got now is more room to feel cold in. They still miss her).

Another hushed sound reaches her. She gets up and walks around but she stops when she spots Blake sitting on the floor against the wall. Her ears are twitching.

"What's happening?" Yang asks.

"I can hear Goodwitch in the JNPR dorm."

Yang shuffles closer. She can hear the faint tap of the headmistress's heels but nothing more. "What is she saying? Are they in trouble?"

"I thought so at first, but no. It's something about a transfer."

"A transfer? Like a student?"

"I don't know. I'll keep listening."

Yang wants to go back to bed and grab her scroll. Jaune could answer her if she asked. She bites her lip.

"There's someone else," Blake says. Yang's limbs stiffen again. "She sounds familiar but I could be wrong. She's talking about… Moving furniture?" She peels off the wall. "Maybe I shouldn't be listening in."

Yang realizes that she's probably working herself up over nothing too. "Maybe, but it got you out of bed at least." She laughs. "I've been worrying myself ragged about this team, but unlike the other two, you're actually here." Arms wrap around Blake's thinner shoulders. "I hope you aren't blaming yourself for all of this."

"I am but I know it's stupid," she admits. "Weiss having an epiphany was bound to happen anyway. And her father would have forced her to leave whether we turned out to be friends or not. But there's always that little side of me scraping at the back of my head. I'm so painfully aware that it's there that I could almost reach out and strangle it."

"Pfft! You sound like Weiss."

"Heh, well we'd spent over a year together. Some things were bound to rub off on each of us. In fact," she looks at Yang meaningfully, "you didn't explode once during that whole talk about Weiss's dad. Jaune have anything to do with that? You've been minding your temper."

She rubs the back of her head. "No, not entirely. I mean, we've helped each other along but we can't give each other all the credit. I've mellowed out cause we lost at Vytal and I crashed at a bar. Cause I came home a mess and you girls set me straight. I won't say that solved it completely. I think I gave myself enough time to ease out of my anger issues over the summer and finding Jaune and ending up in his apartment gave me places to feel normal and happy for a change." She's blushing now, can't help the heat rolling tight circles in her cheeks. "Did I ever tell you about that? No… I don't think I've told anyone. Being in that apartment let me glimpse a life of being a civilian. Not a huntress-to-be, just a girl living in the city she swears she'll die in. It felt simpler, domestic. And I kind of liked that. I kind of really, really liked that."

"I envy that," Blake says with a knowing smile lying sideways on her knees. "Not the civie life but the happiness. I'm glad you found someone. Honestly, it's kind of crazy you two aren't completely official yet."

"I, uh, I think we are? I mean, it's not like we've talked about it again since all this craziness happened but we've said the three-word thing, named our kids, we own a house together and –"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! What? Rewind there for a second."

"To which part?"

"I don't know, all of it?"

Yang shrugs and that is equal parts everything so like her and everything that's frustrating. "I don't know. They all just kind of… happened?"

"How do you just happen to own a house now?"

"A couple birds left it on my dining table and flew out the open door."

Blake squints. "I… I can't tell if you're joking."

Yang grins.

Blake's ear twitches to the faint sound of a door closing. "JNPR…" she mouths as she hears it. "…moving out?"

-0-

Blake thinks she heard it wrong. Yang tries to tell herself they could be misunderstanding something but when they meet with JNPR, they don't mention a thing. Jaune and Pyrrha are all smiles, whilst Ren is keeping Nora from any more antics. Nothing's changed.

It eats up at Yang more than she's willing to admit but Blake doesn't need to be told in order to notice her best friend writhing inside of herself.

On occasion she can see Jaune stealing glances at Yang. He's noticed that something's off too. Sure, Yang is keeping it close to her chest, but she isn't loose in the way she usually is. And even though her being a little more guarded might make sense given recent events, Jaune's been with her long enough to notice that she's been easing back into her old self. The regression should be obvious.

Blake nudges him at the end of Port's class. "Talk to her," she says.

He nods, a determined look to him. "I was gonna wait till she was ready. I guess I have to act this time."

Blake smiles. "Just like you, she'll need a nudge sometimes."

Jaune jogs over to Yang as she rolls her eyes at something Nora says. She should be laughing instead. His eyes narrow.

"Yang."

"Oh! Hey, sorry, I thought you were with Blake and Pyrrha. Did you need something?"

His hand clasp over hers and people around them pull away and snicker. He takes her hand and pulls her to the wall and out of the way. "Don't think I haven't noticed you worrying about something. What's wrong?"

Normally she'd come out and say it. Even before they got this close. Before they were together. She isn't the kind of girl that lets these things lie. But she's lost so much in the past few weeks and she's feeling more and more vulnerable. More and more fatigued.

And this? What she's worried about? Hushed whispers in the night that might ultimately mean nothing? Half of her thinks it's fears she's digging up for herself to pile on the already rich avalanche of things she has to deal with. Another hates herself for doubting him, and that she's ashamed to reveal she doubted him at all.

But they were supposed to be able to talk about anything, right?

Her mouth opens.

She remembers her mother. She'd looked so stoic when she said goodbye, daring not to fall apart and swallowing her fears. With a sigh, she lets it go.

"It's nothing," she says with an easy sigh. "I'll tell you about it later if you're so curious but I'd like to stop worrying about nothing and focus on the things that actually need my attention."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Now I'm hungry."

"We still have class."

She takes his hand. "I don't care. Your girlfriend needs a pick-me-up."

-0-

Yang walks back into the dorm with a spring in her step. "Evenin'," she greets Blake who's lounging on the bed.

"Had a good night, I see? He not kissing you goodbye at the door?"

"We parted ways earlier. Said he had an errand to run."

Blake stares at her with a smile. Yang returns it before going back to her scroll. Blake's nose scrunches in confusion. "Well?" Blake asks.

"Huh?"

"What did he tell you?"

Yang winks. "Sweet nothings if that's what you're asking."

Blake's face goes through a series of emotion. "Yeah. Good. Great. Perfect." She sits up as her ears sharpen. "But what about last night? With the whispering and all that?"

"Oh! I, uh, I didn't ask about it."

Blake slips out of bed. "Okay, I've had it. Waited all this time to find out so let's just go over there and ask."

"Right. Sure." Yang picks up after her and doesn't bother to put her school shoes back on.

Blake stops just as she exits the door. Across from them is the JNPR dorm and the door is ajar. She twists back to Yang. "Was that open when you passed it by?"

"I didn't notice."

They approach the door and feel a draft coming through. The door swings to the side as they enter and the thud against the wall is the only sound.

The JNPR dorm is empty. Even the blinds have been stripped away and one of the windows is cracked open.

A hole opens in Yang's stomach. Confusion, mostly. Anger, even if she can't place it. She doesn't know what's happening.

Blake's hands are sweating too when they reach for hers. "Your scroll is buzzing," she says and they run back to their room.

Yang has a message from Jaune.

'are you decent?' it reads.

'uh…. Yeah?' she replies after a cursory glance at her uniform.

'perfect'

Yang stares at the word. His scroll didn't even get to auto-punctuate it. She's already typing another message. Where are you right now? I was at your dorm and it's empty – She stops typing when they hear a grunt and a thud.

Blake's ears perk up. "Nora?"

Something breaks, like snapping wood, then Yang can hear it too.

"Hah!" Nora shouts. The thud after shakes something in their room. "Hah!" Another shudder, louder and resonant. "Hng…!" They can feel the way she's inhaling. "Hah!" Then their wall shakes.

"Hah!" Then a chunk of the wall pops out and swings aside like a portal door. They can see Nora behind the hole. She's in the next dorm room. They transferred next door instead of across the hall.

Nora peeks in with a wide grin, the light behind her shining over her features like a beacon. She pulls away and her hammer carves down into the hole till its roughly the shape of her silhouette. She kicks away the loose boards and cement around her and stomps into the room.

"Evenin' roomies!" she announces with gusto and caked in dust.

Jaune slips passed her in shorts and a worn shirt, pillow under his arm and eyes half awake. He walks up to Yang and takes her hand. "Sleepy?" he asks.

She realizes she's exhausted. Relief lets her body feel its fatigue. "Yeah…"

He pulls her to bed and they fall in together. She's confused but doesn't focus on it.

"What is happening?" Blake asks Ren as he comes in with Pyrrha in tow. (Who has already apologized but her smile doesn't slip away even once).

"Jaune said that it was starting to get a little quiet here in your dorm," Ren explains. "So, we hatched an idea to trade rooms with your neighbor's. Team ASHE took a room on a different floor instead of taking ours."

"Miss Goodwitch was very accommodating," Pyrrha says. "Went so far as to levitate most of our things from one room to another."

"She almost said no," Jaune says with a yawn, "but when I explained why we were doing it, she just sighed and drew up the permit."

"You need a permit to switch dorms?" Blake asked. "Wait, there's a permit for that?"

Nora hoists the hammer back onto her shoulder. "Permit's not for the dorm. It's for breaking down the wall."

Blake can't help but a feel a tingle under her skin, and it rolls into heat when Pyrrha and Ren squeeze her between them.

The night draws down and they got rid of the bits of dust and talk about how they're supposed to tear the down the wall. They'll put up two beams they'll have to pay for themselves but the rest of the wall can go away and there will be nothing between the two rooms in a few days.

And when they're all cleaned up (and splitting two bathrooms between six people), they push the four RWBY beds together so they can crawl under the collective sheets. In the middle, Yang sees Blake shiver happily between Ren and Nora, calmer than she has been in weeks.

Nestled against the curve of Jaune's neck, she nudges him. "Thank you for this," she whispers.

"It wasn't all me," he murmurs.

She flicks his forehead. "You're allowed to take credit for the idea, at least. Besides, I feel like I should reward you somehow."

"Fine," he grumbles but his smile doesn't sell it. "As for the reward, I'd ask about the rent but I think we should stay out and keep the bill thin this month. I don't think I can meet the payment this time if it gets any bigger with electric and water."

Yang chuckles. "Hey, you asked for the heavy down payment so you could sidestep the interest. That car is a money sink and you should've seen this one coming." He whines and she kisses his nose, making him whine some more. "Still, I'll still have to find a way to thank you."

"Missionary always works for Sun," Pyrrha chimes in from behind her.

Jaune and Yang's eyes go wide.

"What?" Pyrrha asks as they stare at her. "Too vanilla?"

Yang squeezes a pillow to her own face. "Pyrrha!"

"What? Oh! Sorry. I hadn't realized that you… It's just that Sun's been gentlemanly and I tried to get him to talk dirty to spice things up so I ended up having to do it myself and –"

"Uh, Pyr?" Jaune stops her. "That's not it. We, uh, we haven't done it yet."

She tilts her head. "Missionary?"

"Sex," Yang whimpers.

Nora shoots up. "What!?"

Yang shrinks even further. "Are you all awake!?"

Ren turns an open eye behind him and Blake peers sheepishly over the length of his arm. No one looks sorry.

"Ugh…" she groans. "Is it too late to call this a bad idea?"

Pyrrha pulls her away from Jaune and into the collective cuddle of everyone else. "Not on your life, Xiao Long."

She mouths a "help me" to Jaune.

He reaches under his pillow, pulls out his scroll into its camera, and mouths a coy "No," before the shutter snaps.

The photo goes up with the rest of the stringed ones Ruby set up earlier that year. Eventually, they flood it with more memories till the ceiling is lined with their found family gleaming from wall to wall to wall.

[crystalirises]

The First Correspondence (The Walls of Illusion Part 3)

I finally wrote the third part ;-;

I’m so sorry it took so long, I’m just really not good with long stories. But I will try to add more to this story as well as Safe and Sound. Anyway, hope you guys like this! It has a bit of the third one-shot, but I changed it around so that the original ending is different.

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30512157/chapters/83057647

“Well, it seems you’ve gotten a fever. Not surprising since you oh so insisted on going on a nightly swim while you were out.” Fundy pressed his aching head into the soft pillow, holding back an exasperated groan as his dad paced at the foot of his bed. He did not need to be lectured when his body was threatening to kill him. “Honestly, Fundy, if you would just listen to me一”

“Dad…” His eyes fluttered shut, exhaustion clinging to his aching bones as he tried to calm his breathing. Why was his room so fucking hot? Fundy knows he sleeps in it but he can’t be that devastatingly hot, right? He chuckled at his joke, his laughter caused his dad to stop pacing. His dad probably thought he was bordering on delusional now. He rubbed the back of his neck, hoping that his clammy hands would be enough to cool his burning skin. Fuck Dre. It’s his fault that Fundy was sick and suffering. “Can you murder me with your words later… please… dad?”

“You worry me, Fundy. You’ll kill your old man with all this worry.” He heard the creak of footsteps move closer, the bed dipping as a hand settled at the top of his head, soothing his frazzled hair. Fundy leaned into the touch, sniffing as tried to move towards his dad. There was a soft chuckle from beside him, a low hum from his dad as the hand in his hair disappeared. He whined at the loss before a pair of arms wrapped around him, pulling him into a comforting embrace. He nearly yipped as he sluggishly threw his arms around his dad, pressing his face into his dad’s chest. “I was worried sick last night. If anything happened to my precious son, I一”

“Shhhhhhh…” His hand landed against his dad’s shoulder with a thump, his body too numb to really cause much of an impact. Fundy wished his dad stopped talking. He’d rather not have his dad’s droning voice in his head by the time he’s fallen asleep. Fundy burrowed his face into the crook of his dad’s neck, sleep seeping into his hazy mind. “Dad… song… please?”

---

Wilbur chuckled at his son’s request, honestly content to forget the events of last night as he began to hum the lullaby he’d composed when Fundy was but a kid. Fundy curled closer in his arm, a soft smile on his son’s face as he tried to hum along, stuttering off into silence as Wilbur changed to the next song. Fundy hadn’t heard this one yet. Wilbur glanced out the window, recalling a familiar river and remembering his first and only love. It was a song meant for her, to the woman he’d loved so dearly. Wilbur had never told Fundy about Sally, frightened that it would only lead his son to the same fate that had befallen the mother. Wilbur held Fundy closer, quelling the rising panic in his heart. His son was in his arms, safe even if he was sick. Wilbur shook his head, amused yet worried by his son’s constant need for adventure in a cruel world.

“I promise. I didn’t build the walls to cage you. I have my reasons, son. I will not lose you too." Fundy’s eyes fluttered open, despite the fever-haze in their gaze, he could see the doubt dancing in those golden flecks that reminded him so much of Sally. Wilbur ran a hand through his son’s hair, wincing at the way the strands stuck to his fingers. Fundy needed a bath, but they’d have to wait until the fever died down. Wilbur didn’t want Fundy to get even worse. He held his son closer, the memory of last night still fresh on his mind. He knew he was unreasonable. He knew anyone would call him a bit mad for being so protective. But they didn’t know his history, didn’t know the dangers that lurked. “Until L’Manburg is free, not a single one of us is safe out there.”

It pained him to be so strict, knowing that Fundy missed the man who’d willingly give in to his little son’s demands. Wilbur couldn’t help it. He loved his son, enough to give him some peace and a piece of the world. L’Manberg will be safe, safer than any country that dared to exist in Dream’s realm. It will be a nation for the free and for those sickened by tyranny. A nation for all.

Fundy was too young to remember when the walls were built so he’d always assumed that they’d been there ever since he was a baby. His son thought that Wilbur built the walls, and in a way, he did. It was his idea, in the end. It was his order that was followed. But he wasn’t the hand who built those walls. Wilbur could never tell Fundy the truth, lest Fundy gain any rebellious ideas about them. Wilbur couldn’t. How could he ever tell Fundy the truth of their creation? Wilbur placed his head on his son’s hair, the fox hybrid whining as Wilbur pressed a soft kiss against his head. Fundy was still conscious enough to be embarrassed by Wilbur’s affection. He chuckled, pressing another kiss to Fundy’s forehead. Sometimes he forgot how old Fundy was. His little champion was growing up, but to Wilbur, Fundy would always be his and Sally’s little fox kit.

Wilbur knew he’d have to leave Fundy alone by the time he’d fallen asleep. War was not merciful to a father who only wished to care for his son. He had a plan for the day, half of which he’d have to move for the next day since he’d spent half of the morning taking care of Fundy. Wilbur laughed, a mirthless noise that caused Fundy’s eyes to flicker open. He quickly shushed his poor son, lulling him back to the edge of sleep. As Fundy snuggled closer to him, he pressed the back of his hand against Fundy’s forehead. Shit. This wasn’t going to be a normal fever.

“Don’t fall asleep yet, baby. Don’t sleep yet, Fundy. You should drink a healing potion first一”

“No.” Wilbur sighed through his nose. Too late. Fundy had fallen into what they both called ‘The No Stage’, which was one small step away from ‘The Clingy Stage’. He frowned, pulling the potion from his inventory. Fundy needed to drink it or else he’d never get better. He held the back of Fundy’s head, tilting it up a bit as he pressed the potion to Fundy’s lips. “No! Gross!”

“Fundy… This is for the fever. You don’t want to be sick forever, do you?” Fundy groaned underneath his breath, sticking out his tongue before finally drinking the potion. Wilbur sighed in relief. He couldn’t really bear to see Fundy so sick. “There. That was pretty easy, huh champ?”

“I… don’t like you anymore. Your potions suck, all I ever taste is melon.” Wilbur pouted at the comment. He’ll have his son know, he was a master at potion making. His father and mother had always said he was born with a talent for it despite… Wilbur sighed, pressing a soft kiss to Fundy’s forehead as he slowly lowered Fundy back onto the warm bed. He reached for the thin quilted blanket that Tommy had created when Fundy was just a kit, draping it over Fundy who then promptly kicked it away. Wilbur chuckled, shaking his head at his son’s antics. As much as he wanted to spend the rest of his day caring for his sick son, they had a war to win, he couldn’t stay for long. Wilbur turned to leave, “Don’t leave, dad…! I-I was lying! I didn’t mean it…”

“I know, my little champion, but dad has to make sure L’Manburg doesn’t lose the war.” He placed a hand on his son’s ginger curls, a discontented groan rumbling through his son’s prone form as Fundy tried to bury his face beneath the pillows. If Wilbur didn’t leave before the fever progressed, he’d never be able to. Fundy wouldn’t let him leave, his poor baby... Wilbur didn’t mind the clinginess, but Fundy had to understand that he couldn’t stay. “I’ll be back by lunchtime, alright? Besides, we wouldn’t want to leave Tommy in charge, now, would we?”

“No…” Fundy let out what sounded like a choked laugh, settling underneath the warm covers as Wilbur finally pulled away. A small frown climbed its way to his face. Fundy had barely eaten at breakfast, how could Wilbur just leave his poor son to suffer? A sigh slipped past his lips, he’d have to ask Eret to watch over Fundy. As much as the thought sent a bitter taste down his throat, Wilbur could trust no one else in the army to watch over his son. With one last look at his son, Wilbur turned to leave the room, pausing at the doorway when he realized one other agenda on his list for the day. He threw a short glance towards Fundy, hesitating before realizing that Fundy hadn’t fallen asleep just yet. He should have been asleep already though. “I’ll be sending a letter to your Grandza later this afternoon. Would you want me to relay anything for you? A ‘hello’?”

“Mmm… Tell them I said hi… or something…” Fundy groaned, placing a pillow on the top of his head. Wilbur took that as his cue to leave. Fundy may be insistent on sleeping now, but that won’t last soon the moment Fundy decides he’d rather have someone to cuddle. It was times like that where Wilbur asked the gods why his son had been blessed with fox traits. He loved Fundy, he really did, but the fox instincts were worse when he was sick. Wilbur chuckled to himself, slowing down as he went down the stairs. It was nearing lunch, and he could only hope that Eret, Jack, Tommy, and Tubbo had been training in his absence. He headed towards his small office underneath the stairs, a cozy spot that looked more like a lounging area than an actual office.

He and Tommy had tried to make it look more professional, but by the end, it turned into a space where anyone could lay down and rest. A safe place to pretend that the war wasn’t at their door.

Today, he wasn’t alone. The crow cawed at him impatiently, jumping here and there at the little coffee table that served as Wilbur’s desk. He didn’t bother to sit on the couch, choosing the carpeted floor instead. The crow, in its eagerness to return to its master, had already placed a bottle of ink and a few letter papers on the table. It tapped its beak on the wood, cawing again.

“Impatient! What? Is the old man going to keel over at any moment now?” Wilbur petted the top of the crow’s head, nearly losing a finger in the process. He huffed. On business then, or perhaps this crow wasn’t too particularly fond of him. The crow was new, he could tell. All of Phil’s crows absolutely adored him, well, what was there not to like? He picked up the quill. Still, if Phil sent a more serious crow as his messenger, it meant Wilbur that Phil wasn’t asking for news on the rest of his family’s well-being. His father wanted a report. “Trouble in the Antarctic?”

The crow cawed, its feathers ruffling.

“I am not being nosy, I am simply asking a question.” Wilbur rolled his eyes, though a smile played on his lips. The crow’s rude behavior didn’t upset him one bit. It probably wanted to return home as soon as it could. Wilbur couldn’t blame it for that. He missed home sometimes too, and he could only hope that one day Fundy would be able to see the Antarctic, their home.

Wilbur reflected on any significant occurrence in the past month. Dream and his closest allies - George and Sapnap - had nearly burned down the forest near L’Manburg a few weeks prior. He didn’t need to be a strategic genius to realize that it was Sapnap who had instigated that attack.

He pressed the tip of the quill to the parchment:

‘To His Majesty, the King of the Antarctic Empire…’

---

He awoke to the sound of scratching. Fundy groaned, burying his head deeper under the covers. His fever had gotten better, but his head was still killing him. He wasn’t going to move from the bed, not even if the house decided to spontaneously combust. The scratching grew louder, more insistent, more demanding. He scowled, pressing a pillow to his ear. If it was Tommy and Tubbo pulling a stupid prank on him, well he’d have to get even with them later. So long as his head didn’t decide to kill him right then and there. After a moment, he started to fall asleep again…

Until he heard the screech, the glass shattering against impact. He shrieked, rolling off the bed in fear that they were under attack. It was cowardly, but he remained on the floor, barely moving.

He wondered where his dad was. If he was alone in the house. If another had broken out. If his dad was dead in a room somewhere nearby. He shuddered, pausing once he realized that there was scratching coming from the bottom of his head. After a moment, a familiar face popped up from beneath his bed. He blinked. The fox from last night sniffed at his clothes, sneezing and pawing at its nose after taking just one whiff. Fundy rolled his eyes, it could smell his sickness.

“You little shit.” He took the fox into his hands, pausing once he realized there was a letter tied to its leg. He gently took it off, the fox curling into his chest despite initially showing disgust at the faint sickness that rolled off Fundy’s entire being. Fundy petted the fox, its tail hitting him on the face. He laughed, adjusting the fox so that it wouldn’t keep hitting him. It was clearly very excited, squeaking as it urged Fundy to open the letter. Fundy took his sweet time to do so.

He thought back on the events of the night, his face heating up at the remembrance of his brief night of freedom. Of course, it would be the night he’d meet someone other than his dad, his uncles, his pseudo-parent, and Jack. Someone from outside L’Manburg. He should tell his dad about the encounter. But it was his secret. Eret once said that it wasn’t wrong to have secrets, so long as it wasn’t really harming anyone. He took a deep breath, finally opening the letter.

‘Dearest, acquaintance of mine,

I apologize for where this letter may find you, though I hope it finds you well. The previous night is quite different from the life I’ve grown accustomed to, though whether that bodes well or not depends on fate. You’re an interesting individual, and if the gods allow it, I’d like to know you even more. This could be the start of a beautiful friendship… or a trainwreck waiting to happen. I don’t know which one it will be, but I do want to try. I know not of your residence, so perhaps we may meet again at the lake. If you wish to. Though, perhaps not tonight or the next night as I do have other business to attend to, and I assume that you do as well. So, on another night then.

There is a large rock by the lake. You could leave your letters there if you ever wish to meet up. I go to the lake most nights when I wish to unwind from the troubles of the day. I hope to meet you again near the lake, though that may take weeks. Otherwise, Zigzag - that is the fox’s name, he was previously named Zagreus but a friend of mine changed his name to Zigzag - would be our little messenger. He likes berries. If you could, do give him a treat for being a very good boy.

Until our next correspondence. I will remember the night we met with fondness, or perhaps regret depending on the future outcome of this relationship. Do promise me, though, that you refrain from telling anyone of our encounter. I… I prefer to remain mysterious and enigmatic :).

Sincerely,

Your M.F.C. (Aka Masked Forest Creep, Aka Dre) :)’

He blinked, his laughter escaping him. Zigzag sniffed at his wrist, little eyes stared up at him in interest. Fundy would read it out loud, but it would be just his luck if Wilbur were to pass by and hear him. He’d think Fundy has some… creeper (not the monster, and that would not be very preferable since they were terrible at conversation) after him. He couldn’t believe that Dre remembered the nickname - playful insult - that Fundy had given him during their goodbye.

He climbed back onto the bed, his bones arguing against his mind, but eventually he was able to get back under the covers. Ziggy licked his cheek, curling up beside him. He held onto the fox, glad that he wasn’t alone. Fundy looked over at the broken window, his mind racing to come up with an excuse. His dad would freak if he thought Fundy had been attacked. If he was lucky, maybe he could convince Eret to help him fix it before his dad ever found out. If he was lucky.

Fundy sighed, slowly shaking his head, the letter was still in his hand.

Somehow, reading the letter made him feel somewhat better.

Though his aching head still wanted him dead.

He petted the back of his Ziggy’s ears.

He’d have to get Ziggy a few berries, and write a letter.

He looked at Dream’s letter again.

And tried to ignore the misplaced comma.

---

“Awwww, Dreamy has got a little cwush.” He scowled, sliding the letter back into the envelope before tossing it into an open book. Sapnap had snuck behind him, much to the masked man’s chagrin. He didn’t know how long his friend’s been there, glancing over his shoulder as he read the words Fundy had written. It was very short, nothing all too damning, but Sapnap must have assumed another meaning since he was mocking Dream with kissy noises. He playfully pushed his friend away, standing up from his seat. He blinked in surprise, it seemed like Sapnap wasn’t the only one who had entered his room undetected. George was by his bed, reading one of the draft letters he’d made. “Dude, what’s with the secrecy? Scared I’d steal them from you?”

“You’re not their type.” Dream snatched the letter from George’s hands, his friend sticking his tongue out. Dream found it to be quite childish, which is why he returned the gesture. He picked up the rest of the draft letters, intending on burning them on a pyre that afternoon so that Sapnap wouldn’t get his grubby little hands on them. “We’re… acquaintances. Possible friends, Sap.”

“You don’t give acquaintances letters.” George spoke up, a passive look on his face. Dream could never tell what his friend was thinking, though it was the same for him. Sometimes he wondered how Sapnap dealt with the two of them, his best friends who hid behind their masks. George laid further on the bed, resting a hand against his head, his other hand splayed against his cheek in thought. Sapnap - ever the man who could never stand still - suddenly jumped onto the bed, breaking George out of whatever thought he had. George scowled, shaking his head, but there was an amused smile playing on the edge of his lips. “You were out last night, weren’t you? On patrol. I read a bit of the letter… you met them in the middle of the forest? So… a hermit?”

“Didn’t know you liked the feral, haven’t-taken-a-shower-in-years type, Dream. But I guess you wanted someone like you—” Sapnap shrieked (like a girl, might Dream add) the moment Dream threw a pillow at him. George sighed, ignoring both their antics. “But seriously, who are they?”

“No one of concern.” George raised a brow at that, lips pursed. He wanted to ask, wanted Dream to elaborate, but he kept silent. Dream took a deep breath, “You don’t need to know. It’s…”

“Dude at least tell us if they’re… smoking hot! Great personality? Something, dude! How the hell am I supposed to figure out who they are!” He refrained from throwing another pillow at Sapnap’s face, though it was quite tempting. He sat at the edge of the bed, one foot on the bed and the other on the floor. He rested his arm on his knee, his head leaned against the wooden frame. He couldn’t tell his best friends. Because they’d either do something stupid, or… tell him that he was stupid for picking the one person who fate would never let him be friends with. And that’s all it was! They were friends, no, acquaintances. Just… acquaintances… An acquaintance he’d invited over to the lake. A hand landed on his shoulder, a look of genuine concern dancing in Sapnap’s gaze. “Dream. I’m just joking, man. But… we never keep secrets from each other.”

“Yeah, man. I get it.” He patted Sapnap’s hand, waiting for the blaze hybrid to pull away from him. His friend hesitated but eventually moved his hand away. Dream stood up, wiping his pants despite the lack of dirt on them. George said it was a force of habit, and Sapnap jokingly teased him about it whenever he could. Sapnap kept quiet this time. George followed after him. Sapnap stayed on the bed. He and George gave him a pointed look. Sapnap groaned, rolling off the bed before collapsing on the ground. Dream watched as George pulled Sapnap up by the arm, barely even breaking a sweat despite Sapnap’s heavier stature. “They’re just a potential friend, dude.”

“Whatever, man.” Sapnap shrugged, leaning against George who looked extremely eager to let him faceplant on the carpet. Dream wheezed, placing a hand on both his friends’ backs. They had to train for the coming days. They still had a war to win, after all. He led them to the door. George didn’t complain, exiting the room without even a single glance back. Sapnap paused, furrowing his brows at Dream. “If it doesn’t work out… Tell them that I’m always available—”

“Out! What the hell, Sapnap!” He slammed the door, Sapnap’s laughter bouncing off the walls of his room. He shook his head, relishing in the silent aftermath. Dream still needed to meet them at the training grounds in an hour, but until then, he had a few minutes to himself. He made his way to the pile of drafted letters, feeling a rush of heat climb to his cheeks. It wasn’t his fault! He kept accidentally writing Fundy’s name, and he couldn’t let anyone know of their correspondence. Dre wasn’t… the best cover name. He is a bit surprised that Fundy didn’t connect the dots… or maybe he did. He groaned, running a hand through his hair. He unclasped the mask, letting it drop to his hand before tossing it onto the bed. Dream made his way back to the desk, reaching down to pet Zigzag who had fallen asleep after a few berry treats. His good little messenger fox.

He grabbed the letter again: 

Dear “acquaintance” (we’re friends now, lol don’t call me acquaintance),

Thanks for the letter and I would like to meet you again. The lake is nice, but bring Zigzag, I’ll only meet you if you bring Zigzag with you. I will also, hereby, call him Ziggy because Zigzag is stupid and so was Zagreus :p 

 Sincerely,

Your S.F. (Aka Strange Fox, Aka Fundy)

P.S. Thanks, also, for getting me wet. Now I’m sick! >:(‘

Dream groaned, putting his head in his hands.

WHY DID FUNDY HAVE TO PHRASE IT LIKE THAT?!

[needs-to-stop-looking-at-valves]

How about some cook Cavendish satisfying Drax with pleanty of food. digging Drax' ass out of a dumpster and showing him what actual food is, giving him pleanty to feat on~

-cursed

This sounds tender as SHIT. Let's fucking go.

Cavendish pulled the top off the pot, taking an inhale. Soup smelled good, it should be ready soon. He added more salt, before putting the top back on. It was late at night, and everyone else was asleep, but Cavendish couldn't sleep. He knew he needed it though, so he decided a nice, hot meal would soothe him. Usually Otto cooked, but he was happy to make something of his own. A nice stew, coupled with some fresh bread (that he didn't at all steal from Brownlee's food stash), he made more than enough food.

"The hell?"

He was about to heat up the bread, when he heard a commotion outside. Something was out there, digging into the box of scraps just outside.

"Fuckin' told that damn cabin boy to dump the scraps."

He grabbed a kitchen knife, and went outside. Probably some rat. Had they not been disease ridden, biting bastards, he would've ignored it. He walked slowly, knife raised, when the damn thing turned around. It wasn't a rat, it was worse. Henry Drax. He was digging into the FUCKING trash, like an animal. Cavendish sighed, as a means of both disgust, and relief. At least Drax wasn't a biter. Usually.

"Fucking hell Drax-the hell you doing out here?"

"Hungry. But I can't go back into the damn kitchen."

"You kept eatin' shit, didn't you?"

"Otto maybe a godly man, but he's a stingy fuckin' bastard."

Drax was an absolute scavenger. He'd always hang around a kitchen, stealing little bits of food, even when Otto was just trying to cook. Cavendish had seen it first hand, and until he was booted from the kitchen, it was pretty damn funny.

"Are you actually eating from there?"

"Aye. Wasteful man. Still meat on these bones, and these tomatoes are still good."

Cavendish watched as Drax dug his foul teeth into a juicy, spoiled tomato, letting the juices run down his ever messy beard. Cavendish didn't love this man in the slightest, but he'd be heartless not to feed a man digging out of old scraps.

"You're a fuckin' mutt- come on."

He smacked the tomato out of his hand, and put his hand behind his back, ushering him back into the kitchen. Drax was clearly upset about the lack of his snack, but he didn’t get a chance to bitch as he sat him down at the table. Drax looked like he wanted to get up, even, but Cavendish knew just what would make him stay. He pulled his flask from his coat pocket, placing it on the table. Drax chuckled, getting comfy in his seat.

“Know how to get me to stay, Micheal.”

He only called him that in private. When not a soul walked in between them. Cavendish waved his hand at him dismissively, He added oil to the bread, and stuffed it into the tiny oven. As glorious as the Volunteer was, Cavendish could make a complaint in regards to the kitchen’s size. He felt cramped in here, not just amongst the damn clutter in here, but with Drax just sitting there, nursing the rest of the flask (greedy bastard, thing was full when he got it to him). It was a bit much, but in a way, it was comforting. Just a slow, brief break from the bullshit at sea. No Sumner, no Brownlee, no insurance tricks, no whaling. Just the smell of a fresh pot of soup, and herbed bread. He turned off when he smelled the bread, just how his mother always did.

“You better stay here, Henry. Too much food here for my lonesome, and if Otto found out I cooked, he’d never let me back out into the ice.”

“He likes someone to talk to. As if Sumner wasn’t enough.”

“Maybe it’s redheads.”

They both chuckled. They knew Otto. the caring, protective type that favored the more feminine, soft men. Men who could pass off for the usual whore. Cavendish finished cutting the bread, adding it to the plates, and alongside the bowls of soup, brought it over to the table. Drax had that hungry look in his eyes, and it was one of the few times where it didn’t unsettle him. Drax, as usual, didn’t savor his food the way any person would. He ate the way a hungry animal would, slurping loudly, teeth tugging at the meat and lips slurping the bones clean. He went in with the spoon when he had to, but when he needed meat, he tucked in like a brute.

“Ya mam never taught you how to eat, did she?”

“Hungry. I ain’t eatin’ with royalty, afterall.”

“As if you’d change for royalty.”

Drax grinned, beads of beef broth dripping from his teeth and into his beard. He rubbed at the mess in his beard, wiping it on his coat, then continuing to feast. Cavendish was no man of status either, but he at least knew how to cherish a meal. The salt in the soup, the sweetness of the carrots, the starchiness of the potatoes, the gaminess of the meat- all which sat moist in the salty broth, seasoned by the bones. And the bread. Crunchy, yet still somewhat soft on the inside. Better than any hardtack they were given. 

“Good soup, Micheal.”

He watched as Drax’s lips curled around the soup, noisy as he drank. He’d give the man one thing; he wasn’t fussy. He picked the bones clean, even stripping it off his cartilage, and even licking the crumbs from the bread off the plate. Man was starving. He groaned to himself upon finishing. He wasn’t sated, but he was a little more tame than before. Cavendish wasn’t even done with his soup by the time Drax sat there, licking the residue off of the rim of his bowl. His tongue was greedy, appreciative of every single drop. Cavendish sighed, getting up, and offering his hand to Drax.

“Quit lickin’ the damn thing, I’ll give ya more.”

“I don’t like wastin’ any of it. You don’t know when it'll be the next time you'll eat.”

Cavendish rolled his eyes. Knowing Drax, he’d live. Man would kill and eat an animal raw, with his own teeth if he had to. He went back into the kitchen, filling up the bowl, and giving the man the last piece of the bread. He gave it back to him, and watched as Drax finally ate like a person. Well, closer to a person anyway. He didn’t dig into it like a hungry wolf, but rather, he savored it, as though it was the least meal he’d ever eat. Cavendish nodded, tucking into his bread after having it soak up some of the soup.

“Finally slowing down, though I’d watch you choke.”

“Aye, I do the choking ‘round here, lest you forget, Micheal.”

Henry shot him a wink, just as he was tearing the strips of flesh from the bone. You could always tell when Henry was eating. He slurped, he moaned, he groaned, his teeth ground against bone. It was an experience for Henry. Didn’t matter what it was. Just that there was enough for him. Henry would still enjoy himself, as if a proper whore was blowing him during his meal. It was annoying as hell to most, but not to Cavendish. All he heard was a hungry, eager man.

“Surprised you don’t eat the damn bone, Henry.”

“Don’t throw ‘em out, I’ll suck on them like hard candies.”

Probably why he hadn’t tossed them to the floor, but rather, kept them on his plate, as if he wasn’t done with it just yet. Cavendish had finished his meal quite some time ago, but he had no issues sitting there, watching and listening to Drax’s animilatistic sounds. By the time he finished, he sat back, licking his fingers over and over again. He finally looked sated, relaxed. Cavendish stood up, taking his bowl, and bringing him another. Drax looked hesitant, even as he sat there, suckling on bits of bones, but Cavendish knew Drax could never turn down a meal. He accepted it, helping himself to more of the soup. Cavendish sat down again, watching Drax gorge himself further.

“Never know when you might eat again, eh Henry?”

“Free food is free food, I’d sooner perish than waste a morsel. Especially knowing you made it for me. Almost sweet of ya.”

“Suck my prick, Henry, I just don’t want to smell trash in your breath, next we meet. You already smell like cheap booze and smoke.”

“You like that smell, they all do.”

He smirked. He didn’t notice the broth run down his arm at first, and had to take a second to run his greasy, greedy tongue up his arm. Cavendish swore he saw the dirt and grime graze off his tongue, and he was surprised that even HE didn’t flinch at the taste of himself. He finished the new bowl of soup, far less quickly than the rest of them. He did finish however, leaning back in his chair. He looked exhausted, and the sigh that escaped his mouth let Cavendish know he was about to pop. Drax reached for his belt, and unbuckled himself, letting himself free of his cloth confines. Cavendish watched as he rubbed at his hairy, plump stomach, slowly. As if he was taunting him. The damn thing was nudging the table in its size, and Cavendish swore he never saw the man so docile. So vulnerable and content with himself. Cavendish got up again, and poured the rest of the broth into the bowl. Just enough for one more. Just a little something extra to push him.

“Alright, you can finish the pot, since ya hungrier and uglier than any pest I’ve ever seen.”

Drax burped into his hand, lightly shaking his head in protest. Drax ate enough to feed a number of men, the fact that he didn’t cough it all back up was a surprise to anyone who didn’t know him. He put his hand on his belly, giving it a nice pat. Soft, hairy, and hot from the oh so big meal he just finished eating. Drax sighed, but pushed himself through it, bringing the broth to his mouth, and greedily slurping at the remains. Cavendish had to hold onto the bowl for him, nursing him like a wee babe, and oh so carefully massaging his big, bulging stomach. Drax gasped as he finished, as if he had just put his head underwater.

“Alright, I’m done now, Micheal.”

“Should be, you finished the pot.”

Cavendish took the plates and put them away (leaving it for someone else to clean, obviously), only to come back with something in his hands. Drax looked damn near dazed, before he looked at the wrapping in his hands, suspicious, as if it were a damn weapon.

“Hell is that?”

“Dessert.”

Granted, they were old, but desserts were desserts. He held onto Drax’s chin, forcing his mouth open and pushing the treat past his lips. They were simple ginger cookies he picked up before they left for shore, but they were still fairly tasty. Not that Drax noticed. His poor body ached and his stomach grumbled, begging for him to stop. Drax the vision of gluttony, greed, and lust. He stuffed the rest of the cookie in his mouth, and upon Drax FINALLY swallowing, Cavendish pressed his lips against his, slowly gracing his tongue with his own. The taste of beef, booze, and sugar, was exactly what Cavendish craved. He looked into his dazed eyes, lightly patting his cheek.

“Better not catch you digging through the trash next time, Drax. You want yourself stuffed, you come to me. Get it?”

“...Aye.”

He patted his stomach once more. He was a filthy, greasy, fat, barbaric man.

Was it any wonder he had to dive in for seconds?

[aiikawarazu]

Hourglass Chapter #21

Title: Winter Flower

Rated: M

Summary:  The times when she was confined to her prison of hourglass was long gone, she had broken free from it now. And even if it was just to live in the moment with Eren, this was the only time Mikasa ever felt real. This was the only time in her life when she knew what she wanted to do. And for sure she didn't want to waste any single moment with him worrying about anyone – or anything else. She wanted to be with him, she wanted to be by his side. For now, Eren was right there beside her and for Mikasa, that was more than enough.

FFNet here || AO3 here (AO3 is late update)

Disclaimer: I do not own Shingeki no Kyojin

"That witch!"

Ayako let out a bellow, followed by a loud thud when her small fist hit the wall with tremendous force. The other three people in the vicinity jumped from their seats and looked at her, startled.

"W-what's going on?" Armin asked. In his surprise, he had spilled the hot green tea inside his cup, the scalding liquid now burned ferociously against the skin on the back of his hands, but Armin's attention was much taken by Ayako's rage that he was completely oblivious to the pain. On the seats across him, Eren and Mikasa were also watching their friend with great attention – Mikasa's brows furrowed, Eren's mouth gaping slightly, both seemingly as surprised and puzzled as he was.

As usual, the four of them were rounding up in the empty Home Economics classroom during lunch period. It was early March, and though weather was beginning to get warm, none of them was brave enough to challenge the cold and go to the school rooftop for lunch. They were talking about the TV show last night when suddenly, Ayako – who was standing by near the large window on the side of the classroom, surprised all of them with the sudden yell.

"Ayako, what's wrong?" Mikasa asked again, as Armin's question was left unanswered. But Ayako wasn't looking back at them. Instead, she looked at something outside the window, down on the school courtyard, her long brown hair disheveled across her face, which bore the look of frustration and outrage. She seemed like she was too preoccupied, or too angry, to put anything into words. Curious, the three of them exchanged looks. Then, seeing as Ayako clearly wasn't going to answer anything, they quickly slipped out of their seats and joined her, eager to catch a glimpse at the scenery that's suddenly plunged her into this state of rage.

Mikasa didn't know what to look for at first. But Ayako nudged her ribs and pointed exactly at two figures on the bottom right corner of the courtyard, near the entrance to the soccer field. A boy and a girl were standing there, facing each other, the girl slightly tilted her head up to look at the boy. From up here, they looked just like any ordinary couple who had gone out to the court for their lunch, but Mikasa recognized the side figure after a mere few seconds.

Jean and… Mikasa had to narrow her eyes to be sure of the girl who was with him, but she saw her everyday – surely she couldn't be mistaken. It was Nanako.

She frowned, then turned to face her friend.

"I don't understand…"

"Neither do I," Ayako replied, her teeth clenched. "What is that wench doing out there with Jean? Surely she is up to no good again."

"What's going on?" Eren seemed like he didn't understand a thing. "Why are we talking about that Horseface?"

"For your information, Yeager," Ayako cut in impatiently, "That person right there in the field," she jabbed with her finger to the figures of Nanako and Jean, "With Jean… is the likely person behind all those incidents targeting Mikasa, and you."

"By the way, she's a girl from your class," Armin supplied helpfully, "In case you don't remember."

"I can't even remember what I ate for lunch," Eren said simply, and peered out of the window with curiosity. Mikasa gave him a disdainful look. "I told you about this," she reminded him. "There is a girl in our class who likes Jean, and she hates me for rejecting him." Eren gave out a low whistle.

"Now I remember. That is the stupidest thing I heard, even including the all the school gossips combined." He continued watching out the window with great interest. "I don't know why you think this is a bad thing… sounds like that chick has scored herself a pretty nice goal then, she and Horseface look awfully chummy." The couple were now sitting together on a bench near the soccer field, and unpacking their lunch boxes. Eren was right, they seemed to be having a good time. "Bet my whole lunch this week they'd be fucking each other before March ends."

"You said that because you didn't know her!" Ayako yelled in frustration. "Nanako is a vicious snake! And whatever down there she's doing with Jean, and everyone knows the story between Mikasa and Jean – is going to have something to do with Mikasa in the end… and with you!" she looked even more exasperated now. She played nervously with her fingers and drew a deep sigh, her rage had subsided and instead was replaced with anxiety as she bit her lips in silence, brows furrowed, still looking at the couple with deep concentration.

"Oh, if only I could prove that she was behind all these," Ayako muttered in desperation. "Stalking Mikasa and everything… I'd drag her out in the open, but she would just deny everything…"

"I think," Mikasa said quietly, "That you lots have become somehow more absorbed in this than me. I know," she added quickly when she saw Ayako was about to protest. "I know you did this for me. And I'm grateful, really. But I don't want my friends getting in a lot of trouble because of me," she made a heavy emphasis on the last word, and paused for a while.

"Trust me… compared to what I used to face in my house… this is nothing."

There was such a dark tone in Mikasa's voice that made the three others immediately exchange looks. The atmosphere seemed to suddenly grow heavier with her words. Ayako shifted uncomfortably in her place.

"I don't really care," Mikasa continued, "If they mark my desk with a flower, or throw away my books every day, or accuse me of sleeping around with boys. I said this before, and I'll say it again – I can endure it. I don't mind to endure it, and for me, silence is the best option to their child-like pranks." She walked back to the table where they sat before they all ran to Ayako's side near the window. Then, she picked up her cup and stared absent-mindedly at it for a while. "And I think you forgot," she put the cup down with a small thud, now turning to face the three, who noted with relief that she was now smiling, albeit just slightly.

"I'm stronger than you all are," she said this with a hint of arrogance, but it was such matter-of-fact that none of them could argue further. "I can take on all these people. And as long as you are on my side… then I'm not afraid of anything."

She seemed like she was addressing the three but in the end, her eyes shifted slightly to where Eren was standing. She was looking directly at him. Her smile grew a bit wider, and her expression had changed into something a lot softer. Wordlessly, Eren mirrored her smile. He had never become bored observing how pretty she was, how magnificent… He knew he had been looking at her for a long while, but it's not enough – he could look at her all day – and every time he saw her, there's a certain familiar feeling of warmth that seemed to wash over him.

"Nanako can turn the whole school upside-down if she wants to," Mikasa continued again, this time looking at Ayako and Armin. "In the end, it's me she wants. If it's really her behind all of these, then… when the time comes… she'll go for me. Until then, just stay out of trouble, Ayako." Mikasa now pinned the brown-haired girl with her sharp gaze. "And you too, Armin. Don't waste your energy on her. She is not worth it."

***

It wasn't easy for Armin to find an excuse to talk to Jean.

For one, they weren't in the same class, or in the same extracurricular club. And though they both had people they knew in common – Mikasa and Ayako – this time Armin had to approach Jean without their help, which made the task more difficult for him.

It also didn't help that the only time Armin ever spoke to Jean face to face was during him and Mikasa's failed date attempt last year, in which Mikasa deliberately drag him to her date without previously informing him or Jean. Armin could never forget the murderous look Jean had on his face that day. He looked at Armin as though the blonde boy was some kind of disgusting pest he wanted to crush under his feet, and Armin had to spend several agonizing hours fearing for his life lest Jean would murder him out of spite.

To tell the truth, Armin wasn't planning on approaching Jean by himself. Mikasa had made a fair point to stop them from meddling in her affairs with Nanako, but Armin wasn't convinced. He had never seen Nanako in person, never conversed with her – yet he had a pretty good idea about this person from the way Ayako and Mikasa described her. If he was right, and usually he was rather good at deducing people's personalities… Nanako was not just interested in destroying Mikasa. Yes, Mikasa might be her end target, but Mikasa was wrong if she thought Nanako would just go straight to her in an attempt for revenge. From what Armin knew by words, she was foul enough to also extend the damage to anyone else she saw associated with Mikasa Ackerman.

And that, of course, also included Jean Kirstein.

That was the sole reason Armin wanted to find out the nature of relationship between Nanako and Jean, but first things first, Armin really wasn't sure on how to approach him. He had spent the whole day yesterday, diligently stalking Jean and trying to find an opening that he could use. These days it seemed like he was gradually getting used to stalking and hunting, Armin noted to himself with a bit of wonder. And what surprised him even more, was the fact that he actually enjoyed the thrill. Maybe he had been looking for some interesting events to distract him from the boring school life, after all…

And today, Armin waited in the corner, tense with anticipation. He finally decided that the best time to approach Jean was a few minutes nearing the end of the lunch break – he saw Jean heading down the stairs to the ground floor, toward the row of the vending machines installed near the inter-building corridor. Armin saw Jean put in his coins to the drink vending machine, pressed a few buttons, then bent down to retrieve his canned drink. Jean was alone, thank God, it will make things easier…

Jean finally retrieved his canned hot coffee, bent up again, clicked his can open, and after a sip, began to walk to where Armin was hiding.

Armin counted carefully, inside his head, taking care to act only with the most precise timing. Then, when he finally reached five, he drew in a deep breath and emerged abruptly from the corner. Quite naturally, Jean, who was walking fast to the opposite direction, didn't have enough time to dodge him. He tried to stop in the last second but a collision was unavoidable. They collided, Armin fell to the floor, Jean let out a loud yell, and his canned coffee came crashing to the floor with a loud clank. From the scorching sensation on the front of his shirt, Armin knew that he must have spilled some of the liquid on his uniform. Not wasting any seconds, he proceeded to his next act with ease.

"Sorry! I'm so sorry!" he said. "I was in a rush.. didn't see where and I'm going… and I spilled your coffee too… sorry, I'll buy you a new one… wait here."

He handed a piece of handkerchief to Jean, who was wildly confused, still processing what's happening.

"T-that's alright," he stuttered a bit, taking the handkerchief out of Armin's hand, and watched wordlessly as the blonde boy hurriedly made his way to the vending machine, and came back a few minutes later with the exact same drink.

"Sorry again," Armin said, handing over the coffee to Jean. Jean thanked him out of courtesy, and began to observe the boy more carefully.

"Aren't you Ackerman's friend?" he asked, taking the canned coffee from Armin a little mindlessly.

"I'm Armin Arlert," he said, opening his own can of coffee and slipping in casually beside Jean. "We have met before."

"I remember," Jean replied in short. That event might be last year but the disastrous date with Mikasa was still fresh in his memory.

"I – I want to apologize for that time," said Armin quickly. "I really had no idea what's happening… Mikasa just told me to come along with her, so I agreed. And…"

"All good," said Jean. "It's not your fault. The look on your face when you knew what you got yourself into… it was quite amusing, though."

They exchanged short, awkward smiles for a while, and Armin felt Jean began to tense less at his presence.

"Things haven't been calm around Ackerman lately," Jean remarked after a while, seemingly trying to find topics to continue his conversation with Armin.

"Certainly," Armin replied, sighing. "Somebody's really got grudges against her. And decided to bring the whole school into it."

Jean stared listlessly into the distance. "Figured. But Ackerman's been a good feed for the rumor mills even before all of these. People scrutinized every aspects of her life no matter what she did. Maybe not a day has ever passed peacefully in her life…"

"Tell you the truth," said Armin, "She's quite happy people's been ignoring her existence these days. Helped her to keep a much lower profile." Jean looked at him, rather surprised. "Was that really what she said?"

"No, but I know Mikasa," said Armin, looking back at Jean, smiling slightly. "She's about tired being in the center of everyone's attention for well over a year now."

Jean regarded this point carefully. "Whoever's doing this must be not so happy now," he said after a while, voicing Armin's thoughts out loud, and Armin remarked how notably sharp Jean was. "Ackerman's not exactly playing on their favor."

"She doesn't," Armin agreed. "All the more reason they might try something different… and more desperate, soon."

"Yeah," Jean grinned slightly in frustration. "Anyway… I have to go, thank you for the coffee…," he made a start to get back to his own classroom but paused, flicked a glance to Armin and hesitated for a while, before speaking.

"Is she really dating Yeager? Not that I'm being nosey about it –" Jean added quickly. "I'm just… just curious."

That was a poor excuse, and even Armin could tell Jean's real intention. But the boy responded in kind.

"I don't know," he said honestly. "Mikasa never really talked much about her personal affairs. But they've been really close lately, and out of us all… I know that she trusts Eren the most."

Jean's heart sank even further at this revelation. "I see," he mumbled under his breath. Armin watched in silence as Jean looked pointedly at his toes, shifting uncomfortably for a while. Then Armin started again, "I'm sorry to ask, but… are you still… you know…"

"Huh," Jean seemed to have lost his focus. "What?" he asked to Armin, and the boy, turning a bit red now, repeated his question.

"You still have a crush on Mikasa?"

Jean looked embarrassed with Armin's straightforward way of asking it. But he looked even more embarrassed as he tried to answer it.

"Maybe," he muttered vaguely, "I don't… I could… yeah, maybe."

"Sorry," said Armin immediately, "I – I shouldn't have asked."

"That's about the fiftieth 'sorry' for the day, Arlert," Jean replied, with more genuine humor this time, and Armin looked relieved. "It's just that… I've seen you around lately with this girl," Armin admitted. "I just wonder… maybe…"

"With a girl?" Jean seemed to be thinking for a while. "Oh, you mean… Toda. Yes, I've been spending time with her." He looked back at Armin, who nodded. "I don't know her name… but I know she's Mikasa's classmate… short brown hair, rather small build?"

"Yeah, that's Toda alright," replied Jean. "She's in the drama club with me… nice girl, she is… we had good times… she gave me lots of advice on life and helped me make my homework. She –" he stopped when he saw Armin's expression slightly changed. The blonde boy suddenly looked a bit sick, like he was forced to watch people throw up in front of his face. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing," Armin lied. His expression was quickly back to normal. "I just thought, maybe… maybe you got over Mikasa already."

"Honestly, I never stood a fair chance against her," Jean remarked flatly. "And if she's happy with Yeager… so am I."

Jean waved to Armin. "See ya later, Arlert." Armin kept his cheerful face until Jean was safely out of sight, then returned to his own classroom, his expression full with worry.

***

"Things have been really weird in this school lately," Ymir remarked crassly as she sat together with Historia one day at their club practice. The petite blonde girl looked up from their next drama script which she had been reading intently and regarded her friend with an inquisitive look.

"What do you mean?" she asked. "Things look perfectly normal to me."

"For one, Horseface's been screwing around with a new girl," said Ymir, and Historia looked a bit reproachful. Ymir knew she shouldn't have used that kind of language in front of her, Historia's got a refined taste after all – she's part of the Reiss household, easily one of the richest family in the entire Japan. She used to receive strict education in a private all-girls college in Tokyo, one of the best in the country, until some inner conflicts overtook the Reiss family, and she was forced to split from her parents. She lived in Shiganshina now with her sister Frieda, a much more modest life than what she used to have. She was better in every aspects now, one could say she was cruder, but much closer to a commoner lifestyle than when she first arrived in Shiganshina a year ago.

Historia's friendship with Ymir was the primary driving factor behind this change. Ymir was unquestionably crude, crass, with a no-nonsense kind of attitude that was sometimes considered as rude, and a mouth that would have been better remain shut since it had, more often than not, landed Ymir in various difficult situations when she opened it without thinking. As rude as she was, Historia loved her friend dearly, for Ymir had been the one who had been in Historia's side when she was lost and tried desperately to rebuild her life. For a confused girl at the age of fifteen, she was craving that best friend figure to help her through things, and Ymir was, and continued to be, that person for her.

"I still don't see why that's something weird, Ymir," Historia sighed, closing her drama script. "It's a good thing if Jean gets over Ackerman."

"I would say that… if only that girl who's been all over Horseface doesn't happen to be our newest member. You remember her, Historia… the one who suddenly joined after the new term started."

"Oh," Historia seemed to give it a thought, "Yes, bit of a strange time to join a club…"

Ymir scoffed. "A bit? She joined this club because Horseface was here. She was never interested in drama. Have you ever seen her paying any attention to practice? Or stayed behind voluntarily to do chores? Do you realize that she's only stayed behind when it was Horseface's turn to do club chores? And when he's not in practice, she never attended as well. She's all over him, it makes me sick." Ymir looked disgusted. "I don't know why Horseface is even considering her. If she ever breathed a word that's not a lie… I'd go ahead to Mr. Shadis and offer him a piece of steamed potato during class…. like our idiot Potato Girl did."

Historia giggled unexpectantly. "That was mean, Ymir," she said, but she looked rather amused. "That alone made Sasha our school legend though."

"You know I'm not good at reading atmosphere, but she's even worse," Ymir reproved. "She's thick."

"Not thick, just innocent," Historia defended her. "Sasha has this… childhood innocence on her. You just can't bring yourself to hate her."

"The same childhood innocence had her run thirty laps around the school court, Historia," Ymir reminded, and Historia looked glum.

"Oh yes, Mr. Shadis wasn't too nice with that… Sasha nearly collapsed out of fatigue. Good thing we found her on time," she recalled. "She's almost passed out. Miss Ral wasn't too happy when we brought her in… started saying all things about improper punishments at school and how she'd bring this to Headmaster Erwin… Oh, look… speak of the devil…"

Historia stopped just as Sasha Braus entered the sports hall. She walked straight for the stage where Historia and Ymir were sitting side by side, chatting. She waved at them, looking very excited, her hands are full of something, which, as she went nearer the stage, Ymir and Historia recognized as countless packages of chocolate puddings.

"Historia! Ymir! Look what I got for us! Puddings!" she said, and proudly put down the dozens puddings on the floor, some of them rolled to where Historia was sitting, and she picked it up and gave the object a suspicious look.

"Umm, Sasha," she tried to make her point as carefully as she could. "Where did you get these?"

Historia did know that these puddings were, in fact, best-selling items in school cafetaria, and it was unlikely Sasha could have obtained these many using any normal means, considering it was limited to two items per student, and was almost always sold out during the first ten minutes of lunch.

"Nevermind that now," she said, and Historia noted that she'd almost never seen anyone with such greedy looks on their face. She and Ymir exchanged quick looks, Ymir's eyebrows slightly raised, and Historia knew exactly what Ymir was going to say.

What was that about childhood innocence?

"Well if you don't want to tell –" Ymir said, and picked up a container. "Lets just say… that you found these."

"Yes, I found these. When I was done with my Archery Club duties and I made my rounds here… I found these lovely packages of pudding waiting for me in my locker. They're from… my secret admirer."

Historia was going to say something, but Ymir gave her a quick look.

"You know what… I guess… I'll have a dig. Finders' keepers," Ymir said casually, twirling the package in her hands.

"Finders' keepers," Sasha agreed, and began to scoop a mouthful.

Historia gave a sigh, and opened her own pudding container. If there was anything weird in this school, it's definitely Sasha Braus and her monstrous appetite, and how she never seemed to gain weight even though she kept eating.

"Come on, Historia. This pudding isn't poisoned, you know."

The petite blonde girl lowered her spoon and began to scoop a little of the gelatinous chocolate substance. If you can't beat them, join them.

***

She was unexpectedly witty.

Jean loved her humor. She was that kind of person that seemingly just clicked with him. Jean didn't think it was possible before, they rarely had any opportunities to talk. But now that he knew her, every time they conversed, he found that she could draw him right in.

They wandered along the school, spent their free hours together. She brought him lunch box from home, and they chatted about everything. He told her casual things about his life, where he lived, where he used to go to school, stupid things he did when he was younger – all kinds of unimportant things that he wanted to share just because he absolutely enjoyed spending time with her.

She was like a fresh breath of air to Jean. For once, he felt like his efforts actually meant something. For once, it wasn't only him – chasing emptily on someone's back who's never turning to him. With Mikasa, everything was… difficult. She had too high of a wall, too deep of an ocean to transverse. When they were together, it was almost impossible for Jean to guess what's on her mind, she was quiet, she kept to herself, and not a minute pass by between the two without Jean trying uncomfortably to find a topic to talk. And still, their conversations never lasted long.

Nanako was the exact opposite. She was… no other word to describe her – fun. She had interest in almost everything Jean had to say, she laughed at his jokes, and she seemed to like having his companion. Time seemed to fly when he was with her, and Jean regretted why he never knew her earlier. They could have had a good few months, a good year even, and instead of the pain of rejection he constantly felt toward Mikasa when again and again she turned him down, and again he waited for her heart to accept him, but his time never once came. For once, Jean now learned how it felt to have someone actually accepting him. And maybe, just maybe, after all of his bad luck was spent – maybe now life was going to be better for him.

And this one, he articulated to Nanako.

"I wish I'd known you sooner," he said to her one day when they were alone. "I mean all this time…," he said, "All this time you were that close to me. And I never knew… I wish I'd met you sooner but… I'm glad I met you now."

She turned slightly pink at his blunt honesty, then muttered indistinctly.

"I'm just glad you think of me that way, Jean," she said. "I'm glad I met you too."

She was silent for a long time, as they continued walking through the deserted school garden. The bitter cold were biting heavily into their cheeks and almost made Jean's fingers numb – it had been a week of bad weather in Shiganshina, snow was again falling heavily, despite February already coming to an end. Hurriedly, Jean tightened his scarf and put his hands inside his pocket to reach for his pocket warmers to keep his hands slightly warm. School regulation didn't allow students to wear overcoats or any other piece of clothing on top of their school blazers except for scarves, and in winter, sometimes it became so freezing cold Jean wondered how they could survive without an extra layer of clothing. Jean always thought it was a silly rule to not even allow students to dress warmly, and there were times he wished he'd graduate soon so he could go to college where regulations about clothing wouldn't be as strict. But for now, he knew he'd have to make do with another winter, before obtaining his freedom as early as spring next year.

Beside him, Nanako made a brief stop. Jean halted too. He was about to ask her what's wrong, when he heard her suddenly murmured "Oh I wish – I wish I could…"

Jean heard a hearty sniff which made him frown, and he turned to find the girl who stood beside him had, in fact, started crying. Beads of tears were falling down her face from her red eyes, trickled down her cheeks, and down to the front of her winter uniform.

"I'm sorry," she said, in uncontrollable big sobs, that left Jean gaping slightly. "Sorry… I'm so sorry…"

What exactly was she sorry for, Jean could never know. He felt surprised at the sudden turn of events, but at the same time thoroughly miserable. He didn't expect this, he didn't like tears. And especially when a girl cried in front of him it always made him wonder what he did wrong. He didn't know what to do, he wished she would just stop crying. He continued to stand there like an idiot while she was crying sobs after sobs that made her shoulders tremble, until he finally approached her, in his desperate attempt to put an end to this sooner, and awkwardly asked.

"Nanako? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she said and Jean couldn't help but point out that nothing could possibly be not wrong the way she was crying like this.

"What's bothering you?" he asked again, hoping desperately that, at least he would sound less awkward than the last time.

"It was just….," she swallowed thickly. "I never… never imagined I would have heard you… I would have heard anyone… saying that to me. Nobody ever loved me… at home, anywhere. And I can't bring myself to love them. I'm just this invisible, unwanted person. It never made any difference whether I lived."

"No," Jean heard himself speak before he could stop it. "Please… please don't say that. Don't say anything about yourself like that." He felt pitiful. He had started this day feeling so happy – he had expressed to her how he was glad to have known her, he'd never have thought things would take their turns this way.

Nanako gave her a sad smile.

"Coming here to school has been my only source of joy. It's been the only times when I feel truly… happy," she sniffed, her voice hoarse with tears. "I'm glad to hear you say that you're happy to meet me, to be with me, but in the same time, I'm afraid… I'm really afraid…." Her face contorted and tears started pouring down her face again. She buried her face in her hands and sobbed, harder this time, Jean had never seen anyone cry with such intensity before – actually, he'd never seen anyone cried in front of him at all, his mind went blank, he didn't know what to do…

"Please," he heard Nanako speak in between her sobs, "P-please… at least… at least say that you wouldn't leave me alone."

Nanako was looking straight at him now, her eyes were puffy, the tip of her nose was red due to cold, she looked so sad, so miserable, and yet… she was the definition of pretty in his eyes. Jean couldn't bring himself to look away, it was as if he was captivated by her, and time had halted to a complete stop.

"Jean…," she said again. "If you leave me alone, I wouldn't… I wouldn't have anyone."

Jean shook his head and swallowed, feeling his words gradually left him. He couldn't find anything to say, and even if he did – it seemed like his brain and his mouth just wouldn't cooperate.

"Jean…"

She had moved closer to him, she was too close now – Jean could see the streaks of tears on her face, her damp eyelashes, the tip of her nose, and her pale, quivering lips…

"Please don't leave me alone."

***

Darkness had never quite left her.

Eren could feel it when he kissed her lips, when they made out, when she, for the briefest moments, albeit with a lot of doubts at first – allowed him to undo the buttons on her school uniform, one by one, until they revealed the beauty of her milky-white skin underneath. It was an inviting sight of beauty that otherwise would have been perfect had it not been for the marks of old scars here and there, traces of abuse that she used to endure during the years of mistreatment she spent in her house growing up.

The first time Mikasa let him undress her, he had been too stunned at the view, and certainly not for a good reason. He had seen her of course, that first night she was on his house, she let him treat her wounds as she told him her story. But that time he had seen only her back, and now that he'd seen her, almost naked, from the front, he could really comprehend how utterly brutal her life was. He paused for a few seconds, his attention completely taken by the dark marks, the old scars, and she, who had been anticipating his move, understood immediately. Hurriedly she clutched the front of her shirt which had been unbuttoned loose by him, trying to block her body from his view.

"They're ugly, aren't they?" she asked, seemingly ashamed at her state, and he couldn't bring himself to say anything. He didn't stop because they were ugly. He didn't give a damn if they were ugly, they couldn't have stopped him from wanting her. No. He stopped because these scars suddenly made him feel like there was something burning inside his stomach, and he felt a rising desire to punch something to release his anger.

"Wounds will heal, but scars will remain," she muttered slightly, more to herself than to anyone else. "Were you shocked to see these, Eren?"

She didn't sound quite sure, it was as if she was half expecting him to reject her, to call her ugly, as if he could ever do it. But he couldn't lie to her either. Gently he wrapped his fingers around her hands, which had been immensely clutching her shirt, and gave them a squeeze.

"I am," he replied quietly. She looked nervous, sad, and hurt. For a moment she looked like the girl who appeared in front of him that night on Christmas amidst the falling powdered snow. Lost and confused, trying to cling desperately to her one sense of reason. "I was. But it doesn't matter to me. You survived it. These scars are proof – that you have been there, that you endured it, and you came out of it… It's the proof that you are human. You have won your battle. You have nothing to be ashamed of."

She looked at him imploringly, but he only gave a wordless nod. You are not ugly, he said, and she relented, she put down her hands, letting her shirt hang around her body loosely once more. She was dressed in plain, simple white underwear – something of her taste, really. Somehow Eren knew she'd have preferred these than the frilly things, not that it mattered to him, her body was so beautiful, he could have enjoyed looking at her all day. He put his hands around her carefully like she's a delicate piece of artwork made of glass, she put her arms around his neck, pulled him close to her, and planted him a deep, long kiss. Something intoxicating, something endearing, something with a sense of longing. He was reduced to his very basic senses when he was with her, all kinds of reasoning had gone out of his brain while his instincts simply took over.

It was always right with her. They way she moved, sometimes she started with gentle kisses on his lips, sometimes she embraced him as she sat on his lap, kissing him fervently, and he returned with the same fervor, gradually growing more heated as she ground against him, hungry for his touch. She could caress him in a deeply sensual way that made Eren wonder whether she really was a first timer, he almost could feel all the screws inside his brain melt when she touched him, undressed him, and stroked him all over. He hadn't felt this good in a long, long time. He hadn't had sex once ever since he met her, couldn't find his release, and somehow, he knew that any kind of release would have been pointless when he wanted her all along.

The first time they were both naked in each other's presence, Eren was half expecting her to be clumsy, but she wasn't – she was experimental, maybe, she traced her fingers on his chest, stroking his back, seemingly getting herself familiar with the naked body of a man. Then she gradually went lower, found his length, and took it inside her delicate fingers. Soon, Eren found himself laying on the hard floor of their empty classroom, eyes on the ceilings as she put her lips around his hardness in such a natural way, caressing him in her warmth and ran her tongue over it, her hair swaying and her lips moving diligently until she heard his pleasurable groans. She was too good at this. She moved again, even more restlessly now, he didn't try to fight it and sure enough, he came.

She was panting slightly, her eyes looking at him now, satisfied that she brought him to his climax. He cleaned up, then they embraced for a long while. Her body was slick with sweat, her hair was sticking to the side of her face. They didn't say anything, just held each other closely in their arms as the sky outside the window was gradually getting darker.

They took turns satisfying each other's needs, soon it was her lying on the classroom floor, he was pining her down and planting kisses to her body, cupping her breasts in his hands, sucking her nipples gently and exploring her slowly, taking his sweet time to tease her nonstop, enjoying moans after moans that escaped her lips. He slipped his hand between her thighs and felt her through her panties. She was moist and wet, and he knew hecould make her feel even better… He slipped her out of her panties and dropped down and started to use his tongue. She gasped, and tensed at first, but he caressed her inner thighs, wordlessly told her to relax. She relented, giving in to him to do as he pleased with her. He licked, and teased, and kissed at her wet opening. Slowly at first, playfully, teasingly, but that grew more intense before long. He couldn't see her face but her shuddering breaths, her pleasurable squirms, and the way she moaned was more than enough for him. She seemed to enjoy it a lot, and so did he – she came not long after, her hands tensed beside her, her cry was the most satisfying sound of orgasm that he ever heard. Breathless, he emerged from between her legs. "Had a good time?" he grinned, but she was too weak to offer anything in retort.

They were being reckless, Mikasa knew that. She also didn't know what's going on in her minds. Especially since she knew how difficult their situation now was – they were being stalked once, they could be more than likely still being followed and monitored now. And if anyone was trying to spread scandals of her through the whole school, then this would be the perfect opportunity.

But there was a part of her that just didn't care – if Nanako or someone else wanted so desperately to show the whole school how she was far away from the perfect girl Mikasa Ackerman image she used to build, then by all means she would let them have their way. She didn't want to maintain that image any longer, she just wanted to become an ordinary person – she wanted to be put down from the pedestal where people used to admire her. The times when she was confined to her prison of hourglass was long gone, she had broken free from it now. And even if it was just to live in the moment with Eren, this was the only time Mikasa ever felt real.

This was the only time in her life when she knew what she wanted to do. And for sure she didn't want to waste any single moment with him worrying about anyone – or anything else. She wanted to be with him, she wanted to be by his side. For now, Eren was right there beside her and for Mikasa, that was more than enough.

***

People laugh for a variety of reasons. Mostly it was to display a sense of positive emotions: joy, mirth, or happiness. Other times, it could also display less than comfortable emotion: nervousness, sarcasm, or people might choose to laugh out of courtesy.

However, nothing might compare to the laugh that came out of a bedroom in a comfortable two-story house occupied by Toda Nanako and her family, as she explained to her friend Akiyama Emi what happened that afternoon, laughing in obvious satisfaction, for a cause that certainly was not a good one.

"You should have seen his face, Emi! I told him, don't leave me, don't let me go, Jean and he just stood there like some kind of idiot! He completely believed everything I told him!"

"And… and then you kissed?" Emi said, looking unconvinced.

"Of course we did! I gave him a looong and nice kiss that he wasn't able to deny! I've got him now, I know I've got him! Oh, this is going to be so good now…"

"But I thought…," Emi frowned slightly, beaming at her friend. "I thought you like Jean, Nanako. Why are you doing this? I thought it's Ackerman you hate."

"Oh, I like Jean alright," Nanako said cheerily. "He's tall… he's handsome… and he's so pathetic with his obsession with Mikasa. People like him are so easy – he's been chasing Mikasa for so long that he forgot how it's like to have somebody actually liking him back. Just use that against him and voila! He's on the palm of my hands now. I know exactly which buttons to push! Isn't this so amazing?"

"You'll hurt Jean, you know," Emi said carefully, "If he finds out about all these…"

But Nanako gave an obvious scoff.

"You're an idiot, Emi! That's not how it's going to work! See – that bitch Mikasa doesn't seem to care anymore about her reputation, and that Yeager bastard is putting a stop to all the bullying because people are too afraid of him. So I'm going to strip Mikasa off her power, one by one, until she has nothing left! Don't you see why she could act all indifferent, still coming to school with her straight pretty face, as though nothing ever happened?"

Emi shook her head.

"That's because… she had a damn good support system that continued ruining my plans!" Nanako carefully lined up four chess pieces on the table.

"That slut Ayako…"

She put down the rook

"That son-of-a-bitch Arlert –"

She put down a bishop piece

"That bastard transfer student, Eren Yeager –"

She put the knight piece on the table

"And… of course that bitch Mikasa herself."

She put the queen piece in the middle, surrounded by all three chess pieces.

"They're all different, but they're just as troublesome," she sneered. "Arlert and Ayako's been snooping around, sticking their nose in every places – almost caught Tachibana last time but he was clever and he informed me. Such a bad move for people who are trying to keep everything discreet… Now I have no choice but to take down one…," she flicked the rook piece and it fell sideways on the table, "… by one…," another piece fell, this time the bishop, "by one." The knight piece also fell, it clattered on the table and now there was just the queen piece standing tall in the middle of its fallen comrades.

"And where does Jean fit in all of this?" Emi asked wonderingly, and Nanako gave a small tut and a concerned look.

"Just picture this in your head, Emi… just as Mikasa was slipping lower, and lower, and lower… Jean's going to be more and more heartbroken, and lost. He's going to be confused, he's going to need someone… And what else does he need, if not for a person beside him, to comfort him, to tell him that she loves him, and it doesn't matter how long… she will wait for him." Emi regarded her friend with a surprised look on her face. "Brilliant, isn't it?"

But Emi didn't answer the question. Instead, there was a long, heavy pause before she finally muttered. "You have changed, Nanako…"

"Oh no, Emi dear, no…," she said, shaking her head and chuckling to herself. "I didn't change. You just started to know me better."

***

One ring. Two rings. Three rings.

Ayako stirred sleepily and reached her hand to her bedside table, mumbling quietly to herself. She had been woken up by the sound of incoming chat messages from her phone. Not even halfway awake, she looked at her phone clock and it showed 32 minutes past one in the morning. Who was chatting her in the middle of the night? She unlocked her phone and read the incoming message, suddenly her face was lit up with a grin.

From: xxx

Operation Urd successful

Begin Operation Verdandi

El. Psy. Congroo

[mihidecet]

Sbi&CO d&d AU: The Dream Team

Aka: Tibi's MCYT WritingTober, day 29: "A normal day"

Listen the original prompt, from @the-only-gamer-gost 's list, was evidently mc related but I just had to write this. Whops ahah

It's time for you to meet another part of this AU's cast! I do hope you'll enjoy reading this ahahah

George takes a deep breath.

He is in his study: the smell surrounding him is gentle, of old wood and older books, of the flowers he's growing on the windowsill, of the almost empty cup of tea his tutor insisted he drank before practicing - "you can't do magic on an empty stomach, I will not have you pass out like a fresh-faced student with no experience!"

It is quite easy to fall back into his own mind, he's done it so many times ever since he started training, but it is never quite easy to-

A light thump, the sound of a small metallic bead hitting his window, prompts him to open his eyes.

George purses his lips in barely concealed irritation and shakes his head. He has to focus. This is precisely why he wanted to skip breakfast, so that he could start before they arrived to bother him.

He's been meaning to try out a new theory - a new spell - for a while, and it requires him to be at maximum concentration because time is a fickle bitch that does not like being toyed with.

So George closes his eyes again and focuses on the pattern of his breathing. He feels for a moment in complete awareness of every inch of his body, and then he opens his eyes.

In front of him, millions of millions of shimmering particles float, gently, into the air in front of him, as if somebody had decided to hang an infinite amount of pieces of iridescent glass with invisible strings. George could live a thousand years and never get tired of seeing the figments of reality and specks of possibilities that exist in the time dimension.

Raising his hand to touch one of them feels like moving through thick molasses after a day of exercise - his muscles protest, scream at him, and it is such a strenuous act.

But he knows to persist - what's coming is going to be even harder - so after what seems like an eternity, but in reality is no time at all, the tips of his fingers brush against the burning cold of a figment of reality.

A fraction of a second later, George stumbles forward, head ringing as he's thrown out of his own personal pocket in time. In his ears, the sound of another of those damned pebbles against his bloody window.

George lets out a loud curse and stomps to the window, opening it with a gesture of his hand and then immediately raising his arcane shield as another pebble flies right at him - as it had been aimed at his poor window once more.

Filled with a righteous fury, George slams his hands on the windowsill - mindful of his poor and completely innocent Forget-Me-Nots - and leans forward to look down at the recently acquired banes of his existence.

"See, I told you it would work- George! George wanna come train with us?" Calls out the fighter, waving a hand frantically as he elbows his shorter monk friend.

"No! Leave me alone!" George yells back, and instantly closes the window and goes back to his position in the centre of the room.

He closes his eyes, focuses on his breathing, and-

Another pebble. He is going to murder them.

"What do you want?! I told you I'm busy!"

The fighter spreads his arms open - almost hitting his friend in the face, if said friend hadn't ducked down instantly.

"Oh, come on George! It's gonna be fun!"

"I'm not interested! Now, leave before I start throwing spells your way!"

The monk scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest and lifting his chin up in defiance.

"As if you could catch me! I bet you can't, and you're scared, and that's why-" a pale green hand is suddenly covering the human's mouth, its owner looking awkwardly up at George with a tentative smile - as if that douche's attempt at riling him up could have worked.

On a completely unrelated note, George has had enough of that conversation.

"You bother me again today and you will regret it." And with that, he closes the window again.

Definitely not hearing the monk's confused "does that mean we can come back tomorrow?". He is just going to ignore it.

The moment he turns back around, he almost has a heart attack.

Leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and a knowing smile on his face, is his mentor.

"Bloody hell, I didn't hear you arriving." George mumbles, moving to grab him a chair as the older wizard chuckles.

"I figured, you were having quite a spat." Scott comments, sitting down on the armchair and nodding towards the window, looking more pleased than he should be.

George gives a scoff, letting himself slump into his chair.

"They are relentless. I don't know what to do anymore." He mopes, but as he should have expected Scott has no pity to share and immediately tackles a new, equally pressing problem.

"Have you found your teammates for the tournament yet?" He asks, crossing one leg over the other and resting his chin in his hand. About two months ago, George had agreed, after ages of declining invitations and rejecting requests, to take part in the yearly tournament his mentor ideated - agreeing only on the terms that he would be able to choose his own teammates. Which is not that unusual, people can arrive with their friends and form a team. George's main problem? His sadly evident lack of friends - at least, friends that will take part in the tournament.

"Not yet. They're all so … various. And peculiar. I'm-" He halts, hands clasped together and squeezing one another, as if they were stress relievers. Noticing his discomfort, Scott seems to take immediately a step back from his usual flippant persona as his expression softens and his posture relaxes.

"You're free to speak your mind." He reminds him gently, so George takes a small breath and looks away, towards the door, ignoring the awkwardness of his admission.

"I'm worried my purely academic training will make me underperform."

"That is possible. It is also possible that you do well. Has the prospect of failure ever stopped you?" Scott challenges, one eyebrow raising in doubt because this is the thing: Scott chose him as his protégé, he knows what George is capable of. He knows him, how competitive he is, how his pride gets in the way despite how much his self esteem is rather low. But still.

"I never had to fail in front of a crowd."

"I understand. Still, I think it will do you good. You should find people to team with, not many get this opportunity."

"I know! It's just that nobody's stuck out! They all seem like incredibly talented people!" George protests, crossing his arms over his chest and slumping back into the chair - sliding down a little, so that his chin presses up against his chest. So now he looks and feels like a child throwing a tantrum. Splendid.

"Well. I think there are at lest two you know by name." Scott notes, smiling with a conspiratory look, and George feels incredibly stupid that he let himself be played like this - did Scott manage to bring the discussion back to the two dumbasses that have been bothering him nonstop for the past couple of weeks?!

Dream and Sapnap- he has no care for them. None at all.

"Shut up." George replies weakly and Scott simply laughs - ever so rude, laughing at his self inflicted misery - before standing up. He circles the desk between them and puts a hand on his head, messing up his hair with a chuckle.

"I have to go, I have matters that await me. But it was nice to see you doing well. I'll wait for the names tonight." Scott's sing-song voice calls as he leaves with a smirk, closing the door behind him.

George lets out a long sigh and resigns himself to morning of meditating and practice.

It was nice to see his mentor again - he's been worried lately, as if on edge. George figures it's the tournament's fault, but one may never be sure.

A couple of days later, Dream wakes to the feeling of a pillow hitting him square in the face. Followed by a ripping noise. Followed by the feeling of stuffing falling on his face.

"Oops-" Sapnap says above him: when Dream opens his eyes, he's holding his pillow, now with a tear in it and stuffing slowly falling on the ground.

"SAP! What the fuck did I tell you about the tusks?!"

After their morning workout routine - which definitely does not entail Dream chasing Sapnap around their room as the shorter man jumps around on the furniture to escape, and absolutely doesn't end with them rolling on the floor as the half orc holds his teammate in a headlock - they have a quick breakfast and then hurry to the Academy.

Today's the day: they will be announcing the teams for this year's tournament, and they both can't wait who they will be fighting with.

The announcement is a strictly participant-only event, and from that point on they will have about a month to train with their new teammates inside the Academy's facilities.

The Academy is a huge building that looks and feels like those castles they talk about in fairytales: sky high towers of iridescent colours, with strands of various shades of purple and orange connecting invisible points in space - and perhaps time too. There are stairs and bridges connecting different sections, and Dream knows, from stories told by Master Calvin, that it is as tall in the sky as it is deep inside the bowels of the Earth. A magnificent display of arcane power and architectural prowess. As one would expect from the creators of this tournament, but still.

The crowd that gathers around the entrance is one of the most varied assortment of adventurers Dream has ever seen, and he knows Sapnap is thinking the same thing because the human's head keeps whipping from side to side as he stares at the people walking by.

Dream shoots, from time to time, a look around. He's not particularly looking for somebody - he is - and he's not going to let the knowledge of who is competing distract him from trying to do his best - debatable.

But still.

All the participants are directed toward the entry, where after a quick scan - to avoid strangers from entering - they manage to get inside the main hall.

Now, Dream and Sapnap have been told, by their respective masters, about the Academy, but nothing can ever quite prepare you for something this grandiose and extravagant as what they are seeing.

One would expect a centennial arcane academy, built by two archmages and hosting the best of the magical world in terms of teachers, students and knowledge, to be a stuffy, old fashioned institution.

One would be quickly proven wrong, as just the entrance hall happens to be a stunning portrait of multiple colours, bright and radiant, with moving paintings of famous arcane masters casting spells side by side with rather sweet drawings of past winners of the tournament hugging each other and holding out their prizes.

When Master Calvin had first suggested he move for a while to the Academy, in order to fully develop his arcane abilities, he had been skeptical: how could he, when Calvin's house had been his home for so long? But now, seeing all this, he thinks that maybe he could come to like this place.

At the end of the hall, on an apparently clear glass panel, are displayed the names of each team member.

With all the chatter and cheers and noises of people looking for each other - some are already leaving, having found what and who they were looking for - it's hard to catch the sound of Sapnap's sudden gasp.

It is less hard to notice him gripping his wrist and vigorously point at the glass as he lets out an excited laugh.

Dream follows where he's pointing, and-

"George is with us?!" He exclaims, mostly out of pure disbelief, eyes wide open as he looks back and forth between his friend and the list of names on the board.

"We're so going to win this!" Sapnap answers with an elated smile before bursts out laughing, jumping up and wrapping him in a full body hug - Dream catches him, letting out a small "omf" that is mainly due to the unexpectedness of it all.

"I can't believe it, we got so lucky!" The half-orc comments, his eyes skimming through the names listed on the board - some he recognises, more or less unfortunately, and some he doesn't.

"I know, right?! -" Sapnap comments, leaning back and letting go in order to nod with his head towards the floating glass.

"Now we just have to find out who Eret is, I guess."

[jilyesplz]

Hi, sorry for what is most likely a very weird ask 😢 but I've never read TLAT since physically I don't have the circumstances to commit to such a long abandoned and unresolved fic, but i love all your stories and writing so I read your TLAT fics too! I loved them, especially the fluff dribbles because you give them such delicious dynamic 😍. I read the first chapter of Potter and Evans too and I think I understood most of it even without knowing the backstory, but I have one question if it's OK? I know this must be selfish of me but could you tell me what's the deal with James and Carlotta? Was she the prettiest girl in school? Did he really love her and then she dumped him?! 😱

Hi! First of all thank you so much for reading my stories, especially the continuation when you haven’t read the OG? :o I’m honored! This ask is not selfish at all, although I do really, really, really recommend reading TLAT! It genuinely is such a beautiful work of art. With that said...spoilers are definitely available, so I don’t ~think~ it’s evil of me to answer this?? i honestly feel kinda guilty abt this lmao but...below the cut!

Hoo mama. Strap in for this fuckin ride. (This got unbelievably long so TL/DR at bottom lmao, but a lot of it is actually relevant to P&E)

First off, yes, Carlotta Meloni is the prettiest girl in school. That is her main character trait. Her main personality trait is knowing it. 

We....hate her with the fire of a thousand suns. Everything’s fine lmao.

So in July before 7th year, James and Lily almost kiss. It’s...wow. Just...WOW. But Lil is drunk and scared of her own feelings, so she calls it off at the last second, which James takes as 'nothing is ever going to happen between us.’ Then he pops off to his beach house as The Rich are wont to do. Carlotta is there, she flirts, he flirts back, she kisses him, he kisses her back, she asks him out, he says (Lily will never love me so) yes.

MEANWHILE, Carlotta’s best (only) friend Shelley Mumps has been in love with James since 462 BC, which Carlotta knows, but Shelley isn’t pretty and he barely knows she exists. It’s very high school. (TLAT starts with its main characters as very immature teenagers, and they grow a TON and become these lovely, insane, completely fantastic people, and then this plotline comes along to be like But Lest You Forget, Wow Are They In Fucking High School. It hurts. Jules is an evil genius.) Shelley hears that Carlotta is dating James, is furious at the betrayal, so she gets a tan (and a weight loss potion and much sluttier clothes) and starts trying to sabotage James’s relationship. 

Important background here: Pre-7th year, Carlotta was pretty universally despised by Hogwarts’s female population for shagging all of their boyfriends. So as soon as Shelley starts talking shit, a slow-motion school-wide catfight breaks out...which Mundungus Fletcher decides to monetize. Dung starts taking bets from the student population on whether James will dump Carlotta for Shelley. 

Ew. 

But again: high school. 1970s. James wants to shut it down, Carlotta says don’t because she prides herself on not caring what other people think (which James does too, but he understands that this is gross and awful. Car doesn’t care). Betting turns into voting on whether James “should” dump Carlotta for Shelley. What the fuck this actually means is left intentionally vague, and it of course becomes a popularity/fuckability contest. 

Up to now, Carlotta hasn’t really done anything wrong in this story except (debatably) date her BFF’s crush. That’s about to change. 

James wants to end the voting. Carlotta again says don’t, now because (Jesus Fucking Christ, get ready for this one) she has made a secret bet with Shelley: if Car wins, Shelley will leave them alone. If Shelley wins, Carlotta will break it off with James. 

Quick note: the whole time, James essentially lets Carlotta make the decisions, acting as if the women are the wronged parties, which, yes, the school is doing a super shitty and sexist thing. But if the roles were flipped and a girl were in James’s situation, we would feel AWFUL for her. I just think it’s important that the school is doing a really horrible thing to James too, and the fact that he’s the James Potter, Head Boy, Quidditch Captain, Universally Beloved Most Popular Bloke in School doesn’t change that. Just because he acts unaffected doesn’t mean he is. James Potter is human. And God, what a human. <3

SOMEONE GIVE THIS BOY A HUG.

Anyway. Vote’s coming up. James rigs it for Carlotta to get everyone to leave them alone. The Marauders, without telling James, rig it for Shelley (because they hate Carlotta for a long list of reasons, and they love Lily, and they know Lily fancies James) (oh, yeah! Lily realized she fancied James on the platform back to school, right before finding out he was with Carlotta. Quite a gut punch). 

Carlotta...fucking rigs it...for Shelley. 

Fucking.

I cannot. 

I cannot.

Twat. 

In her defense: James is in L* with Lily, and it would be really, really hard to be his girlfriend. Also, she misses her BFF.

Not in her defense: Literally every decision she makes in this process!!! Talk to him you idiot bitch.

So then Car confesses rigging the vote to Lily and they have a heart to heart (well, more of alternating rants. They’re not mates). L says Car should tell him, but doesn’t tell him herself because she’s Lily, and because she’s worried she would be telling him because she wants him rather than because he really should know...really, she doesn’t tell him because she’s Lily. Car initially doesn’t tell him, they almost kinda get back together. She commits her greatest crime here: once upon a time, Lily told Carlotta and Shelley all the “little things” about James that she’d noticed...it’s one of the story’s first ‘oh fuck, L REALLY likes J’ moments, but way before Lily has come to terms w that. Carlotta....then uses....Lily’s little things speech....to convince J to get back together with her. Dude, she’s worse than Umbridge. But then she changes her mind because Lily has made her feel guilty so she confesses, and they break up.

Wowza. Sorry for the fucking novel. I have...a lot...of feelings.

TL/DR: J started dating Carlotta after L rejected him, while still v much in L*ve with L but trying to deny it. Lots of high school bullshit happened, ending in a school-wide vote about whether J should dump Carlotta for her ex-BFF Shelley who also fancies him. Ew, David. Carlotta and Shelley make a secret deal that Carlotta will dump J if she loses, then Carlotta rigs the vote so she’ll lose. She loses, tells him about the bet and he’s like ‘OK I’m done with you.’ She then changes her mind, tries to get him back, but Lil’s goodness guilts her into telling him the truth about the bet and they break up. So to your questions...yes, no, yes and no. Lil thought maybe he loved Car, and in Potter and Evans, she now thinks he does because she dramatically misinterpreted what Libby was saying—teasing James about how unsuccessful his attempts at moving on were—as bro-y congratulations/teasing for how fast he found a rebound.

[stones-x-bones]

Pretty Weird Problems || Milo and Bex

TIMING: Last Night PARTIES: @wickedmilo and @inbextween SUMMARY: Bex runs into Milo on a midnight walk and the two decide to stop skirting around what they both already suspect. CONTENT: Domestic abuse mentions, internalized homophobia, Medical blood

Bex was having a good day, and good days usually led to good nights. She’d opted to go for a walk through the Commons, enjoying the fact that it was no longer so flooded. They’d even managed to get the fairy lights that lined the gazebo working and Bex cut across the field to stroll over to it. Mina was busy this evening and Bex had needed a distraction, and what better way to distract herself than taking a nice, long walk. She’d...walked really far, actually. It was strange how free she felt. She’d rode the ferry across the canal and walked all the way from the station to here, without missing a beat. Being normal felt so-- normal. No aches in her body, no fear about being seen, no worries about having to go home and wondering which set of hands was waiting for her. No, she could just go out and do what she wanted, live her life. Live the life she’d always wanted. She finally had everything she wanted. 

She wondered if it would all go wrong at some point. That was something that would happen, especially here, especially to her. But, for now, she’d enjoy it. She circled back around the gazebo to the little rock archway and started down, when she heard a familiar voice. It was hazy through her drunken mind, but she recognized it. Moving quickly through the brush, she turned and came upon the boy that had helped her out not too long ago, by swiping a bottle of alcohol for her. She beamed, she couldn’t wait to tell him she was normal. And if she could get what she wanted, maybe he could, too. “Milo!” she called out, waving, “It’s Bex. What’re you doing here?”

Milo had been on the phone to Rio, talking about next to nothing as he cut across the common in a bid to make it home. There was plenty of time before the sunrise was due, but sometimes it was a nice change of pace to sit in the apartment he shared with Harsh. They would cook together, or watch tv, or even pay Summer and Quinn some attention. The older vampire had become a comfort, though he would never admit that out loud. When things were beginning to overwhelm him, he felt safe with Harsh. He felt capable. White Crest, as always, had other plans for him though. And despite having just left Orion’s home, he begrudgingly said goodbye, ending the call as he turned to face whoever had called his name. Slipping his phone back into his pocket, it didn’t take him long to notice Bex. She looked decidedly more upbeat than the last time he had seen her. He wasn’t sure whether that was due to the lack of alcohol in her system, or something else entirely. Glancing up at the sky, as though double checking it was dark, he caught her eye again with a quizzical grin. “How could I forget?” He teased, crossing the distance between them both so that she would no longer feel the need to shout. “What are you doing here?” He countered. “Isn’t it a bit late for a walk?” 

“No, I don’t really think so,” Bex said, shrugging. She looked back up and to the sky, fading quickly from sunset oranges to nighttime blues. “I mean, maybe, but the Common is pretty well lit and safe at night. Usually. Back when the portals were open, it sure wasn’t, but that’s all over now! Just a strange bit of gravity fluctuations and occasional snowfall,” she pointed out, grinning. “And I guess the constellations are all whacky, but there’s not much we can do about any of those.” Even if everyone else she’d talked to had been rather distressed about it all, she was finding it hard to be. Not when everything felt good, great. She brought her eyes back down level with Milo’s and smiled. “If you’re worried about me, you don’t need to be. And I uh-- never properly said thanks for last time.” It was still a blur in her mind, stumbling drunk in the park, then being walked back to his apartment and laid in a bed. When she’d woken the next morning, she’d crawled out of the apartment, wincing under harsh sunlight and pretending like she wasn’t curious about his ‘don’t look in the fridge’ rule. Her curiosity had always seemed to be a bane, but like this, it felt more like a boon. Asking questions didn’t get her in trouble anymore. At least, not with her parents. “You never answered my question-- are you just out for a walk, too?”

It wasn’t the first time Bex had said something Milo struggled to keep up with. He only knew about the portals through the experiences of others. Whatever was happening with gravity, and the weather hopefully wouldn’t affect him. Deciding not to ask too many questions, lest he accidentally tempt fate and start floating up towards the sky, he laughed quietly. “White Crest can be really fucking weird.” He muttered, glancing up at the stars himself to see if he might notice any difference in their arrangement. “I mean… it’s probably better to just ignore it, right?” He was only half serious, but it had proven to be a rather efficient coping strategy. Especially when he was faced with the supernatural, things he still didn’t understand, or feel familiar with. Turning his attention back to Bex he was glad to see she seemed to be taking the same approach of acceptance. If something happened to them, they could deal with it. Until then, how was worrying going to help? Returning her smile, he hurried to brush off her thanks. Taking her home to sleep off the alcohol had been far easier than first anticipated. As predicted there was human food in the fridge which he had encouraged her to eat before sleeping. And she had been more than respectful of the boundaries put in place to stop her from finding anything distinctly vampiric. “We’ve all got our shit to deal with.” He shrugged, letting her know he wasn’t about to baby her because she used alcohol to deal with her baggage. Wasn’t he guilty of doing the very same? 

“And I trust you.” He added. “If you say you’re okay, you’re okay.” It was the very least he could offer her. He had been told so many times that he had problems, even after adamantly denying the fact. It was important to feel heard, to know you could trust the person you were with. “I mean- you look okay. Good-” He corrected himself. “You look good.” He caught her eye, his smile growing in response as he properly took her in. There was something different, a weight that seemed suddenly absent from her shoulders. “Your question? Oh-” He laughed, pushing his glasses further up his nose. “I actually just left a friend’s house, so kind of? I’m supposed to be walking home, but if you’re up for some company I wouldn’t mind a midnight stroll.” He prompted, secretly hoping she would take him up on his suggestion. He wanted to know why she looked so content, what had compelled her to call out his name. “You can tell me about how miserable it was trying to get home with your hangover. That can’t have been fun.” 

“I don’t think ignoring it is really the right answer, no,” Bex said, wringing her hands together, “but knowing what you can and can’t handle is probably a good idea around here.” Her eyes went back up to the stars, and the distress they’d originally caused her was still there, floating just above their heads, millions of billions of miles away. Stars didn’t move. But she had to remind herself that that also meant she wasn’t capable of moving them, either, and therefore nothing could be done. Especially when she didn’t have magic anymore. And she didn’t want it anymore. She smiled. “True, we do, but, like, sometimes we can help each other out with our shit, you know? At least, I’d like to be able to be someone who can help others out, like how you helped me out. It was-- nice, not having to go home for a night.” And it was nice, now, to be able to go home to a life that didn’t threaten her every moment she did something wrong. “Well, thanks, then. For trusting me.” Not many people did, in that way. She’d always been too naive, too ignorant, too “out of the loop” as far as the supernatural was concerned. 

She let out a gentle chuckle, in stark contrast to the ridiculous laughter that had consumed her while she’d been drunk. “It’s fine, I know what you mean. I feel good, too. But sure! Yeah, I wouldn’t mind the company. I was just gonna kinda walk around here, maybe towards the lake. Where the night takes me.” Even if she’d been reminded several times that the lake was dangerous and now, without her magic, maybe even more so. She didn’t really care, though. “Oh, god, please don’t make me recount that tale. It was miserable. More so because it was so damn sunny out. I’ve never hated the sun more so than that morning. Or...afternoon. I don’t remember what time it was, just that once I got home I slept the rest of the day.”

Milo laughed, unable to help himself. Despite strongly suspecting Bex was more than human, or at the very least somebody who knew about the supernatural, the idea of her being able to help him with his problems didn’t quite feel believable to him. Even his closest friends couldn’t take away the pain or the trauma. And apparently there was nothing he could do about the constant thirst for blood. “No offense, but I’m not sure what you could do to help me with my shit. Ignoring it has proven to be a pretty reliable mechanism.” Maybe not always, but on the few blissful nights he had been able to drink and forget, he almost, almost felt normal. Human again. And that was as close as he seemed to get to being genuinely okay. A smile tugging at his lips despite the bitter nature of his thoughts, offering Bex a place to stay had been the obvious course of action. He hadn’t considered the fact that he might be helping her beyond ensuring she was safe. “Oh, I- it wasn’t a big deal, you know?” He brushed off her comment with a shrug. “I just- you didn’t want to go home so… I wasn’t about to make you.” 

Watching her carefully, curious to understand why trusting her was something she felt the need to thank him for, his smile began to grow. He really did enjoy her company, he wanted her to know that. “You don’t need to thank me for trusting you.” He insisted. He figured he should probably thank her for trusting him too, for not going through his things, or trying to look inside of the fridge. But that would only draw attention to the strange rules he had put in place, and he wasn’t sure that would be a very smart move. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.” He added, hoping she could see he was being sincere, while simultaneously diverting the conversation. It didn’t take a genius to realise she was going through a lot, and everyone deserved a break from their struggles, regardless of how they managed to achieve that temporary escape. He laughed again at her reaction to her hangover being mentioned. But this laughter came easily, it was a product of good company. Of memories that were tinged with underlying emotion, but happy on the surface. He could look back on them with a strange sense of fondness. “Yeah, me and the sun don’t exactly get along.” He admitted. “I’m sorry about the blackout curtains, I guess they can make it pretty disorientating when you leave the apartment during the day…” Shit. He realised too late that he had essentially done exactly what he had been trying to avoid. Maybe he hadn’t drawn attention to the fridge, but he had just reminded her the entire apartment existed in a perpetual state of darkness. Nice one, Milo. 

Bex had never thought that she was all that good at making friends, but that was back when fear had dictated her every move. Fear of if people might judge her for how she was born, fear of if they would find out about her magic (although she hadn’t called it that back then), fear of if she might hurt them or them her. Fear of if her parents wouldn’t approve and they’d get taken away before she even got a chance to grow close. But that was before, and this was now, and maybe she liked the idea of being friends with Milo, because he was sweet and he was helpful, and she liked that she could make him smile in a way that seemed almost relaxed. “Well, if you ever do think of a way, anything, really, just lemme know. I’d like to, you know, pay it back somehow. Even if it’s just a small thing.” She was quiet for a moment, her face drawing pensive for a moment. “It was a big deal, for me, at least. Even if it wasn’t for you.” She smiled again-- whatever the situation was back then, it didn’t exist now. “But we don’t have to talk about it.” 

She perked back up, smoothing her hands along the fringes of her dress. It was one of her dresses that her mother rarely approved of, except at gatherings where she could catch the eye of some rich politico that could help the family. Bex liked it because she felt nice in it and she looked good in it and she’d wanted Mina to see her in it. “Thanks. I hope things are going well for you, too. There seems to be a bit going on around town, huh?” She shrugged, trying not to less the curious questions in her stomach bubble up. Her tendency to run her mouth and ask too many questions had been a downfall for her quite a few times. “Do you like, work overnights or something?” she found herself asking before she could stop herself. She didn’t want to automatically assume anything, but not being out in the sun, having blackout curtains, and an aversion to people looking in the fridge gave Bex a few too many questions. 

Milo wasn’t necessarily touched by the sentiment, many people had said similar things to him in the past. He was touched by the fact that Bex obviously meant what she was saying. There weren’t many people he felt like he could genuinely approach with his problems, but despite only knowing each other for a night, and maybe half of a day, Bex was quickly becoming one of those people. A rather impressive feat, all things considered. “I’m not making any promises.” He teased. “I have, uh- some of my problems can be pretty weird.” His smile faltering as he noticed his company’s expression shift, he fell silent again, giving her the space she needed to feel comfortable. “Oh…” He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting her to say, and the rush of emotion that followed her words was unexpected. Not for the first time he felt the unusual urge to protect her, to keep her safe. Was this the way Dani used to feel about him? Before he changed? Before she stopped loving him? He cleared his throat, feeling awkward in the face of such unguarded honesty. “You know the offer is always there… I mean- if you ever need a place to stay. You know where I am.” He might be taking a risk but he almost didn’t care. Her wellbeing was suddenly far more important to him than being sensible. 

Not failing to notice the way she brushed herself off, seemingly putting the conversation behind her in preparation to move on, he nodded, taking a moment to contemplate her question. “I didn’t notice for a long time,” he scuffed his feet as he spoke, feeling ridiculous for being so oblivious now that he knew how obvious the Weird of White Crest actually was. “But yeah, there always seems to be a lot going on in this town. The chaos has become pretty hard to escape these past few months.” Would he ever be able to escape it again? He tried not to dwell on the question. “But you know… I guess it is what it is.” Lowering his gaze, the phrase never really helped him to feel any better, but every time he uttered it he found a part of him was secretly hoping it might. He only looked back up again when Bex mentioned the blackout curtains, and he cursed himself for being so stupid. Of course she was going to pick up on that. Of course she was going to be curious. “Oh, I… my roommate does.” It wasn’t technically a lie. Harsh worked nights more often than not, only sneaking out for the occasional day shift when the weather was dark, and gloomy. “I think it’s easier just to leave them up, his schedule can be pretty unpredictable so…” 

“Good, you shouldn’t make promises,” Bex said, perhaps a little too excitedly for the topic. It was hard for her to not be happy right now, really. She had everything she ever wanted, and while it wasn’t much, it made her entire life different. Better. “Especially to people you don’t know-- know well.” She caught herself, giving a chuckle at the end of her sentence to try and cover up the slip. “Just cause, you know, sometimes people get weird about that stuff. Especially here. Speaking of which, I was kinda like that, too. Technically I grew up here, but I didn’t ever notice how--” she chewed her tongue a moment-- “strange the place really was until recently.” Until she started leaving her home regularly. Until she’d met Nell in that computer lab. But those details weren’t important. She didn’t even remember telling Milo about Morgan and Nell last time they’d been together, drunk in the park. “And thanks, for the offer. I won’t say it’ll never happen again, but I think I’ve got a good thing going now, so hopefully I won’t have to crash your pad again any time soon.” But in a town like this, she supposed it was a ‘never say never’ sort of situation.

“The offer is there for you, too, you know,” Bex said suddenly, noting the way the conversation shift had turned a bit tense. Maybe not tense, but sometimes people had secrets that they didn’t want to share, and Bex’s curiosity could be seen more as nosiness or digging into things she shouldn’t be digging in. She hated that idea, but people were allowed their secrets, no matter how bad she wanted to know. “Does he? That’s cool. It’s nice that you don’t mind the curtains, either, then. I’m such a morning person. And a night owl. Actually, I don’t really sleep much, but I definitely have never been able to sleep long in the mornings.” Even when she was laying next to Mina, wrapped in her arms. “Are you like, more of a night person, then? The two times I’ve run into you have been at night, which technically isn’t enough for a pattern, but it could be leading to one. No judging if you are! Of course not. It’s just that this place is kind of-- you know, dangerous at night.” 

Milo had only been suspicious until now, but after hearing Bex warn him about making promises he would be willing to bet almost anything on her knowing about the supernatural. But how? She didn’t strike him as a hunter, although Dani had always presented herself as caring, and kind. If she was a slayer, wouldn’t he already be dead? So what? A witch, a mara, a werewolf? Or maybe even a human in the know? He wanted to ask, to sate his curiosity, but he forced himself to hold his tongue. “You’re not the first person to tell me that.” He said carefully, wondering whether she might out herself if he hinted at being a part of her world. Raising his eyebrows when she mentioned taking a while to notice the truth of White Crest, he ran over the implication behind her words. Had she been turned too? Was there any way for him to uncover that information without actively asking her? “I know how that goes.” He admitted, framing his words as casual. “Waking up and realising everything is just… different. It’s not an easy thing to navigate but… we’re still here.” He smiled at her, hoping she was right. He had never been the type to judge others but the idea of her being happy enough to no longer need her crutch was a genuinely nice one. One he was willing to root for. 

Surprised to hear his own offer echoed back to him, he felt his demeanour soften. Every instinct in him was telling him he could trust Bex. It was so hard to remind himself that those instincts could possibly be wrong. “They don’t… they don’t bother me.” He said, debating how far he could conceivably push the conversation before he was being too open, before he was putting himself at risk. “I don’t really sleep anymore… but I used to sleep until noon when I could.” Not that he hadn’t tried more than once to do so again, the best he could achieve was a strange, trance-like lack of consciousness. He hated it. “Oh, yeah… I’m definitely a night person. I always have been… before I started partying I used to study at night.” He laughed quietly at the contrast in activities. “My life would be very different if I didn’t abandon academia.” A soft sigh escaping him, he caught his friend’s eye when she told him the town could be dangerous. He could still remember what it felt like, living in blissful ignorance. He missed it. “Believe me, I know. I kind of found out the hard way… but I appreciate the heads up.”

“Really? Well, that’s good.” Bex nodded slowly. Her suspicion was slowly being confirmed-- Milo knew something about the supernatural. She didn’t know how he fit in, but she assumed he had the same thought about her. How did they both fit in? And who would break first? It would be Bex, she knew that. Being a witch wasn’t as precarious as being something like a zombie or a werewolf. Something that people actively hated and hunted. Witch hunters, for all she was aware, were a rare and unnecessary occurrence. She wasn’t in danger of them. “You should listen to that advice, then. And also maybe even hold off on saying ‘thanks’ too much. My girlf--” the word stuck in her throat, like it always did, and she swallowed it, “--one of my friends told me to try and replace ‘thanks’ with ‘I appreciate that’ or ‘I’m grateful for’. They’re better to say, anyway.” Smiled, trying to brush off the mishap. It was strange to her that possibly telling someone she had magic was easier to swallow than telling someone she was dating a girl. “I think, for me,” she started off, brows knitting together a moment, “it was less waking up and just realizing it and more...finally admitting to myself that things here were different. Like, I’d always known, but pretended I hadn’t. But then things happen and you can’t really deny it anymore, you know? And so I admitted it,” she shrugged, “I think things technically got better after that, although sometimes it doesn’t seem that way.”

She examined his face as they walked and wondered what the strange curve of his brow meant as he answered her. She’d never been good at reading expressions on people, unless they carried anger. She tilted her head in contemplation. “You know, you can always go back,” she said, “to school. College doesn’t have an age cap.” Sometimes she’d wished she’d been able to wait to start college, but not because she was disinterested. But because her life had been messy back then, and maybe if she’d been smarter, had known more about the world, she wouldn’t have fallen into bed with the first girl who cast her an empathetic glance. She turned away, cheeks slightly tinged. “Yeah, me, too. I-- I take it you’re okay now? It-- I mean, physically? Whatever happened. Was it--” had something attacked him, too? Did he also have the sting of scars on his body from an ignorance that had left him vulnerable?

“I guess my friends are much smarter than I am.” Milo was only half joking. Even after suffering at the hands of the supernatural, he was reckless in his behaviour. Without Rio constantly pressing him to stay focused, to pay attention, he would probably be in a lot more danger, and he wasn’t afraid to admit that. “I try.” He admitted, being entirely honest. Trying meant he failed more often than not, but the warning was always there in the back of his mind. A knowing smile tugging at his lips as Bex stumbled over the word girlfriend, it was an act he had seen many times before, and one he knew not to interrupt. That didn’t stop his eyes from shining as he wondered who this ‘girlfriend’ might be. “My friend told me the same,” he thought back to his conversation with Orion. It was the first night he had ever spent in his house, and he held the memories very close to his heart. Falling silent to listen again, he dissected the explanation he was given in his mind. If she hadn’t woken up to a different White Crest then maybe she had been born into it. Surely it took Dani a long time to realise the way she was being raised wasn’t normal. Could it have been the same for Bex? “They did?” He asked quietly, hope lacing his tone as he wondered whether there was a chance for things to get better for him. Maybe one day he could fully embrace being a vampire. It could become what he was and not what someone had made him. 

“Go back?” It took him a few seconds to realise what his company meant. He laughed quietly, shaking his head. “I don’t need to,” he explained. “I got my degree, you know? I did what my parents wanted me to do, even if it wasn’t in the way they wanted me to do it.” Hiding whiskey in his coffee during exams, and skipping out on morning lectures because he was hungover from the previous night definitely wasn’t a part of their plan. Neither was a degree in English Literature. But as far as he was concerned, it was an achievement, all the same. What would he study if he did decide to return? And how would he work around the schedules when the majority of classes took place during the day? Furrowing his brow, he forced the thought to the back of his mind. He had chosen his path, and it had led him here. There was no going back. “Oh- I-” He wasn’t prepared for the sudden change in direction, and his hand absentmindedly moved to rest against the scars on his neck. “That kind of depends on your definition of okay.” He murmured, thinking about Dani, how she saw him as a monster. Then Harsh, who told him he was dead, but being dead was simply an opportunity to start anew. Then Macleod, who insisted with vehement conviction that he wasn’t dead, he hadn’t died. Only changed. Evolved for better or for worse. “How did you find out?” He asked, uncharacteristically bold in his question. They had been dancing around the subject, but he wanted to know now, far more than he wanted to protect himself. Even if he wasn’t quite ready to give up his secret. “That White Crest was different?” 

“They did? Oh, well, then, you should definitely listen to your smarter friends,” Bex nodded. Had she said too much? Did Milo know about the fae? Was Milo’s friend a fae? Oh, she hoped she hadn’t just exposed someone, even if she was curious. But the tone in his voice stopped her short of any other thoughts on the subject, when he gave the smallest response to her announcement that things had gotten better for her. It was hope, and it felt like it might strangle Bex. Should she tell Milo about Erin? Was that her place to? Was his pain anything like hers? Did he need saving like she had? She swallowed. “They did. Get better. But not easily. Not out of nowhere.” She lifted a hand to her ribs-- the injury was gone, but she could still remember the pain. Still remembered what it felt like when her head had hit the dumpster, over and over and over again. “I had help, too. So, if-- just, you know, so you know...it’s okay to accept help, if you need it.” Maybe that was the best answer she could give for now. She clasped her hands together behind her back as they walked and watched her feet a moment, shoes brushing against grass under the rubber soles. 

“Well, you know, you could always go back and do what you wanted to, you know,” she pointed out. “Instead of what your parents wanted of you. But only if that’s something you want to do.” She didn’t much like his answer to her question, either. Things didn’t seem as at ease as she’d thought they were when she first spotted him. She bit her lip, then sighed. “I blew up a computer lab with my mind,” she blurted, suddenly. “Well, not my mind, technically. Maybe? I’m still not sure what magic actually comes from. My mentor says it’s from the soul or the energy inside of us, but if our bodies are our minds, then I guess technically it is my mind. From my mind. So, yeah-- I blew up a computer lab with my mind and after that, it was hard to deny all the things I’d known for so long but never wanted to accept.” She looked over at Milo. “What um...what about you?”

Milo laughed, nodding in agreement with Bex. “I don’t think I would be here if I didn’t.” He admitted. Maybe there was an element of exaggeration to his words, but the information provided by people like Rio, and Macleod was invaluable. There was no doubt in his mind that it might save him one day. Fingers still pressed against the base of his neck, he could feel the scars beneath them. A frown creasing his brow as he listened to Bex explain things were difficult, they hadn’t miraculously changed for her overnight, it was impossible for him to understand what she meant without a little extra context, so he nodded quietly. Letting her know she still had his full attention. “Help?” He asked, curious to know what kind of help. “Do you mean your friends?” Lowering his hand, chewing thoughtfully on his bottom lip, he wondered what things would look like for him if they did get better. It was a vague concept, it could mean so many different things. “I don’t need help-” He insisted, breaking off as he reminded himself she wasn’t talking about his habits. Repressing the instinctive response, he forced down any part of himself that was becoming defensive. Bex clearly wasn’t about to order him to walk into an AA meeting. She was talking about something else. “I mean… thank you. But I think I’m okay… kind of, anyway. I have some good people in my life… when things get weird, they’re usually there waiting for me to freak out.” 

Thinking for a moment, allowing a few beats of silence to pass, he realised with a start that he didn’t know what he wanted to do. For so long he had told himself he was content with working in the comic book store, couch surfing to avoid any form of genuine commitment. Even English Literature had been the easy choice, not necessarily the choice he would have made if he was a different person. If he had more motivation, a determination to do well. “Even if I knew, I don’t know how possible it would be to just go out and do shit.” He shrugged, brushing off his honesty before it could hurt him, before he could dwell on it for too long. But then Bex was distracting him with her own honesty, honesty he had prompted, but definitely not been expecting from her. It took him a few minutes to fully process what she was saying, but when he did he faltered to a halt, eyeing her with an even mixture of disbelief, and satisfaction. “Wait- what?” So not only was she supernatural, she had totally caved first. Was it wrong to feel so smug about that? “You’re a witch?” He asked, despite her just having confirmed the fact. “I…” He trailed off as she turned the question back on him, not prepared to answer it himself. But he owed her, he couldn’t exactly walk away after she had put herself in such a vulnerable position. A soft sigh escaping him, he steeled himself to tell her his own story. Or a part of it, at least. “Someone with fangs decided I looked like a snack… I guess they overindulged because…” He offered her a hesitant smile, revealing his fangs in the way Harsh had taught him to. He tapped one absentmindedly, wrinkling his nose. “Well, I woke up with these.” 

Bex was a little perplexed at his immediate denial of needing help, clearly he needed help-- anyone in this god forsaken town needed help, if she was being honest. But just as much as she’d needed to understand that she couldn’t do things alone, so did he. She wouldn’t push it, it wasn’t a lesson she had the right to teach anyone, when she was still learning it herself. She nodded slowly. “Okay, well, if you do ever need it, just know I’m here. Don’t hesitate to ask. And--” she looked at him sincerely, genuinely hoping he understood that, even if they’d only known each other from two run-ins, she would help him. It was really all she wanted to do, help people. Understand things better so she could do that better. Understand this world. “I’m glad you have people there to help you. Having a support system is always good.” She wouldn’t have survived this town without hers, that was for sure. A subconscious hand ran across her chest. Kyle’s life would have been ruined had he actually killed her that first night. She wanted to make sure something like that never happened again. And it wouldn’t, now that her magic was gone.

“Why not?” Bex asked, not understanding the restrictions Milo might face without knowing what he was. She didn’t want to push, though. She turned away, even as he stopped in his tracks, and shrugged. “I prefer the term spellcaster,” she said, picking at a seam on her dress. And the proper wording would’ve been was a spellcaster, thanks to the wish. She didn’t feel like explaining that part yet, though. His hesitation brought her gaze back up. “I-I’m sorry! You don’t have to answer, I understand--” but then he was answering. Someone with fangs. A vampire. Bex felt her chest squeeze and she swallowed, trying to remind herself that vampires were people, too, and her one run-in with the woman outside the library wasn’t representative of all vampires. She had no reason not to trust Milo. What would Mina say? She shook her head. “Oh,” she answered, finally, “I-- that must be difficult, to-- to adjust to.” A pause. “But,, you know, night school is a thing. And there’s plenty of overnight jobs here. And-- I have a friend who’s also undead. They go to the butchers here to get food and they’re really good about it. And being discreet. Do you-- I mean the blood thing-- do you have enough? Do you get enough food? You drink animal blood, right?”

Milo looked at Bex as she paused, somehow everything she wanted to say was conveyed in her brief moment of silence, and he knew. He understood. “Thank you.” He said, his voice gentle and sincere. They hadn’t known each other for long but he felt as though they had more than a few things in common. Coping mechanisms, and trauma. The kind of things you could bond over. The kind of things that made you want to protect each other. When he had helped her into the bar, when he had stolen her that bottle of vodka, he had recognised something in her. Something that reminded him so deeply of himself. Even without the alcohol it was still there. He could still see it. “Do you have one?” He asked, remembering her mention of Morgan, and Nell. People she had been so sure she would never be able to see again. “A support system?” Making a vague gesture with his hands, brushing off her question as to why he wouldn’t be able to follow his non-existent dreams, he offered her a smile instead of an answer. “Spellcaster?” He echoed, using her correction as a way to move the conversation forward. Away from the things he could no longer do. “Is that personal preference, or just a general rule?” He was reminded of Macleod, the way she hated any terminology that referred to her as dead. 

His smile growing somewhat as she hurried to insist he didn’t have to tell her what he was, keeping the information to himself would feel incredibly unfair, but he appreciated her attempt at making him feel comfortable. “No, no- it’s okay…” He did his best to assure her. “You were honest with me… it’d be kind of a dick move if I wasn’t honest with you too.” His hand moving once again to rest over the scars on his neck, he heard her heart rate elevate, but she made no outward move to imply she was nervous. He didn’t enjoy the idea of scaring people, and hopefully it wouldn’t take long for her to realise he wasn’t a genuine threat. But it still hurt, jut a little. “It was.” He agreed. “It is… I mean- I was thrown into this world I didn’t even know was real. The guy who did this to me, he left… I literally didn’t know anything.” A quiet laugh escaping him at the mention of night school, he shook his head. He couldn’t even begin to imagine going back to school. What would he achieve? What would he gain from doing so? This was his life now, and there was no escaping it. “I assume you mean Morgan?” He asked, at the mention of a friend being dead. “You mentioned her when you were pretty out of it… but I know her. I’m pretty sure she hates me.” His eyes shining to let Bex know he was half teasing, he thought back to his last conversation with Morgan and wondered whether there might be some truth to his words. They didn’t exactly see eye to eye. “Oh-” He was pulled out of his thoughts by the mention of blood, caught off guard by what felt like an incredibly personal question. “For a while…” He admitted. “I got lucky. I don’t want to out anyone but I have a friend with a habit of taking a blood bag or two from the hospital... It’s enough to keep me going.” Maybe more than enough, but he didn’t want to make Harsh sound like more of a deviant than he technically was. If he got the man into trouble then their collective supply would be in danger. “Everything kind of worked out…”

“I do have one, yeah,” Bex answered with a nod. For a while there, she hadn’t. Or, well, she’d rejected it, because she thought they’d be hurt by her family if she’d kept trying. They’d all been hurt, anyway, though, so it hadn’t mattered in the end. She’d made the wrong decision. But that was the past, and she couldn’t change that past anymore than she could change the way she grew up. “It was...rough for a while, i tried to do it without them, but it was a mistake. There’s--” she took in a breath, wrapped her arms around herself, “--I learned the hard way that I can’t protect anyone by keeping them away. Even if keeping close means they might get hurt, it-- it’s better that way. It really is.” And she was still learning that, too. Even now, with a normal life, a regular life, she was learning to accept people back into her life, despite the possible threats she’d be introducing them to. She shook her head, grateful for the change of conversation. ‘Nope, just a me thing.” She glanced over at Milo. “I think it’s all kind of the same meaning, but I just-- witch carries a weird connotation for me, I guess. I’m not pagan so I just...don’t feel right being called that.”

HIs next words made Bex’s heart constrict a bit. He was right, it was really only fair of someone to be honest with another if they shared something deep and personal. Her thoughts jumped to Eddie and his confession to her and she bit the inside of her cheek. She needed to tell him. He deserved to know, even if she could barely admit it outloud still. “Oh, I-- i did? So you know about her?” she was surprised, but not too surprised. She loved Morgan, of course she’d talked about her while wasted. She rubbed her hands together. “I-- I don’t think she hates you. I think it takes a lot for Morgan to hate someone. I’d probably know if she hated you, she’s not subtle about it.” It was her turn to falter and pause, and she felt herself take a small step backwards. “You-- so you--” her eyes went to his fangs, then his eyes, his hand still pressed over his neck, presumably where his scars were. She had some of her own, even if they hadn’t turned into a reminder of death. “You drink human blood?” ethically sourced, at least. Well, more ethical than getting it from a warm body itself. Stealing blood from the hospital wasn’t exactly the most moral thing to do, but morality, she reminded herself, was skewed in the supernatural world. She rubbed her neck. “I-- I should probably um, head home, though. It’s getting late and Mina is expecting me back soon.” She didn’t want to things to suddenly feel tense, but she couldn’t help it. She didn’t know how she felt about a vampire who still drank human blood, and she didn’t think figuring out here was the best idea. She liked Milo, she didn’t want to ruin that.

“That’s good.” Milo smiled, remembering how insistent Bex had been when she was drunk, determined to believe she couldn’t let people in. The fact that she seemed to have changed her mind felt important, and he was reminded of her telling him things were better now. Better how? What was suddenly so different? “I think there’s always a risk of getting hurt… or of other people getting hurt. Isn’t that just the nature of friendship?” And romance, though he could hardly say he was experienced in that particular area. “What matters is that you care, and that these people care about you too… that’s all you can ask for, really. Isn’t it?” Staying silent as his company began to explain why she preferred using the term spellcaster, he hadn’t been expecting to understand her logic, even he was determined to respect it. But he did understand. It was so similar to Macleod, and sometimes even the way he felt. Vampire had connotations too, dark ones, and ridiculous ones. Honestly, there was something appealing about the theatrics of sleeping in a coffin. He was almost sad that wasn’t a legitimate thing. 

“I do, yeah. And you might have mentioned her.” He teased, catching her eye with an easy grin. “Only in passing, don’t worry. You didn’t tell me anything you shouldn’t have. You made it pretty clear you were friends, that’s all.” Laughing at Bex insisting Morgan didn’t hate him, he shook his head, remembering some of what was said during their last meeting together. If she didn’t hate him then she was about as close as a person could get before crossing that line. “Ask her about me, see what she says.” He wasn’t being entirely serious, but he had a strong suspicion the zombie wouldn’t have anything positive to say. Not that it mattered. If she wasn’t going to help him then he didn’t give a shit what she thought. Faltering at the sudden shift in the way Bex was looking at him, he saw her gaze flicker from his fangs, to his hand, and he realised he was still touching his neck. Lowering his arm, he retracted his fangs with a surprising level of ease, his own expression shifting too. “I do,” he said quietly, watching her with open concern, trying to ignore the way his heart was sinking. Maybe he was wrong, maybe she didn’t trust him in the way he thought she did. “I- what?” He cursed himself for being so emotional, but he couldn’t stop tears from stinging at his eyes. “I’m not- I wouldn’t hurt anyone... I swear…” He swallowed, unsure what he could say to make her believe him. If she was uncomfortable, he wasn’t about to force her to stay. But did she really want to leave because of what he was?

“Yeah,” Bex admitted quietly, “I guess it is.” Even if she still hated the thought of people getting hurt because of her, for her. But they returned the sentiment, and wasn’t rejecting their help hurting her? It was still confusing, but the one thing Bex did know was that being at Morgan’s, even if it put her and everyone in that house in possible danger, felt better than being alone, trapped in her room where people got hurt because of her anyway. She rubbed her palm against her cheek before folding her arms across her chest again, nodding. “Yeah, it is. And it’s-- a lot. But I know now I can ask for that. And-- I think everyone deserves that.” Even people others deemed bad or evil. No one deserved to suffer alone. She wasn’t even sure she believed her mother deserved that.

“Oh, good. Good. I...can run my mouth sometimes. I’ve been told it’s very unbecoming of me, but I don’t really care anymore,” she said, the last words bitter on her tongue. She swallowed it. Her heart clenched again, at the way Milo was looking at her. She was caught between her own trauma and her want to change, to accept people, to accept this world, and it felt sticky. She hated it there. But she’d forgiven Kyle, and he’d been the one to directly attack her. Fuck, she probably even forgave the wolf that attacked the Moose Caboose, even if everyone around her seemed to think that was wrong to do. “No, no! It-- I don’t mean it like that. I swear it’s not because--” she stopped herself, trying not to let the shame crawling up her throat tinge her words, “I just-- something happened to me. With a vampire. And I don’t want that to, to affect how I feel about you. I really don’t. But it’s-- you know, hard? I don’t think you’re going to hurt me, Milo. And-- and if you did, I know it would be an accident. I promise it’s not because of you. I promise.” She’d promise to a fae, too, but there were none around, and she knew Mina would chastise her for it. She offered a hand out to him, instead, in a show of faith. “I really do need to be home, though.” She held up her phone, “they get worried if I’m late.” Because of the one time she’d been kidnapped by Frank, but that wasn’t important to mention. He was dead, now, and her life was normal. Things like that just didn’t happen anymore. 

Milo had a feeling Bex was talking more to herself than to him, so he allowed her to speak, listening patiently until she fell silent once again. It wasn’t something he considered very often, so wrapped up in the chaotic nature of his life. Friends used to come and go, aside from Dani who had stood by him for so many years. Only now was he beginning to realise how badly he had taken her for granted. Though he had new friends now, friends who weren’t about to abandon him because of something he couldn’t help, a part of himself he couldn’t ever hope to change. She was right. Everybody deserved to be cared for, to be surrounded by friendship, and unwavering support. Offering her a smile when she told him she had a habit of saying too much, he could definitely relate to that. His love of bitter quips, and sulking petulantly about his new state of being had resulted in him essentially outing himself on more than one occasion. “I can relate to that.” He admitted. “But don’t worry, you didn’t say anything you should be concerned about. And you’re right not to care. Screw unbecoming, just be who you are… there’s no point in trying to be anybody else. It’ll only make you miserable.” 

His expression faltering when Bex hurried to insist her sudden desperation to leave had nothing to do with him telling her he was a vampire, he wanted to believe her, but he couldn’t. “No offense, but I don’t know how else you could mean it…” He muttered, letting out a quiet huff of breath. He averted his gaze, avoiding eye contact so that he could stare down at his feet. He should let her go, he knew he should. What use was there in trying to cling to a friendship as new as this one when she was so clearly uncomfortable now that she knew what he really was? Swallowing his emotion, he frowned, hesitantly catching her eye again. “No shit... something happened to me with a vampire too.” He pointed out. “I didn’t ask for this. You think I don’t know how hard it is to get over? Try waking up as the thing that attacked you…” Feeling his shoulders drop when she assured him she felt safe, part of him still felt worried she wasn’t being entirely truthful. But the sentiment mattered, the fact that she was even trying to assure him mattered. Allowing his anger to dissolve, he knew it was too late to take back his words. So he moved on. Caught off guard by the unexpected promise, a weak smile began to tug at his lips. “You know… you really shouldn’t make promises.” He teased, unable to help himself. He couldn’t think of a better way to alleviate the tension. Ignoring the phone as it was held out to him, he gently reached out to take her hand, linking their fingers for a brief moment, hoping to convey everything he didn’t know how to put into words. He was trying. He was good. He was a victim too. “You should, uh… you should get home.” He said finally, ignoring what was left of the awkward tension. “It’s okay…” 

Bex gave a sigh of relief. At least she hadn’t outed Morgan or Nell. She never would’ve forgiven herself, even if it was to someone who wouldn’t use it against them. She’d never had problems drinking before, but those nights had been spent locked up in the library or her room while she cradled the bottle as if it were her only lifeline. She gave a short, self-deprecating chuckle before her lips curled into a thin smile. “Trust me, I know that.” She’d been miserable her entire life because she’d done just that. But things were different now, she reminded herself. Things were better.

Her heart sank, knowing that she’d already done more damage than she’d ever meant to. But Morgan had told her to not just ignore her trauma, that wasn’t good for her. And as much as she didn’t blame the vampire on campus, she still thought about the attack and what Dani had said. She wasn’t going to stop. And if she hadn’t, Bex would be standing with the same pain as Milo, or not here at all. She let him be upset, he was allowed to be upset. She hadn’t asked for any of this, either. She understood that feeling. “You’re right,” she said, “I don’t know how that feels.” But she did know how waking up after being attacked by a friend felt. She did know the fear of thinking she might wake like that, or not wake at all. She rubbed her chest. Smiled enough to try and brush off the feeling. “You can if they’re really important,” she answered. Squeezed his hand back, before pulling away. “I’ll talk to you later, okay? Maybe next time we can just hang out somewhere nice. I know a few good places.” Her phone buzzed again and she glanced down at it. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t,” she said to him, a small tease, before she waved and headed off back towards home. She wondered what Morgan might think. She wondered what Mina might think. She wondered if, at the end of the day, it mattered. She liked Milo, and she wanted to be his friend. She owed it to him to try, at least.

[captains-writing-desk]

The Lure

Universe: John Wick

Character: John Wick

Type: F!Reader insert (I, me, we)

Word Count: 2,483

Just a few flirtations with John.

Notes: I'm in love with Keanu Reeves.

Some harmless flirting with John on the job.

It’s always unfortunate when your owed favour is called in and how it always happens at the most inconvenient time. Though the reason a favour is being called is generally an inconvenient time for a lil involved, hence the favour. This was one of those rare occasions where the situation was so desperate, almost every favour they could recall was being cashed in on everyone.

So here we all were, sat around a room conducting business and making plans to disrupt a big party where there were 5 targets needing to be dealt with. It was a time sensitive operation and incredibly personal to V who was cashing his favour cheques. Something to do with a trafficking ring that personal contact had been dragged into.

“So once the final target is dealt with I NEED that phone, only then can we move on to the plan to find and retrieve her.” It was a simple enough task, killing 5 men between 3 of us was not going to be difficult at all and even the security involved shouldn’t be too difficult. The tricky part however was ensuring nobody saw it coming lest the contents of the phone be destroyed.

“He can’t see this coming, this has to be discreet.” V was insistent on this, as he should be.

“If he’s looking to traffic, he’s having a party to see how a woman moves. You said he was dealing with high profile individuals, he’s going to want to test his product first. You could easily catch him off guard getting his dick wet.” Perhaps the first time I’d spoken in the meeting, not that anyone in our line of work is the talkative type.

“How are we going to track that?” John chimed in then.

“Well if Iftar is already going to be part of the staff it shouldn’t be too hard to find his room and get in once we know he's in the room and in his victim.” I proposed.

“Not one to beat around the bush are you?” Iftar chuckled while the other two smirked.

“Alright, you and I take care of the other four and security while Iftar focuses on number 1?” John clarified.

“ I think it would be wise to take care of him first so there’s no radio silence until they know he will be busy.”

“Sounds like a plan. Are we all agreed?” Iftar much like the rest of us were eager to be done with this meeting.

“One thing. Why don’t you lure number 1 in?” V was being incredibly picky. This plan could not fail.

“Nobody is lured by me, I’m too cold.” It was true, I was never the luring type on a job, I had tried once or twice but I wasn’t the irresistible type.

“Noted.”

.

I hated the waiting part. Especially when I’m just watching a man prey on women until he finds the right one. The music was loud and strobe lights were all that lot the room. It was a nightmare to say the least.

John arrived after me in a sharp black suit, not too different to normal, just a bit sharper. I was stood at the bar ordering my drink when he appeared next to me to order his own.

“Nice suit.” I remarked and he practically did a double take.

“You’re wearing a dress.” Yeah great eye John.

“You flatter me with such a nice compliment.” I scoffed.

“I wasn’t expecting it is all. You look lovely.”

“Yeah, yeah. I wasn’t fishing for one John. Don’t worry.”

“And you said nobody was lured by you.” He raised his brow causing me to mirror.

“Have I lured you, Mr. Wick?” I faced him fully, brow cocked with hand on hip.

“I don’t need luring.” Cold and unassuming as a statement, but the accompanying look said otherwise and I was more curious than I ever thought possible, I stepped towards him.

“One’s heading in guys.” Iftar's warning stopped us in our tracks and I sat down as John took his drink elsewhere leaving me baffled still.

I had been keeping a wandering eye on the main target, Iftar was busied with room duties somewhere on the floors above while John stood by the staircase to the side of the lobby where this great party was being held.

“I think he’s found his woman” John’s voice faintly rang through my earpiece and I glanced over to where the target was getting close to a woman he started dancing with. She bent over and started grinding on him and almost... Flailing.

“She’s a mess. He needs someone a little more discreet.” Not a moment later my prediction came true, he left her standing there, not that she even cared.

Soon enough, the target found his way over to the bar to get himself a drink, he leaned back against the bar and took a sip then rolled his head over to me as I got the bar tenders attention.

“You’ve been sat here by yourself for an awfully long time. You got no company and looking a little sad if I may say. Heartbreak?” What an arrogant motherfucker.

“You got me.” I grit my teeth and looked down.

“Tough break huh.” He relented. I took a deep breath, understanding I’d successfully lured him and needed to keep him interested so switched it up a little.

“Actually. I’m real glad. I came here to forget about it and have a good time.”

“A good time sat by yourself?” He raised his brow.

“The good times ain’t started yet. I’ve been working up the courage to go have a dance. Can’t dance until I’ve had my drink, or an invite.” I finally looked at him and he smiled.

“Well then, to good times,” He held his drink out and we toasted and finished our drinks, “Lets go.” He held his hand out and I took it a little hesitantly. He lead me down to the dance floor and I thought about how long it had been since I’d danced in this kind of setting. He turned around once we had reached our spot and he let go of my hand, starting to bop along to the beat himself. I smiled nervously and started to step and sway as meekly as I could, I had to come across as pliable. I had to remain hesitant and let him coax me out of my shell, it was a game of cat and mouse.

Slowly I got more confident in the way I danced but i really would need another drink before the next part.

“How’s about another drink?” I used his tie to pull him closer to me to speak in to his ear, nodding then towards the bar. His eyes were hungry when I pulled back. Pulling me back by my waist he practically growled.

“YOU stay here, I’ll get us a drink.” He squeezed me then left to get drinks. I wanted to die in all honesty but hungry eyes would be watching me and I had to keep this charade up. I swayed my hips as if to lose myself in the rhythm.

“Not long now.” I spoke into the ear piece.

“I told you you should have been the lure.” V pipes up for the first time.

“I’m killing you next.” I muttered.

An arm snaked it’s way around me from behind and a drink appeared with it. I grit my teeth briefly then turned with a smile and took the drink, this needed to be over with very soon so I clinked his glass and threw the drink straight back leaving the target momentarily surprised.

“Eager are we?” He laughed and sipped his own beverage.

“You have no idea..” My hand trailed down his tie before turning to put my drink down on a nearby table. He cocked his brow for a moment, debating if he had made the right choice. I saw this hesitation and went to seal the deal as the music changed. I would dance by myself, give him a show so.it was up to him to claim me as he had to believe he was in control.

He threw his drink back suddenly and approached me with his empty glass in hand, leaning in and pushing me back to the table where he could set his glass down. Then his hands were free to grasp my hips, to feel them swaying and to hold me against him tightly. I rested my hands on his chest for a few moments before draping my arms over his shoulders to rest my body as flat against his as I could.

Suddenly I was lifted off my feet and sat on the table with him between my legs whispering disgusting words into my ear. I barely listened to him but I knew what he was saying, instead my eyes had locked with John’s who was still stood by the staircase staring rather intensely our way. I briefly let my expression falter, lapsing through a range of emotions from 'help me' eyes, disgust and cold before grinning and biting the targets earlobe.

“How quickly can we get started?” I whispered and I was yanked off the table being pulled through the crowd to the staircase. This time passing John, when I glanced at him I smirked, knowing how this ordeal would end though I would have to be creative as didn’t have my weapon with me, it was with Iftar in a bag for what was supposed to be a where we would grab our weapons after he had dealt with the target. I was good at creative though, made it much more fun.

I could hear John talking to Iftar on what was going on and the change of plan as I was pressed against the wall of a lift.

The room we got to was guarded and he handed his phone and ear piece to one of the men guarding it, not exactly discreetly, perhaps if I was just the average girl looking to fuck him I wouldn’t pick up on that type of thing.

“I didn’t realise there’d be others.” I giggled.

“Its just you and me baby.” He promised as they let us in.

“Rich boy huh? Better do as I’m told then.” I hummed and he smiled wickedly, pulling me to the huge bed in the middle of the suite. He turned his body to face me then and pulled me tight against him, tilting my chin up with one hand and going for the kiss. I let the passionless but heated kiss go on for a moment but I was getting impatient and there was no way I wanted him inside me.

I pushed him down to sit on the bed and climbed on top of him, lying him back as I unbuckled his belt and slid my hand down, teasing him. He was almost immediately hard so I took his dick out. How embarrassing for him to die with his dick out.

I slid back off the bed to stand and he tried to sit up but I pushed him back down, wiggling my finger at him.

“Ah ah. Allow me.” I slowly dipped down to my knees and he relaxed as I ran my hands along his thighs. I paused and he opened an eye to look at why I’d stopped. I was slipping my dress off down to my underwear. He gazed at my body intently, studying it then back to my face. I grinned and threw my dress at him, landing on his face.

“Oi.” He chuckled and grabbed it off his face leaving himself enough time to see the bottom of my shoe as the stiletto drove through his neck with my entire weight behind it. The other was rather clumsily embedded in his groin area, a happy accident perhaps. I stood up as he flayed and writhed as best be could, putting my weight on my back foot- the one in his groin, I kicked my other foot to the side hearing a very satisfying crunch in his neck.

“It’s done.” I spoke to my team already knowing John and Iftar were taking care of the others since I’d entered the room.

“Do you have the phone?” V immediately responded.

“The guard outside has it. That won’t be a problem.” I slid out of each shoe and picked my dress up off the floor and slipped it back on, searching for something to use on the guards.

The room was completely empty of anything so I dislodged my shoes out of the heavily exposed man and mooched over to the door, casually opening it and wondering out, meeting with both guards.

“He couldn’t make it.” I pouted as they both watched me walk passed them then rush inside the room. Naturally I had doubled back and drove a heel into each of their necks. With their arms occupied with finding their fresh wounds, I was free to grab their guns, shooting each one twice. One in the head and one in the heart.

I crouched over their bodies and rifled through their pockets until I had retrieved the phone.

“I got the phone V” I proclaimed. A new smell had entered the room and I heard the gentle clack of a gun moving so I spun around, flicking my leg over one of the bodies and pointed the gun in the direction of the intruder.

Iftar stood there, raising his hands with one brow raised.

“You two finished?” I asked.

“John’s finishing up I believe.” Cue John behind him.

“Bit slow there, Wick.” I commented.

“Could say the same for you, this one should be dead.” He nodded towards Iftar and then to my still aimed weapon.

“Yeah, put the bloody gun down.” Iftar lowered his arms once I’d lowered the weapon to the floor.

“If you ask me, it’s more impressive that I didn’t shoot him.” I stood up with my hand on my hip and a slight smirk when John’s eyes lit up a little and an amused smile graced his lips.

Iftar interrupted by stepping forwards and commenting in my handy work.

“Jesus. You used your shoes. I’m impressed.. I think.”

“The real impressive part is over there,” I gestured to the bed, “I used my shoes on him while they were still on my feet.” I was actually a little proud of myself.

“Alright... Well let’s go.” He turned and lead the way out of the room. I looked at John who commended with silent applause and I laughed, turning to dislodge my shoes and wipe the blood off on one of the guards shirt. I slipped my shoes on and approached John who was waiting for me to leave first and I slid the phone into his jacket pocket for safe keeping.