#“oh i guess exposure is just a risk we have to take to save these people” NO ITS NOT JUST WEAR A FUCKIN N95

[rootbeerrex]

girl I just finished reading contagion for the first time and all I'm gonna say is that I've gotta assume it would've been easier to enjoy pre-covid.

[eatyourchancletas]

SUMMARY |  y/n l/n; the trauma surgeon who was in the wrong place at the wrong time and is taken hostage by the terrifying mafia known as ateez. despite their situations, love arises between the doctor and san; but when an enemy comes in between the group, breaking trust and belief between the members, what will san choose to save; his newfound love or his brothers?

PAIRING | choi san x male reader

INFO/CATEGORY | mafia au, fluff, light angst

WARNINGS | violence, weapon usage/mention, foul language, lower case writing

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AUTHOR’S NOTE | we’re back! sorry for the long break, hopefully we can get into the flow of things! monnie’s already started chapter 5 off amazingly too :p written by both of us this time (mainly edited by monnie)! please leave feedback, like, reblog, whatever you can to let us know whether you enjoyed it or not!  (re-edited because dongwoo and changsik were switched up)

WORD COUNT | 2.4k

TAG LIST :; @jonghoshoe​  if you’d like to be added to the list please say so in our inbox/ask box!

y/n was usually called outstanding, hard-working, smart. but in reality, he was an idiot when he was outside the workforce. 

being a workaholic meant showing your skills, growing them, improving them, and practicing them constantly. sometimes it seemed to be all he knew— it’s what all the people around him saw. 

yet again, outside of it he’s quite a gullible man; which brings him to his current situation… 

“looking for something?” 

he looked away from the bandages he was previously examining to come face to face with a man that looked around his age. “not really, just restocking my clinic. or—trying to find things to restock it with.” the man nods, glancing around suspiciously, although y/n didn’t didn’t seem to take notice of this particular action. 

“this pharmacy is pretty small, but it has lots of good supplies… lots of hidden gems. want me to show you where i get my tools?”

“oh,” y/n blinked in surprise, “you’re in the medical field?”

the man made eye contact with him, managing a convincing smile. “yeah, there’s a clinic down the road from here, about fifteen minutes by foot, this is the nearest pharmacy, so we stock up from here most of the time. i work there as an assistant.”

y/n nodded, amusement sparkling in his eyes. “wow, then please! show me what you suggest.”

at the approval, the man nodded, “name’s changsik, by the way. what do you work as? i’m assuming you’re also in the medical field.”

they walked along the aisle of the cough syrups, ointments, and the few other medicines to turn and make their way to the exit door. y/n furrowed his brows, about to ask why they were exiting until changsik made another turn, walking towards the staff room. 

“your assumption is correct, i’m a surgeon…” he replied belatedly, trailing off as he stepped foot inside the room. his eyes trailed on the shelves full of unopened boxes, more prescription pills, and—bingo! the supplies he’d written down on his list. 

for a split second, the memory of san handing it to him flashes across his mind, blinking it away as he turned to changsik. “wait, how are you able to access this?”

“i’m a regular.” he glanced across at him, looking past the window. “and also the perks of having a pharmaceutical license,” a hefty laugh left his mouth, “took some convincing though.” 

“huh,” y/n squatted down, inspecting a box that was on the floor, “i guess that makes sense.”

“just put what you need in a box and take it out. i’ll just say you’re helping me take it back.” changsik smiled, watching y/n nod and do so.

after a few minutes, y/n finished and announced he was ready to check out. changsik’s eyes met one of the cctv cameras before settling on y/n. 

“alright, let’s go check out.” 

as they walked toward the front, they reached the hallway that led to the exit. just as y/n was going to walk past, toward the checkout counter, a hand forcefully grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him back. he looked behind him, in a startled manner, thinking changsik had just forgotten something. however, a deeper fear struck when changsik’s hand moved to clench at the back of his collar. 

“don’t make a sound.”

the second the cold blade touched the skin of y/n’s neck, the surgeon knew to stay quiet. there was a burning in his throat as he struggled to swallow, scared to trigger any abrupt movement. his frantic mind jumbled about, words of scolding placed toward himself and the situation while trying to get a grip. he thought of using the in-ear to alert jongho, but it would risk exposure of the communication device: in any case… he’d be dead by then.

“what is taking him so long?” jongho grunted, tapping his foot in impatience. it’d already been about 10 minutes since y/n entered the store—it shouldn’t take that long for a surgieron to find equipment that’s of medicinal standard!

tapping his in-ear and calling out the doctor’s name, he got no response. placing his face mask on, he rushed into the store, beckoning the cashier. “have you seen a man, about 6’3” with h/c hair?”

the cashier stared at him with a shocked look, “yes, but he went back toward the restrooms. is he dangerous?”

jongho shook his head before running toward the back of the store. he shoved against the restroom door, shouting out the older’s name as he threw open each stall door. finally admitting the fact that the older had disappeared, he tapped his in-ear once more, calling out for anyone.

“jongho, what’s going on?” hongjoong had intercepted the connection, hearing jongho’s worried voice.

the bodyguard had no time to register the primal fear that would settle itself in his bones once faced with the leader, “it’s y/n, hyung. he ran away.” 

jongho returned to the headquarters after scoping out the area once more and had just entered through the front door when he was met with the sight of the whole group. 

hongjoong was staring at him with his jaw clenched and an almost empty whiskey glass settled in his lax hand. jongho had never seen a look so severe in hongjoong’s eyes—he’d never messed up this bad. and apparently, the leader wasn’t the only one emotionally affected by his mistake, because before hongjoong could even physically express his own anger, san had snatched the glass from his hand and launched it at jongho, missing his head by less than an inch.

everyone was shocked at his silent outburst, san even going as far to ignore the immense pain in his abdomen and on his shoulder, but hongjoong simply sent the younger a look, causing him to cower back in the slightest. jongho, however, was enraged at what had just happened. what gave san, who had no superiority over him, the right to do that?

“what the fuck was that?” he had stormed over to the boy, grabbing his shirt with both fists. san didn’t back down, sticking his jaw out toward the youngest.

“how could you lose y/n?”

“i was told no matter what to avoid cameras, so i stayed outside! i didn’t exactly think the fucker would have the balls to run away!” 

everyone watched the two, eyeing when to step in and pull them apart. but hongjoong let them run their mouths. the longer someone talks, the more something is revealed. what he was looking to be revealed, he didn’t know; but something would come up.

san pushed back against jongho, “y/n hyung wouldn’t run away. he’d never do that!” 

‘oh,’ hongjoong perked in interest.

the younger scoffed, “what makes you so sure?”

san’s next words came as a bit of a shock, leaving the others with silent questions, “he promised he’d come back.”

bingo!

an awkward silence filled the room as they all stared, speechless at how hopelessly fond their brother had become for their hostage. as much as some of them hated to admit it, y/n was only a hostage to them at the end of the day. and for san to fall into a reversal stockholm syndrome of sorts was nothing short of  a disappointment. however, that couldn’t be the main focus, y/n was missing and they didn’t know how strong his resolve would be in the event of torturing.

“run us back on what happened, will you?” hongjoong told jongho, trying to get a clear picture on what went down because the first thing they needed to know was why y/n was taken, much less, who took him. was it by the same person who’d been running their mouths in the streets? 

and right in the middle of his explanation, an alarm went off on yeosang’s phone; it was a message. the others kept talking, figuring yeosang could handle whatever message he’d received. 

it was when he promptly stood up that all attention had been placed on him. 

“it’s him! it’s dongwoo!”

a soft whimper sounded as y/n was thrown to the ground, hands bound and eyes blinded by some piece of cloth.

“boss,” y/n’s kidnapper spoke in a submissive wave, causing y/n to assume the guy had straightened his spine and was saluting him in some way.

a moment later, a gruff voice broke through the eerie silence in the room, “and who is this?” his voice wasn’t angered or bewildered at all, and that’s what scared y/n. he sounded intrigued; like even he wasn’t expecting to be a part of this situation.

“someone with connections to ateez— saw that bodyguard walking around with him.” 

the other man hummed, “the bodyguard didn’t follow you, did he?”

“no, no. i found them by the pharmacy; i know the area pretty well because i do the runs for sowon— i knew the camera blindspots!” his abductor seemed to be a bit on the simpler side when it came to this “boss” of his, y/n concluded. this was a completely different personality than when he was being abducted at the scene…

“good job. and you know what, changsik-ah,” his voice seemed to be getting more intrigued, y/n’s heart beating even faster in response, “since you bought in such a valuable hostage, i’ll let you have the honors of obtaining information from him.”

y/n felt the air beside him shift, changsik bowing a full 90 degrees at his boss’s blessing, “thank you!”

a sickeningly hearty laugh resonated and the creaking of a chair sounded before the boss’s next words seemed to be the final straw for y/n’s pounding heart.

“i want him alive.” 

“he better be alive,” san growled at jongho.

“we might get to him alive if you two would quit bickering. we’re wasting time because of you two, so shut it and sit down!” hongjoong had had enough of the two. he knew it was a sensitive time for san and jongho, different reasons for both, of course, but they would only get nowhere if they weren’t level-headed.

the two boys bowed their heads at their leader, san still sending a side-eyed glare at the younger before sitting down in his chair. 

it’d been two days since y/n was kidnapped and they still hadn’t been able to come up with a plan to get y/n back. 

wooyoung tried to trace where the text message came from within the first minute it was received, but surprise, surprise! it was a burner phone— so back to square one; checking all of the cctv footage in the area and trying to spot a suspect that wasn’t even visible from the first frame. 

the cameras in the pharmacy showed only y/n, the pharmacist, clerk, and four other customers. of those four, only one person never entered through the front door. and within those 48 hours, he’d managed to single out a vehicle that had arrived in the frame of one of the street cams showing the alleyway behind the pharmacy, and left the same way not even 5 minutes later. it was a suspicious vehicle too; white van, no windows in the back, and paper license plates. the paper plates hinted that they were most likely changed recently or are changed frequently.

and so after hours of having to witness his best friend be so uncharacteristically frantic and down, wooyoung, unfortunately, decided to do what he thought was smartest—save y/n himself to make his best friend happy again.

his intentions may have been well, but in stories like these, doesn’t something always go wrong?

“help me set the table guys,” seonghwa cleared his throat, hand on his hip as he stirred the soup on the stove. the steam from the boiling liquid sent another cloud to his tired face, a sheen of sweat and condensation forming.

“i really don’t understand why we are acting like we have the time to set a table and eat home cooked meals when we don’t!” san exasperated, pacing around the dining room. 

mingi gave a sympathetic smile, patting him on the back before going to help seonghwa. 

while mingi was more on the understanding side of san’s worries, jongho disagreed, “how exactly do you expect us to find him if we don’t take care of ourselves?”

“all i’m saying is food and sleep shouldn’t be this consistently on your minds when we’re all in this situation!”

jongho scoffed, finding the utmost absurdities in san’s words, “why are you acting like he’s so important? he doesn’t know anything about us or our weaknesses— for fuck’s sake, it’s not like we can’t just get another doc—”

a fist had flown toward jongho’s cheek, cutting off his words, before san’s thrashing body was being pulled back by mingi and yeosang.

“go to hell choi jongho!” san screamed, trying to force his way through the barrier the two had made with their bodies. the boy could feel his stitches tearing as he fought, but he didn’t care. jongho had been a bitch since the very first moment y/n was around, and for what reason?

“cut it out, san!” yeosang hollered, voice brute as he pushed against the boy.

“no, let me at him. he wants to keep being a little shit, i’ll show him shitty!”

“stop it! you haven’t even noticed, have you?”

san didn’t stop trying to break the barrier, focusing on getting to jongho and the other’s words, “notice what?”

“wooyoung’s missing,” yeosang began, san whipping his head toward him and trying to disagree, but yeosang was having none of it, “and you haven’t done anything but antagonize everyone here for not doing their jobs at your pace!”

“oh, excuse me for trying to be as quick as possible in finding him!”

“yeah, and who ever said quick was the efficient route to go? we’re dealing with people we know nothing about, but they seem to know a little too much about us, no? so stop getting on everyone’s asses and—”

“shut the hell up! please!” seonghwa had slammed his hands down on the table, screaming at the top of his lungs. every person in the room had immediately gone silent, words left on the tips of their tongues in a desperate attempt to fly about.

“you’re all going to shut it, sit down, and eat this meal like the civilized people we are and come up with a plan to get y/n back as safely as possible,” he gave a quick glare at everyone, blowing a puff of air at the lock of hair that had settled over his eyelids.

“am i clear?”

"yes, sir."

[odos-bucket]

In Which Each of Bruce’s Kids Come Out to Him

and then he comes out to them

Dick

They’re working on opposite sides of the coffee table in one of the manor’s more habitable sitting room’s. It’s become a regular part of their weekday routine: Bruce finishes up whatever office work he has to do, while Dick does his homework, and talks about his day. Usually there are snacks involved. A parenting book Bruce had read recommended trying to get their work done together. It’s a good way to keep connected with their increasingly busy schedules.

“So anyways…” Dick’s story is starting to slow down a little bit, and the shift in tone has Bruce glancing up from his paperwork. “I should probably tell you, since, well, everyone knows at school now.” His voice is still conversational, and relaxed, but a little distracted.

Bruce shifts him his full attention.

“See, what happened was Cameron Josephs in my third period biology class came to school with nail polish on today, which I noticed with my clever detective skills, and promptly dismissed as unimportant, and everyone else noticed with their nosy pre-teen skills, and promptly lost their shi- I mean, minds over. And that was Mrs. Horton’s class, and she has absolutely no control over her students, so it sort of became this whole big thing. Kids were making fun of him, and other kids were yelling at them to knock it off, and he was just trying to do his work, but the rest of the class got into a big fight. And then Brad Cormick- he’s on my basketball team- made a homophobic joke, and we were sitting at the same table, and I could tell that he wanted me to laugh at it. So I told him to shut up, and said that I was bisexual, not that any of it really had anything to do with anything else that was going on, but it did get him to shut up, which was good. Except that I think it may have been because I have more friends than Cameron does, which is totally unfair, and everyone should just be nice to everyone else no matter what, but also I guess not really the point… The point is, yeah, I’m bi. Oh, also frog dissection got moved to tomorrow because one kid threw up.”

Dick takes a deep breath (finally) and a long sip of his juice, before immediately returning to doodling athletic stick figures in the margins of his algebra homework.

Bruce studies him for a moment, trying to figure out what kind of response is expected of him, what would be helpful for Dick to hear. He’s really not very good at this kind of thing.

He’s saved from the risk of putting his foot in his mouth when the science class story continues.

“Are frogs really that gross? I don’t think they are. But I guess our basement is filled with guano, so maybe my tolerance is heightened by regular exposure to the substance most frequently equated with insanity.”

Dick hadn’t seemed nervous before coming out, or relieved after. And if he’s not going to make it into a big deal then neither is Bruce, even if a part of him feels pleasantly warmed by the casual show of trust.

Jason

Bruce loves picking up his kids from school. It’s not something that his schedule allows him to do very often, and Jason- as Dick had been before him- always seems pleasantly surprised to see him. It’s a little thing in the grand scheme, but it’s just nice, normal. And he would never say it out loud- he’s not sure why, he knows he should- but he cherishes the little bit of extra time spent with his boys.

But today Jason isn’t happy to see him.

Bruce pulls up to the curb, and only has to scan the crowd of teenagers for a few seconds before spotting him. He’s on a bench with another student, their shoulders pressed together despite wide swaths of free space available on either side of them. Jason’s pointing out something in a textbook, while the other boy plays with his free hand.

Bruce pulls slightly to the side to let another car drive around him, figuring he’ll give Jason a few minutes to finish up, and notice that Bruce is there, rather than call out and risk embarrassing him.

It’s not even a full minute before they make eye contact across the lot, and immediately something in Jason’s expression changes. His eyes go wide and startled, his posture suddenly tightened. In one fast motion he shuts his book with both hands, muttering something to his friend as he practically throws himself off the bench.

Now feeling on high alert, Bruce sweeps an intense gaze over the school yard for anything that could have upset his son. He doesn’t manage to spot anything before Jason arrives at the car and pulls himself into the backseat (where he never sits, unless the front is already occupied). He starts talking before Bruce can ask what’s wrong.

“That wasn’t what it looked like!”

Bruce frowns, and looks over both Jason and the area in front of the school in an attempt to identify something that isn’t like how it looks.

“He just-“ Jason flinches, seemingly realizing something wrong with whatever he’d been about to say, and cuts himself off with a sharp breath. “I mean-“

Feeling lost is by no means a new part of parenthood for Bruce, and he’s sure it’s something he’ll experience many more times going forward. But, god, he really hates not understanding what’s going on, not knowing what to do, and he doubts that he’ll ever get used to it.

“Jason,” he tries. “Slow down.”

“Yes, sir,” Jason answers automatically. “Sorry.”

It’s been over a year since Jason’s called him ‘sir’ and the sudden reintroduction of the honorific sends a cold chill down Bruce’s spine. For a second they just stare at each other, with what Bruce is pretty sure are matching expressions of partially concealed horror.

“Jason,” he says more quietly.

“I know,” Jason interrupts. “I’m sorry. Please-“ He stops himself, covering his mouth before he can finish the thought, and then just as quickly lowering the hand back to his lap.

Another silence follows, short but harrowing. Then finally Bruce makes a rare admission

“I have no idea what’s happening right now.”

Jason stares at him, and the wider his eyes get the younger he looks, and the more Bruce wants to scoop him up into his arms. But he just waits, and tries not to look too expectant.

“I-I was holding hands with Derek,” Jason breaths out.

“…Alright?” He’s heard that name before. Jason doesn’t have as many friends at school as Dick had, so they’re a little easier to keep track of, even if Bruce has only ever met any of them in passing. “Is this someone you’re worried I’ll embarrass you in front of?” He asks after a brief pause.

Jason keeps staring at him, expression crinkling as his breathing grows erratic.

Bruce finds himself automatically exaggerating his own inhales and exhales, resting the side of one hand against his sternum, to remind Jason of some of their breathing exercises.

“That’s it, chum,” he says as he sees it slowly begin to work. “Everything’s okay.” For all he knows- or doesn’t know- right now it might not even be true, but dammit for his kid he will make everything okay.

“Everything’s okay,” Jason obediently echoes.

Bruce takes his hand off his chest, and starts to reach towards him. But Jason flinches away from him, not as violently as he had back when they were still new to each others’ lives, but it’s enough to make Bruce feel sick. He can practically feel the wrongness of it squeezing his heart into shards as he slowly withdraws his arm back into the front seat. He had truly thought that they had gotten past this.

“I’m sorry, Jay,” he says softly, a small concession to the part of himself that wants to beg his son’s forgiveness for whatever he’s done to make him afraid. “I’m so sorry.”

Jason’s not looking at him anymore. His head is down, and his gaze is fixed on his knees.

Bruce hesitates.

“I’ll never hurt you.” It’s a reassurance he had thought they were past the point of needing, but if they aren’t he’ll say it as many times as he has to. “Never.”

“Are you mad?”

“Is there something particular that I’m supposed to be mad about?” Bruce asks carefully.

“... That I was holding hands with a guy,” Jason elaborates, after a steadying breath.

Oh, Bruce is an idiot. What kind of detective is he if he can’t even- He cuts himself off, realizing he can’t wait too long to respond to that.

“Of course not. That’s what this is about?”

“I never meant for you to find out,” is the response he gets. And doesn’t that just hurt like hell to hear?

“That you like boys?” Bruce confirms.

“And girls, both. But I didn’t know what you’d think, so I figured if I couldn’t be sure it was better to keep it to myself.”

Bruce closes his eyes, taking a second to calm his own breathing.

“I never want you to feel like that,” he says. “About anything. I’m sorry I didn’t make that clear. I love you, Jaylad, that isn’t contingent on anything.”

I wish I could have protected you from whatever it was that made you feel like this was something you had to hide. He doesn’t say it.

Jason is finally looking at him again, gaze thoughtful and careful. A long moment passes, before he surprises- and momentarily terrifies- Bruce by getting out of the car. But before he can react to that, Jason’s climbing into the passenger seat, and after a second of hesitation, leaning into Bruce’s side.

“Okay,” he says quietly, sounding a little choked up.

Bruce puts an arm around his shoulders. The closeness is a balm after the pain of having his son flinch away from him.

Tim

Tim isn’t supposed to come over today. His parents are in town, and Bruce had made a point of hiding his reluctance when he’d given Robin the week off, chastising himself for the empty nest syndrome he has no right to be experiencing- at least in regards to this particular child.

So he’s surprised when he hears Alfred’s throat clear, and looks up to see both Alfred and Tim lingering in the doorway to his office. It would be odd to see him here at this time of day even if they had been planning to go on patrol; sunset is still a few hours off.

Bruce immediately has a bad feeling. He knows it’s commonplace for the Drakes to disappear unexpectedly partway through whatever length of time they were meant to be spending at home. As Batman it’s made his life easier numerous times. As a parent it’s beyond his comprehension. If he still had his boys at home- but he can’t think about that, not without breaking down, and if Tim’s just been abandoned that’s the last thing he needs.

As he approaches the door, Alfred’s pointed look, and Tim’s vacant expression confirm that he’s right to be concerned.

“Tim.” He keeps his voice neutral. “I wasn’t expecting to see you today.”

He picks up on Alfred’s glare a fraction of a second too late to realize that he’s said the wrong thing.

“I’m sorry.” There’s something miserable in Tim’s voice, that makes Bruce want to bundle him up in a blanket. Before he can assure him that he has nothing to apologize for, Alfred cuts in.

“I told Master Tim that he’s welcome to stay with us for as long as he needs.”

Bruce nods automatically, looking down at Tim, who’s glassy expression looks a million miles away.

“Tim,” he says gently, eventually drawing the boy’s gaze, but feeling disconcerted by how delayed the response is.

Alfred leaves with a comment about putting a kettle on for tea, closing the door firmly but softly behind him. The sound it makes as it pulls all the way shut still makes Tim twitch.

“Do you want to sit down?” Bruce offers.

Tim stumbles a bit on his way to the couch. He’s so out of it; He won’t be patrolling tonight, even if his schedule’s suddenly open for it. Bruce sits down on the other side.

“Are they gone again?” He asks, trusting fully that the vaguely worded question will be completely understood.

There’s a worrying delay before Tim shakes his head, giving Bruce ample time to wish for Alfred back before he can register the response enough to be surprised by it.

“So...“ he begins uncertainly, before being cut off.

“I’m sorry,” Tim says again. “I don’t mean to be a bother.”

“You aren’t a bother, Tim.”

The- admittedly somewhat monotone- assurance just gets him a shrug.

“Can you tell me what happened?” He tries.

“Do I have to?” Tim asks after a long silence. “Can’t I just stay here?”

Bruce frowns.

“Of course you can stay here. But I think I really need to know what’s going on.”

Tim stares at him, eyes shining, mouth opening and closing several times before he speaks.

“Can I- Alfred says I can tell you something, and you won’t get mad?”

“Well, that depends on what it is,” Bruce says, thinking back on every time a robin has had something to tell him, but first wanted confirmation that he wouldn’t be angry.

Tim seems to shrink at his words, his breath catching audibly as he curls in on himself. Fuck, Bruce is bad at this.

“What do you have to tell me?” He asks.

“Well now I don’t know if I want to!” It almost comes out as a yell, strained by the sound of held back tears, and Bruce is a little taken aback.

“I’ll probably find out at some point,” he reasons.

There’s a beat of silence, and then Tim chokes on something that sounds like a suppressed sob.

No, no, no no. This isn’t supposed to happen. Bruce reaches out for him in an awkward and hastily aborted movement.

“I can’t,” Tim says after a minutes, tears streaking over his pale cheeks. “If you don’t-“ His voice catches. “I need you to let me stay here.”

Bruce’s heart hurts as he scooches a little closer, reaching out to rest a hand- hopefully not too awkwardly- on Tim’s shoulder.

“Of course you can stay here,” he reiterates. “I told you you could stay here. Even if I’m mad at you you can stay here. If you-“ He searches for a moment. “-Took the batmobile out on a joyride, and drove it into the harbor, I’ll be mad at you, but you’ll still have a place here. One will never have anything to do with the other.”

Tim makes a noise that’s over too quickly for Bruce to be able to tell if it had been a laugh, or just more crying.

“Did Jason do that?” He asks in a hoarse voice.

“Dick,” Bruce corrects.

This time Tim definitely snorts, which has Bruce smiling in spite of himself.

“Did you do something worse than that?” He asks.

It’s meant to be a joke, but Tim makes an unhappy face at the question.

“I- no!” He says, defensive, but confident. “I didn’t do anything wrong!”

Bruce gives his shoulder a squeeze before releasing it.

“Then why would I be mad at you?”

The humor that had begun to make its way into Tim’s expression disappears again, and Bruce curses himself.

“Mom and Dad were mad,” he says quietly.

Bruce scowls. He tries pretty hard not to let his dislike of Jack and Janet show around Tim- though he’s long suspected the young detective can tell- but it’s harder to hide sometimes than others.

“You said they were still home,” he remembers. “Tim, did they kick you out?” He does his best to keep the anger out of his voice.

And then he finds himself doing his best to keep the anger off of his face when it takes Tim a moment to answer the question.

“I don’t think forever,” he says uncertainly. “Just- They said they needed time to think about it, to d-decide what to do.”

The slight stutter puts him over the age, and fury starts to trickle into Bruce’s voice.

“To think about what?” He demands. Hell, that place is more Tim’s home than it is theirs. They have absolutely no right to ask him to leave! And where the hell do they expect him to go? Bruce forces himself to clench his jaw, and take deep breaths.

“...I’m gay,” Tim finally says.

Bruce stares at him for the second that it takes for the words to register, and connect back to the rest of the conversation.

“That’s it?”

He’s wincing at himself before the question is all the way out of his mouth, immediately convinced that he’s said the wrong thing again. But then, to his immense relief, he realizes that Tim has started laughing. It isn’t deep, or sustained. His voice is still a little weak, and his eyes are still a little red. But he’s definitely laughing, and Bruce realizes vaguely that a robin laughing is still his favorite sound in the world.

“That’s it,” Tim confirms, on the tail end of his laugh.

“Oh, Tim.”

Bruce doesn’t give himself a chance to second guess the motion before he pulls the boy into a hug, satisfied that it was the right course of action when he feels Tim melt against him.

“Of course I’m not mad, of course I’m not mad,” he repeats like a mantra. “I’m sorry I let you think I would be. You’re right, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

A few seconds pass, and he realizes there’s a wet patch at his shoulder where Tim’s face is buried. Bruce freezes, totally unsure of what he’s done wrong this time.

“I’m sorry,” Tim breaths out. “I- thank you. Thank you! I don’t know what I would have done if- I- I don’t want to be alone!”

“Not alone,” Bruce promises. “You’re not alone. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”

Tim presses closer, and Bruce takes it as a cue to tighten his hold.

Alfred finds them like that a few minutes later, Tim curled up in his arms, while Bruce cycles through reassurances. The look they exchange is enough to confirm that they’re both thinking the same thing: this kid is ours.

Cass

One day Cass hangs a little pride flag up on her door. Later in the week when she catches Bruce glancing at it, she comes up to him, gives the flag a meaningful nod, before just saying, “Girls!” in a happy voice, giving him a hug, and disappearing down the hall.

Damian

Bruce can identify every member of his family by their knock, but Damian’s is particularly distinctive. Not just because it tends to come from a lower part of the door, but because Damian has cultivated a strong knock, the way businessmen cultivate a strong handshake. It’s a very confident and determined sound, that he often finds himself stifling a smile at, knowing that that isn’t at all the intended reaction.

“Come in,” he calls, and there’s no pause before Damian strides into his office, confident as ever. When he speaks however, the undercurrents of his voice tell a different story.

“Father, there is something I wish to discuss with you.” There are a few hesitations, that don’t quite manage to turn into stutters in his voice, ones it’s unlikely anyone outside of their family would notice.

Bruce doesn’t comment on them, just nods for Damian to sit down and continue.

His legs don’t fully reach the floor. Something else that Bruce has learned not to let himself smile at.

“Grayson says…” he begins confidently, before trailing off.

Bruce just raises an eyebrow for him to continue, not feeling like he has enough information to put anything together from at the moment.

“Richard says,” Damian continues more carefully. “He came out to you as bisexual when he was around my age?”

Bruce nods. He has a feeling that he knows where this is going this time.

“He did.”

“He said that you were okay with it?”

Bruce nods again.

“Dick is my son. My love for him isn’t conditional, certainly not on that. There’s nothing wrong with not being straight.”

Damian had broached the topic using Dick as a proxy, so Bruce had followed his lead and assumed that Damian would know to automatically apply the assurance to himself. But Damian’s face just falls into a puzzled frown.

“So why…” he begins, before changing track. “Richard isn’t your biological son.”

Bruce frowns back.

“Damian, you know that doesn’t make a difference to me. I don’t love your siblings any less because they’re not-”

“I know,” Damian cuts in. “It isn’t about loving us differently.” He says it very matter of factly. “I have the ability to carry on your bloodline, whereas they do not.”

“That ability isn’t an obligation,” Bruce says, wondering why his kids never seem to be able to just worry about normal things. “And it’s certainly not something that you need to be thinking about at thirteen years old.”

Damian nods slowly, staring down at the desk with a look of intense concentration, before slowly raising his gaze to Bruce.

“Mother and Grandfather said that you wouldn’t like it, if I wasn’t interested in girls,” he says quietly.

Bruce sighs. of-fucking-course they did. He gets up from his chair, and moves around the desk to kneel in front of Damian.

“Well they’re wrong,” he says simply. “And they had no right to lead you to believe that it would make any difference to me. Just like I don’t love your siblings any less, my love for you is no more conditional. Understand?”

It takes a moment, but Damian nods.

“All right. In which case, I suppose... I’m gay.”

“And I’m proud of you,” Bruce says, before pulling his son into a hug.

Bruce

Bruce looks at his assembled family, and begins to feel a strange sense of trepidation tickling at the edge of his consciousness.

They’re all here. Trying to get the whole family together all at once is like pulling teeth. But he told them it was important, and they all came. There have been plenty of points over the course of the years when that wouldn’t have happened. And even though they’ve all been pretty settled with each other for a while now, he never wants to take for granted having his whole family together- not that he thinks the part of him that only seems to settle when he has all of his children within arm’s reach would let him.

The comfort of having them all be together is overwhelming, but the trepidation is still there, just like it probably always will be any time he manages to round up the courage for anything resembling feelings talk.

They’re all in one of the living rooms, sprawled in a comfortable half circle across various couches and chairs.

“There’s something I wanted to tell you all,” Bruce starts to say.

“Are you dying?” Stephanie asks casually.

Beside her, Cass freezes, looking horrified.

“I’m not dying,” Bruce says quickly.

At the same time Steph rubs a hand up and down Cass’s arm and assures her she was kidding.

“Not like he’d tell us if he was,” Dick says.

He knows it’s meant to be a joke, just like Stephanie’s question had been, but it still sends a chill through him. Mostly because he can’t say for sure that Dick is totally wrong; it’s the kind of thing he easily could have kept to himself. But then he sees the uncertain frown that Damian is giving him, and Cass’s wide, anxious eyes, and decides that he has to be wrong.

“I’m not dying,” he repeats, reaching out for Tim who’s sitting closest to him, and who’s been staring very intently at the floor since the topic came up.

Tim leans into the touch without shifting his position.

“And I would tell you,” he adds seriously, feeling absolutely wracked with guilt over the fact that up until this moment he doesn’t know if he would’ve been able to claim that with any certainty.

“I swear, if there’s anything wrong with me, all of you will know as soon as possible.” By the time it comes out of his mouth, he knows he means it with total certainty.

“I think we’re all pretty tuned into the fact that there’s something wrong with you,” Jason offers, and the tension in the room breaks.

Bruce smiles despite himself. That was agonizing. Compared to that getting on with the conversation he’d previously been so apprehensive to have will be a relief.

“What did you want to tell us?” Duke asks.

“It can be… difficult for me to articulate what it means to me whenever one of you trusts me enough to share something about yourself. I thought that I owed it to all of you to return the favor, and share a… recent discovery of mine.” He stumbles through it as awkwardly as he’d expected to.

“This is weird,” Stephanie stage whispers.

“I’m bisexual,” Bruce admits.

“Bruce!” Dick says excitedly.

“Unacceptable,” Jason cuts in. “We already have enough of that nonsense in this house!”

Tim kicks him in the side.

“Well, seeing as it’s an option, I for one prefer the idea of you pursuing romantic entanglements that bear no risk of resulting in pregnancy.”

“Noted, Damian.”

“I’m happy for you, B,” Tim says. “It can be hard figuring yourself out.”

“Thank you, Tim.”

“Is that it?” Duke asks. “I mean, not that it’s not a big deal- and I’m happy for you too by the way- it’s just that most of our family meetings involve addressing some kind of crisis.”

“That’s it,” Bruce admits.

“Perhaps- seeing as we’re all here anyways- we could take this opportunity to have dinner together as a family for once,” Alfred offers.

[freetheshit-outofyou]

You seem to be one of the Flat Earth idiots. Let me spell it out for you. Trump and Dr. Atlas are not epidemiologists. Epidemiologists and real Doctors know the importance of wearing masks. Thing is you'll just be a dead idiot. More food and oxygen for me. Loser! Oh. And more bullets for me too.

Thank you for your wrong opinion and input.  Let me break it down for you in little words so you might be able to understand this without asking the person next to you for help.  I never claimed Mr. Trump or Dr. Atlas, who ever that is, are Epidemiologists. I have also never claimed they were Virologists, a field much more in the fight of a viral contagion. Clearly your brain cells have a hard time with science and deductive reasoning.     Let me help you, my lost little buddy. “By definition, epidemiology is the study (scientific, systematic, and data-driven) of the distribution (frequency, pattern) and determinants (causes, risk factors) of health-related states and events (not just diseases) in specified populations (neighborhood, school, city, state, country, global). It is also the application of this study to the control of health problems (Source: Principles of Epidemiology, 3rd Edition).” on the other side of that, “Virologists are medical doctors that oversee the diagnosis, management and prevention of infection. They’re also scientists, who may drive research on various aspects of viruses. A virologist may be both a scientist and a physician. They mix their time between working at the bench in laboratories and providing advice to staff across many different areas of the human and animal health service sectors.” Now that we know who the players are and their place in the fight I can tell you for a fact as someone who worked in viral/biological contagion filled environments NOT A SINGLE FUCKING PERSON WENT INTO THOSE ENVIORMENTS WEARING A MASK OR PROTECTIVE SYSTEMS MADE OUT OF GOD DAMNED T-SHIRT MATIREAL, not once, not ever. That mask you love to rub in people face is worthless, the surgical masks people are wearing is worthless. It is a band aid on a sucking chest wound, it is a feel good measure that has ZERO effect.  Side note: If masks were the key, why are infections still happening? And why, with millions wearing them, has the virus not been pined into pockets where people don’t wear them thus proving mask work? I know the answer, do you?

I know how crazy is it that Scientists and doctors don’t use PPE made from t-shirt marital or yards of fabric bought from Hobby Lobby, who knew.... Wait, everyone fucking knew, because you’ve seen actual professionals in contaminated environments never put that shit on before a purpose made protective system that is made to work, not made to look like it should work.  The last thing(s), Fit Testing and cross contamination control. That is not even on anyone's radar outside of the fields that use it. Bubba and Birtha are not fit testing their home made mask or their N95′s, or their paint respirators or anything else. They are also using filters that are well past their replacement date and prescribed continuous use directions.  You have a huge chance of contaminating yourself rather than getting it from direct exposure from another person. That 30 something in the produce section of your store who touched 29 apples and tomatoes to find the the right 3 made you sick. The person leaving the pisser before you that has not washed their hands in 3 days and you touched the stall and pisser doors after them, made you sick. You touching everything under the sun thinking a mask made you safe while also taking off or pulling down your mask off 30 times a day made you sick.  So little buddy, if you were hoping I would get sick and die, I doubt that will happen. If you were hoping to get a little more O2 because of my passing I am not sorry to disappoint you. If you were relying on my death to get ammo, well princess, jump if you feel froggy. For those following along on your Mask Nazi bingo card; Masks are good Mmm’k People (Sheeple) who follow every edict of the governments are good Mmm’k. Science is only good if it agrees with your slanted view Mmm’k. The 6 foot rule and social distancing will save us all Mmm’k. Loved ones dyeing alone in hospitals is for the greater good Mmm’k. For those of us in the real world; Do what makes you feel safe, wear masks or don’t, don’t gather together or do, understand that this is not a one size fits all situation. Every person will have to face this as an individual, no amount of group punishment will ever stop individuals from having free will. It will only empower CoVID Karen’s and Kevin’s into thinking its ok for them it get in your face (Breaking social distancing rules.) to tell you what a horrible person you are for not wearing your mask properly while pulling theirs down to cough and spit at you and your family as a form of punishment. Then they will have that crazy shocked “I can’t believe you just did that” look under their masks when you press it real hard against their face with your fist.  P.S. Please apologize to the person next to you right now for having read and explain so much of this to you. I really did not mean to impose on them with your ignorance.  P.P.S. Since this whole shit pie opened up in January I have logged 6872 miles up and down the West Coast. California, Oregon, Washington and Nevada, I have had to interact with the populations of those liberal hubs and most of the time they were not wearing masks. I have had to stay in hotel after hotel, had to eat out hundreds of times at this point. and guess what, I still have not gotten sick. Is that because I understand this mess more, or because I understand virial contamination better, or is it that this shit sandwich that we’ve all had to take a bite of (Thank you for that line Full Metal Jacket.) was made for us and derived via the TV and social media to scare you into submission? Be controlled if you want to be, I’ll pass. 

[bangtae-sohotddaeng]

we’ll be counting stars | k.th. | 1

(^ gif cred: ON THE VOYAGE | pinterest)

pairing: idol!Taehyung x publisher!Reader

rating: nc-17 (for language and themes)

summary: You’d sworn off love and relationships forever. You were here to do your job - work with the biggest boyband of the world. Not forge friendships and...and whatever it was that you and Taehyung were building up with these sneaky glances. It was, to be very fair, your Chief Editor’s fault that you’d landed in this mess. Maybe you should quit your job? Maybe you should quit life -

Oh, he was staring again, and did he freaking lick his lips?

warnings: swearing (reader’s got a potty mouth) + this is set like 5 years in the future + reader has emotional issues, she's a relationship phobe + mentions of weed

genre: so much ANGST ugh + fluff + comedy + some crack

words: 2.1 k

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gimme feedback, much much appreciated!

SIX MONTHS AGO

“Wait a second, really?” You blinked up at the Chief Editor, your boss, in wonder. “Heading this?” 

The chocolate skinned, tall woman smiled at you. “Yes, heading this. I’d been looking to hand you something from a really long time, to be honest. This is just the right fit."

You grinned at her, hugging the contract file to your chest. In your thirteen months of employment at the publishing company, through the departmental transfer from HR to Editorial and then the promotion to the Associate Editor position, this was the best thing to happen to you, so far. You finally had a project you were gonna head. You would finally, finally get to handle things on your own—curate your own team, work on an individual project where you made all the decisions.

You breathed out, happily. “I’ll read this thoroughly and report back within an hour, boss. With my sign on it, in all likelihood.”

“I’m counting on it.” Your boss smiled at you.

You looked down at the file. You were going to work with a K-pop group on their auto-biography. You were gonna fly to fucking Korea, for six full months. This was huge. This was awesome. This was what you fucking needed, right now. Your best friend that you had been rooming with for a year was starting to get too comfortable. You were so not up for that kinda shit again.

You looked at the bottom of the front page. Athena had drawn up this contract. Your eyebrows arched. It was no secret that she was your boss’s favourite Acquisition Editor. Some even suspected they were having an affair, despite the gleaming diamond you could see—even right now—on the woman’s finger. 

This project had to mean a lot to your boss. And she’d picked you to head it.

“This sounds big, boss,” you mumbled, leafing through the hefty files. You were gonna need a couple hours, maybe, to go through this properly. “And looks big, too.”

“It is big, Y/N. In all the ways. This idea had been brewing in my head for a really long time. I had Athena make the proposal to this K-pop group’s management company, a few months back, and they said yes. She and I had been brainstorming how to approach this. Those guys are pretty tight about their privacy and, um, well. Fraternising policies. It’s all in there, you’ll see.” She pointed a finger at the file in your hands. “We were finally able to draw up the contract with the company’s CEO and Manager. And you were the only one I had in mind when we thought up of building a team and having someone head it so that we don’t have to leave.”

You gave a small, delighted giggle. “Thank you so much, boss. I won’t disappoint you.”

“I know you won’t.”

You got back to your desk and flipped to the first page of the file.

BTS

Your eyes bulged. You had been a busy—and irritable because of all the stupid shit that just constantly kept on happening in your personal life—woman during the past couple of years and really uninvested in anything and everything that had to do with entertainment. This past year had been especially rough ever since your move to the States. You freaking smoked pot when you needed to unwind, what could be worse than that.

But. But—before, when you were a normal, happy woman with a soul, BTS had been kind of a really humongous deal. Did that somehow change in the past couple of years? You strongly doubted it, recalling how huge they’d been growing worldwide, the last time you kept a check. Which you did like crazy.

You momentarily wondered if your boss would still have you as the first consideration if she knew about your crazy ARMY days…

You blinked, coming back from the mental journey, and turned the page. BigHit’s owner was still the same, obviously, but the group members now apparently had individual managers. You blinked, uncomfortable at the knowledge. Reading further, you found something that disturbed you even more.

All the BTS members were done with their Military Service, with Jungkook, Jimin and Namjoon having returned from it just this year.

You swallowed, thickly. A lot had changed in the world outside of the one you’d been living in, too, apparently.

You read through the terms and conditions and your duties, thoroughly. Few points were pretty obvious and things you’d been expecting, but some of them made you frown.

You brought one such issue to your boss’s acknowledgement when you were done reading the entire booklet of a contract, nearly two hours later. You were ready to sign the thing, otherwise.

“And? What about it?” Your boss blinked at you, unfazed.

You sighed, and lifted your left hand up, pointing at your empty ring finger. “No ring, no fiance, boss. They want the team members to be at least engaged. I’m as single as it gets.”

She chuckled at that. “Tell me honestly, are you unprofessional enough to fraternise on your job? Such a high profile one, at that?”

You worried your bottom lip between your teeth. “I don’t think they’d care about what I think, boss, or that they’d even ask.”

Your boss gave an exasperated sigh. “Okay, let me put it in a different way.” You tilted your head to show your interest. “What’s your opinion on relationships, in general?”

You grimaced, unable to help your knee-jerk response. But then you shrugged, trying not to scowl while you said the words you’d started to believe in since the past couple of years. “Well, as I’d informed you through my quite less-than-professional letter at the time of my joining, boss, I think relationships are pointless. Humans keeping relationships beyond professionalism with each other is pointless, actually, because with a personal attachment comes a buckload of expectations, and then it’s just a rabbit hole down the middle of the earth. At the end of which, we burn.”

Your boss seemed to be suppressing laughter. Did the moral of your life amuse her? “You actually quoted the letter word by word, there, Y/N.”

You sighed. “That wasn’t something I’d thought through when I mailed it, boss. The voice input tool turned my rants into a letter. And my frustration over your concerns about fraternising in the office made me mail it.”

Your boss nodded. “Well, I talked to BigHit’s manager over the phone. The company’s not the group’s,” she added when you frowned in confusion at the singular term. “I explained to him about where you stood—taking references from this letter—and explained to him why I needed my most valuable Associate on the team.”

Your cheeks heated up, both due to the huge praise and embarrassment over the exposure of your letter. “Oh, um. Thank you. I guess?”

“Ugh, sign the damn piece of paper and start collecting the damn team, Y/N!”

You’d resorted to staying back at the office till late hours just to avoid your roommate.

When you’d moved to the country, thirteen months back, and decided to share your decade old friend’s flat—feeling lucky as shit that he worked in the same city as you—you and him had been on the same page. You’d both been fed up with the concepts of relationships and entanglements, even the strictly-physical ones, and wanted to just burn away your youth on the grind and pot-smoking weekends.

But then, gradually, you noticed the shift in him. He was trying to get into your pants. It could not end well.

It wasn’t to say you weren’t attracted to him. You’d jump the gorgeous guy’s bones in a heartbeat, in an alternate universe. But in this one, you’d had a first hand experience of ruining multiple friendships, and you so did not wanna risk another.

That idiot didn’t get it, though.

Hence why you were brainstorming your project’s team at ten oclock of the night in your nearly empty office building.

“Any luck?” Your okay-ish colleague—the least clingy out of the lot—peered at your spreadsheet over your shoulder.

“Why the heck are you so against it, Sana?” you groaned into your palm, frustrated.

“Because I’m ARMY!” she said in an aghast tone.

“So? Dude, that’s nearly 70% of the earth’s population, at this point, I’m guessing.”

“Um, maybe, but. I don’t trust myself to be professional, Y/N,” she morosely mumbled, dropping into an empty chair on the table next to you.

You looked at her from above your glasses. “Why the heck not?”

She ducked her head, her honey blonde hair covering almost all of her face. But you still spotted the red that bloomed across her face. “Because I have a crush on Yoongi, the size of freaking America, Y/N!”

“What? What? That’s your reason?" You covered your mouth with a hand to hold back your laughter. "Lame fucking reason, Sana!” You glared at her when she nervously looked back at you. “Get your shit together, and pack your bags. And give me your husband’s number, I wanna tell him something.”

You hadn’t imagined that picking out five people from a group of thirty would be this hard. You had spent an entire week literally running after these people to convince them. They were all married or engaged save for one, who had plans of proposing to his boyfriend a few months later, during Valentine’s before you convinced him to do it now so that he’d be able to join the team.

You’d come up with a total of four women and two men, including Sana, that were all fluent in Korean. That was kinda one of the biggest prerequisites, other than being in a committed relationship. You’d briefed the lot of them about what was to be done on this trip, who you were dealing with, and how long you’d be off for. They were all on board, now, and the only thing required was your boss’ approval.

And now you were all standing in the Chief Editor’s cabin, waiting for her to finish reviewing the team members’ profiles you’d collected and presented to her.

Your brain was nearly short circuited, at this point. If she said she wasn’t happy with any of your selections you were prepared to tell her to make the new selection herself, because there were only three more married people in this office, and none of them spoke Korean. There were only two more Korean speakers, but they were both female interns who’d be the worst nightmares to put on this project.

You looked at the six people standing next to you, all looking a varied degree of nervous.

But your boss looked impressed as she perused the file. She beamed at all of you, and then nodded. “Prepare for a six months’ stay, people, and prepare to do your best there. The only two real rules to remember are to keep it all a secret until the BigHit people are ready to disclose the news, and not fall in love.”

You all grunted in barely concealed annoyance at the last part, excluding Sana who bit her lip. You rolled your eyes. “It’d be a bigger concern for their partners than it would be to you, if that happens, boss. Don’t worry. We’re all a bunch of professionals, here.” You reassured your boss, shooting a glare at a fidgety Sana. 

“I have complete faith in y’all. Now, off you go. Brush up your Korean, spend time with your partners.” She looked at you. “Or just, you know, catch up on lost sleep. You fly to Seoul this Friday.”

Three days from now, oh God.

You all trickled out of your boss’ cabin with furrowed foreheads. You had the most workload out of them all, though, because in addition to preparing to spend six months in a foreign land, you also were to prepare a formal itinerary for said six months. You, of course, were clear on the details because they were mentioned in the contract, but writing them out for your team would definitely take a lot of time.

You briefly wondered if you should employ Sana’s help, before quickly deciding against it. It wouldn’t do you any good to do anything to sway your professional relationship by asking for personal favours.

“Hey, Y/N, all okay?” Simon, the guy that was proposing to his boyfriend early because of you, asked you when you dropped into your office chair with a huge thump.

You turned to scowl at him. “You guys have got to stop asking me that all the time! When have you ever gotten a good answer?”

Simon’s eyes widened, and he quickly shook his head. “My bad.”

You kept squinting at his retreating figure. Another member of your team met your eye, before quickly scrambling away.

You hummed in thought. Did they all think you were a bitch? Maybe you were.

Good. It’d do you some good in Korea.

gimme feedback, much much appreciated!

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Tags: @tangledsparkles​

[alovesongshewrote]

Almost A Thousand Years - 1900/10 | Hisirdoux Casperan

Plot:  You’ve known Hisirdoux Casperan for almost a thousand years.  You’ve hated him for almost a thousand years.  And for almost a thousand years, you’ve been cursed to feel each others pain.  But somewhere in that time, things changed.  [Hisirdoux Casperan x Mostly Gender Neutral but Probably Female Presenting Based on How Historical Men Treat Them!Reader]

Word Count: 1,595

Warnings:  world war 1 and crying, big angst

A/N:  very sad, reader is traumatized, conscription is not a fantastic policy., i might post another chapter because I really want you guys to read the chapter for the 80′s.  also, a plot twist.  

Back | Next

Unfortunately, infamous serial killers were not the only things lurking in the dark at the turn of the century.

While you, the wizard, and the familiar explored a changing world, something clawed its way out of the dark

He’d been trapped for centuries, wasting away beneath what was once Camelot, but now, he was free.  And he had a few goals in mind.

He would free his father, destroy both man and trollkind, and take his revenge on you, the traitor.

And with the rise of the twentieth century rose, so did Bular.

Then he almost drowned on the Titanic.  He straight up chose the wrong ship to stow away on.  He had to swim to America, the poor loser.  He was trying to track you down, but he messed that up too, you were still in Europe!

What a dumbass!

Meanwhile, you were getting traumatized during the first world war.

Your drive to help those who needed it sent you to the military.  There, you worked as a medic, helping both soldiers and civilians.  Your heart broke with every wounded soldier, every innocent person who passed under your care.  Their faces haunted your dreams, reminding you of everything else you had lost in your life.  These people, the soldiers who fought before you, the nurses who healed with you, the innocents who struggled through this war with you, none of them deserved this hell.  

That only drove you to work harder.

You did whatever you could to save every life possible.  You worked through the night, living off of the coffee supplied to you.  You even went as far as to use a little magic when you could, something you, personally, had not done since the witch hunts in the seventeenth century.  It was a lot, and there were times when you nearly passed out from exhaustion, but it still wasn’t enough.  People still died; in your arms, on the battlefield, everywhere.  You did your best to comfort the ones you couldn’t save, but their tears scarred your skin worse than any wound could.

And you blamed yourself.

For every fallen soldier, for the blood of the innocent spilled across cobblestone, you found some way to place the blame on you.  You weren’t fast enough, you weren’t strong enough, you weren’t good enough.  It was your fault, every body under a sheet, every blood-soaked letter home, every burned shoe at the edge of a road, it was on you.  You were a witch, with a background in medicine stretching back eight-hundred years.  Why didn’t you save more people!?

And when the war was over, you kept going.

You kept healing, everyone, everywhere, as many people as you could manage and more.  Your guilt was eating you alive.

Somewhere else in war-torn Europe, Douxie was feeling the same way.

He’d been conscripted into this war with every other man his age.  Or, at the very least his fake age.  He wasn’t sure there were regulations for the conscription of eight-hundred-year-old citizens.

Regardless, he fought honourably, trying to avoid killing anyone.  That didn’t stop the pain of watching his fellow soldiers die in the trenches beside him.  He tried to avoid making attachments out here.  But that didn’t stop him from doing whatever he could to save lives.  Douxie was always protective by nature, and this led to him shoving his comrades out of the paths of bullets, using the least magic he could to stop shrapnel, and using himself as a human shield.  

He was doing the right thing, putting his life on the line to save others, but he felt bad every time he did it.  He felt guilty that at any moment, he could die, and you would die with him.

He’d tried to get out of conscription to protect you, but there wasn’t much he could do there.  Instead, he fought the way he thought you’d want him to, saving everyone who needed it.  

Sometimes, he wondered why he decided to live by your mantra.  Maybe it was the guilt of putting your life at risk.  Maybe it was because his exposure to your excessive need to save lives grew on him and made him want to be a better person.  He didn’t know.  (And really, he didn’t even think of the second part until much later.)

Douxie, however, was not as tied to the mantra as you.  He still blamed himself for a lot of the death around him.  (He was a wizard, why couldn't he save more people!?)  But he was able to shake the grief a lot quicker than you were.

So, after the war, he was shaken but alright, and you were borderline broken.

And then your paths crossed.

The shops weren’t too crowded that day.  It was quiet enough for you to take in the face of the only other person on that particular side of the building.

“Douxie,”  you would’ve sounded more surprised if you weren’t too tired to show emotion.

“(Y/N)?”  the wizard took a cautious step towards you, almost as if he were about to offer you an arm for support.  You might’ve been offended by that if you hadn’t looked and felt like hell.

There were bags under your eyes from lost sleep.  You felt like you’d topple over into that stack of canned goods at any moment.  Briefly, you wondered if canned goods would be soft enough to nap on.  You couldn’t ponder that long though, otherwise, Douxie would figure out that you were not at all okay.

“Are you okay?”

“Mhmm,” you were very clearly not alright, “I just haven’t been sleeping well since-”

“The war?”

“Yeah, that,”

“I didn’t know you were on the field,”

“Yeah, well, you know me,” you yawned, “I just have to save everyone I can.  I didn’t do a very good job though,”  your laughter was cold, and before long you were crying in the middle of the general store.

“Oh, god, (Y/N),” Douxie’s voice was a whisper as he placed a hand on your shoulder.

You didn’t have time for formalities, or for the fact that you were still technically enemies.  You needed a hug and you needed it now.

And so you hugged Douxie.  And he hugged back.

He just held you for ten minutes, your face in his shoulder, his in your hair.  Neither of you moved, and you didn’t try to look at the other person’s face, and even though this fic is enemies to lovers, you didn’t kiss him, and he didn’t kiss you.  All you did was hold on to each other for dear life, two immortals hurtling through time and space, essentially alone except for the other.

It was nice to hang onto an old adversary.

“Oh, god, I’m so sorry,”

“Don’t be.  For any of this.  The war wasn’t your fault, and you did everything you could.  I know you did,”

You were thankful for his words, but you couldn't bring yourself to believe them.

“Still, I got your shirt wet,” you said, brushing the damp patch with the tips of your fingers, “At least let me be sorry for that,”

“If I do, will you let me buy you a drink?”

“I-” you were a little taken aback by this, but you were totally down with it, “Yeah, sure, why not,”

A short while later, the two of you sat in a nice cafe, drinking coffee and tea respectively, and talking more than you had in centuries.

“So you’re serious?  He just yelled ‘fuzzbuckets,’ and threw his pistol?  Just-” you mimicked throwing something across the cafe.

“Oh yeah, dead serious,”

“Well, look at you teaching impressionable youths medieval swears,”

“I guess.  Good to know if we both die ‘fuzzbuckets’ will live on,”

You laughed, and this time you didn’t end up crying.

“So, Casperan,”  you started, taking a sip of your drink, “How does a wizard apprentice end up fighting in a no-magic war?”

“Conscription,”

“Ah,”

His face grew dark for a moment, “It wasn’t a good policy.  They sent in hundreds of young men who weren’t ready, and who didn’t want to be there.  They didn’t-” he paused, trying to keep the horrors from his mind, “They didn’t deserve to see the things we saw,”

“Neither did you,”

“I know,” his voice was a whisper, almost as if he didn’t believe it. That thought alone broke your heart.

You bit your lip, “So, keep talking.  Not just about the war, about anything,”

Four centuries ago, Hisirdoux Casperan had listened to you ramble on about politics for an hour.  Now it was his turn to speak, and your turn to listen.  In this century though, you had more time. The subject changed a few times.  He spoke of music and magic and Merlin.  You spoke of medicine and your mentor.  You spoke of time passing, and architectural trends, and the case of the Rippers.  You sat there for hours, talking about anything that crossed your minds.  It was nice to talk to someone, for both of you.

Sooner than you would’ve liked, it was nightfall, and you both had to return home.

“So,” you smiled at your once-enemy, “Thank you.  For the coffee, and for putting up with-” you gestured at yourself, “This,”

He laughed, “I’ve been putting up with you for years, love, you don’t need to thank me,”

“I guess I’ll see you next century?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,”

You smiled, the grin reaching your eyes, “Go, home wizard, your familiar’s waiting,”

“I’ll see you in a hundred years, darling,”

[captain-yeet]

Accidental Exposure (Volturi x Witch!Reader One Shot)

Summary: Australia was meant to be a quick little trip for two of the Volturi's most valued guards; give a rowdy group of vampires a stern warning, if they don't oblige, destroy them. What Felix and Demetri weren't expecting? A mere human to save their lives.

Word count: 1.62k

Warnings: Supernatural violence, swearing - crude language from the land down under.

Author notes: This was based off an AU ask I got from an anon, I've had the idea stuck in my head for a while so here it is!

You loved the night time. Nights are cool, peaceful. Exploring the city you lived in was one of the perks of having your own freedom, the ability to make your own choices, was something you didn't dare take for granted in your life.

Choices. For a long time before you had your own sense of free will you felt chained. Growing up sheltered, you had to navigate your way through adulthood on your own. Once your powers began to show themselves, your family sheltered you even more to a point of constant coddling.

 Now as a young adult, you did. And you felt yourself bring called to the big lights and sunny beaches of Sydney, Australia.

After a busy night working, you finally got the chance to set yourself loose into town. Excited to explore more, you were practically skipping your way down the street in your heels when you heard a rather odd sound. Coming to a stop, you frowned and looked around you, searching for the source.

You turned towards a nearby alley across the street, where the sound appeared to double in strength. The sound? Deep, angry snarling.

Should I check it out? you were torn. Curiosity was growing but your sense of self-preservation was stronger.

So, you inched a little closer, carefully making your way across the street and coming to a halt at the entrance of the alleyway, keeping to the wall. You weren’t quite in the alley; you were close enough to the path side so that if anything were to make you feel like you needed to run, you had an opening.

Amongst the growling, you heard voices.

 “We’ve heard your warning sure, and you can go fuck yourself,” a voice taunted, back up by a growl of approval.

 “If you’re not going to heed our warning then you know what’s coming next,” another voice cautioned; to your surprise, the accent wasn’t Australian.

You crept further in. Your heart began to beat faster in your chest. Settling behind a dumpster, you peeked around it to see what was going on.

The sight made you cover your mouth desperately holding in a scream.

Five men stood in the alley, two of them standing stiffly glaring down at the other three; one tall, blond and lean, the second with darker hair and even taller and muscular in frame. The other three were in crouched, defensive positions. Behind those three lay the bodies of unknown women with wounds on their necks, shoulders, and forearms. After a moment of staring in shock, you noticed blood covered the mouths of the three aggressors.

One of the calmer men sighed, losing patience. “Do you idiots not realize what you’ve been doing? We keep our kind a secret to humans, there’s a reason we do. You three galavanting around killing recklessly is putting all of us at risk.”

One of the angrier three snorted. “We’re vampires, mate. Killing humans is what we're best at. Not our fault you lot don’t have the freedom to embrace hunting whoever you want.”

Hunting? Vampires? Literal vampires!? Your thoughts were all over the place as you tried to comprehend it all.

A low humorless chuckle came from the dark-haired man. “You’re really making this worse for yourself. Stand. Down.”

The one who originally spoke from the three bloodthirsty vampires growled, baring his teeth in a mocking bloody grin. “Fuck. You.”

The vampire raised his hand, and a strange green mist shot out of his hand, surrounding the big calm vampire. He then collapsed to his knees, desperately coughing as if he were choking.

 “Felix!” the blond one hissed in surprise. He tried to move to his friend’s side but was tackled by one of the other vampires and pinned to the ground.

They’re going to die, you fretted. If I don’t do something they’ll die.

The one with the mist had a cruel smirk on his face and began to close in on the dark-haired man he incapacitated. “You Volturi fucks shouldn’t have come here. We run things here. Guess you didn’t expect to be bested by us. Oh well. Sucks for you.”

The blond broke free of the vampire’s hold briefly before also being engulfed by the strange green mist.

The leader of the three still held the smirk on his face, surveying his helpless victims. 

And then he launched himself at the big guy.

Your heart stopped in its chest.

I can’t let them die!

A cry of “No!” left your lips before you could stop it, stepping out from behind the dumpster and attracting the attention of five pairs of red eyes. You raised your hand and a curious red light began flickering and swirling around your fingertips. your power charged by your fear. Your hand glowed brighter as you clenched your fingers in a gripping motion at the leader, tightening your hand into a fist.

The green mist stopped as he was then lifted into the air, gripping his neck as if someone was holding him by the throat.

 “Who the fuck is this?” one of the other rabid vampires cried out, staring at you in shock.

You raised your other hand and opened your clenched fist to bring your hands together, creating a ball of angry red energy. Your eyes were still trained in the leader. As you created the ball, you began to bring them together, enclosing the space between your two hands. Suddenly, the leader's skin began to burn and disintegrate, causing him to scream in agony.

You had never done this before. You had never even tried using your abilities against anything that wasn’t random pieces of balled up paper in your room or furniture.

And then as your inner fear and shock at your own abilities, he ceased to exist, crumbling into dust.

Felix and Demetri got their bearing together and joined each others’ side, and watched as the now-deceased opposing vampire’s lackeys began to move in on their unexpected savior. Their efforts were in vain however as you simply threw them into the brick walls of the alleyway, sending them crashing and tumbling further into the alley.

The vampires scrambled to their feet and took off into the night, taking advantage of the blond vampire and the one named Felix’s preoccupation with you.

You watched them warily, eyes wide with tears welling up within them. Now that you did what you did, what was next?

 “That was rather impressive,” the blond called out, walking toward you, his friend following suit. 

 “Keep - keep back!” you warned, hands outstretched in an effort to ward them off. The red glow wasn’t as bright as it was before, but a faint tinge of vermillion remained and swirled around your fingers.

The blond’s friend whispered something inaudible to him, red eyes on you. The blonde raised his hands like someone surrendering would and slowed his gait toward you. “Easy love, we’re not going to hurt you.”

 “Especially given the fact that quite frankly, you save our asses,” the one named Felix chimed in.

You let out a shaky breath. “Okay,” you whispered, “but one wrong move...”

Lowering your hands, you balled them into fists at your sides as the two vampires approached you. Seeing them up close you couldn’t help but note how good-looking they were but right now, you felt more intimidated than attracted to them. Were they going to hurt you now or just leave?

 “You know, our group would be interested in your gifts,” the blond spoke again, cocking his head to the side curiously as he observed you.

 “Would they now?” you said with a nervous bark of a laugh.

He smiled alluringly, trying to draw you in with his charm, you figured. If you weren’t so on edge perhaps in different circumstances it would work. A grin spread across your face, and a little dose of courage entered your system. Taking a step toward him you were now very close to this handsome stranger.

 “And what would be in it for me?” you asked in a low voice.

His smile softened into a smirk. “Power, immortality, status - you name it you could have it, with powers like yours.”

Staring into his deep, red eyes; you noted they were a darker red. Like blood, almost. “Hmm,” you purred, “tempting, let me think...” 

What the fuck are you doing Y/N? you screamed at yourself internally. Look at him. Look at them. What the fuck am I doing?

Placing a hand lightly on his chest, you batted your eyelashes at him and smiled. “I prefer living, thank you.”

With a light surge of your powers, you launched the vampire backward into the air. It was sudden and quick, and he hit the alley wall with a loud crash.

For a moment, you feared his much larger friend. Until he began to cackle loudly at what happened to his friend, throwing his head back as he did so. When he regained his composure, the two of you locked eyes.

You wiggled your fingers, making the red energy swirl and crackle once more, your lips pressed into a thin line, eyebrows raised as if to say “Well then?”

Felix looked you up and down, sizing up his chances. 

And then he backed away, further into the alley. 

He was backing down.

Holy shit he’s backing down!?

With a huff, you took this as your chance to leave the scene, and you did so with haste. They could change their minds at any moment and come for you. But hopefully, you saving their asses gave would work in your favour and the mysterious vampires wouldn’t come for your life next.

Until then, you quickly made your way back down the illuminated sidewalks of Sydney, hurrying home.

[marleahsblogs]

✨ Internet Safety ✨

For our generation today, the internet is probably the safest place to be in. People can be whoever they want, express whatever they want, and enjoy themselves however they want. I must admit, I would also say that I couldn’t live without the internet. Internet is just the solution to every problem, right? Now, we can even earn money in the comfort of our rooms with the help of the internet. Should we spend hours travelling just to buy stuff? Nah, we got the internet! With just several clicks we can already make an order and just wait on our couch to receive it. Oh no, COVID-19 ruled the world! No worries, we are backed up by the internet. Online classes, online transactions, online dating. You name it. The internet is there for us, or is it? Is it our safe haven?

We have put so much trust in the internet, but we didn’t know it can also be our biggest predator. Online transactions were fun until you got scammed and lost all your money. Online dating them feel loved until the person they were talking to is a catfish. Streaming online made him famous and rich, until his account got hacked. And there are still millions of stories out there that should awake us from believing that the internet is the safest thing in the world.

Below are some possible dangers you could encounter online.

1. Cyberbullying

I’m sure many of you have heard of this. But even though we are fully aware of it, it is still one of the major problems until now. As we casually scroll in our social media feeds, it is already normal for us to see people making fun of or “bashing” other people. It became so prevalent that we could call it a normal thing. According to UNICEF (2019), one in three young people has said that they have been a victim of cyberbullying and that it affected almost half of the Filipino children aged 13-17. We need to know that even a single word like “tanga” or “bobo” we see in our social media platforms and online gaming worlds could affect or traumatize us greatly.

2. Data Being Stolen

Some people nowadays are getting better at doing this. They can steal your money from your accounts, apply for a loan or credit card using your name, or sell your information to an online criminal as well. The hidden website is packed with criminals who purchase and sell stolen personal data. If your data is stolen, you can experience spam attacks. But most of these data thefts try to steal sensitive information, such as your credit card or personal information to commit identity theft.

3. Exposure to Inappropriate Material

Another risk especially for children and teenagers are exposure to inappropriate materials that are sexual, hateful, or violent. The chance and probability for children to look at anything inappropriate rely on how much they do online as they get more active online at a younger age. Whether it's a free-time graphic pop-up commercial, children's cartoon characters in adult circumstances or a self-harm forum, an innocent search might expose these children to contents that make them feel puzzled and angry. Some of the inappropriate content includes pornographic material, content containing swearing, sites that encourage racism, violence, terrorism, or even suicide, sexism sites, or gambling sites, and so on.

Based on my own experiences, here are some tips I would like to share to you to look after your privacy and secure your internet safety:

1. Keep your software up-to-date

Not only will you get a better program experience, but you will also be able to iron out your security issues. But the reason why you must keep it updated is that hackers are fast enough to become aware of certain software’s vulnerabilities, thus could harm your computer system and personal data. If you avoid doing these updates, you are bound to face persistent bugs, data loss, malware infection, and of course security issues.

2. Update your passwords

Why do we need to constantly change our passwords? So that we can reduce the risk of other people having access to our accounts, thus corrupt our personal data. Using strong passwords is necessary for us to prove our identity in our accounts, websites, or our computer itself (Wright, 2021). My tip in creating passwords is random characters with a symbol, number, and at least one capital letter. The reason for this is that using weak passwords, such as patterns of letters and numbers, or simply your name and some important date you know can cause hackers to guess and open your account, hence impersonate you to commit fraud and other crimes.

3. Use two-factor authorization

Familiar with this term? Yes, a two-factor authorization (2FA) is an extra step to keep your accounts more secure and avoid getting hacked by others. One of the most common 2FA methods is one-time codes sent through SMS or email, authenticator apps such as Google Authenticator, and security keys such as U2F tokens (Drozhzhin, 2018). This one for me is the best 2FA authorization because only your private key will confirm your login. If someone will try to log in to your account with the wrong security key, they will not be granted access to your account. So, there you go. A series of two-factor authorizations that will secure your accounts the best way possible. You’re welcome!

4. Be careful what you click on

Have you heard of phishers? They are attackers that send a fraudulent message designed to trick and victimize us into revealing sensitive information to them. As scary as it sounds, we need to be aware of what we click on to avoid experiencing this. Phishing is usually done in an email when they get your email address from somewhere. These phishers try to create a fake website to trick you into typing in your personal information. It’s much easier for them to hack our accounts this way. To avoid this, you can check the URL’s legitimacy by using the Google Transparency Report or simply avoid suspicious emails which require your personal information. Think before you click!

5. Back-up your data

Data back-up and recovery has many advantages. Some of these are protecting and saving your data, provides ease of management, ensures accurate information of your data, quick access to data, scalability, and such (Becker, 2021). There are many other ways to back up your data, but here’s a simple way to manually back up your data in your phone is to open your phone’s settings app, tap system and click backup or search backup in your settings app, then tap back-up now. It’s that simple.

6. Set up notifications for your most important bank accounts

As online bank account holders, it is our responsibility to making sure our accounts are protected. Online accounts are one of the easy targets of hackers to whisk away our money with just a couple of keystrokes. To safeguard our online banking, we may choose an industrial-standard security bank or credit union that utilizes text or e-mail warnings avoids the use of public Wi-Fi access and periodically changes your password.

7. Protect your personal information

This might be difficult for those who like to express themselves on social media, but we must protect our personal identity to avoid any sort of online threats. To protect our identity, we must limit the amount of personal information we share or provide. We shouldn't share or provide this information online: exact home address, your place and schedules of classes or work, birthday, cellphone number, and most importantly our passwords or account information. Another tip is to write down in a small notebook all your passwords and keep them safe in a secure place away from your computer.

8. Use parental controls and stay present

With the pandemic going on right now, parents should be extra careful of what their children see and hear about themselves and who they encounter on the internet. To protect your children from internet risks, talk to them frequently, utilize tools to safeguard them and watch out for their work. Monitor the time of your child, especially the younger ones, about when and how long they stay online. Keep your computer at a central location in your house, where it's easy to watch what your children do and look at online. You may configure them for mobile devices to forget Wi-Fi passcodes for your kids not to go online without knowledge. Review privacy and location settings, parental control and use secure browsers, apps, search engines and YouTube search settings. Lastly, limit camera and video to prevent your children from accidentally taking photos or videos of themselves or others.

The internet does not usually hurt us unless we react to suspect material and websites. The first reason you don't know what you're doing is because of internet damage. Secondly, you may react or click on links such as appealing advertisements, infected software and communications when you have other forces. To ensure internet safety, just remember those tips above and these three things: secure your network, be responsible, and make the internet child-safe.

References:

Becker, D. (2021). 6 Advantages of Data Backup and Recovery. IT Central Station. Retrieved from https://www.itcentralstation.com/articles/6-advantages-of-data-backup-and-recovery

Drozhzhin, A. (2018). SMS-based two-factor authentication is not safe — consider these alternative 2FA methods instead. Kaspersky Daily. Retrieved from https://www.kaspersky.com/blog/2fa-practical-guide/24219/

Wright, J. (2021). Why Is it Important to Change Your Password? Small Business Chron. Retrieved from https://smallbusiness.chron.com/

Online bullying remains prevalent in the Philippines, other countries (2019). Unicef Philippines. Retrieved from https://www.unicef.org/philippines/press-releases/online-bullying-remains-prevalent-philippines-other-countries

25 Best Internet Safety Tips for Every Situation (2021). The Neeva Team. Retrieved from https://neeva.com/learn/25-best-internet-safety-tips-for-every-situation

[myonechicagoworld]

CHICAGO FIRE – VIRAL (S01E16)

                                            [keys clinking]

Matt Casey: Thanks, mom.

Nancy Casey: Matt…

Matt Casey: I’ll see you tomorrow morning. We can… talk then.

Nancy Casey: Oh, oh, oh, jeez.

Matt Casey: Mom, why are you hiding from your parole officer?

Nancy Casey: [sighs] I went out last night. If she tests me, I won’t

                        pass. Just please get rid of her

Matt Casey: [stammers]

                                    [sharp knocks at door]

Matt Casey: Ms. Kendrick.

Lady 1 (Kendrick): Hi, Matt. I’m here to check in on Nancy.

Matt Casey: Yeah, you just missed her. She’s out for a walk.

Lady 1 (Kendrick): I can wait.

Matt Casey: Um, my shift is about to start.

Lady 1 (Kendrick): Fine. Try later.

Matt Casey: Thank you.

                                            cutscene

Clarice: Leslie.

Leslie Shay: Ms. Larocque, so sorry. This is just how it is when I’m

                      on shift. My apologies.

Clarice: Um, look…

                                      [kissing sound]

Clarice: Daniel’s rejected her offer. He wants full custody.

Leslie Shay: I thought you said he’d take the deal.

Lady 2 (Ms. Larocque): It was a good deal, but the father has a

                                        strong case.

Leslie Shay: Does he?

Lady 2 (Ms. Larocque): Let’s look at it from his lawyer’s

                                        perspective. We’ve got a switch-hitter

                                        who married a man, conceived a child

                                        with him, then left him, and took the

                                        child to go live with her former lesbian

                                        lover, a woman with a time-

                                        consuming and very hazardous

                                        occupation.

Leslie Shay: Oh, come on.

Lady 2 (Ms. Larocque): I’m just looking for ways to normalise this

                                        scenario as much as possible.

Leslie Shay: Normalise?

Lady 2 (Ms. Larocque): For instance, you two shacking up with a

                                        skirt-chasing firefighter is not helping our

                                        cause.

Clarice: I-I was just trying to tell her how Kelly has been so helpful.

Lady 2 (Ms. Larocque): Ladies, you want me to convince a judge

                                        that you’re serious about being a family?

                                        Then you need to get Clarice and this

                                        baby into a warm, loving, nurturing, and

                                        yes, normal home.

Clarice: [sighs]

Leslie Shay: Okay. We’ll get our own place.

                                 [station alert buzzes & blares]

                                  [siren wails and horn honks]

Chief Boden: (over radio) All companies be aware, we have a

                        lightweight truss construction heavy structure fire

Victim 1: I can’t get down the stairs. It’s too hot.

Chief Boden: All companies, third-floor rescue. Casey, get me two

                       ladders.

Matt Casey: Got it.

                                         [indistinct chatter]

Matt Casey: Keep it flowing. Herrmann, Mills, Cruz, up the second 

                      ladder

                      [grunts]

                      Gotcha.

Peter Mills: Come on, I got you, man. All right?

                    You’re doing good, man.

Victim 2 (Girl/Child): [coughs]

Leslie Shay: That’s it sweetheart.

Peter Mills: Good job, man.

Victim 1 (Dad): [coughing]

Peter Mills: Okay?

Victim 1 (Dad): Yeah.

Victim 2 (Girl/Child): What about Hudson? You have to get him.

Victim 1 (Man): The dog.

Victim 2 (Girl/Child): Hudson! Hudson!

Matt Casey: Cruz!

Mouch: Stay put, Cruz.

Joe Cruz: Wait a minute! I can hear him.

                 Come here, boy!

Chief Boden: Cruz, get out of there!

Matt Casey: Cruz! Cruz!

Joe Cruz: [grunts]

                  Hudson!

                  Hudson!

                  Where are you, boy?

                                            [dog barking]

                                               [creaking]

                                            [dog barking]

Christopher Herrmann: Come here, come on.

Joe Cruz: Aah!

Matt Casey: (into radio) Man down! (over radio) Man down!

Mouch: I’m going.

                                    [Pass alarm beeping]                                                - title -

                                    [pass alarm beeping]

Matt Casey: Cruz, call out!

                     Cruz!

                                     [beeping continues]

Matt Casey: Hey, Cruz.

                     Cruz!

Mouch: You okay, buddy?

Joe Cruz: Uh, yeah, yeah, I think so.

Matt Casey: All right. We got to move.

Joe Cruz: [groans]

                                            [creaking]

                                   [indistinct shouting]

Matt Casey: Mouch!

Joe Cruz: Mouch! Mouch! Mouch!

Mouch: I’m okay.

Joe Cruz: Mouch!

Matt Casey: This way! Watch your feet!

Joe Cruz: Watch your feet! Gotcha!

                 Let’s go!

Mouch: [panting]

                                [indistinct background chatter]

Gabby Dawson: Mouch, you okay?

Mouch: Yeah.

Joe Cruz: Are you sure, man? Let ‘em check you out.

Mouch: I’m fine.

Gabby Dawson: Hey, Casey, how about you? You all right?

Matt Casey: Yeah.

Leslie Shay: You got a second-degree burn here.

Chief Boden: Take him to the hospital.

Joe Cruz: It’s nothing, Chief.

Chief Boden: Take him to the hospital.

Victim 2 (Girl/Child): You okay? Good boy.

Christopher Herrmann: Cruz is out of control.

                                                cutscene

                                           [dog growling]

                                        [back up beeping]

Kelly Severide: Hey, Whaley, any new updates on Renee?

Eric Whaley: She’s okay physically. They’re going to keep her on a

                       72-hour hold.

                       Psychiatric observation.

Kelly Severide: Did you talk to her?

Eric Whaley: She wouldn’t see me.

                      I, uh, I don’t know what to do.

                                              cutscene

Matt Casey: Thank you.

Gabby Dawson: Hey.

Matt Casey: Hey.

Gabby Dawson: How long are you going to freeze me out?

Matt Casey: I’m not freezing you out.

                     I gotta talk to Boden.

Gabby Dawson: Yeah, sure.

Matt Casey: Cruz is still in the ER. He’s telling doctors he wants to

                      come back and finish his shift.

Chief Boden: Did you happen to notice if Cruz’s bunker gear had a

                       cape sewn into it?

Matt Casey: No, Chief. It definitely does not.

Chief Boden: Then please dissuade your man of the notion that he

                        is invincible.

Matt Casey: Sure.

Otis Zvonecek: (recording) And that’s how our fellow firefighter was

                           saved today.

                           56 hits in less than an hour. Just tell me this thing’s

                           not going to go viral.

Gabby Dawson: Glad to see Mouch’s near-death experience can

                            help drive traffic to your podcast.

Otis Zvonecek: The whole point of the podcast is to show people

                           what we really do.

Christopher Herrmann: You’re supposed to be looking up how-to

                                         videos on taping drywall.

Otis Zvonecek: All right.

Christopher Herrmann: We got to get back to fixing up the

                                         Bombadier, all right. We’re behind

                                         schedule.

Gabby Dawson: Oh, stop calling it the Bombadier. That name has

                            poisoned the well with the locals. We gotta…

                            re-christen it something else.

Otis Zvonecek: May I propose… Moustache Pete’s?

Gabby Dawson: No, you may not. We need something simple. 

                            A single,  evocative word like, uh, Solstice or

                            Perception or uh…

Otis Zvonecek: Pretentious? Or we could call it something fun like

                           Moustache Pete’s.

Christopher Herrmann: You can name it ‘out of business’ if we

                                         don’t get back on schedule.

Otis Zvonecek: Okay, okay, here we go. How to tape drywall, part 1

                           of… 15.

                           Gee, you know who I bet’s really good at drywall?

                           Casey. Too bad somebody got on his bad side by

                           fraternising with one Detective Voight.

Leslie Shay: Hey, uh, listen, I need…

Kelly Severide: Hey, have I thanked you lately for opening your trap

                           about Renee? Because she’s currently in a psych

                           ward.

Leslie Shay: Kelly, she needs help. How fun do you think this is for

                      her?

Kelly Severide: Yeah. What did you want to talk about?

                                 [station alert buzzes & blares]

(Over PA): Ambulance 61…

Leslie Shay: Tell you later.

(Over PA): Person down, Michigan and Upper Wacker.

Kelly Severide: [sighs]

                                                   cutscene

Matt Casey: Hey, Christie.

                                               [door closes]

Matt Casey: I have a new proposal regarding mom. Give me a call

                     when you can. Bye.

                     Hey, Mouch. You okay?

Mouch: I came to you a while back, about Cruz… how there’s

              something off about him, and you told me to shut up.

Matt Casey: In so many words, I guess.

Mouch: So are you still in charge of our truck, or do I have to go

              around you and talk to Boden?

                                                cutscene

                                       [ambo door closes]

Gabby Dawson: Watching you and Kelly move back in and out of

                            that place is like watching a ping-pong match.

Leslie Shay: [chuckles] I know, I get it. I just hope he understands.

Lady 3 (Good Samaritan): I tried to get him to come inside a store,

                                            but he won’t move.

Gabby Dawson: Hey, it’s too cold for you to be out here, hun.

                            What’s your name?

Man 1: Mick.

Gabby Dawson: Mick, can you stand up?

                            You think you can walk over to that ambulance?

Leslie Shay: Come on, Mick.

Gabby Dawson: Oh, yeah. We got you.

                            Whoa, 70 over 50. What are you on?

Man 1 (Mick): [grunts]

Gabby Dawson: [chuckles] Okay, fine. It looks like you might be

                            suffering from exposure, so we’re going to get

                            you to the hospital, all right?

Man 1 (Mick): No.

Gabby Dawson: Yeah.

Leslie Shay: It’s nice and warm at the hospital, Mick. You’ll like it.

                      Lots of pretty nurses.

Man 1 (Mick): Prettier than you two?

Leslie Shay: Come on, be realistic.

Gabby Dawson: Hey. Don’t worry about Severide. He’ll totally

                            understand why you need to move out.

Leslie Shay: I know, it’s just… after all the drama, it just sucks

                      having a lawyer make decisions about your living

                      situation.

                      Okay, Mick, just a little pinch.

Man 1 (Mick): [grunts]

Leslie Shay: Ahh! [pants]

                                          [curtains drawing]

ER Doctor: We’ll keep trying to convince him to consent to a blood

                    draw, but we can’t force him to. And unless he does,

                    we can only guess at what transmittable diseases he’s

                    carrying.

Gabby Dawson: And judging from this cocktail of antivirals, you

                            must think this guy’s a walking petri dish.

ER Doctor: Hep-B’s always a big risk. Also Hep-C. The interferon

                    therapy should protect you against those, but given the

                    tracks on his arms and symptoms, I think we need to 

                    treat you as though you’ve been exposed to HIV.

Leslie Shay: How soon can we test for HIV?

ER Doctor: Not for three months after exposure.

                    Here’s the first one.

Leslie Shay: [exhales]

Gabby Dawson: Hey, you’re going to be fine. The statistics are way

                            in your favour.

Leslie Shay: I mean, it’s like Russian roulette. Large bore needle

                     filled with this guy’s blood. If he has the hiccups, I’m

                     going to catch ‘em.

                                                  cutscene

                                           [tv in background]

Peter Mills: Hey, uh, Lieutenant, I was hoping to ask you a question.

                    Um, I was looking at the list of up and coming classes

                    at the academy, and I’m… I’m trying to figure out which

                    ones to take to, if possible, make a move to Squad?

Kelly Severide: Let me eat my cornflakes first.

Peter Mills: Yeah. Yeah, sure.

Chief Boden: We can finish the exposure paperwork later.

                        Don’t worry, Shay, you’re getting the best care

                        available.

Leslie Shay: Thanks, Chief.

Kelly Severide: What’s wrong with her?

Gabby Dawson: Needle stick.

Mouch: Ugh. Was he sick?

Gabby Dawson: Yellow, track marks, and he didn’t agree to a blood

                            panel.

Peter Mills: You okay?

Gabby Dawson: I just want this shift to end. Casey hates me, now

                            my partner gets stuck.

Peter Mills: Casey?

Gabby Dawson: Yeah, forget it. It’s fine.

Peter Mills: Screw him. He doesn’t understand you, it’s his problem.

Gabby Dawson: Yeah. Yeah, thanks, Mills.

                                           cutscene

Leslie Shay: Even if it’s just Hep-C, it’s, you know, 80% of infections

                      are chronic, and um, I’d be on disability for months,

                      and if Daniel’s lawyer finds out… [lightly sobs]

Kelly Severide: You’re getting ahead of yourself.

Leslie Shay: [sighs]

Kelly Severide: Wait for the test to come back.

Leslie Shay: Yeah.

                      [sighs] Um… the lawyer said that living with you isn’t

                      normal  enough [voice breaking] So I have to move

                      out. I’m sorry.

Kelly Severide: You do whatever it takes to keep you, Clarice and

                           that baby together.

Leslie Shay: Yeah. Thanks.

                                              cutscene

                                      [tv in background]

Joe Cruz: Hey, Mouch.

Mouch: How’s the arm?

Joe Cruz: Burned but fine.

                 Hey, man, I wanted to thank you again.

Mouch: It’s in the job description, right?

Joe Cruz: Yeah.

                  Hey, also, I think I owe you an apology.

                  [sighs]

                                             cutscene

                                       [knocks on door]

                                           [door shuts]

Gabby Dawson: [sighs] I realise you may not understand why I went

                            to Voight. 

                            I didn’t have another choice, and it made all the

                            difference in Antonio’s case.

Matt Casey: He threatened me and my fiancé.

Gabby Dawson: He saved my brother, Casey.

                                           [knock on door]

Mouch: Cruz is back, in case you’re interested.

                                              [door closes]

Joe Cruz: I screwed up, Lieutenant. It won’t happen again, believe

                 me.

Matt Casey: I tried that once already. When you told me you could

                      live with your sins, that turned out to be a lie.

Joe Cruz: Lieutenant, you got to believe…

Matt Casey: This is not a conversation! If you’ve come to hate

                      yourself, if you’ve decided that you don’t deserve to

                      live, well, that’s your problem. Do you wanna stand

                      at the ceremony where we pin Mouch’s badge next

                      to Darden’s because he burned to death trying to

                      save someone who’s already dead inside? If your

                      badge isn’t on Boden’s desk by next shift, I’ll go to

                      the police about Flaco. It’ll mean the end of my

                      career too. But hey, I’ll pound nails for a living.

                      What I can’t do is stand by and watch you

                      endanger one more of my men.

                                               [somber music]

                                                   cutscene

Lady 4 (Real Estate Agent): The kitchen’s just being redone. New

                                               cabinets, new appliances, laundry 

                                               hook-ups are right over there.

Leslie Shay: Okay.

                      Um… school wise, uh, I know Wesley’s young, but…

Lady 4 (Real Estate Agent): Oh, it’s never too early to think about

                                               that. We’re in the very desirable Bell

                                                elementary school district. But I

                                                have to be honest with you. I’ve

                                                got a lot of people interested in

                                                this unit.

Leslie Shay: Okay, can you just give us, like, a second?

Lady 4 (Real Estate Agent): Sure.

Leslie Shay: Thank you.

Clarice: Uh, okay. Thank you.

              So the uh, the lawyer says that Daniel’s attorneys could find

              out about the needle stick during discovery.

Leslie Shay: Look, Daniel’s lawyer can say whatever he wants.

                      What that judge is going to see is a family ready to

                      provide Wesley with a warm and loving home… in

                      a very desirable school district.

Clarice: You’re right [chuckles lightly]

               I’m sorry.

               We’ll take it.

                                             cutscene

                                             [buzzer]

Kelly Severide: [sniffs]

Renee Whaley: [clears throat]

                          [scoffs]

                                         [door closes]

Renee Whaley: What, you expected a straitjacket?

                          Why are you here exactly?

Kelly Severide: Because your brother asked me to come.

Renee Whaley: Poor Eric. He thinks he’s finally cracked the puzzle 

                           that is Renee.

                           All this nonsense about me sleeping with Dean.

Kelly Severide: I’m not here to argue about that.

Renee Whaley: Oh, right, because as my life turned to ashes, you

                          just coasted on and forgot all about me.

Kelly Severide: You don’t know anything about my life.

Renee Whaley: [scoffs] I know that Kelly Severide is doing just fine.

                          We’re done. Take me back.

                          Open the door.

Kelly Severide: Renee.

                                         [keypad beeping]

                                               [buzzer]

                                            [door closes]

                                               cutscene

Otis Zvonecek: Dawson, you have absolutely no idea what you’re

                           doing, huh?

Gabby Dawson: What are you talking about?

Otis Zvonecek: Call Casey.

                           [sighs]

                                         [metal clanging]

                                    [wall plaster dropping]

Christopher Herrmann: What the hell?

                       [metal clangs & wall plaster dropping]

Otis Zvonecek: Whoa.

Christopher Herrmann: Stephanidies didn’t say anything about a

                                         safe.

Gabby Dawson: What do you think’s inside?

Christopher Herrmann: Nothing good. My luck don’t run that way.

                                              [metal clangs]

Otis Zvonecek: Well, let’s open it and find out. Worst-case scenario,

                           it’s empty.

Christopher Herrmann: What if it contains a decomposed head of

                                         some gangster that went missing in the

                                         ‘20s? Next thing you know, this bar gets

                                         wrapped in crime scene tape, and we

                                         can’t get back in here.

Otis Zvonecek: If there’s a mobster’s head in there, Moustache

                           Pete’s gonna be famous.

Gabby Dawson: We’re not calling it Moustache Pete’s.

Otis Zvonecek: Yes we are.

Christopher Herrmann: Forget it. That safe is bad news.

                                         Look out.

Gabby Dawson: Hey Herrmann!

                                                   cutscene

Matt Casey: Each week my shift moves up a day. Tuesday and

                      Friday this week, Monday and Thursday next

                      week. I’ve drawn up a list of house rules that

                      mom would have to agree to. Uh, curfews, when

                      she can have visitors. You can add whatever you

                      want to the list.

Christie: Matt, no.

Matt Casey: Christie, I need you. Please, at least on the days I’m on

                      shift.

Christie: Will I have to learn how to lie to her parole officer too?

                                         [chair slides back]

Christie: Mom.

Nancy Casey: Christie.

                        You look wonderful.

                        Wow, you realise this is the first time we’ve all been

                        together as a family in, like, 15 years?

Matt Casey: Yeah.

Nancy Casey: I guess the real purpose of this meeting is to [sniffs]

                        discuss the mom problem.

Christie: Okay, fine. I’ll talk to Jim.

Matt Casey: Okay. Now let’s eat.

                      The chicken sandwich is great, by the way.

Christie: I’m a vegan [clears throat]

Matt Casey: Since when?

Christie: [scoffs] Going on ten years, Matt.

Matt Casey: I did not know that. I… wow.

                     Is that like a vegetarian, or is it the eggs thing? You

                     can’t eat anything?

Christie: Oh my gosh.

Matt Casey: What?

Christie: Do I seriously have to explain this to you?

Matt Casey: What? No, that’s fine.

                                          cutscene

                                     [knock on door]

Kelly Severide: Hey, did you get my message?

Eric Whaley: Yeah. What did she say?

Kelly Severide: Nothing that matters. She’s angry.

Eric Whaley: At me?

Kelly Severide: At me. At… at… at everything.

                          Look, I-I’m sorry, but all this was against my better

                          judgement, and now she’s spinning out, so…

Eric Whaley: No, I get it. I get it. Thanks, Kelly.

                      This is, uh, it’s my last shift at 51. I’m glad we got the

                       chance to work together.

                                          [door shuts]

                                            cutscene

Mouch: Is Cruz gonna grace us with his presence today?

Matt Casey: I don’t know.

Mouch: You talk to him?

Matt Casey: I did.

Mouch: How’d that talk go?

Matt Casey: Don’t worry about it, Mouch. I talked to him. That’s all

                      you need to know.

                                      [locker door shuts]

                                              cutscene

Priest: “You brood of vipers, who warned you to flee from the

              coming wrath? Produce good fruit as evidence of your

              repentance. Even now, the axe lies at the root of the

              trees. Therefore, every tree, which does not bear good

              fruit will be cut down and thrown into the fire. I am

              baptising you with water for repentance, but the one

              who is coming after me is mightier than I. I am not

              worthy to carry his sandals. He will baptise you with

              the Holy Spirit and fire. And do not presume to say

              to yourselves, ‘we have Abraham as our father.’”

Child 1: Look, mom, a fireman.

Priest: “And raise up children to Abraham with these stones. Then

             Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan to be

             baptised by him. John tried to prevent him, saying, ‘I need

             to be baptised by you, and yet you come to me?’ Jesus

             said to him… [continues speaking in background]

                                            cutscene

Otis Zvonecek: I read the whole thing, front to back. There’s no

                           codicil in this deed about any safe.

Gabby Dawson: We bought the bar, lockstock, and barrel. That

                            means the safe rightly belongs to you, me and

                            Otis.

Otis Zvonecek: Along with whatever’s inside. Whether it’s an old

                          stamp  collection or bearer bonds or, gold

                          doubloons.

Gabby Dawson: You’re outvoted Herrmann, two to one.

Christopher Herrmann: We didn’t buy that bar hoping to find

                                        buried treasure. We bought it as an

                                        honest investment. And for the first

                                        time in my life, I feel like I’m onto

                                        something good and real. Now

                                        whatever is in that safe, somebody

                                        put it in there and locked it away for

                                        a reason. Why don’t we leave it alone

                                        and get on with our plan?

Gabby Dawson: Yeah, we’re gonna open the safe.

Otis Zvonecek: Seconded.

                                   [station alert buzzes & blares]

(Over PA): Truck 81, Ambulance 61, Battalion 25. Bomb squad

                  assist, Wrightwood and Jesse.

Dispatcher: (over radio) CPD be advised, divert all traffic. Bomb

                     disposal unit on site in Lincoln Square.

Peter Mills: So what exactly is our role in a bomb squad assist?

Christopher Herrmann: Nothing. Not unless the bomb tech snips

                                         the wrong wire.

Matt Casey: What’s the story, Chief?

Chief Boden: A tenant committed suicide in his car around back,

                       shot himself in the head. But the police are suspect

                       because the deceased was turned down four times

                       by the CPD, and there is a gasoline smell coming

                       from the inside.

Man 2 (Bomb Tech Squad Lt): Zoom in.

                                                   Our mast camera confirmed the

                                                   place is wired.

Man 3 (Bomb Tech): We should cut our way in.

Kelly Severide: We have access to the apartment above?

                                         [whirring]

Man 3 (Bomb Tech): That’ll do it.

Kelly Severide: Great, we’ll get out of your way.

                             [indistinct radio chatter]

Man 3 (Bomb Tech): Whoa. There’s a woman down there.

                                [suspenseful music]

Leslie Shay: The neighbour say it’s his ex-wife.

Man 2 (Bomb Tech Squad Lt): My guy will go in and see if it’s

                                                   secure and your guys can bring

                                                   her out.

Chief Boden: (into radio) Severide, you sure you want (over radio) to

                        do this?

Kelly Severide: (into radio) We’re here, right? (over radio) Gonna

                           need a jump bag, though.

Chief Boden: (into radio) Copy that.

Kelly Severide: All right. Okay.

Man 3 (Bomb Tech): Carpet’s wet. Gasoline.

                                   She’s been stabbed. Come on down.

Kelly Severide: (into radio) Dawson, Shay, she’s got a steak knife

                          stuck in her abdomen.

Gabby Dawson: (into radio) Pulse?

Kelly Severide: (over radio) Weak.

                          Hey, can you get us out that door?

Man 3 (Bomb Tech): There’s quick, and there’s safe. Which do you

                                   want?

Kelly Severide: I wanna save this woman’s life.

Man 3 (Bomb Tech): Huh.

Kelly Severide: Huh?”W-What huh?

Man 3 (Bomb Tech): A small incendiary device set to spark the

                                   gasoline. This’ll take a few minutes to

                                   disarm.

Kelly Severide: She doesn’t have a few minutes.

Man 3 (Bomb Tech): I got two more wires splitting here. It’s wired

                                   here too. Headed… Here we go.

                                   I got at least 5 pounds of mixed ammonium

                                   nitrate. Well that plus the gasoline is a

                                   fertiliser bomb.

Kelly Severide: (into radio) Hey, Chief, (over radio) is everyone

                           back?

Chief Boden: (into radio) You just get yourself down here, Kelly.

Gabby Dawson: (into radio) How’s she doing, Severide?

Kelly Severide: (into radio) Weaker.

Gabby Dawson: (over radio) How much blood’s on the floor?

Kelly Severide: (into radio) Uh, it’s not that much.

Gabby Dawson: (into radio) Then she’s bleeding internally. You

                            gotta move.

                            (over radio) Pack that knife, so it doesn’t shift when

                            you move her.

Kelly Severide: (over radio) Where the hell’s that jump bag?

                           (into radio) Whaley’s here.

Gabby Dawson: (over radio) Use all the gauze and tape he’s got to 

                            keep it secure.

Eric Whaley: Someone’s always got it worse.

Kelly Severide: Ain’t that right.

                          (over radio) Packing around the knife. Hey, we need

                          that door open now.

Man 3 (Bomb Tech): (over radio) Attempting to disarm the door.

Chief Boden: (into radio) Kelly. Kelly.

Man 3 (Bomb Tech): (over radio) We’re good. Door’s open.

Kelly Severide: (over radio) Woman’s coming out.

Eric Whaley: Who says engine only knows how to put out a fire?

                                                 cutscene

Matt Casey: Okay. I’ll talk to Boden.

                                                [door shuts]

Mouch: [sighs] What happened, Joe?

                                             [knocks on door]

Joe Cruz: I kicked in that door, convinced Leon was in there.

                 I even knew I was too late.

                 But it wasn’t Leon, it was Flaco.

Mouch: Dead. It was Flaco, and you were too late.

Joe Cruz: All I could think was, if I pulled him out of those flames, I

                  might as well throw Leon back in.

Mouch: Ah, you don’t know that.

Joe Cruz: I thought that God was just handing me the answer to my

                 problems.

                 But now I know it was the devil. I thought I could run from

                 him, non-stop. First one in, last one out [shaky breath]

                 And then I almost killed you. I could have killed Otis or

                 Herrmann or Casey, all because I’m weak [sobs]

                 But now I know… I’m the one that has to suffer, not you.

Mouch: Joe, I forgive you.

Joe Cruz: [sobbing] It’s not right for me to bring my sins into this

                 house and have my brothers sacrifice for what I did.

Mouch: Joe, listen to me. I forgive you.

Joe Cruz: [sobs]

                                      cutscene

Chief Boden: What can I do for you, Casey?

Mouch: Lieutenant! Can I have a minute?

Matt Casey: Now’s not a good time, Mouch.

Mouch: Yes, it is.

                                   [door closes]

Mouch: You don’t have to do this to him.

Matt Casey: There’s more to it that you know, Mouch.

Mouch: He told me everything. Now I don’t know if he was waiting

              for God or Flaco’s ghost or just somebody to say it, but

              he needed to know what he did was okay. He screwed

              up. He knows it. But he was taking care of his family.

              How far would you go for the ones you love? How far

              have you gone?

                                          [door closes]

                                             cutscene

Peter Mills: [chuckles]

                                         [phone rings]

Leslie Shay: Hello?

                      Yes, this is Leslie Shay.

                       He consented to a blood draw.

Gabby Dawson: That’s good isn’t it?

Leslie Shay: Mmhmm, mmhmm.

                      Okay, thank you.

                      He’s clean, he tested negative for everything [sigh of

                      relief]

                      Oh…

                                          [giggling]

                                          cutscene

                                           [buzzer]

                                        [door shuts]

Man 4 (Orderly): Good luck, Renee.

Renee Whaley: Yeah, thanks.

                           For real?

Kelly Severide: Come get in the car. There’s something we need to

                           see.

Renee Whaley: Go to hell.

Kelly Severide: You’ll full of it, you know that?

Renee Whaley: Oh I am, huh? Is that gonna get me into your car?

Kelly Severide: Ignore everything that’s real, go ahead.

Renee Whaley: Whatever.

Kelly Severide: Your brother was a hero today.

Renee Whaley: That is so low.

Kelly Severide: You stopped, didn’t you?

                           30 minutes. Then I take you anywhere you want to

                           go.

                                               cutscene

                                          [saw whirring]

                                        [metal clanging]

Gabby Dawson: [sighs] It’s just a box.

                            We never should have opened this.

                                        cutscene

                                   [car door shuts]

Matt Casey: Mom’s just getting her things.

Christie: Okay.

Matt Casey: Thanks for agreeing to this, Christie. I really think it’ll

                      work.

Christie: Yeah, well, tomorrow morning at 8:01, she’s all yours

                again.

Matt Casey: Understood.

Christie: Friend of yours?

Matt Casey: Nope

Nancy Casey: That’s Cheyenne.

Matt Casey: Your old cellmate?

Nancy Casey: Yeah.

                         You two gave me back my freedom, but I don’t want

                          to be your problem anymore. So I’m gonna go stay

                          with Cheyenne until I figure out what’s next.

Matt Casey: Mom, I don’t think your PO is going…

Nancy Casey: Aww, don’t worry I’ll sort things out with Kendrick.

                        But I’m not gonna be the wedge that drives you two

                        apart anymore.

                        Oh, be a brother and sister again, okay? You know,

                        be there for each other.

                        Hey, how’s it going?

Lady 5 (Cheyenne): Hi.

                                        [car door shuts]

                                            cutscene

Lady 4 (Real Estate Agent): Are we gonna sign the lease or not?

Leslie Shay: Yes, we are. We definitely are, I’m sorry. I can’t get a

                       hold of her. Um…

                       Oh, hey.

Clarice: Hey.

Leslie Shay: Did you get my message?

Clarice: Yeah, that’s, uh… great news.

Leslie Shay: We should sign the lease.

Clarice: Uh, actually, would you mind giving us a second?

              So, um… Daniel offered to settle. You know, split custody, I

              mean, if I move to New York with the baby.

Leslie Shay: Good, that’s great. He blinked.

Clarice: I took the deal

Leslie Shay: What?

Clarice: I just, I can’t keep fighting him anymore, Les. So I’m gonna

              go to, uh, I’m gonna go to New York.

Leslie Shay: No, Clarice. Just stand up to him. We can win this.

Clarice: I’m leaving tonight.

              Shay…

                                           cutscene

                                    [engine rumbling]

Renee Whaley: Okay, I get it.

Kelly Severide: Come on.

                                  [car door shuts]

Renee Whaley: [scoffs]

                          [huffs]

Kelly Severide: It’s quieter than I remember.

Renee Whaley: Please don’t.

Kelly Severide: You’re the one who said life never looked simpler

                           than it did from right here.

Renee Whaley: Well, that was crap. Sometimes a view is just a

                           view. [exhales]

Kelly Severide: You know, I never had anything close to a real

                           relationship since you.

Renee Whaley: Really?

Kelly Severide: One girl I liked… really liked… but she left. Or I let

                          her leave. I should have made it work, but

                          sometimes, it’s easier just to let things fall apart.

Renee Whaley: I slept with Dean.

                          And now I see you, and I see my family. And all I can

                          see is what I lost.

Kelly Severide: Sometimes a view is just a view.

Renee Whaley: [chuckles]

                          [sniffles]

Kelly Severide: I’ve missed you.

Renee Whaley: I figured you hated me.

Kelly Severide: Oh I did.

                          But not anymore.

                                        [engine revving]

                                          [door closes]

                                        [car door closes]

                                          [engine starts]

                                                - end -

Definitions:

Skirt-chasing = A man with amorous intentions who habitually seeks our female companionship

Lightweight truss construction = Consists of top and bottom members that run parallel. These are referred to as chords and are made of wood. These chords are cross – connected for support by wood that forms a web like pattern. The wood members are connected together with a fastener made of stamped sheet metal containing spikes

Hep-B = Hepatitis B is an infection of the liver caused by a virus that’s spread through blood and body fluids. It often does not cause any obvious symptoms in adults, and typically passes in a few months without treatment. But in children, it often persists for years and may eventually cause serious liver damage

Hep-C = Hepatitis C is an infectious disease caused by the hepatitis C virus (HCV) that primarily affects the liver; it is a type of viral hepatitis. During the initial infection, people often have mild or no symptoms. Occasionally, a fever, dark urine, abdominal pain and yellow tinged skin occurs. Hepatitis C can usually be treated with antiviral medicines. These need to be taken for several weeks. You can catch Hepatitis C from contact with blood of an infected person, such as sharing needles. It’s very rare to catch it from having sex.

Interferon therapy = It is a possible treatment for a number of different types of cancer. It is also used to treat conditions other than cancer including Hepatitis B and Hepatitis C

HIV = Human Immunodeficiency Virus (HIV) is a virus that damages the cells in your immune system and weakens your ability to fight everyday infections and disease. HIV can be transmitted from 1 person to another. There’s currently no cure for HIV, but there are very effective drug treatments that enable most people with the virus to live a long and healthy life.

Codicil = An addition or supplement that explains, modifies, or revokes a will or part of one.

Ammonium nitrate = Is a chemical compound with the chemical formula NH4NO3. It is a white crystalline solid consisting of ammonium and nitrate. It is highly soluble in water and hygroscopic as a solid, although it does not form hydrates. It is predominantly used in agriculture as a high-nitrogen fertiliser. Ammonium nitrate, which is used in fertilisers and bomb making, is a salt made from ammonium and nitric acid, and is highly explosive. The more ammonium nitrate, the bigger its explosive capacity. Once a reaction is sparked, ammonium nitrate explodes violently.

PO = Probation officer

[letsbenditlikebennett]

Friendship Never Ends || Ariana & Orion

TIMING: Yesterday evening PARTIES: @3starsquinn & @letsbenditlikebennett SUMMARY: Ariana finds out Rio was in a fire when she messages him to talk things over. She brings dinner to the hospital and they have a heart to heart. 

Ariana reread the message several times and her heart sank further with each one. She felt dissociated from her own body as she threw on a coat and hopped in her truck so she could rush to the hospital. She was worried for both Rio and Blanche, but the guilt she felt over staying with Rio for so long formed a lump in her throat that she couldn’t quite shove down. How could she have been so selfish? Didn’t Rio deserve the understanding he always seemed so willing to give other people? She pushed back the tears as she talked to the secretary and made her way to his room as quickly as she possibly could. As she walked in the room, she felt sick. The burns on his neck made her breath catch and she forgot for a moment to let it go. “Rio,” she croaked out as she hurried to take a seat by his bedside. “I’m so sorry. I should have-- I’m just glad you’re going to be okay. Oh god, you are going to be okay, right?” 

The only thing that Orion had worried about since getting here was how he was going to leave. He couldn’t stay here for too long. The hospital was not a safe place for him. His wounds would heal too quickly, the rest of his scars would be too visible, and worst of all his dad was roaming the halls somewhere. It was only a matter of time before the news got around that his son was here. At least the nurses had mostly believed that the various wounds along his arms were caused from the fire. Now, he had them hidden under the blankets, unable to hide behind his hoodie with the needles and tubes protruding from his arms. Ariana was the first to show up. She must have seen the text message as soon as Rio had sent it, and left immediately after. “Hey!” He tried to sound as excited as he could manage, but his voice was still dry and hoarse from the smoke. “Why would you be sorry?” His expression turned from excitement into confusion. This fire hadn’t had anything to do with her. Rio honestly didn’t know anything about the fire. “Yeah. I’ll be fine. Uh-” Considering the animosity between the two, now might not have been the best time to bring it up, but Rio tried for a smile and shrugged, “Perks of hunter healing I guess. But- Not everyone was that lucky.” Rio couldn’t stop thinking about the officer, he had heard the name Roland multiple times. He had saved their lives, and lost his in the process. Rio couldn’t get the image out of his head. “Blanche and my boss, Erin, are going to have it worse than me. It’s not fair.”

Hiding her emotions had never been her strong suit, but for Rio’s sake, Ariana did her best to refrain from frowning when she heard just how battered his voice sounded. As she looked him over, it became so apparent how close she could have been to losing him. That he could have been gone forever before they had ever gotten the chance to talk things over and make up. She’d been so harsh with him and that very well could have been their last conversation. The realization sat heavy in her chest as she nodded slowly. He didn’t seem to understand why she was sorry, and she tried to explain, “Rio, you could have-- Without us ever.” She looked down at her hands that were now clasped firmly in her lap. The tension in her shoulders was able to relax a little when he assured he’d be okay. She still worried for Blanche though the fact Erin was involved in this left her feeling suspicious. That wasn’t what was important right now. She looked over to Rio earnestly and softly answered, “I could have lost you without ever getting to make up. I could have lost you while you still thought I was upset with you. I just-- I’m really glad you’re going to be okay. You’re my friend and I care about you, even when I was mad and I promise I’ll try to be a little more patient going forward, okay?” Hunter healing was a bonus in this case and if anyone deserved to have that ability, it was Rio. She wished he could have met Celeste, but shook the thought away quickly. “Blanche is going to be okay, too, though, right?” She couldn’t feign concern for Erin, especially not when she had the hunch her shady business had something to do with this. 

Even in pain, Orion was just incredibly happy that Ariana wanted to talk. Rio could never blame Ariana’s anger. It had felt like a double edged sword, most of the time. With his friends, he either withheld the truth knowing that he was lying to them about who he was or he told the truth and risked them hating him. It didn’t feel like a battle he could win. How could he even blame them? He didn’t like or trust hunters when he was one himself, so how could he ever expect a werewolf or selkie or any other supernatural creature to? So he kept the truth to himself. Rio sat up in the bed, careful to try to keep the blanket covering his body. It shouldn’t be too hard to pass some of the injuries off on the fire, but he didn’t want to cause Ariana anymore worry. She hadn’t had an easy few months, and this was just one more layer of stress. “Hey I don’t-” Rio paused. Who knew all it took was almost dying for things to start to get better? But that’s not what Rio wanted this to be. He needed Ariana to be as angry as she needed to be. “You had every right to be mad. And I don’t want you to have to forgive me just because of… this. I’m going to be okay.” They still had plenty of time to make up. As much as Rio wanted to be friends again, he didn’t want to rush her into anything. “I care about you too. A lot. But you don’t have to promise anything. You never did anything wrong.” Thinking about Blanche made Rio’s heart hurt. In that funeral home, when the two were so sure that they were about to die, Blanhe’s words had really gotten to him. It was what got him back on his feet again. She had to be okay. “I think so. She had it the worst of us three I think, but I’m getting updates. She seems stable.”

Even if she had still been truly mad about everything, how kind he was being would make it hard to stay that way. Ariana shook her head and assured, “No, this isn’t because of that-- I wanted to see you before anyway, remember? This just-- It kind of puts things in perspective you know.” Any day, especially in White Crest, something bad could happen. The reminder just made her want to keep those she loved as close to her as possible. “I’d already forgiven you and moved on, it’s just-- You and Blanche, you both could have died in there and I’d feel terrible if we never got to talk first.” At the confirmation that Blanche was going to be alright she relaxed a little bit. She let out a breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding and leaned back in the cold hospital chair. “I’m really glad both of you are going to be okay.” There was relief, but she knew she needed to get this off her chest. She let out a sigh and looked at Rio, “I know you didn’t not tell me with the intention of hurting my feelings. Knowing you-- I get why you wouldn’t want to tell people. Finding out from Athena just really sucked. But I do want you to know you can tell me these things. I’m never going to think less of you or anything like that. I know you’re a good person and if I’m being honest, I’ve really missed you.” 

“Right. We already had plans, of course.” Orion had to remind himself that people truly thought that he was worth friendship. As much as he tried to think about that, he always had that voice in the back of his head reminding him that he wasn’t. Or pointing out that people only hung out with him because of pity. The voice sucked, but had been such a loud, consistent noise ringing in his head that it was hard to ignore. Even when logically, Rio knew it wasn’t true. “Me too. I’m so glad that she’s okay.” And Rio was glad that he was alive too. He didn’t want to die. Not anymore. “I know, and I really am sorry. With everyone else knowing it’s-“ Rio sighed, “I should have told you.” That was the truth. Even if everyone else had mostly found out by accident or by necessity, the fact was that everyone else in their friend group knew the truth. It was like a secret that everyone but Ariana was in on. It hadn’t been intentional, but Rio understood why it still hurt. “I just want you to know that it was never you. I never worried you’d tell people or that I couldn’t trust you with it. I trust you with my life, the same way I trust Winston and Blanche and Layla and our other friends.” Diving deep into the truth was hard, and Rio wasn’t sure he quite knew all the reasons behind his various problems. But a little honesty and exposure couldn’t hurt. “It’s that I’m ashamed of it. I’ve always hated myself for being linked to them. I’m stuck with these abilities that are objectively amazing. It makes it hard to complain about and yet I’d do anything to get rid of them. To stop feeling like I’m some sort of monster. So I never liked telling people because I didn’t want them to think the same things I thought about myself.” Rio sighed, a sense of relief washing over after he was done. Speaking it out loud felt good, but he didn’t want the message to get washed away by pity or Ariana feeling like Rio was trying to beg her for sympathy. “But I’m not telling you that begging for sympathy or asking you to forgive and forget the pain. I just want to be honest with you now. It’s the least I can do after keeping you in the dark. Because I miss you too.”

“Yeah,” Ariana whispered softly and took a few moments to just listen to Rio. To try and understand why he had kept what he was from her though the more he spoke, the more she frowned. There was a distinct difference in how they viewed what they were. Ariana was proud of being a wolf. She didn’t view it as something that made her bad even though it made her more of a threat to those who would dare to hurt her or those she cared about. The way he saw himself was entirely different and broke Ariana’s heart. She couldn’t help the tears that welled up in her eyes as he explained how he hated himself. How ashamed he was with the abilities he was born with. Part of her wanted to reach out and hug him, but she wasn’t sure if it’d make him feel better or worse. She looked at him with misty eyes and softly responded, “Rio, you aren’t-- You’re so good. You don’t have a bad bone in your body. It’s not about what you’re born, it’s about what you do with it and you’ve got the biggest heart of anyone I know.” She leaned forward in her seat a bit and added, “You were born with hunter abilities, but you don’t use them to hunt others. You’re like Celeste in that way and she’s literally the greatest person I’ve ever known.” She wished they could have met. Maybe Celeste would have been able to help him come to terms with everything. “I know changing the way you see yourself can’t be easy, but I’m here to help however I can and remind you that you’re one of the best people I know… and you know, I know some pretty amazing people,” she added the last part with a light laugh at the end. “I appreciate you being honest with me. Understanding, well, it kind of makes it easier to know that it wasn’t me.” 

“Oh no. You can’t cry!” Orion wanted to laugh, because Ariana was one of the funniest, happiest people he knew and he missed being able to laugh with her. When he did try to laugh, it came out raspy and strained. “If you cry I’m going to cry too.” Rio wanted to keep things lighthearted. There was enough to be freaked out about right now. The least he could do was try to make things a little less stressful on Ariana. But even though he said it, Rio’s eyes were already swelling up. “I wish I could have met her. She was taken from you too soon.” Rio was so lucky to have friends like Ariana and the others that knew about Rio’s self doubts and tried to help him. They had no way of truly knowing how much it had changed his life. “Thank you. For everything, seriously. For everything you’ve done since we’ve been friends. And for visiting me. And mostly for bringing me food.” Because Rio had been starving since he got here. It seemed stupid now, but he just remembered that he had never been able to finish his wrap. “I’m just really glad we get to hang out again.”

“It’s not my birthday, but I’ll still cry if I want to,” Ariana joked with a misty-eyed laugh in hopes it would lift both of their spirits a bit. Rio had always been spazzy and a little insecure, but she hated to think he couldn’t see what she saw. Whenever she looked to Rio, she saw kindness and warmth. She saw someone who was way smarter than her, but would never dream of making her feel like she was anything but capable. She saw a person, who like Celeste, was able to look past what their parents tried to teach them and decided what was right for themselves. It took an incredible amount of strength and courage. Yet he still hated himself for something that was out of his control. They were both crying a bit now, but she felt inclined to add, “Just do me a favor, try and remember that things that are out of our control aren’t who we are. It’s what we choose to do with those things. You choose to be kind and open minded and I think that makes you one of the best people I know.” She nodded and simply agreed about Celeste, “She was.” At the mention of food, she opened her backpack and pulled out a big thermos full of chili. She’d have to drop these clothes by Blanche’s room soon, too. She grabbed the tray by his bed and poured some in the bowl part of the lid. She pulled a sleeve of crackers out to go with it. “I conveniently had some chilli going in the slow cooker today. I’ve always thought it’s a good comfort food. I know it’s for sure better than anything here, but I did also bring Oreos.” She smiled at him and felt relieved to finally understand why he hadn’t felt comfortable telling her. “Me too, Rio, me too.”

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ @sasuhinabigflash2020​​ || Day Twenty-Three: They’re Better Than That ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata, Uzumaki Naruto ] [ SasuHina, vulgarity ] [ Verse: Of Monsters and Men ] [ AO3 Link ]

[ Previous ] [ Next ] [ This piece is a sequel to Days Fourteen and Eighteen ]

Well...Sasuke can say this is certainly a first. And hopefully a last, as far as his career is concerned. Because as a hunter of monsters...working with one is the last thing he should be doing.

Though if he thinks about it...this isn’t the first partnership between himself and this soft-spoken harpy. When he’d targeted her as a potential trophy to prove himself as a Hunter, he’d instead ended up saving her life, teaming up with her against a far more dangerous threat: a vampire.

That, of course, wasn’t exactly planned on either of their parts. Sasuke never intended to spare a monster, and Hinata the harpy never expected to be allowed to live by a Hunter. But the most irritating thing - from Sasuke’s stance, at least - was Hinata’s insistence in her debt to him.

As it turns out...her kind take debt very, very seriously. ‘To the grave’ sort of serious. And now, she owed him her life.

Or so she claimed.

And Sasuke was not happy about that. It was bad enough he let her go, worse still that he lied to his family and clan of Hunters about it. He’d planned on simply avoiding her from then on, but Fate had another idea: to put her in the range of his first official case, looking into an illegal gambling ring run by a kitsune...or werefox, as they’re more technically called.

As it so happens, Hinata seems to know the man in question: one named Naruto, according to her. He’s already had a run-in with monster law, or Nightwalkers as they all call themselves. You’d think that would be enough to send him running him with his tail tucked between his legs. But just in case...Sasuke decides to pay him a visit. See if he can end this without violence.

Oh, if his father could see him now...he’s likely exile him.

But Hinata has pleaded on this Naruto’s behalf. Sure, he’s been swindling humans and risking an exposure of the worlds to one another, but apparently he’s really not a bad guy.

Sasuke will believe that when he sees it. But he promised Hinata he’d do what he could to avoid bloodshed.

Why? He’s not even sure anymore. Maybe he’s too soft to be a Hunter as his father feared. But...too late now.

“How much further?”

“His scent is getting pretty strong,” Hinata assures him softly. “Likely within a block.”

“You can really smell him?”

She glances to him curiously. “Yes…?”

“...sorry. Guess it’s just...weird to realize. I mean I know you can. Just...weird to see it in practice.”

Staring at him for a moment, Hinata dares to ask, “Because you kill us before you can do so?”

In spite of himself, he flinches with a grimace. “...yeah.”

“...I understand. I’ve never seen one of you up close before. It’s...still a little unsettling, if...if I can be honest.”

“It’s a lot less insulting than us talking about me killing you,” Sasuke rebukes, expression still torn.

She doesn’t have a reply for that, and in fact motions for him to pause as she takes a lungful of air at a crossroads of alleyways. “...I think -”

“Whoa!”

Hinata shrinks back with an eep and a flurry of feathers, Sasuke squawking gracelessly as she hides behind him.

In front of them, leaning back and looking ready to bolt, is a man fitting Sasuke’s given description of the werefox: blond, blue-eyed, tanned...this has to be their guy.

“N...Naruto-kun!” Hinata then offers, her bird-like traits vanishing as she realizes who very nearly bumped into her.

“...oh! Uh...Hinata, right? Man, you almost gave me a heart attack!”

“S-sorry! I...I didn’t realize you were that close.”

The blond blinks. “You lookin’ for me?”

“Yes! Well...sort of…?” She gives Sasuke a wary, indicative glance. “I...I have someone here who needs to - to talk to you.”

“Uh...okay. Lookin’ to make some cash there, my dude? I’ve got a couple of really good -!”

“I’m not looking to gamble, let alone illegally,” Sasuke cuts in, already a bit annoyed by the man’s ‘too-cool’ attitude and slick way of speaking. The word ‘illegal’ makes Naruto shift his gears to a defensive posture. “I’ve been sent out by a local clan of Hunters to investigate your dealings and make sure they stop. Permanently.”

Panic laces Naruto’s face as he realizes just who and what Sasuke is. “W-whoa, wait - what? You’re a -? Aw shit, I already got lectured by that old wolf the other day, I don’t need this now, too!”

“Naruto-kun,” Hinata cuts in gently. “We...that is to say, I’m just w-worried about you. If both the Enforcers and the Hunters know about what you’ve been doing...you’re putting yourself in real danger by -!”

“No one’s seen me!” Naruto then cuts in, looking jittery. Sasuke subtly adjusts his posture, ready to give chase if he bolts. “I swear! Yeah I swindled a few Daywalkers but they’re dumb as a box of rocks! No one knows what I am, guarantee it!”

“Anyone come back angry after you swindled them?” Sasuke growls.

“No! Uh, well...okay, a few. But I can talk my way outta anything! Honest! They have no idea!”

“Your luck can’t last forever,” the Uchiha counters. “One of these days, you’re going to slip up and get caught. And if a human realizes what you are and their illusion is shattered, that’s going to make a really big mess. For me, and for your Enforcer friends. Surely you don’t want to piss us both off, right?”

Unbidden as his stress rises, a pair of golden, ink-tipped ears spring out of the man’s hair, pinned in worry. “Look, I-I don’t want any trouble, ‘ttebayo! I was just tryin’ to make a living! You know how hard it is to get a job around here?”

“I have some idea.”

“I got thrown out of the last three I had. They accused me of stealing! It wasn’t stealing, I just…” He gestures vaguely. “...it’s in my nature!”

“Wily foxes. Believe me, I know,” Sasuke mutters, arms crossing. “No-good thieves, swindlers, and con artists.”

“Hey!” Stepping between the two, Hinata puffs up, and despite them not being visible, Sasuke can still picture her feathers ruffling. “Naruto-kun isn’t a bad person - he’s better than that! Stereotypes like that hurt us a l-lot more than you know.”

“Yeah. Like birds being easily spooked and flighty?” Sasuke counters, seeing her wince. “He’s literally running an illegal gambling ring and ripping people off. He’s doing exactly what I said he’d do. And if he keeps doing it, he’s gonna lose a lot more than a job.”

“Please...there has to be s-something we can do…?”

“You, uh…” Naruto takes half a step back, hands lifted. “You’re not gonna kill me, are ya?”

“That depends entirely on what you do, fox,” Sasuke rebukes. “Because right now, I have orders to do just that to ensure you don’t stir up more trouble than you can handle and cause a major incident between humans and monsters.”

The blond pales, eyes widening.

After a pause, Sasuke sighs. “...but I’d rather not kill you. And the only way I can let that happen is if you swear that your swindling days are over. That you’re not gonna keep pulling these stunts and risk you, and a lot of other people, getting hurt because of the panic at a monster being seen. Quit the game altogether, go clean...and I can let you go.” He then steps forward, grabbing the front of the blond’s jacket and ignoring his yip of surprise. “But if I hear about any more werefoxes around here getting their paws dirty...I won’t be so merciful next time. Got it?”

Blanching, Naruto just gives several rapid nods, stumbling back as Sasuke releases his hold. “You...y-you got it, man. I-I’ll go clean! Never touch any cards or dice again, I s-swear it!”

“I’ll be holding you to that. Now get out of here and find something else to do than lurking around alleyways, huh?”

Not needing to be told twice, Naruto spins on a heel and - in a blink - shifts into a huge, two-tailed fox that bolts down the road and out of sight.

Sighing, Sasuke pinches the bridge of his nose. “...I’m gonna be in so much shit if anyone finds out about this…”

“You did the right thing,” Hinata murmurs, hands folded at her front. “I think you s-scared him straight. I’ll check in on him later and...make sure.”

He gives her an unreadable glance. “...thanks.”

Considering him, Hinata then hesitantly admits, “You’re...nothing like I thought you would be.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re...not just a killer. You think, and...you reason. I’ve always heard that Hunters are ruthless...heartless.”

Thinking of his family and their records, Sasuke barely withholds a grimace. “...I might just be an exception to the rule.”

“Well...I’m glad you are. We’re really not bad people, you know. We’re just...t-trying to survive, like everyone else. Sure, some of us stir up trouble...a-and hurt people. But then again...so do Daywalkers. Humans, I mean,” she adds after a pause. “I think maybe...you see that.”

“All I see is me failing to do my job twice now,” he sighs.

“Well...that failure meant two people are still alive,” Hinata replies softly. “...doesn’t that mean something?”

Contradictions running through his mind and giving him a headache, Sasuke waves her off. “...I dunno. But you better get home, and...I better get out of here. And you,” he adds, pointing at her, “are no longer indebted to me. You repaid me with your help tonight, so let it go.”

“But you helped my friend! If anything, I -!”

“Look, I told you: being in debt to me is dangerous for you! If anyone I know were to see me talking to you and not cutting off your head, we’d both be good as dead. You need to stay the hell away from me from now on.”

Not expecting his sharp tone, she retreats a step, eyes wide and tinged with fright. “...b-but...it was you who came looking for me -?”

“This time. And the last time. I thought this would get that debt idea out of your head, but it seems I was wrong.” Stepping up, he rests his finger against her collarbone, trying to look intimidating. “...for your own sake...never see me again.”

Unreadable flickers of emotions dart across her face. “...a-as you wish.”

Hoping he’s made his point, Sasuke stares at her a moment longer before backing away and heading back toward the main road. Why he bothered trying to warn her, he doesn’t understand. She’s a monster. His mortal enemy. What should he care if her actions get herself killed? It would just be one less of them to worry about!

...and yet...it’s getting awfully hard to draw a line between himself, and any other human he knows...and her. Sure, she can burst into feathers, but...her mannerisms, her behavior, her emotions...they’re all exactly like anyone else.

...they’re human.

Buried in his thoughts as he walks, Sasuke stands beside his bike for a long moment, not wanting to drive with his head in the clouds. Everything he’s been taught about monsters - about Nightwalkers - seems to be less and less meaningful the more he interacts with them. Decades, centuries of tradition...are they...wrong…?

Scowling to himself, Sasuke forces the dilemma aside - he needs to report back. He doesn’t have Naruto’s head to present them...and admitting he let the guy go isn’t an option. He can claim the fox escaped...but that won’t stop the hunt for him. Naruto will have to lay low for a good long while for his kin to give up the chase.

But hopefully he realizes that much.

Hoping astride his bike and kicking up the stand, Sasuke veers from the curb and turns around back toward home. He’s too tired and too frustrated to be thinking about all of this. It’s far too large a topic...and he doesn’t have all the answers. Nor can he ask anyone - questioning their oath to rid the world of monsters will surely just get him in trouble. He doesn’t even dare ask Itachi.

...so for now, he’ll just...try not to think about it.

     Woo, another piece done today! No idea if there’ll be a third, but we’ll see lol      Anywho, more of the new-plot monster verse! This one is growing on me, I’ll admit it. I wasn’t sure it would since I had another multi-part story in this verse with an alternate plot - I thought it’d bore me. But I’m pleasantly surprised lol - and hopefully you guys are enjoying it!      I always feel like I can’t write Naruto well. So hopefully I did a passable job with him, eh heh~      Otherwise, I...guess there’s not much to say? I’ve gotta run and get some irl things done, but we’ll see about another part today. We’re still five days behind, but...better than nothing xD Hope y’all enjoyed and I’ll see you in the next one!

[vickielou]

Home isn’t a place, It’s a feeling (Tom Holland Fanfiction)

Chapter One 

The cameras flashed everywhere around me, I tried to pretend I wasn’t anxious at the thought of being seen at this thing. Premier Nights weren’t my favourite part of being friends with actor. They filled me with a sense of anxiety that before Tom got famous I’d never felt before. I felt a hand at my elbow. “You look worse than Tom and he’s the one everyone came to see” Harry laughed. Harry Holland. Little shit. Twin #2. 

“I hate these things” I muttered, his hand tapped at my elbow in reassurance. I tried to find it reassuring. I failed. “You can hide behind me if you want” he offered, I think he noticed my unease. The uneven pattern of my breathing and most obvious, I was biting my nails like crazy, my mother was going to have a fit when she saw them. I smiled at Harry, I tried to smile like I wasn’t panicking but I think Harry saw straight through me. A side effect of spending so much time around the Holland Boys. “Thanks for the offer, but Sam is still my favourite twin” I replied, a joke seemed the right way to go. Harry sent me a dirty look. “He got you the guitar for Christmas three years ago, let it go,” He said shaking his head in disapproval. I snorted. 

He was right. Three years ago on Christmas day Sam Holland, other little shit and Twin #1 had gifted me a Fender FSR CC-60s Mahogany Concert Acoustic Guitar and it was still the light in my life. You would think that my best friend would have been the one that had bought me the greatest present I’d ever received but Tom didn’t understand guitars and we had a deal that meant that Tom wouldn’t buy me anything to do with music and I wouldn’t buy him anything to do with golf because I couldn’t understand golf to save my life. 

I’d been spending part of my Christmas holiday with the Hollands since I was 10 years old. My mother and Nikki had been neighbours (-and best friends!) as long as either of them could remember. My mother worked as a care assistant and more often than not she had to work 12-hour shifts around the Christmas period so I learned from a very young age that the Hollands were like a second family to me. Every time my mum had to work overtime to make ends meet or couldn’t come and get me from school because she just couldn’t get her half an hour break yet, I would go to the Hollands and looking back now that time I spent at their house became some of the best memories of my childhood. 

The cameras flashed again and the sound of the crowd outside the cinema got infinitely louder bringing me kicking and screaming back to the present. “Guess Tom’s here” I muttered. I heard the sound of tyres squealing outside and the sound of chanting got louder. Damn those fangirls and their seemingly infinite lung capacity. “Tom! Tom!” They shouted I leaned on the door frame and watched the scene unfold. At some point during Tom’s grand entrance, Harry went to find Sam and I was left alone. I wasn’t fond of being left alone but Sam was doing photographs for the premier and he needed help. The cinema seemed bigger than it had been all the times I’d been there before. Somehow leaning against the door waiting for my best friend to come waltzing through it, when he was done sighing autographs, the place seemed to be the size of the Blackpool Tower Ballroom. The dress that I’d squeezed myself in to for the occasion felt tighter than ever, my chest painfully constricted. 

I had been thinking about leaving when the door in front of me opened and a familiar face was hurried through by security men that were three times his size, that was saying a lot recently. Tom had been working his arse off in the gym and was around twice the size he used to be. 

I took my time to take in his appearance before he noticed me, his face was flushed. His navy suit was dishevelled, the grey shirt underneath was flecked with sweat and his hair was sticking to his forehead with the same sweat from running around signing autographs and taking pictures with the aforementioned fangirls.

“Tommy” I called, he jumped a mile and looked over to where I was standing by the door. I saw the relief cross over his face that I wasn’t someone he didn’t know watching him at what could be considered a vulnerable moment. I was the only person who could call him that. 

“Jules, thank god.” He smiled walking over, I watched his eyes take me in as he came closer. He reached out his hand for mine and I happily let him pull me towards where the crowd of people were heading towards the cinema room for the first showing of Toms new movie ‘ONWARD’. I’d heard most of the movie in the clips that Tom had messaged me whilst he was on set, I hadn’t actually seen the animation though and I was excited to see what he’d been making the months he’d been away. 

We sat in the seats towards the back, two seats on Tom’s left side were reserved for Sam and Harry when they finally got around to joining us. Tom’s arm immediately went around my shoulder, allowing me to lean back into his embrace. I’d missed this. Yeah, I’d seen him since he came back from New York but I hadn’t seen him for a while it was nice to have him close to me again. 

“I’m so glad you came” he was whispering, leaning closer to my ear, I felt his breath tickling the shell and I sighed happily. His breath smelt minty fresh like he’d brushed his teeth minutes ago but I hadn’t missed the gentle pop of his gum. Smart boy, no tuna breath on premiere night. “Wouldn’t be anywhere else” I replied. Tom’s gentle smile was the last thing I remember seeing before the lights went off and the opening credits to the film started. 

 Before anyone can say it, I know what you’re thinking. You lucky bitch. You’re best friends with Tom Holland. I understand that because Tom is one of the greatest guys that you’ll ever meet. But not for the reasons that most of the fangirls think. Yeah, the man was fucking gorgeous, I’m his best friend but I have eyes. Buffer than a Norse god and more swag that a billionaire playboy philanthropist but that wasn’t the reason that I was so lucky. I saw a side to him that most people didn’t, I saw sleepy Tom falling asleep in front of the TV watching reruns of F.R.I.E.N.D.S. I saw Tom shitting himself watching the remake of IT. I saw him crying over a puppy video on his Facebook and I saw him proudly smiling at his phone when he finally did something right on Instagram. He was and always had been a great guy. 

But enough about Tom, let’s get back to where we were. 

The premiere went better than expected and I loved the new film, Tom had the gall to laugh at me when I was sobbing towards the end of the movie. That earned him a punch to the stomach that Nikki would have been proud of. Stupid boy, I can’t get through a damn one of his movies without tearing up. Damn almost had a crying fit when I watched The Impossible. Now, remember I was around 13 when the premiere of that film happened and the thought of anything happening to Tom back then was more than my pimpley hormone fuelled heart could take. Tom had to come out of the premiere and hold me for twenty minutes whilst I sobbed, repeatedly reminding me it was a film and he wasn’t going to leave me anytime soon. Yeah, It wasn’t my proudest moment. It was one of my favourite Tom memories though. 

“So, What did you think?” Tom asked as the lights came back on. I looked up at him through my panda eyes where my mascara had run and gave him the dirtiest look I could manage. “You said it wasn’t sad” I accused, rubbing at my eyes profusely “You lied to me” 

“You cry at every one of my premieres, when are you going to learn to wear waterproof mascara?” Toma asked, pulling his sleeve down over his hand and taking a swipe at the mascara running down my cheeks.  “What’s life without a little risk?” I smirked, he shook his head at me, his hand gripping my chin tighter as he gently wiped my face, in the back of a movie theatre with the sleeve of his suit. Oh the class

“You have got to stop rewatching Harry Potter” He sighed

“Says the person who bought me the boxset” I returned. “Not to watch everyday” He laughed, seeming happy enough with his handiwork. He let go of my face. Part of me instantly missed his touch. “And I suppose a great muggle like yourself is going to stop me?” I laughed. Tom looked at me with great disapproval. Tom had never understood my obsession with Harry Potter. A diehard Marvel fan instead, there was no room in his head for anything except Spiderman. The more I think about it, the more I realise that him not being Spiderman for the MCU was utterly preposterous. The man had spiderman bedding, granted Paddy currently slept on those but still, the man lived and breathed Marvel. 

“You’re lucky I put up with your arse. Now, what did you actually think?” He asked standing up and holding his hand out to help me up and out of the mostly empty theatre.

“I love it” I smiled. “You really pulled at my heartstrings. Are you going to introduce me to Chris Pratt now?” I asked, fluttering my wet eyelashes at Tom in faux flirtation 

“And have to bail you out of prison after you flash at him? No chance” He laughed, gripping my hand tighter and scoffing at my flirtation persuasion attempt. “Indecent exposure is a misdemeanour, I’ll skip prison” I replied. “I’m still not introducing you, in fact. I’m skipping the afterparty all together” He smiled. We’d reached the door to the cinema. Everyone was pretty much gone. There were a few stragglers that were walking around talking on the phone or waiting for taxis home I imagined. There was a teenaged girl that looked up when she saw Tom and let out the most adorable squeak. I pulled on his hand and made him stop to take a picture with her, not that Tom needed forcing to be nice to his fans but Tom could be oblivious and she struck me as the type of girl that wouldn’t have the balls to come over and ask for a picture. 

“So, want me to drop you off?” he asked, sliding into the driver’s seat. I heard the leather screech and he settled himself comfortably and reached for his seatbelt. 

“To the house exactly three doors down from yours?” I laughed, sliding into the passenger’s seat and instantly reaching for the radio, turning on signal one on low. 

“Well actually,” He said pausing and waiting for me to fasten my seatbelt before starting the car “I was wondering if I could stay at your house tonight?” He asked. “My house? With my mother?” I asked, knowing that my mother wasn’t at the house but playing hard to get all the same. 

“Isn’t she working at the care home tonight?” He pointed out. The beams from the traffic lights bounced across his face as he drove and I found myself watching the patterns with interest. “I’m not sure if I should find it creepy that you know her rota or not, why are you planning on getting me alone?” I asked, regarding him with a fake expression of fear and distrust. 

“I want to spend time with my best friend, and also not be surrounded by my parents right now” He replied, his shoulders tensed at the mention of his parents and I instantly understood. “I see where this is going, Nikki still hasn’t come around to the idea of you moving out, has she?” I asked laughing, “She would come around to it a lot easier if you’d come live with me,” He said turning on to our street. The sight of the familiar street made my heart happy in a weird way. “And add fuel to our families attempts at marrying us off?” I asked. I watched the smirk stretch across his face, Tom found our parents inability to accept our friendship as what it was utterly hilarious, I, however, found every single attempt that they made to push us closer together completely humiliating. “Why ruin the habit of a lifetime?” He said as he parked perfectly in front of my house. I got out of the car in lieu of answering the question. I turned to head up the path my front garden, slowing my pace only slightly in order for Tom to catch up to me, and also because my feet were killing me in these heels. 

As I suspected, Tom appeared at my side within seconds and I sent him a bemused smile. I opened the door and headed inside. I kicked my heels off and turned around to hang my coat up, to find Tom still outside the door. I cocked my head at him in question. 

“What are you a vampire? Need an invite?” I asked. He didn’t laugh  

“You never actually said I could stay over,” He said in explanation, digging his feet in the dirt as if he actually expected me to deny him access to what I suspected has become like a second home to him too. He really was a perfect gentleman. 

“Come in, you fucking idiot”. I laughed. “You better not hog the blanket this time”

[dracox-serdriel]

It’s time we stopped saying people take “the easy way out” in medicine

I’d really like to stop hearing people say “people don’t want to make diet and other lifestyle changes, they just want pills” as if people wanting (or not wanting) things occurs in a vaccuum.

There seems to be an understanding that capitalism has made life exceptionally difficult, even for people and families in the so-called middle class. In the USA, even someone who is financial secure -- has savings, a retirement fund, “good” health insurance -- can be set back financially for years for injuries sustained in a car accident.

It seems to me that most people in the USA know that they’re not that far off from financial ruin. All it would take is a serious enough injury - or, worse, a fight to surive something like cancer. Suddenly, you go from being financially secure to screwed, and the system is set up so that you receive no aid until after you’ve depleted your carefully saved funds (and, in some cases, anything considered an “asset”, too).

All that hard work to do “the responsible thing” suddenly means nothing.

So when I hear someone say that “people don’t want to make life style changes -- they just want to pop a pill and fix it,” I have to wonder if this person is just generally unaware of the lurking financial crisis hanging over all our heads, or has -- for reasons unknown -- decided to persist in this ridiculous assumption that other human beings aren’t actually invested in the health of their own bodies.

After a patient hears that they are either fully prediabetic or are close to developing Type 2 Diabetes, do people really think that they don’t care that they’re about to develop a serious illness that will put them at risk for countless other maladies -- including a shortened lifespan?

Do people honestly believe that these individuals persist in their old eating habbits because they can’t be bothered by eating healthier? Isn’t it entirely possible that they have made “poor choices in diet” to due circumstances beyond their control? More specifically, isn’t it possible that those same circumstances are still beyond their control, even after they find out they need to “make a change”?

Isn’t it possible that these individuals “have a lunch break” that rare actually happens because of the “lean and mean” scheduling tactic their employer uses to save money? (Which results in them “grazing” rather than eating a single meal - a notoriously bad thing to do if you’re at risk for Type 2 Diabetes.)

Or maybe that’s not it. Maybe the issue is that when they go to the grocery store, their weekly grocery budget isn’t enough to cover purchasing “healthy” options -- not if they want to eat for the entire week, anyway.

Or maybe it’s not even that. Maybe they have enough money to buy “healthy” foods, but by the time they get home, they’re exhausted and hungry, and don’t have energy to cook -- or simply don’t want to spend over an hour preparing the “healthy” meal they’re supposed to eat that night when they’re hungry right now. (Or, worse, maybe they’re responsible for feeding other family members who are also hungry right now.)

The same goes for exercise. Do people honestly thing that other people don’t exercise because they’re lazy? Because “all people want to do is watch TV”? Really? Surely everyone must know that the vast majority of people like at least one activity that qualifies as exercise. (And if you disagree, think about it for a moment. Is there anyone you know who doesn’t like a single activity where they are moving? Anything. Anything where you are moving is excercise.)

But -- if that’s the case -- why don’t people in the USA exercise enough? If we have the desire, why aren’t we doing it?

It’s the same issue as eating “healthy” -- you need to have the time/money/opportunity to do the actiivty you like that counts as exercise. If you like gardening, you need to own (or have access to) a garden to do it. If you like running, you either need access to indoor equipment or an area where it’s safe to run outside. If you like exercises classes - like spin class or other workouts - you need the money to pay for those classes.

Yes, you can cheaply purchase some lifting weights to “exercise” at home. Hell, you might even be able to come up with an exercise routine that costs you no money at all -- but, there’s no such thing as an exercise routine that doesn’t cost you time -- which is often something people just don’t have, especially if they have to work more than one job, or if they have children/family members they’re responsible for taking care of. Surely, people must know that some people honestly don’t have an “extra” hour - or even an “extra” thirty minutes - for anything.

I’m also sick and tired of hearing stuff like, “Well, their priorities are wrong. They need to put their health first.”

What?

Tell me, isn’t it “healthy” to have adequate shelter and clothing, so as to avoid sunstroke, hypothermia, and other forms of illness and death by exposure? Oh, it is? Then I guess paying rent (and paying for clothing and clothing management) is part of “putting health first.”

Tell me, isn’t it “healthy” to have adequate calorie intake - even if it isn’t rich in nutrients - so that you don’t starve to death and lose your teeth? Oh, it is? Then I guess paying for groceries - even if they’re not all “healthy” foods - is part of “putting health first.”

This idea that people “aren’t putting their health first” because they stick with a crappy job to afford housing and other basic needs -- despite the negative impact on their health -- is ridiculous because leaving a crappy job (without haivng another one lined up) puts their health at even more risk then it is now.

It’s not that people don’t want lifestyle changes -- they don’t “want” a pill to make it better. The ugly truth is, the way things are now, they need a pill to make it better -- they need the fix to be something that won’t risk their livelihood because if they lose their job, they’re at risk for losing everything.

I have a disorder that’s technically systemic (meaning, it affects all systems in the body), though it’s classified as a neurological or a neuroendocrine disorder, since effects the neurological systems and the endocrine/hormone systems of the body directly.

When I first sought treatment, I was given medicine and some basic guidance on things to avoid whenever possible. Doctors explained to me that I needed to make behavioral (aka “lifestyle”) changes, too, but seemed resigned to the idea that I wouldn’t really bother doing more than the bare minimum (that way, I can say I’m following my doctor’s advice, but still be “lazy” or whatever).

For some reason, a lot of medical professionals seem invested in the idea that patient’s don’t make “good lifestyle choices” because we’re lazy - despite the fact that this makes no sense. There’s no logical basis for this assumption. Yet I see this idea everywhere. As if someone was really, really trying to convince us that other people have poor health because of “poor lifestyle choices” that they could change but simply choose not to. They have to work really hard at it, though, because most of us are making “poor lifestyle choices” not because we’re lazy idiots, but because capitalism has created a system where we’re forced to make “poor lifestyle choices” in order to meet our basic needs.

I was able to switch careers so I could have better pay and better health insurance. And once I had enough income, I was also able to make lifestyle changes. I was able to afford membership in a dojo so I could do martial arts training (which has been the most effective treament for my symptoms, most of which didn’t respond to any medications). I was also able to afford ridiculously high copays for trying so-called “orphan” drugs that had no generic version available yet. I was also able to afford dozens of specialists appointmnets each year to manage my disorder.

As a person who mananges most of her disorder’s worst symptoms by so-called “lifestyle changes,” I’m constantly told how impressed people are with “my approach” to handling my situation. Yes, people have told me they’re impressed with the fact that I am so willing to make lifestyle choices to benenfit my health. It’s very clear to me that these people don’t understand that most people in the USA aren’t being held back by will at all. They’re willing to make lifestyle changes, but they’re not able to implement them.

As someone who has done “lifestyle choices” -- as someone whose life was literally transformed by “lifestyle choices” -- I know how incredibly difficult it was to do. And you know what? I don’t know a single person in my life who wouldn’t do the same thing.

Notice in my story that I mentioned switching careers. I was able to do that because I graduated with a dual degree. I had the opportunity to change not just jobs, but my entire career path, in order to enter a field that has decent pay and health insurance. I only was able to make “better lifestyle choices” to treat my disorder because I made enough money - and had good enough benefits - to make those changes to begin with.

No matter how difficult it was to implement these changes in my life, I assure you, choosing to do it was easy as soon as I had the opportunity to actually choose to begin with. My life is definitely better because of it. But that being said, I am also keanly aware that money was a prerequisite to these changes. Like I said, I don’t know a single person who wouldn’t make the same choices I did, but I know plenty of people who don’t have those choices at all.

It’s shocking to me how people act as if “good lifestyle choices” are made free of charge. Nobody wants “the easy way out” when it comes to medicine. Nobody wants to put the one body that’s their own at risk just because they’re “too lazy” to do anything else. That’s 100% capitalist propaganda.

[someobscurereference]

Graceless Heart Fic (Spoiler) Notes

These are notes for my 80K Fire Emblem fic “Graceless Heart.” These notes are full of SPOILERS! Please read the fic first! Beware at your own risk!

The notes will be under a Read More. Mobile users, if it doesn’t work for you, I’m so sorry.

SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS BELOW:

GENERAL NOTES:

Sumeragi was at work while Corrin was saying goodbye to the Hoshido family. He already said goodbye to Corrin that morning. That’s why he doesn’t appear here.

Xander texting Inigo back a heart emoji: I don’t see Xander as an emoji person, but I think Inigo is definitely the type to use a lot of hearts and whatnot when texting. Xander would not do that on his own, but if you look at his phone, you’ll see his most used (and only) emojis are the heart ones that Inigo sends him. Because Xander is willing to mimic how Inigo shows his affection for the sake of mutual reciprocation. Plus he got made fun of for being so stiff and formal when he writes.

Dock Fight with the Trio: Owain is genuinely embarrassed and Inigo really is going to tease him with those memes, but they’re all friends. This is not a serious fight. Severa and Inigo are not being deliberate assholes here. They’re all having fun.

The book Leo is reading when Owain asks is The Gift of Fear by Gavin de Becker.

Everyone’s swimsuits are based on what they wear in FE Heroes as summer units or their outfits in the Beach Brawl DLC, minus Corrin, who wears a swim t-shirt on top of whatever bathing suit you imagine for them.

In a real situation where someone is drowning, you should probably not grab them the way Corrin grabs Inigo. A drowning person is very likely to harm or hinder their rescuer due to panic. I just wrote that scene a little less realistically in the fic because I didn’t want to deal with that and, like I say in the notes, I’m functioning on action movie logic. Action movies aren’t realistic.

When Corrin tells Inigo that they’ll keep his almost drowning a secret so long as he lets them know if he has health problems later and Elise tells Inigo to let them know if he has bad dreams, what Elise is actually saying is “Hey, if you start to get PTSD over this, let us know so we can help you.” But she doesn’t want to be so blunt, making this be the type of thing Inigo keeps to himself and suffers through alone, so she says “bad dreams” instead to phrase it with less stigma.

You’ll notice after Inigo’s near drowning that I mention how exhausted he feels when he’s having a freakout on the floor of his cabin, how tired he is the next morning before, during, and after the shopping trip, how he leans heavily on stuff and people, etc. His fatigue can be explained by stress and other normal things. However, it is also a result of the lake water being genuinely bad for people! Most people who go to the lake naturally get this vibe and don’t swim too far out into it/tend to visit the lake in groups or pairs so the chances of drowning decrease. (I almost wrote some of this into Anankos’s dialogue but it felt wonky and didn’t fit.). Corrin also feels this same exhaustion in subsequent scenes, although it’s emphasized less.

Likewise, when Owain and Corrin are stranded in the middle of the water, they also grow quite exhausted rather quickly because (a) the closer to the center of the lake, the more powerful the Bad Vibes that drain your energy and (b) there’s so much rain and water everywhere that as they swallow, they’re also growing more and more tired. Also, fear takes a lot out of a person in general.

Similarly, when Corrin’s foot gets grabbed on the docks, I mention a few times that their legs feel heavy, etc. This is all related to Evil Lake Energy. Severa’s almost drowning is the same deal as Inigo. Everyone who gets in the water (especially if they swallow any) experience this same lack of energy. It’s worse if you actually swallow some water right out there in the middle of the lake and you’re just more susceptible to that kind of bad magic like Anankos unfortunately was. Corrin has been through the wringer at the end of this fic because of constant exposure. They’re on nothing but bedrest for a good number of days after the end of this fic. Lots and lots of sleep for them. Owain is only mildly better in that he doesn’t have to be admitted to the hospital but does need A Lot of sleep. Rest assured that they do eventually recover though.

Elise “lying to Xander and Camilla about stuff all the time” — A reference to in-game canon about how Elise regularly ditches her retainers and goes around to the poorer parts of the city where she is explicitly forbidden to go. She’s surprisingly sneaky and has no problems not telling her siblings about this.

I paraphrased some dialogue from in-game between Leo, Niles and Owain when the latter are trying to convince Leo to swim because it mimicked a Beach Brawl DLC scene.

“Pot, kettle” = a reference to Niles canonically reminiscing about the past in his and Leo’s support. He likely does that in this AU on occasion as well.

Camilla’s SUV has 3 rows of seats because she loves the extra room for bags/extra passenger space.

Some of Camilla and Xander’s interactions and some of Xander’s narration referencing her is also a direct reference to their Supports in Fates also. In this fic, Camilla’s jab at being surprised Xander would ever notice how she felt about Severa because he’s always so busy is more a jab to get him to back off than a pride thing like in canon, but the pride is probably still there too.

Severa lives! She lived because I wanted her too (and because I cannot stand any character death in fics that isn’t like “The Villain Died Forever Ago And Maybe There’s Danger But Everyone Else Is Fine”), but it is a sort of miracle. Camilla did not do proper drowning rescue procedure here. Nobody did. I’m sure you picked up on that from the panic and flashbacks and whatnot. Everyone did their best at handling that rescue, but it wasn’t great. There is too much Panic™ to remain calm, although in real life that’s absolutely what you should try to do in an emergency. Camilla’s one (1) exchange of air is not usually going to save the life of somebody who is really in danger. The only reason it worked is because (a) Severa wasn’t really dead, although she sure looked like it and (b) this is fantasy fiction. Please call emergency services in a situation like this irl or immediately drive to the nearest hospital if there is no cell service and it’s safe to do so.

Xander’s last conversation with Inigo in this fic directly stem from his fear of (a) not being in control and (b) not being strong enough to protect those he cares about.

Originally Elise was going to be the one who figured out Anankos drowned, but somehow while writing it just didn’t work that way, mostly because she ended up stuck by the cars. Whoops. You’re the real hero in my heart, Elise.

 CHARACTER NOTES:

Owain’s insecurities stem from his Felicia and Severa supports where Owain reacts very negatively to being called weird. Also from the hc that growing up in modern AU with public school would probably emphasize that insecurity too, since kids can be real bullies. I very much picture him as the “Weird Kid” in class who was in his own little world and other kids whispered about him for it. Which is unfair, because he’s really just having fun :( By middle school/high school, he’s likely learned to tone this down a little, but only after a series of Bad Memories that make him develop a fear that everyone is just barely tolerating him or is making fun of him behind his back. It’s an infrequent insecurity because Owain is pretty good at not really caring what others think, but it’s one that exists all the same. He’s known Niles and Leo for a year or maybe two at this point, but when Leo admits (like in canon) to hating Owain when they first met, it triggers those insecurities again and sets back the progress the three of them had made in working up to a relationship together.

Corrin has a peacemaker type personality in Fates and always wants to believe the best in everyone to the point where they only seem to learn their lesson of “trust but have a backup plan” near the end of the Revelations route. I think I was mostly true to that character of Corrin in my other horror fic Dark Things Grew. And I think I was mostly true to that version of canon here until the part where Corrin and Owain are stuck in the middle of the lake together. (If you think Corrin was 100% what you expected all the way through, yay! But if not: ) Perhaps Corrin is a little more freaked out or snappier than some of you might have expected. However, I am taking some liberties with the fact this is a modern world AU here. In Fates, magic is real. Dragons are real. Ogre monsters that you can summon out of thin air to do your fighting for you (i.e. Faceless) are real. Some things are less likely than others, but there’s a whole realm of magical possibility that doesn’t exist in our reality. So when you find out that the lake your mom used to visit all the time is possessed (huh????) by a demon (?????) whose voice you are hearing in your head (???????) and also who is not a demon but actually your ghost dad (????????) who is trying to kill you and all your friends you guess (????????) but you’re not really sure what’s going on still except for the fact that oh, Ariana, we’re really in it now, aaaahhhhhhhHHHHH—

Well, you, too, would probably be a little upset. Corrin is the same at their core. They’re just allowed to go “Yo, what the heck” now. (I almost had Corrin say the F word in just their narration once and I couldn’t do it :/) They go through a lot of feelings in the climax of this fic, actually, and I hope they felt at least somewhat reasonable reactions to you, the reader, since the situation Corrin finds themselves in is so unprecedented, stressful, and wack.

Also, this is true for all characters! They’ve been mildly adapted into modern counterparts. This means some experiences that shaped them in Awakening/Fates didn’t happen here or were adapted into modern equivalents. (For example, Inigo is a little less able to run face first into battle than in Awakening/Fates bc he didn’t experience the terror and necessity of having to fight the Risen as a young kid. He still grew up shy and is a (self-admitted in Supports) crybaby who tries to hide those facets of himself, however. Hence why he feels the need to put on a brave face after Bad Things Happen. He still feels like he needs to be a pillar of support for people, although he’s a less steady than his more hardened counterpart. Similar extractions can be applied to other characters throughout this fic.

I often write Severa/Camilla as a very doting, established relationship. A lot of the time the conflict in my stories comes from some outside factor—a dragon, a war, magic, etc. I don’t write a lot of interpersonal conflict, and it’s something I thought I should try my hand at least once. Camilla and Severa’s dynamic here specifically draws from Camilla’s habit of keeping her true feelings close to her chest in her supports. In canon with Selena, she very obviously gives noncommittal answers to Selena’s demands that Camilla praise her for being the best. With Xander, Camilla lies by omission—when he guesses her favorite food wrong, she pretends he’s right for the sake of (presumably) not embarrassing him and proving he doesn’t actually know his siblings better than she does. I’m sure there are other incidents where Camilla hides her true feelings too. I’ve always wondered about these events. Emotionally, Camilla is a very interesting character to me. She has a lot of thoughts and feelings, but she seems to keep a lot of them to herself. I wish that was explored more in-game.

Here, I combined Camilla’s natural tendency to keep her true feelings to herself with her canonical childhood loneliness. She canonically felt bereft of maternal love as a child, and that’s why she tries to shower so much on Corrin. In this fic, Camilla is afraid of opening herself up to love from others. She can dole it out because she doesn’t want to deprive anyone (specifically Corrin, who was isolated a lot via Garon) of that same love, but in turn she never wants to actually be vulnerable with anyone. Family gets special privileges, but even her siblings don’t get to see everything. She has romantic feelings for Severa, but she’s afraid of opening herself up to potential hurt and having that love thrown back in her face later. So Camilla does herself the favor of not allowing herself to be vulnerable in the first place. There’s some part of her that really does want to openly love and be loved by Severa, however. So that’s the yo-yo affect Severa is dealing with throughout this fic.

Camilla knows, factually, that Severa likes her too. But she also has this defense mechanism she’s used her whole life. She wants the best of both worlds; she wants to teeter on the edge of romance/intimacy she and Severa both crave while still keeping Severa at arm’s length so she never actually has to face the danger of being potentially vulnerable with Severa and therefore hurt. Which, you know. Is shitty. (Sometimes the people you love can do shitty things. Sometimes you can do shitty things. I think Camilla’s character is more complex, realistic, and interesting here because of it. I hope you think the same.)

And Camilla keeps it up until she realizes losing Severa is still a very real possibility whether or not she admits her feelings. It’s too late to pretend otherwise. She’s already vulnerable to that hurt she wanted to avoid. The shock of that revelation, the fear of losing Severa, and also McFreaking Water Ghost is enough to get her to admit her feelings and change her behavior. It’s not all peaches and cherries from here on out for them, but it’s a start. They’re taking it slow.

Camilla isn’t a villain here, which I say because I worry some people may think I wrote her to be villainous. Sometimes the people you love have baggage. Severa has it too. So does everyone else in this fic and in your actual real life. That’s natural. Sometimes we do shit things because of that baggage. It happens. Does that mean you get an excuse for your actions? Absolutely not. Apologize. Do better. Camilla is trying. They’ll go from here.

I was trying for a lot more nuanced, complex approach to these two this time around rather than the zero interpersonal problems approach. It was new for me too. I hope it payed off.

Anyway, love wins.

A VERY BAD OUTLINE OF THE CABINS THAT I MADE IN PAINT 3D AND A FLOOR PLAN I STOLE FROM GOOGLE IMAGES 2 YEARS AGO:

 I am so sorry for the quality of this, lmao

[tysonrunningfox]

Open Flames: Part 18

Alternate name for this chapter: The time Eret III invented Nuclear Deterrent (and Fuse Helped) 

Ao3 (the masterpost is horribly behind...I should deal with that...but it’s all organized on Ao3 so I might...not)

00000

I would never say this in front of Fuse, but I’ve been blown up before.

A few times, really.  Some of them because I hadn’t learned to duck and cover quickly enough, some because after the volcano, grenades and mining charges didn’t feel like they mattered much.  Between those exposures and riding Bang for most of my life, maybe I’m acclimated to explosions and the waves of pressure that come with them.

Or, maybe, as big and hardy as everyone in Dad’s village is, they’re weak in the face of a concussive blast.

I’m the first one on my feet after the jail walls fall down, spitting metallic dust from the ancient gate out of my mouth and staggering towards the pile of clothes that I hid the sword under.  It takes a couple of tries, my feet not quite listening, my shoulder throbbing from its impromptu use as a battering ram.

Arvid groans, dabbing at the blood dripping out of his nose, too red in my slightly blurring vision.

“Get up,” I try to hiss at him, but it comes out half-shout, ears ringing when my throat rasps.  “Before they do.”

“Thought you said those didn’t work,” he curls into the fetal position and dry heaves, and someone under the rubble that used to be the wall around the door shifts, a crumbled brick falling to the side.

“I thought they didn’t.”  I get the sword, arms aching from the weight as it seemingly drags me in a tight circle, foot catching on the something and nearly tripping me.

But I’m up.  I’m the only one up.

“Idiot,” Arvid wheezes.

I look around for Bang and see Wingspark slumped by the nearest edge of the forest, shaking her head slowly, cocking it off kilter when she dares to open wide, disoriented eyes.

My nose must be bleeding too because the metallic taste in my mouth gets worse as I raise the sword into a trembling defensive position.

Berk wedding traditions couldn’t include axes, could they?  That would be way too convenient.

“There!”  Someone shouts and I spin, forcing my eyes to focus on the cohort of half a dozen men running at us over the nearest hill.  The one in front is big, holding a spear back and aiming in what I think is my direction and it’s sheer luck when the spearhead hits the flat of the sword instead of my arm, chipping off a piece of generations old rust and sending a tremor up through my sore shoulder.

“Get up, there’s more of them.”  I hiss, planting my feet in the rubble and fixing my grip tighter around the sword.  “Lots more.”

“What are they going to do, put you in jail?”  He rolls almost reluctantly to his knees and I’d tell him that he’s never been less intimidating, except I’m thinking of Fuse and my promise and how impossible it is to keep as the band of men starts running at us in earnest, shouting names and curses and threats.

“Since that’s off the table, I guess I’m going to have to go with plan B.”

“What’s plan B?”  Arvid staggers to his feet, wiping his nose on his sleeve, black eye green around the edges, and I realize, with a terrifying jolt, that I’m the only even moderately intimidating one right now.

“Make them think the fight’s not worth it.”  I decide all at once, forcing my expression serious.

“You’re going to bluff?”

“Hardly,” I grit my teeth, “I’m going to tell the whole truth.”

Because even though Fuse isn’t here, her bombs were.  Even though she can’t back me up, her legacy can.  No one would have to look too far to corroborate my story.

I wait until the cohort is in ear shot and swallow hard, trying not to think about how bad a spear would hurt piercing my chest as I lower the sword, one hand held towards them in a gesture asking them to stop.  I’m trying for casual, even as Arvid stares at me incredulous, hand shaking, smooth tongue stuck limp in his mouth as I essentially hand us over to the enemy.

Except they aren’t an enemy.

I let them look like Dad, let myself see the origin of his features in their faces.  Ingrid’s eyes.  Rolf’s scowl.

“Hey,” I call out when they don’t stop immediately and a couple of men at the back falter.  I raise my hand to my mouth and let out the most piercing whistle I can, wishing Ingrid were here to do the honors, but I’m still glad when it’s enough and the man at the front stops, obviously confused.  “If we can just pause the charge for a second, that’d be great.  Thanks.”

I wipe the dust from my hand on my pants and it comes away dustier.

Arvid stares at me in a way that makes me sure if he were holding the sword, he would have knocked my dumb ass out by now in an attempt to salvage the situation.

“Thanks,” I repeat, twirling the sword in my grip just for something to do as I take advantage of the silence, “I know we got off on the wrong foot here—”

“You were desecrating our ancestral burial ground!”  The man just to the right of the leader yells and I weigh the accusation.

“Not exactly, actually.”

“You were in Eret’s grave—”

“Oh good, I did get the runes right,” I laugh, and it doesn’t so much ease the tension as it confuses everyone so much they don’t know how to respond, “Eret III, future chief of Berk.”  I switch the sword to my left hand and hold out my right, even risking a step forward towards the shocked group.

None of them move.

Arvid snaps his fingers, summoning Wingspark closer, but it doesn’t work.  I still don’t know where Bang is, and when I find him, we’re going to have a long talk about his rescue etiquette.

“Ok,” I take my hand back, switching the sword back to it and twirling it a couple of easy times where it hangs down by my ankles.  It’s not intimidating like an axe, but maybe that’s a good thing.  “Where do I start?  Ok, well, you might be wondering what happened to your jail cell.  And while I could claim that it just spontaneously crumbled because of bad upkeep, I’m going to stick with the truth here—”

“Your dragon, that blue blasted beast—”

“Don’t, alliteration goes to his head,” I ignore Arvid’s glare, “and it’s not quite true, he had help.”  I think of Fuse and the walls I’ve seen fall, the craters I’ve seen gouge themselves into hard rock.  “I’m engaged.”

“What he means is—”  Arvid tries to cut me off and I give him my most chiefly look, the one that makes him puff up even as he stands down.

“I don’t know what you’ve heard about Berk, and I know that stories about us get warped and blown out of proportion the futher away they’re told,” I lower my voice, hoping that nasal can be deadly in the right circumstances, “but I’m not exaggerating when I say that your jail cell was just obliterated by the smallest arms in my future wife’s arsenal.”

“Is that a threat?”  The man in front bristles, reaching for the spear of the follower at his left and I take a step back to retrieve the spear that barely missed me a moment ago and toss it to him.

If I somehow talk my way out of this, Arvid is going to kill me and enjoy it.

“It’s a warning,” I wave vaguely to the south, “either I tell you now, before you’re stupid enough to kill me, or you learn the next time you near the archipelago to trade.”  I watch the leader contemplate his spear and shrug, sword waving carelessly through the air, “you might hear the rumors before she strikes, I don’t know, it all depends on how long it takes for word to get back to Berk, and with my dragon probably on his way there now, without me, it won’t be more than a couple of days.”

“Strikes?”  The question is a whisper among the men, their eyes flicking between me and the pile of rubble just starting to move with their men regaining consciousness from the blast.

“I’m sure you’ve heard rumors,” I grin, “the dragon island blown entirely off of the map, whole dragon trapper posts gone up in flame and rubble.”  I shrug, “not rumors.”

They look at the building.  Arvid looks at me and Wingspark, and the single dull sword that we have between us against at least a dozen men.

“I’m a nice guy,” I promise, left hand held up in simulated surrender, “really, my dad’s from here, I appreciate your history so much I just wanted to borrow a little piece of it and maybe I could have been a little more upfront about it.  I wish I had, given how many of your lives that would have saved.”

I feel it now, in their eyes on me, that chiefly aura that I’ve always struggled towards.  The feeling that when they look at me, I’m more than just myself, I’m larger, scarier, impossible in a way that makes people wish they were behind me instead of against me.

“The way I see it, if I’m going to keep my conscience clear here, I’ve got two options.”  I number them off against the rusty sword, “one, I consider you warned.  If you kill me right now, there will be more than Hel to pay.  Your entire village reduced to a pile of rubble so thorough that those graves will be all that’s left and even then, only the ones buried deep.”  I swallow, hoping I’ve laid a big enough foundation to bluff on even as I assess the group.

The guy in the front is biggest, but looks slow, and aside from his spear I only see a short dagger.  There’s a smaller man in the back row with a heavy iron axe in his hands, and if I could just get to him, I’d have a chance at some of them, maybe enough for Arvid to get to Wingspark.  With a little fire on our side, the odds are better, and I plant my heels to spring in case this next line doesn’t work out for me.

“Or, I kill all of you now before you can hurt me, because trust me, even a scratch, even a bruise won’t make her happy.  That’s the only way I can think of to save your families, your history.”  I gesture with the sword, “our history, really.”

The pause drags on, too long, rubble shifting and crumbling as men underneath it try to sit up.  The new cohort’s eyes drift repeatedly to the pile, obviously wanting to help their brethren and I watch them weigh the utility of the next few minutes.

“Aw Hel,” the man to the leader’s left swears, “let him go, he’s fucking crazy.”

“That explosion knocked down a shelf at my house a half mile away,” another man mutters, “he said it was small arms—”

“He stole from us,” the leader insists and I gesture with the sword again.

“Oh, come on, you guys weren’t using it.”  I adjust my grip, preparing again to charge if necessary, “and it has my name on it.”

“The other graves are untouched,” someone else argues in a tense whisper, “what if he’s telling the truth?  He said his name was Eret—”

“He’s a thief, he’s probably a liar too—”

“Trust me, if I was going to lie about my name, I would have started years ago.”  I laugh, even as Arvid takes a calculated step back towards where Wing is inching forwards.  She’s close now, maybe a run for it would be better.

“Let him take the damn sword,” the man to the leader’s right booms, “if there’s even a grain of truth in what he’s saying it’s not worth it.  No one liked Eret that much anyway!”

“I heard that Bronn!”  A shout from the sky takes everyone else’s concentration away from the stand off and the bubble of relief in my chest swells to near bursting when Skullcrusher lands on the other side of the crowd, Dad sitting on his shoulders.

Stormfly lands next to him, followed by a panicked Bang who immediately charges me, cool claws on my shoulders as he knocks me back into the dirt and starts frantically licking my face.

“Bud!”  I yelp, squirming away from the piece of what used to be a prison wall digging in to my lower back, “missed you too!  Missed you too!”

“Is that Eret son of Eret?”  The question is bouncing around the group of men when I finally get back to my feet, holstering the sword clumsily in my axe’s place against my back.

“Hi Dad,” I call out, driving in the point as I swing onto Bang, relief flooding through me when his wings twitch to the sides, preparing for takeoff.

“Go on ahead, son,” Dad says pointedly, waving me away, “I’ll catch up.”

“I don’t think I was done talking to them,” I shrug and the man dad recognized, Bronn apparently, looks between us with wide eyes.

“I think they’re done talking to you,” Dad laughs, “I’ll smooth things over.”

I want to stay but the half-relieved, half-furious, all guilt-inducing look that Mom gives me convinces me otherwise.  As I take off, I hear the first few questions echoing on the breeze, all concerning the validity of my claims that if they’d touched me, they all would have found themselves blown sky high in less than a week.

Dad’s laugh answers them for me.

Flying does little to blow the stink and dust off of my clothes, but my mind is far clearer by the time Mom guides Arvid and I down to a small camp maybe fifteen minutes outside the outskirts of the village.

“What the Hel were you thinking?”  She asks as soon as we’ve landed, launching herself off of Stormfly and flinging her arms around me in a hug so tight it might as well be a chokehold, given I’m not quite off of Bang yet.

“Mom,” I wheeze and she yanks me off of my dragon and to my feet, bracing her hands on my shoulders to analyze my face.

“Flying off like that when Fuse is seven months pregnant,” she starts listing the compilation of my crimes, but all I can hear is Fuse and pregnant and the fear settles back into that collar around my heart, “getting arrested in a village you’ve never been to—”

“Is Fuse ok?”

“As of a day and a half ago,” she softens slightly at something in my expression, probably the raw desperation flooding across everything I’ve kept together for the past…however long I was in that cell, “everyone’s watching her, I’m sure she’s fine.  Unmarried, but otherwise fine.”

“As soon as I get back,” I pull the rusty sword from my back and hold it out for her to examine, “I’m ready, I just needed—”

“Something of your dad’s,” she sighs, “something from where he’s from.  I know.”  She smiles, a little crooked, younger looking than usual with her hair windblown and her panic receding from an otherwise open expression, “and before you ask, no one told me, I guessed.  I’m sorry it took me so long to guess.  If I’d been more on top of it, maybe we would have caught you before you were about to fight off an army—”

“An army?”  I shrug, “half a company, maybe.  Hardly even a small militia—”

“Eret.”  She squishes my cheeks, dirty beard itching against my face.

“I was talking my way out of it,” the words come out slightly muffled and Arvid steps up beside me, and I feel guilty for forgetting him in the rush of the reunion.

“By telling them how his future wife would blow them up if they touched a hair on his pretty head.”

“Delegating,” I clarify as Mom lets me go.  “And can you please stop with the pretty?”

He doesn’t hear because Mom is hugging him, chin over his shoulder, which is too bad because she misses his shocked expression, eyes wide on my face like he’s looking for help.

“And you, I expected better of you,” she jabs him in the chest with a finger when she pulls away, “going along with a plan like this.  And what happened to your eye?”  She pokes at the green bruise and wipes the still trickling red under his nose with her sleeve.  “Who did this to you?”

She looks accusingly at me and I raise my hands, gesturing at the dried blood on my own lip, even though it’s probably far less obvious caked in my red moustache.

“The nose was the explosion.”  I nod, “which was an accident, the bombs had been soaked a bunch of times, it was Bang trying to blast us out that set them off—”

“Did you ice this?”  She’s back fussing over Arvid who blushes, hands in his pockets.

“I was a prisoner, Mom, no one was really offering medical care.”

“If we’d been an hour later…” she looks between us, shaking her head, and we both hug her at the same time, Arvid lifting her a couple lopsided inches in the air.

“We’re fine,” I insist, “a little deafened, maybe, but the ringing in my ears is already fading.”

“Speak for yourself,” Arvid grumbles, stepping out of the hug to twist his pinky in his ear, wincing.

“You’ve got to get home,” Mom tells me in particular, earnest instead of chastising and that makes it worse.

“I know,” I nod, “I didn’t think that’d take more than a week, but—”

“You should take Stormfly,” she pats her leg to call the Nadder over, “she’s faster.  I’ll wait for your dad and fly back on Bang.”

Bang protests weakly, nudging my leg with his wing and looking up at me with big, pathetic, watery eyes.

“I’ve got to get home too,” Arvid perks up, a little frantic for the first time since the explosion, rolling his shoulder like he’s just now remembering why he pulverized it.  “Aurelia—”

“Wing can keep up with Stormfly, can’t she?”  Mom asks and Arvid seems to center himself on the words before nodding.

“I think so.”

“We took a roundabout way to get up here to avoid trouble,” I say a bit sheepishly, “not that it mattered, but by any chance, did you guys come direct?”

“We took as straight of a shot as we could,” Mom nods, “no trouble to be seen, seems like you guys had it all corralled.”

“I do my best,” I nod, faking somber as the weight of the sword against my back starts to mount, the pull towards home and Fuse overwhelming the desire to stay here and dwell.

“Straight home,” Mom points at me and I nod.  “I mean it, if we get there before you—”

“Hel to pay, I get it.”  I swing up onto Stormfly and she fidgets as I adjust my seat to her comparatively narrow shoulders.  “I’m shocked you’re even trusting me after well,” I point at the sword and she sighs, a little sheepish in a way I’ve never seen directed at me.

Maybe at Dad, once or twice, when one of us broke something and she decided not to punish us for it.  Never at the chief.

“I’ve got to start sometime.”

“You do?”  I raise an eyebrow, trying to ignore Arvid’s impatient expression as Wingspark paces in a small circle, ready to take off.

“You’re going to be chief,” she reminds me, and it makes my negotiation of sorts at the blown jail cell feel silly and more official all at once, “and you can’t do that with your mother questioning your every move, can you?”

“Oh,” I frown, “I guess I’d assumed that was part of the program.”

“Go,” she pats Stormfly’s haunch, “you being this far from an unmarried Fuse right now is giving me gray hairs.”

“Fine,” I nudge Stormfly forward, ignoring Bang’s pathetic croon to the best of my ability, “see you at home.”

“We going?”  Arvid half checks then takes off before I get an answer, flying due south through a cloud bank, pressed low to Wingspark’s neck.

We don’t talk much.  There’s none of that adventurous feeling that carried us North on the way here, this feels far more like drudgery.  It reminds me too much of my sleepless flights between Berk and Elva’s island and I’m glad to be on Stormfly, the different seated position keeping me focused on what’s ahead instead of reliving what’s behind.

We take a single, brief stop just before sundown to feed the dragons and Arvid helps me pull the long-healed stitches out of my forearm and wrap it in a length of cloth I rip from one of Dad’s old borrowed shirts that is still layered over my own.

There’s no talk of stopping for the night and we get back into the sky, hugging the coastline for the next part of the journey so that the dragons can glide on the updraft generated by the miles of shear cliffs, preserving some of their energy towards faster flight.   The night’s colder than it was even a week ago, winter setting in with a vengeance as a few flakes start to fall on the straight just north of Berk, and I let myself have a moment’s hope for a small feast.

Or no feast.  I don’t care.

That in and of itself is refreshing, the general lack of reluctance.  After years of digging in my heels while people dragged me places that didn’t feel right, walking apathetically forward of my own volition is freeing.  Or not apathetically, that’s not right.  I can hardly think of waking up in a house with Fuse, a house that’s ours, because it feels so impossible in all of the best ways, but I can imagine the wedding.

It’s going to be…well, a wedding.

The chief is probably going to make a big, annoying deal of the ceremonial bath.  I’ll have to wear whatever my mom says and sign the contract and throw the sword on my back into a rafter.  I’ll have to fend off the well-wishers but then I’ll get to go home with Fuse and have some new claim on her and those babies that kick my hands when I talk too much.

“I’m headed home!” Arvid shouts over the wind, gesturing towards the far point of the island and I shake my head.

“Aurelia’s probably with Fuse.”

He hovers for a second, looking down at his clothes and then looking at me with a bright tinge of panic in his eyes barely visible through the fluttering snowflakes, which are picking up speed.

“You look fine,” I roll my eyes and he pivots Wingspark in a frustrated little circle.

“I’m covered in half a building—”

“Aurelia won’t care.”

“I…” He grits his teeth and I see the shadow of his jaw flexing from where I’m hovering on an updraft a few yards away, “I don’t know what to say to her.”

“It’s Aurelia,” I try, sighing when he doesn’t relax, “tell her I was cryptic and weird and said you needed to talk to her—”

“I don’t need you in the middle.”  He draws a line in the snow and asks me to stay on my side and I nod.  It feels like him taking a step back at his dad’s birth village, falling into a new boundary, and I respect it, nodding.  “I’m going to go get cleaned up.”

“Should I let Aurelia know?”

He shrugs, and then rethinks the gesture, “yeah.  If she’s there.”

“Alright.”  I half salute, sword on my back feeling too big and out of place as Stormfly angles to catch the next draft, snow flurrying from the cliffs below, “thanks, by the way.  For this.”  I shrug under the weight of the sword.

“Yeah,”  Arvid smiles, handsome again, huge again, the black eye a battle scar with a story worth telling, “thanks for this.”  He pats Dad’s sword in its holster on his hip and then he’s gliding back towards his house.

I land outside the chief’s house and Stormfly instantly trots off to the barn, tucking herself into a pile of straw and shoving her beak into a bucket of fish.  I stretch, scrubbing my hand through my iced over beard and walking towards the door before opening it to a resounding chorus of Aurelia’s frustration.

“How do you keep doing that?”  She shouts, voice going shrill as she leans over the maces and talons board set up on the table.  “You aren’t even paying attention!”

“I don’t know why you didn’t just do this,” Tuffnut demonstrates some move and the vein in Aurelia’s forehead twitches.

“That’s agains the rules.”

“I thought we were playing Thorston rules,” Tuffnut looks beside him and I edge a little further into the doorway to see the back of Fuse’s head, hair glowing with the reflection of the fire.  “So Loki’s revenge is legal, why didn’t she just do that?”

“Because Thorston rules aren’t real, Tuff,” the chief reminds him like he’s said it a few dozen times today.

“Then why do we keep winning?”  Tuffnut asks.

“I don’t know!” Aurelia snaps, tossing a game piece at his head and missing entirely.  It skitters across the floor and I stop it with my boot, watching Aurelia’s jaw drop when she follows its path and sees me in the doorway.  “You’re back?”

“No, of course not,” I joke, “just passing through.”

“Eret,” Fuse jumps up so fast she knocks her chair down, whirling towards me and managing a step before I’m across the room, lifting her into a hug and burying my face in her hair.

“Hey,” I say against her neck, arms tightening reflexively around her.  

And she smells like home, usual soot replaced with campfire and warmth.  Her hair tickles my nose as she pats my shoulders, asking to be set down, which makes it easier to rest my cheek against her forehead.  I want to slip my hand under her shirt to feel her stomach, but Aurelia’s and the chief’s eyes are boring into the top of my head and I sigh and pull away, pausing to kiss her forehead and grab her hand.

Her other hand starts working up my sleeve to check my stitches and I don’t have the heart to stop her, even when the chief’s ever sharp eyes catch the motion.

“Where’s Arvid?”  Aurelia asks first, one arm absently around my chest in a side hug as she wrinkles her nose, “you’re filthy, by the way.”

“Arvid went to get cleaned up,” I roll my eyes, “should be at your place.”

“Thanks,” she hustles to grab her coat and I squeeze Fuse’s hand as I turn to face Aurelia on her way out the open door.

“Ask him about the black eye, by the way, funny story.”

“Black eye?”  She pauses for a second before shaking her head at me, “whatever.  I’ll see you later.”  She points at Tuffnut, “for a rematch.”

“Thorston rules next time,” he waggles his eyebrows but Aurelia ignores him, slamming the door shut against the blowing snow and leaving the room in awkward silence.

Or awkward for me, at least.

Fuse seems fine with the quiet, quite obviously checking me over for new injuries until I take both her hands in one of mine, giving her a look that she thankfully accepts to mean ‘later’.  Tuffnut is also fine with the silence, looking between me and his daughter with a pleasant smile that grows the more awkward I feel.

Mostly though, the chief doesn’t seem to feel awkward, which is always a bad sign.  Worse, it doesn’t feel like I’m in trouble this time, like the concept of trouble has lost some of its meaning.  It’s worse than trouble, he’s waiting for me to explain myself, and there’s the chance that if I do it well enough, he’ll accept it.

I never thought I’d miss the fatalistic comfort of no-win situations, but here I am.

I swallow hard, tugging at the collar of my dad’s borrowed coat that should be bigger before reaching over my shoulder and pulling out the rusty sword, angling it in the firelight to show the ancient, faded runes.

“I got what I went looking for,” I start, voice a rush from holding my breath and I clear my throat before continuing.  “Eret the first’s sword.”

“You were gone for almost two weeks.”

“Yeah,” I wince and Fuse squeezes my hand, encouraging at the same time as urging me to remind the room at large that she had it handled.

She doesn’t know the half of what she has handled, frankly.

“Did you anticipate being gone for two weeks?”  The chief asks me like I’m a council member and it’s hard to remember how reasonable he is as a boss when I was just wrapping my head around him as a grandfather to my future children, but this is yet another chance to prove that I can still handle things and I make myself focus, exhaling as I step forward to set the sword on the table.

Fuse doesn’t let go of my hand.

“I did not, Arvid and I took the long way, traveling at night to avoid running into anyone, so I thought it would be six or seven days at the most,” I scratch my chin and decide on the truth, again, “but it turns out that people don’t necessarily like strangers robbing their ancestral tombs.”

“Really?”  Tuffnut raises an eyebrow, “they weren’t happy about you taking this ugly old sword off their hands?”  He runs a finger along the rust where it was recently chipped by a spearhead, “honestly, this thing is horrible, how much did you pay for it?  It looks like it’s been in a grave for a hundred years.”

“Probably more like fifty,” I correct him, recognizing my own irritated expression on the chief’s face.

“You overpaid.”

“I stole it,” I assure him.

“Good old five-finger discount,” he winks at me or at Fuse, I can’t quite tell, “there’s hope for you yet, kid.”

“So, as I was saying, they weren’t happy that I stole a sword,” I steer the conversation back to the topic that might release me, “and I ended up in jail.”  When the chief doesn’t answer immediately, I keep talking, patting my stomach and gesturing to the room at large, “which, by the way, was anyone going to tell me that I don’t fit between dragon cage bars anymore?  I’ve been on the moldy bread diet for a week and it still didn’t work—”

“How’d you get out?”  The chief asks and there’s the real question, the one that the length of my absence was just hinting at.

“Fuse, actually,” I squeeze her hand and she frowns at me, glancing at my hairline like she’s searching out a bruise or some other sign of head injury, “no, not—some smoke bombs you gave me months ago that I never used—I mean, I actually soaked them about a hundred times, I don’t know how they still worked but at some point, Bang tried to blast the cell open and they flew into a wall and…boom.”  I mime the explosion with my free hand and the chief looks at me not quite doubtfully, but waiting for the rest of the story.

“And the village just let you go?”

“After some convincing, yeah,” I nod.

“What’s the body count on ‘convincing’?”  The chief finally puts the rest of the question out in the open and I relax, for once confident that I have the right answer.

“None,” I shrug, “I convinced them we weren’t worth the trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“Well,” I drop Fuse’s hand to wrap my arm around her shoulders, “I might have said that what blew up their jail was the smallest in Berk’s—and my future wife in particular’s—arsenal.”

“I don’t know that,” Fuse mutters, biting her lip as she does some mental calculation, brows pulling together, “now that I think about it, saltwater curing a smoke bomb might produce…maybe with some black sand—”

“Fuse,” I break her concentration and she glares at me briefly before her expression softens and I’d say about anything to get away from our dads right now so that we can actually greet each other.

“I’ll test it out later,” she blushes, noticing the room’s attention on her and flanking down at her stomach, smoothing a warm sweater over it and shaking her head, “at some point.”

“So, instead of killing them,” the chief raises an eyebrow, “you convinced them that Fuse would kill them if they didn’t let you go?”

“It didn’t take much convincing,” I run a hand through my tangled hair and come back with a palm covered in jail dust even after a day and a half in the wind and snow, “not after the explosion.”

“A ceremonial wedding sword and a diplomatic solution,” the chief lets himself smile and I’d ask him how long he was faking a stern face to freak me out if I weren’t so relieved and impatient with the conversation, “I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Well, it’s the day,” I shrug, unsure whether to accept the teasing as praise or push it off and ask for my next assignment.  Whether it’s my empty stomach or aching back or the fact that the dust is really starting to itch, I can’t be sure, but I’m suddenly exhausted enough to go with the first option.  “If that’s all, I think I’m going to go wash the prison off before the snow dilutes the hot springs…”

Fuse nods, cold hand slipping under the back of my shirt, and as hard as I try to keep my expression neutral with the repeated self-assurance that she’s only checking for injuries, I’m not sure that it works.  Especially because as much as I hate her worrying, I like her checking me over, all thorough attention and meticulous fingers.

And her dad is here.  And the chief is here.  And I’d throw that stupid sword into the chief’s ceiling right now if it meant house keys in my hand.

“And tomorrow is Frigg’s day,” the chief says, voice sing-song, and I blink at him.

“Ok.”

“Everyone else is on-island and you didn’t mind a small feast,” he looks between Fuse and I, “unless that’s changed…”

“What?  Oh!”  I stiffen when his meaning clicks, “tomorrow.  The wedding?  Tomorrow?”  I look at Fuse, semi-relieved when she’s startled too, wide eyes flicking between her dad and me.  “As in we go to sleep one time, wake up in the morning and get married?”

“Unless ‘tomorrow’ has changed meaning…”  The chief smiles at me, embarrassed for me and proud of me in equal parts and I don’t know why everyone is being so nice to me after I went to jail, but I’ll take it.

Especially because it feels different than pity, different than a token kind word to make up for a secret.

“Wait, like tomorrow tomorrow?”  Tuffnut jumps up and I nod.

“That’s what I just clarified.”

“It’s your last night in my house!”  He yanks Fuse away from me by her shoulders, and I wish I hadn’t set down the ceremonial sword as my own territorial instincts react.  “We have to celebrate.  Or cry.  And tell your mother—”

“The new house is just down the road,” Fuse rolls her eyes, looking pointedly at her dad and apologetically at me like she already knows it doesn’t matter and the offer to throw the sword into the ceiling still stands.

“Wait, you’ve seen the house?”  I ask, heart clenching when her otherwise irritated expression twitches into a tiny smile.

“Your mom showed me.”

“Is it—” I stop the flood of unimportant questions and try for the only one that matters.  “I mean, did you like it?”

“You’ll have plenty of time to talk about how much you love your new house once you’re done abandoning your old dad!”  Tuffnut starts dragging her towards the door and I’m unsure how real his tears are and even less sure how much I care.

“You knew this was coming—”  Fuse tries one last feeble time to shirk his arms off, and I get the feeling that as reluctant as she is, she might need this.  Especially after the last few months of distance from her dad, and I nod at her that it’s ok.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I tell her, even as everything in me rejects the distance, some new level of chiefly composure thinking of tomorrow and consequences instead of right now.

Or maybe it’s not chiefly composure, maybe it’s the kind of composure that might let me become chief.  The sign that I’m thinking of what I want in the future instead of what I’m running from in the present.

Or maybe that’s a load of dragon dung I’m telling myself because braving the snowstorm to the hot springs alone doesn’t sound very appealing after considering the alternative.

“At the altar,” she bites her lip, a little pale but still excited, eyes bright as the door shuts behind them with a gust of snow and the chief and I are alone.

“I’m not going to cry,” he jokes, and all I can think about is how we’re standing right where we were when I hugged him, “I’ve been looking forward to your last night in my house for years.”

“Yeah,” I snort, “finally going to be rid of me.”

“It’s just down the road,” he says, more to himself than to me and my chest feels a little tight.  “Stoick will finally stop bugging me that your room is bigger than his, I’m really excited for that—”

“I should go wash up,” I point at the door, barely biting my tongue against blurting out ‘alone’ in Midgard’s most disappointed tone, if only to break the moment.  “And get some sleep, big day tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” he nods, “good plan, it’s going to—exhausting, weddings are exhausting.”

I make it all of two steps towards the door when he calls my name and I turn back around, impatient eyebrows raised.

“Just one more thing—”

“Yeah?”

“Where’s your Mom?”  He asks, worried in the way that never meshes with my mom in my mind.  Then, before I can answer, he winces and catches himself.  “Where’s Eret?  Also.  I mean, Eret—not you, obviously, I mean…”. He swallows hard and shrugs one shoulder, embarrassed as he probably should be, “where are your parents?”

“Oh,” I point vaguely North, “Mom insisted I take Stormfly, because she’s ‘faster’ than Bang,” I roll my eyes and he laughs, “and she was sure that Fuse was going to be having unclaimed heirs any second.”  My heart stutters at that and I pinch the outside of my thigh, forcing my focus back to tomorrow and only tomorrow, “she and my dad should be on their way by now.”

“Great.”  He waves me off and I make it one more measly, shuffled step, “Eret?”

“What?”  I regret the edge in my voice and clear my throat, “sorry, what?”

“I’m proud of you,” he doesn’t sound like the chief and he doesn’t sound like he’s trying to step in as my father either, and I remember how ‘grandpa’ felt right for a second and my throat tightens, “for going after what you want and—”

“And not chopping off a bunch of heads to get it?”  I joke, but he doesn’t laugh.

“That’s one way to say it,” he waves me towards the door, “I’m done now, really.  Go do what you need to do.  Big day tomorrow.”

[preppymayhem]

1 + 66 + 74 (any ship/series you want)

Historical AU + It’s Not You, It’s My Enemies + Huddling for Warmth

Gundam Wing, 1xR (Vaguely set in 16th century reminiscent Europe, but honestly the historical accuracy is that of CW’s Reign so that’s that on that)

I dont know how much I captured the second two tropes but I think I got the spirit. This will never be a fully realized fic so I went overboard because  this is all that I can manage

Relena bent over the desk and quickly scribbled hurried words across the page, only fainting hearing the howls of the blizzard outside.. This was not official correspondence, it wasn’t even personal correspondence. No, she was writing a letter that no one would ever read. Once it was complete she would cast it into the fire burning brightly in her rooms as she had done so many times before.

She’d written hundreds and hundreds of letters over the course of the last five years and she had burned every single one of them in a futile effort to exorcise feelings that she by virtue of her position and her birth could not afford to feel. But unlike the fires and piles of ash, she was finding her emotions and longings were not so easily put out.

Relena thought of the preceding months and her conversation with Quatre earlier. He had the audacity to question her motives.

“I can understand,” Quatre said, “Your position.”

“Hardly,” she replied, “I am a woman and a Queen. You are merely the only of son of a highly successful merchant. We are quite different.”

She doesn’t think she hurt him by that remark, surely he must understand what was at stake for everyone.

“Is that why you have not yet made a match?” he asked.

She stared out at the setting sun over the hills, if this was Sanq, she would watch the sun disappear over the ocean. Relena wished she was there now.

“I have not made a match because as a woman and a queen my only power and indeed my only leverage is my ability to refuse,” she said, “I cannot act rashly and just marry for the sake of producing an heir. I must be sure that my marriage will secure the sovereignty of my nation and….”

She sucked in a breath.

“And to insure that I will still have the control I seek, because regardless of who I marry, I am still the sovereign Queen of Sanq.”

“Is that the only reason?” Quatre asked, “because I am not sure that is quite right.”

She turned to him and almost put a hand to her cheek as if he had slapped her.

“What do you mean?”

He looked at her gravely.

“I meant what I said earlier,” he said, “because I too am not free to act on my desires. To…choose the person I would give my heart too…”

Relena was pulled from her thoughts when the papers on the desk began to shuffle. She scrambled to catch them before they scatted and only managed to knock the inkwell over the unfinished letter in front of her. Oh well, spilt ink was probably just as effective as the fire for obliterating unwanted feelings.

She turned to see where the gusts were coming from when the fire in the hearth flittered for a moment. There was an open window at the corner of the bedchamber. She lept from her seat and rushed over and shut the window, and tightened the bolt. She inspected the latch because she could have sworn that Hilde had secured the room before retiring for the night. Nothing was amiss, maybe Hilde had not tightened the bold enough thought that seemed very unlike her handmaiden.

She went back to her desk and surveyed the mess of ink and paper and sighed. She began gathering the papers in order toss the whole lot  in the fire when she heard a grunt come from behind her.

“Are you really going to discard all that?”

Relena didn’t turn at the voice as she didn’t need to. She should’ve known, she’d been waiting all night for him to give her some sign he was coming.

“Is that you Heero?” she asked, still not turning around while making sure that everything was in order, though she stopped when something occurred to her. She turned instinctively.

“Did you come through my window? You scaled the walls during that blizzard outside?”

Heero had come into the light from the dark corner by the heavy wooden wardrobe  towards the front of the room.  He looked cold as he only wore what seemed to be a light coat over his shirt sleeves. She quickly guided him to a seat by the fire.

“You better have some vitally important information for me, otherwise I will be most displeased,” she said, “that climb in this weather would have killed most any other man.”

“I am sorry for your displeasure than,” his voice is so soft and slightly chattering, “but there is nothing I can disclose at the moment for fear of compromising you.”

She wants to chide him for his discretion, but she knew it was necessary. As the Queen of Sanq it was of the utmost importance of that she be seen as above reproach and free of any sinister entanglements. Still, he shouldn’t have risked it, he was too important. She told him that in no uncertain terms.

He shivered, and she grabbed the loose blanket hanging on the footboard and wrapped it around him, trying to not linger too much. They were alone, no fear of being discovered, but still it was best to maintain the appropriate boundaries.

Those boundaries hadn’t always been in place. There had been a time when it had been as if they were almost equals. But that was an illusion, there were few people who were equal or even her superior. She could still see him kneeling at her feet, swearing his fealty. He was her right hand, her sword, her shield and her tool.

And she had accepted it because the alternative was that she would have had to let him go entirely. It was shameful.  She pushed those thoughts aside, he’d chosen his course freely it had not been her doing. 

“Well you will spend the night, I can’t let you out in that blizzard.”

“I can’t—“

She held a hand up to quiet his protest.

“We blocked off the passage due to the assassination attempt,” she said quieting what he had been about to say, “Noin insisted on it. And there are plenty of hiding places if we are to be disturbed but I’ll dare say the storm should let up before there is any worry of that.”

He nodded.

“I’d call for a hot bath but I am afraid I already bathed today and I insisted that Hilde retire. I’ve really asked too much of her.”

“You’re fond of her,” his voice is still hoarse but some of the color was returning to his skin so she felt better that he hadn’t suffered any lasting effects from the exposure. She both did and didn’t want to look at his hands though.

“I guess I am,” she said, “she is one of the few people here who I can trust. Not completely of course but…Have you discovered anything more? About the murder of Lord Septum, I mean.”

“Not really,” Heero said, “the rumors among the staff and the lower rungs is that it was either myself—“

“Was it you?” she didn’t really think it was, but she had been meaning to ask. She had not forbidden him from taking any action that might be in her or her country’s favor and that could possibly include murder, “and if it was, I would think you would hide your tracks better than that.”

“They don’t know it’s me exactly,” he said, “I am the shadow here, but no, I didn’t murder the man as godawful as he was. I wanted to after—“

She stopped him again, this time she shuddered. That was a memory she did not want to forget.

“They also think it’s Treize’s dog,” he said, Heero never used titles in private company save for hers, another signal of the divide that laid between them.

“His dog?”

“Lady Une,” Heero said, “there are too many enemies here.”

“It couldn’t possibly be His Excellency,” she said, “this castle is housing some of the most powerful people in the realm. The death of any one of them would launch a global conflict.

Relena nodded.

“How about you?” he asked, “are your plans going smoothly.”

She turned to the fire and tried not recall the botched letter she had been writing prior to his arrival.

“There are prospects,” she said.

“I like Quatre,” he said.

“Sir Winner?” she asked and she instinctively recalled their earlier conversation, “I like him too, but I think I can do better.”

Heero appraised her for a moment.

“A wealthy son of a merchant? He’s rich, you’d retain power, and the Winner mines are vital for a countries security,” he said, listing the benefits of the match.

“Yes, but he doesn’t have men nor land, and I don’t marriage in order to secure a treaty with Winner,” she said, “It would not be completely disadvantageous but I shouldn’t settle yet.”

He doesn’t speak so she goes on.

“I don’t trust Barton’s son, though I know their armies are great.”

“Dekim Barton is merciless, How is his son?”

“Aloof,” Relena said, “but I don’t see the resemblance, but there is the connection with the Chang Clan. That would be a vital trading partner.”

“I thought the representatives were married?” Heero asked.

“They are, his wife, Meiran is serving as one of my ladies in waiting,” she said and shrugged sheepishly, “I am afraid my Court isn’t deeply stocked. She is more supportive than Dorothy however.”

Heero said, nothing, they didn’t speak of the fact that it was likely that one of the member’s of Relena’s court was most likely a spy for the enemy. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” she said, “I don’t believe that either Meiran or Dorothy are against me. They may not be loyal, but they are not traitors.”

“I think it would be Leila,” he said, “she is connected to the Bartons.”

“She’s so meek though,” Relena said, “I think she would break.”

He’s too cold to argue.

“I still think you should consider Quatre,” he said, “I think he could make you happy.”

Relena debated whether she should disabuse him of that notion. Quatre had all but admitted that he had a lover, which peeved Relena because of course a man was forgiven any dalliance while she had to struggle to maintain her propriety. She doubted he could make her happy because she knew she could not make him happy. His words spoke to an affair that wasn’t just or even primarily physical. But it was still a matter of fact that Quatre could conceivably marry and maintain the affair.

The resentment burns. She was not expecting faithfulness in marriage, that was a vain hope for a woman marrying for political advantage, but still the idea that her husband could maintain a love on the side while she could not was a hard pill to swallow.

“It’s not about my happiness,” she said, “it’s about what is best for my country. I will do what is needed. That is all.”

She couldn’t look at him when she said that, she couldn’t betray the pain that she knew must be written on her face.

She schooled herself back to a calm cool demeanor.

“Regardless, you will be with me?” The question is meek, but she stuck with it. She could bear the course of her life if he was her ally. Her friend.

He slid off his chair and leaned his forehead to her knee, it was not a bow nor a show of subjugation, but a promise.

“To the end my queen,” he said, “my life is yours.”

She stroked a hand through the mess of tangles on his hair before lifting him up so she could slide down to be on his level. She only leaned forward and pressed her lips to his forehead. Chaste. Pure. And full of all the wishes and hopes that she had had to foresake when the crown had been placed on her head.

She pulled his head down to lean against her chest and wrapped her arms around him, trying to will the heat of her body to his.

And for a moment they both forgot the constraints that laid outside that room. He was hers, and even though it could never be realized in the light of day. She was always and forever his.