#'But it's based on Adventure 2-' no no no no shush

[lunarpanda]

Alright but where's Twinkle Park. I better see Twinkle Park.

[natewriteslol]

Hiii! I read your works alot because it's one of the active twst writers I see (I'm a dead writer myself LMAO)

Savanaclaw, riddle and Azul with a reader who's cheery and often bouncing with optimism that always has the mind boggling stories to tell. What do you mean that they literally man handed a lion because it won't stop messing around? What do you mean they were in a pit full of scorpions because they accidentally rolled down a hill? What do you mean they literally escaped a real decapitation (hinting towards Riddle LMAO) because he put one spoon full of herbs instead of a teaspoon? Like— they could go on forever! And the thing is, they have evidence of it.

Thank youuu 🫶🫶🫶🫶

A/N: Thank u so much I've been trying to stay on top of writing but it can get so hard!! But I really do try to keep this fandom alive w some goodies, anyways I'll stop yapping heres

Savanaclaw, Azul, and Riddle with a cheery, adventurous Reader!

Leona:

He didn't exactly always question your storytelling before he got to get to know you as he would rather spend time sleeping. But it seemed like literally everyone was captivated by your latest entertaining experience.

As you guys' relationship grew, it got to the point where he couldn't ignore you dropping an insane piece of lore about yourself.

"Yeah, I was accidentally poisoned before-"

"What did you just say-"

"It's okay though, the gnome did apologize and I got my stomach pumped but everything is all good!"

He makes sure to keep an eye out on you, and honestly your stories are the main thing that keep him awake during the day especially because they're real. And although it may seem he's nonchalant when you message him about where you're at, Leona always makes sure to respond as he does care.

Jack:

As your first friend at NRC and protector kinda, he would get paranoid when you would sometimes disappear. However at first Jack believed you were an independent person, and wasn't up to any nefarious activity.

Until you came back with a gorgon head in a brown sack where he was studying in the autobiography section in the library talking about that you accidentally defeated it.

He screamed in terror upon seeing the thing, causing for him to be shushed completely by offended students. But he could not care less due to the sliced head within the sack, however he quickly took you both outside and you being you didn't exactly see the problem in this situation.

Once you where in an open area near NRC's well he began to question you.

"Why-? A-And how? Why are you like this, do you know how much danger you were in?!"

"To answer all your questions in order, 1. I got lost and she had a huge problem with me, 2. I got scared and ran with my eyes closed with the sword and BOOM, just clean off, and yes I know I was in a lot of danger and I'm very sorry for not responding to your calls."

He was way too scared for both you and himself to respond and learned his lesson to keep an eye on you more.

Ruggie:

Ruggie always told you that he was a "see it to believe it" type person and he was never really believing your wild tales you would tell even if you came back with a little souvenir. He always just assumed you were pulling his leg for a bit.

Until he texted you one day over Magicam, since it was a slow day at the Savannaclaw dorm. Only for you to reply with a video, making him click on it not knowing what he should expect.

Queue you to being in an extremely angry dragon's mouth,

"Hey Ruuggieee! I'll get back to you later since I'm in a pickle right now, but I promise I'll call you when I'm done!"

He nearly passed out upon the sight because what in all of the sevens' names doing inside of that deadly beast. The beast man ended up walking to Ignihyde to possibly get Idia to track your location based on your I.P address, only for his phone to ring just as he was about to blab about what happened.

It was you!

He quickly picked up his phone to hear your excited voice blaring on the phone, "I told you I would call you back! Anyways, come over to my house I have something to show you."

You ended up bringing home a dragon's tooth and treasure and while Ruggie was overjoyed, he reprimanded you for being irresponsible.

But he wouldn't mind it too much if you brought back goodies like this just make sure to let him know so he could tag along.

Azul:

You were running late to a meeting about mending a contract between students he scammed. Since you know him quite well and is a good friend of his, the students thought your kind hearted nature could persuade him out of binding them to the Monstro Lounge for an entire semester.

He written in a small font on the contract that if you were over 15 minutes late, you would be unable to host this meeting and the deal would be off completely. The white haired boy glanced at the clock as the time ticked and he would have his own free work force.

Until you had to come 30 seconds from it being called off completely out of breath.

"Sorry Azul! But I got you a little present from the desert," you said dropping down in your seat and digging through this brown sack.

The ancient golden scarab of the Hot Sands.

"Is that-"

"The golden scarab included with the jewel eyes? Yup and I did it all by myself!" You said, extremely proud of yourself.

"Do you understand the value of what you have in your hand? And what were you doing all the way out there by yourself I just talked to you a day ago and that is damn near a 5 day journey?"

"I did this since I did the calculations and about an 1/4 of the wages that the students owe you is in the value of this jewel bug here. So if I split the riches with you, will you let them go?"

You did all of this for some measly students you knew in passing? How could you jeopardize yourself like that?

But he at the same time, respected you greatly and for your trouble and kind heart.

However, he told you to not go anywhere without telling him.

And no of course it's not because he cares about you and was scared once you told him where you went...of course not...

Riddle:

Is the first person who noticed you were gone because he likes to keep tabs on his friends. He didn't know what to expect but the red head just believed you were busy.

So, Riddle decided to shoot you a text as everyone was hanging out in the Heartslabyul dorm and he really wanted to see you.

'Good afternoon, Y/N please feel free to stop by the Heartslabyul dorm. Your company is very appreciated :)'

You quickly texted back, 'Hey Riddle! I'm gonna swing by with a surprise ;D'

He smiled at his phone, unknowing as to what you were going to bring by. Thinking you might bring by muffins or a sweet treat as such.

Not the sword of Excalibur.

You opened the door, bursting in loudly with the enormous sword slung on your back as Grim carried two sacks of gold. Everyone was completely flabbergasted, as the sword had been known to be a mythological thing not yet proven like the fountain of youth.

But there it was on your back as you grinned.

Turned out you picked up your first job at an exploration company and they sent you on a death wish mission to get this damn sword. And in contrary to what everyone believed would be the outcome, you succeeded and retrieved the artifact.

Unfortunately for you, you ended up being scolded for about two hours straight for being completely irresponsible by Riddle with some chime ins from your friends.

He admired your intense tenacity and bravery, but Riddle was super worried about you whenever you take on a quest. He forced you to have a partner whenever you go on missions and call him every time you reached an important point to make sure you were alive and safe.

"So... you really do care about me-"

"By the great seven- YES ESPECIALLY WHEN YOU COULD'VE GOTTEN KILLED IN THAT DAMN ENCHANTED FOREST-"

[enchantedchocolatebars]

My Troubled Horsie

(A fic based on this Au)

Warning: This story contains silly self-indulgent fun that's NOT meant to be taken seriously AT ALL.

Philip's face was filled with interest as he sat alone on the couch, watching the TV attentively.

A show about animated horses going on adventures called 'My Troubled Horsie' was currently playing.

While in search for the history channel, he stumbled upon the series by accident and instantly became hooked after the first episode.

It had everything - angst, drama, and, most importantly, a good story as well as good morals.

He couldn't get enough of the show.

He was addicted.

At the moment, he was watching the season 1 finale where Penelope Pony had to inform Steve The Stallion of some bad news.

As Philip continues to watch, Caleb enters the living room.

A smile spread across his face at the sight of his baby brother.

It was evident that the brunette was captivated by the content on the screen.

"I see someone's grown fond of the TV," Caleb lightly teases, only for Philip to deliver a sharp shush, not giving him a single glance.

Taking a seat beside his brother, Caleb whispers, "What are you watching?" as he turns his head toward the TV.

In the show, two horses were having a face-to-face conversation in a meadow.

The mare had a pale violet coat, pale blue eyes, and a ruffled balloon-shaped mane along with a tidy tail. On her head, she wore a pink bow.

Her expression was dull as she looked at the mustached stallion wearing a black top hat in front of her with half-lidded eyes.

"Oh, Steve," Penelope began, her voice flat and monotonous. "I'm sorry, but I won't be able to make it to your party."

"Why not?" Steve wondered, worried.

Penelope sighed before revealing the reason to her friend. "Today, they're sending me to the glue factory."

That line broke Philip's heart. How could they do that to Penelope? She should have been spared. The mare was not deserving of such injustice. Meanwhile, Caleb was confused by the cartoon. He had no idea what a glue factory even was.

In the next scene, a yellow stallion with an orange mane and tail, blue eyes, and an eyepatch was clinging to a helicopter, having just caught Penelope from falling into an active volcano.

Both petrified ponies hung for dear life.

"Hold on, Marco Polo Pony!" Penelope cried out to the stallion.

"I can't!" Marco Polo Pony would confess as he continued to cling to the landing skid.

"I don't have any--"

Penelope's hoof suddenly slips out of his.

The stallion's eyes widen with shock as he watches the love of his life plummet to her death.

"HANDS!" He shouts, reaching a hoof out, but it was too late.

"AAAAAA!!!" Penelope screamed, flailing her limbs around.

This was it.

The end.

She soon shuts her eyes, accepting her fate.

Just as the purple pony was about to hit the lava, the screen cuts to black.

The show's end credits then play, accompanied by happy music and lyrics about love and friendship.

'That was... certainly something...' Caleb thought to himself, still confused about what he had just watched.

Suddenly, he feels something hit his shoulder.

Looking to his left, he sees Philip resting his head on his shoulder, exaggerated tears welling in his eyes.

He starts to sniffle like a wet cat.

The blonde proceeds to awkwardly pat his head.

"Uh, there, there, Philip. I'm sure she'll be... fine..."

Truthfully, Caleb had no clue of the pony's fate, but his baby brother was clearly saddened by that scene, so, being the older one, he tried to comfort him the best he could.

"Maybe they'll make a season 2."

[scottpetersen]

Compare/Contrast of Bradford Buzzard and Black Heron And Doctor Drakken and Shego

Ok. Here I’ll be doing a compare/contrast between Bradford Buzzard and Black Heron and Doctor Drakken and Shego. It occurred to me that those 2 duos have quite a bit in common but are also a bit different. Also, Spoiler Alert for the DuckTales (2017) TV series and the Kim Possible TV series. With that out of the way, let’s dive right in.

Both duos have a member who is constantly annoyed with how over-the-top the other member is. In the case of Bradford and Black Heron, there was Bradford who was annoyed with how over-the-top Black Heron was as shown in the episode ‘The First Adventure!’ where Bradford got frustrated with Black Heron’s showboating since he believed it would cost them the Papyrus Of Binding. And in the case of Doctor Drakken and Shego, there was Shego who was annoyed with how over-the-top Drakken was as shown in the episode ‘Crush’ where Shego tried to stop Drakken from telling Kim Possible his plan and also said to him that: “Yeah. All I know is every time you stop to blab about your big plan, she wins.” The difference between Bradford and Shego here, though, is how exactly they tried to put up with it. As shown in the episode ‘Double-O-Duck In You Only Crash Twice!’, Bradford gave Black Heron a stern lecture about the mess he had to clean up after her and how they needed to be smarter in order to beat Scrooge McDuck. And as shown in the episode ‘Go Team Go’, Shego was being sassy with Drakken by focusing on her magazine while he was explaining one of his evil schemes. So, Bradford was being stern with Black Heron whereas Shego was being sassy with Doctor Drakken. Another similarity between Bradford and Shego is that they both once part of a heroic group. As also shown in the episode ‘The First Adventure!’, Bradford was once part of a heroic organization called SHUSH. And as shown in the episode ‘Go Team Go’, Shego was once part of a superhero team called Team Go. The difference between Bradford and Shego here, though, is why they left those heroic groups in the first place. As also shown in the episode ‘The First Adventure!’, Bradford left SHUSH because he believed that they wouldn’t do what it takes to bring about order. And as also shown in the episode ‘Go Team Go’, Shego left Team Go because she wanted to be evil. So, Bradford wanted to bring about order whereas Shego wanted to bring about evil. Also, since I was on the topic of how over-the-top Black Heron and Doctor Drakken were earlier…

Both duos have a member who is pretty over-the-top when it comes to being supervillains. As shown in the episode ‘The First Adventure!’, Black Heron mentioned she tried to carve her face into Mt. Neverrest saying that it would have been an improvement and she let out an evil laugh immediately thereafter. And as shown in the episode ‘Rappin’ Drakken’, Doctor Drakken dressed up as a rapper and sang a rap song to try to sell his mind controlling shampoo. The difference between Black Heron and Doctor Drakken here, though, is whether or not they can be cold and ruthless despite their over-the-top attitudes. As shown in the episode ‘The Last Adventure Part 2: The Lost Library Of Isabella Finch!’, when June (who was actually Webby in disguise unbeknownst to Black Heron) called Webby her sister, Black Heron replied with, “You have no sister, dear. You are my experiment.” And as shown in the episode ‘Car Trouble’, Drakken found himself dancing a little with Doctor Freeman even though Drakken was there to kidnap him. So, Black Heron is cold and ruthless despite her over-the-top attitude whereas Doctor Drakken admittedly isn’t.

Both duos had disagreements based on how good one member of their duo was at being supervillains. As shown in the episode ‘The Last Adventure Part 3: Tale’s End…’, Black Heron said to Bradford that she knew she’d make a villain of him much to Bradford’s annoyance. And as shown in the episode ‘Car Trouble’, Shego taunted Drakken for not being able to handle Doctor Freeman’s kitchen machine AI’s. The difference between them there, though, is how their disagreements center around them being good supervillains. As shown in the episode ‘The First Adventure!’, when Black Heron gleefully said that they’re supervillains, Bradford replied with, “No! We are not!” And as also shown in the episode ‘Car Trouble’, after she shut off Doctor Freeman’s kitchen machine AI’s that were overwhelming Drakken, Shego said to Drakken, “Y’know, for someone who’s supposedly a mad genius, I’m not seeing much of the ‘genius’.” So, Bradford’s and Black Heron’s disagreement centers around whether Bradford is a supervillain whereas Drakken’s and Shego’s disagreement centers around Drakken’s competence when it comes to being a supervillain. Another similarity between them there is that both duos’ disagreements eventually came to a head. As shown in the episode ‘The Last Adventure Part 3: Tale’s End…’, Bradford betrayed Black Heron and sent her plummeting to her death. And as shown in the episode ‘Bad Boy’, Shego ditched Drakken in favor of the then-turned-evil Ron Stoppable before going back to Drakken’s side. The difference between them here, though, is how Black Heron and Drakken respectively reacted to their partners’ betrayals. As also shown in the episode ‘The Last Adventure Part 3: Tale’s End…’, as she was plummeting to her death, Black Heron smiled at Bradford and said to him, “Oh, Bradford. How villainous.” And as also shown in the episode ‘Bad Boy’, Drakken was mad at Shego for ditching him. So, Black Heron was delighted with Bradford’s betrayal since it showed how villainous he is whereas Doctor Drakken was mad at Shego for her betrayal since she ditched him for another villain.

In the case of both duos, Bradford and Drakken respectively finally made Black Heron and Shego respectively proud of them. As shown in the episode ‘The Last Adventure Part 3: Tale’s End…’ and as I pointed out in my previous point, Black Heron proudly said to Bradford, “I knew I��d make a villain of you.” And as shown in the episode ‘Graduation Part 2’, Shego supported Drakken during his reward ceremony. The difference between them here, though, is how exactly things went down between after that. As also shown in the episode ‘The Last Adventure Part 3: Tale’s End…’ and as I also pointed out in my previous point, Bradford sent Black Heron plummeting to her death and just as she was about to meet her demise, Black Heron smiled at Bradford and said to him, “Oh, Bradford. How villainous.” And as shown in the episode ‘Graduation Part 2’, a flower wrapped around Drakken and Shego as they smiled at each other thus implying they were in love with each other. So, things took a darker and more twisted turn in Bradford’s and Black Heron’s case whereas things took a lighter and happier turn in Drakken’s and Shego’s case.

Well, that’s all for this post.

See you all next time.

[chronicparagon]

Terror at Sunset Point

Note: This is a three-part fic for my friend @s-talking and their OC, Envy. It was meant for the summer, but I fell behind on it. I hope you enjoy my work!

The story is based on headcanons and threads and may be subject to change.

Triggers: Torture, Blood, Gore, Body horror, Death, Eye Gore, Eye Trauma

Part 1: The Nightmare Begins

Part 2

There is something amiss at Sunset Point. The beautiful forest in Mississippi is home to Camp Sunny Smiles where children spend their days making crafts, swimming, hiking, and singing songs around the campfire. However, Sunset Point has its own dark secrets, a place where restless souls meet their end at the hands of one of Mississippi’s notorious serial killers.  Though that ugly truth remains hidden beneath the brush and blood red poppies.

The very flowers that come from the Little Killer’s victims.

However, authorities assured everyone Sunset Point is safe. The Little Killer has not been spotted near the camp. The past week has been fun-filled adventures for the little campers under the guidance of counselors. Nothing could go wrong!

Absolutely nothing!

At least…Until to this very night.

Tonight, the full moon illuminates the dense wilderness surrounding Camp Sunny Smiles. All the children were accounted for and sound asleep, safe and sound in their cabins. However, some of the counselors use this as an opportunity to be up to no good.

Hushed whispers between a couple no older than nineteen join the rustling of the leaves. The crickets’ serenade and frogs’ singing mask the quiet giggles breaking up the whispers.

“Tim, are you sure about this?” The female counselor whispers but she continues to trek through the leaves, hand in hand with her boyfriend.

“Why not? The kids are asleep, and the director won’t know anything!”

“I know but what about Harmony? You know what she’ll do if she finds us here.”

“Darla, shush!” Tim hushes her, “Harmony isn’t patrolling the campgrounds right now. I saw her going into her cabin. It looked like she was distracted since she got that letter yesterday. Still didn’t tell me whom it’s from.” Tim adds with a shrug. “Do you think it’s a love letter from Frank? He’s obsessed with her.” “Haha! He doesn’t have a chance with her! Harmony told him a million times she had a boyfriend back home. Could be that guy, you know? Frank was all mopey since then.” Tim dismisses that bit of gossip with a wave of his hand. “Oh, yeah. He sounds like a creep, honestly, but Harmony won’t shut up about him. I told her to give Franky a chance.” Darla answers, “He can be forward sometimes, but he’s a great guy!” She adds, that her attempts to set the other two counselors up always failed. “I would drop that. She seems to be in love with her guy back home. Anyway, she’s distracted so this is our chance!” He grins from ear to ear as he and Darla make their way out of the brush for their destination.

“Well, okay. If you’re sure…but what about the Little Killer?” Darla asks, “What if he’s out there? I really don’t want to cross paths with him!” She shudders with dread, her blue eyes shut tight. “Aw, come on! He ain’t here! Police looked around hundreds of times. This area is safe! Plus, I’m here to protect you, babe!”  Tim grins once more and his muscular chest puffed out. Darla laughs as she and the other counselor enter a secluded place. The small clearing is surrounded by towering trees where they see the brilliant stars above them.  Darla gasps to find a small fire pit set up with a blue tartan blanket spread over the grass nearby.  A string of fairy lights cast a warm glow over the cozy scene which is complete with a few pillows and a picnic basket.

“Oh, Tim! You shouldn’t have!” She squeals with delight. “Oh, but I did!” The male counselor takes her hand and leads her to the scene. “I figured we deserve a romantic evening, y’know?”

It seems almost too good to be true! Tim’s plan fell into place with nothing going wrong. But the counselors have no idea that it can change at any time.

They are unaware of the unfolding terror that will come their way.

[bradshawsbaby]

🔥 hangman taking phoenix to a drive in for a date night (could also be a drive in in his small texas hometown)

From the 2K/Birthday Celebration!

“Oh my gosh, what are you, in high school? I’m trying to watch the movie,” Phoenix whispered with a huff, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.

“But you’ve seen this movie before. Like a hundred times,” Hangman whined, rolling his eyes as Phoenix pushed his hands away from her chest.

“That’s because I like it. Now shush,” Phoenix told him, popping a handful of M&Ms into her mouth.

They were currently lying on a mound of blankets and pillows in the bed of Hangman’s truck, parked in a prime spot at the drive-in movie theater in his hometown. They had traveled down to Texas for a few days for his grandmother’s birthday. Since it was only Phoenix’s second time in Texas, Hangman had wanted to plan a few special dates for them. His youngest sister, Lauren had suggested the drive-in since they were playing a double feature of Die Hard and Die Hard 2. Phoenix loved those movies.

Hangman had barely given the movie fifteen minutes of his attention, however, before he’d leaned over and started pressing kisses to his girlfriend’s neck, his hands sliding upward to cup her perky breasts. Phoenix, however, had shut him down almost immediately.

Pouting, Hangman reached over and stole some M&Ms from the box Phoenix was currently hoarding. “Haven’t you ever been to a drive-in before, babe? No one actually comes to watch the movie,” he whispered, glancing over the edge of his truck bed. Sure enough, they were surrounded by couples making out in their cars and paying no mind to Bruce Willis and his adventures.

“Oh my gosh, you seriously sound like a sixteen-year-old boy,” Phoenix laughed, resting her cheek in her hand as she rolled onto her side and gazed at him. “Are you really trying to hook up at the drive-in?”

“Can you blame me? I’m here with the hottest girl in town,” Hangman smirked, resting his hand on her hip and pulling her a little bit closer to him.

“Well, when you put it that way,” Phoenix grinned, laughing softly when Hangman pounced, caging her beneath his body and lowering his head to kiss her deeply, all thoughts of the movie forgotten.

Phoenix moaned softly into his mouth, her hand coming to rest on the nape of his neck, which made goosebumps rise on his skin that had nothing to do with the cool evening air. Pulling his lips away from her mouth, Hangman began to pepper her neck and collarbone with hot kisses, his hands wrapping around her waist to pull her even closer to him.

“Babe?” Phoenix whispered suddenly, her hands running down his arms as he reluctantly lifted his head to look at her. “I know this probably isn’t the best time, but I just wanted to say that I’m really happy to be here,” she told him in a rare display of sentimentality. “Not just here at the drive-in, but here in Texas. With your family. With you. I’m happy you wanted me to be here for your grandmother’s birthday,” she explained, biting down on her lower lip. “You know I love you, right, Bagman?”

Hangman grinned at that, her words meaning all the more to him because he knew she didn’t utter them lightly. Phoenix didn’t say things she didn’t mean. “I know,” he murmured, brushing her dark hair back from her face. “I love you, too, Minx. You’re the only one I want to be here with,” he said, lowering his head and bumping her nose with his.

“And you’re the only one I’m willing to act like a high schooler with in the back of your truck,” she teased, wrapping her arms around him and kissing him deeply. “Maybe you’ll even get lucky and get all the way to third base,” she whispered in his ear, laughing under her breath.

“Ooh-wee!” Hangman exclaimed in a heavy Texas twang, smirking as he lowered himself over her once more.

[eternally-writing]

Half the World Away | pjm.

genre: angst, fluff

rating: G (no swearing or sexual content)

pairing: Jimin x reader

theme: idol!au, established relationship!au

word count: 1k

warnings: none

synopsis: You already miss Jimin whenever he’s away, and when you have a bad week you miss him a lot.

banner by me!

I wrote this drabble for part of the BTS Ghostie Writer’s Net Drabble Marathon! This drabble is based on the Song Lyrics Category prompt “Don’t say you’re okay, because you aren’t.” from Blue and Grey!

--♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡--

After dating Jimin for 6 years, from pre-debut to stardom, you both had fallen into a well-oiled machine of a relationship. There were some parts that you both had agreed on together, such as “Jimin sleeps on the right side of the bed and you sleep on the left”, and “no going to bed upset with each other”, while some you had figured out on your own through some trial-and-error during your relationship.

For example, you had learned that Jimin actually hated broccoli (and I mean, truly despised it) but he never wanted to tell you since you loved it so much, but ever since then you’ve started cooking only one portion of broccoli and he couldn’t hide how grateful he was. However, the most important thing you had learned was that when Jimin was on tour he was busy - he spent morning to evening every night in rehearsals, performances, and appearances, and even on his days off he was out exploring with the boys so he didn’t have time to talk. After 5 different tours, you had learned that any correspondence from Jimin (whether it be a cute selfie of him in front of a tourist spot, or a quick good morning text even thought it was actually 1am and you were heading to bed) was something to be cherished, and you should have basically no expectations and wish for nothing more.

That’s why after you had endured an absolutely terrible week, you didn’t say a word about it to Jimin. It started with your car stalling on your way to work, then your dog had decided to rip up your new $200 dress that you had been saving up for for months, then a kid threw up on you at the grocery store ( the way kids just managed to throw up anywhere was a huge ick for you), and then last and most of all, your boss had scheduled a 10 min “check in and chat” with you at 5pm on Friday, which resulted on you being fired for your job.

Dating an idol had taught you to be very self sufficient, but on nights like this, when you were crying on your couch, greasy pizza in hand, and clutching a Charmander plushie Jimin won for you at a carnival as if it could act as any sort of replacement for him, you wanted nothing more than Jimin by your side. No matter how hard you tried, nothing seemed to replace him.

That’s why as you saw Jimin’s name pop up on your screen, with the word “FaceTime” underneath, you prayed to every single god out that there that you’d be able to keep yourself together for the probable 5 minutes that he’d have to spend with you.

It was Jimin who spoke first, appearing with a huge grin on his face and cheering with a “hi babe! How’s it going?”

You attempted to carrying on small talk with Jimin, updating him with the very small list of things that had gone well since you had last been in contact with him. You tried your best to muster up adequate reactions while Jimin was recounting his tour adventures, and maybe you could have done a better job of it if you weren’t constantly trying to hold back tears.

The thing was, while you had been making your own list of things you had learned about your relationship, you failed to realize that Jimin was doing the same as well. He picked up on your quirks, like how you had black coffee in the morning but took yours with 2 cream in the evening, and how you hated when movies had sad endings so he always looked up the endings of movies beforehand to make sure they didn’t upset you. He knew that you stopped making as much broccoli as him because you had realized he didn’t like it, so he made sure to show you how much he appreciated it every time.

Jimin saw the way your eyes shined in the reflection of the light from your phone, and if that wasn’t enough for him to deduce your emotions, you also touched your hair every 0.5 seconds - something he had learned was a dead giveaway that you were seconds away from sobbing.

“Y/N, baby…”

You could immediately hear the instant switch to a patronizing tone in Jimin’s voice, but you took a deep breath in efforts to shake the lump in your throat, ruffling your hair again to try and calm your feelings.

“I’m fine Jimin, really, perfect okay. Tell me about what you did today in Osaka! Did you end up going to Disney like you wanted?” You couldn’t stop your voice from cracking in the middle of your sentence.

As if through divine intervention, a savior in the form of Jungkook came bursting through Jimin’s door with a chorus of “Hyung, our break is over!”. However, for the first time in your relationship, Jimin shushed Jungkook, begging him to cover for him and that he had something important to tend.

Your eyes wanted to water just at that last sentence. You didn’t know how much you missed being important to Jimin until he said it out loud.

“Babe, I know something’s wrong and I want you to tell me, okay? No matter what, I’m going to be here to help you through it - there’s nothing that we can’t handle together. Don’t pretend you’re okay, because you aren’t".

--♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡--

If you liked what you read please make sure to interact/follow! Thank you for reading ♡ - Emily

[sidespart]

The Fall of King Romulus Part 6

Summary: Twin Princes Remus and Romulus are cursed at birth with Honesty and Obedience. When Romulus, who cannot disobey any order, is told to kill his brother the next time he lays eyes on him, he changes his name to Roman and runs away. Roman joins up with a misfit group of adventures and plans to never return to his homeland. But the fae have other plans for him...

Warnings (for whole fic not necessarily individual chapters): Violence, mind whammying/memory altering, curse of obedience related consent issues, references to sex, references to war related injuries/PTSD, references to child abuse/neglect (YMMV on that one but just in case), antagonstic-but-not-exactly villian!Janus, Extremly-moraly-dubious-but-not-exacty-unsympathetic-Remus

EXTRA WARNINGS - this chapter is pretty much unrelenting whump and the violence and consent issues (past) tags strongly apply. I have put more detailed (spoiler heavy) warnings at the bottom so if you’re particularly sensitive to that stuff and want to scroll down to check before you read you can do so.

Feedback appreciated.

NOW ON AO3 :D

Prologue     Chapter 1   Chapter 2  Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

In a tavern just outside of Leovan the crowd roars another! And Roman laughs and gamely starts to play another jig. He’s been playing for hours and he drinks in the attention happily, even as the cheers of the crowd become a ringing in his ears. The night is long and his throat is raw and his stomach empty and it’s harder and harder to keep his eyes focused, but his hands are steady on the strings. He sways in place, sweat dripping into his eyes, but it doesn’t matter- the crowd adore him. They sing and dance and laugh along, and after each set they call another, another, another until the room is spinning and his throat is bleeding and the audience’s laughter had turned cruel and high and lilting and-

Roman woke with a gasp and immediately regretted it.

The underground room was still pitch black, the humidity still cloying. At some point during his fitful sleep he had slumped to the floor, Lucius’ ill-attempt at binding having come loose enough to allow him to slide his arms down the length of the pipe. He was awkwardly sprawled at the base with his wrists still pinned above his head and his legs twisted underneath him. He tugged experimentally at his binding and got a sharp spike of pain down his shoulders and spine for his trouble. Whilst he had wasted time sleeping, the silk had become sodden from the moisture of the room and shrunk tight against his wrists, making even Lucius’ knotwork impossible to pull apart.

Not that it would have made much difference if he could get it loose.

Stay here until I come back with your transport.

Grunting with pain, he managed to untangle his legs out from under him and sit up. He pushed himself up on his knees as best he could, trying to relieve some of the pressure on his wrists, but gave it up quickly as the pain lacing down his shoulders intensified.

This was bad.

He chewed on his bottom lip, trying to think, but the heat was making it almost impossible. The black of the room kept swirling back in to crowded tavern, the rush of water into the jeers of a crowd…he could feel the raw burn on his throat and his mind scrambled desperately for another song-

Except it hadn’t happened like that. He shook his head furiously, his hair flicking sweat into the room, trying to banish the tavern from his mind.  He had already started traveling with the others by the time he sang in Leovan and if he’d tried to perform so late into the night Virgil would have come stomping down the stairs to tell him he was being ridiculous and to go and get some sleep.

Or Patton would have sat up listening, playing bodyguard, until he couldn’t keep his own eyes open and sweetly suggested that the crowd might want to be getting home to their own families.

Or Logan would appear, pocket watch in hand, demanding he finish within a set time frame in order to allow for optimal sleeping hours.

Roman could almost hear the lecture, relief at a chance to escape the crowd mingling with exasperation at the scholars ridged scheduling.

In the dark Roman glanced over to where he thought the door should be.

The only sound was the gentle hiss of water.

He tried pulling at the rope again.

***

“Hey! It’s you!”

The man blocking Roman’s path back to the ballroom was clearly drunk. He stumbled towards Roman, half leaning on the hallway wall for support, a big dopy smile on his face.  “I saw you- I saw you back there – wow!”

“Thank you friend.” Roman smiled brightly and took a step backwards, but not quickly enough to prevent the guy from grasping onto his sash.

“You’re so pretty.” The guy breathed, his eyes unfocused but his grip firm, “I saw you lookin’ at me when you were singin’.”

Roman squirmed. He was almost certainly better trained than his admirer, and he had had a lot less ale, but he was also shorter and skinnier. With the man pressed so close in the narrow hallway it was almost impossible to find the leverage he needed to push him off.

And. This was a nice place. And by the quality of the man’s clothing he was an honoured guest not a servant. Roman had been the one to convince his new companions to accompany him to the local lord’s house for the ball, he had wanted to give them to a chance to relax whilst he performed. He didn’t want to get himself, and them, kicked out by causing a scene- not when he was half hoping they would allow him to continue to travel with them even though the job he’d been hired for was done.

“I look at everyone-” he said, smile fixed and polite ”– engaging the audience is actually very important for-“

“Shush.” The man whispered.

Roman shushed. Grinding his teeth in frustration.

His assailant brought one hand up to paw at his face in a clumsy attempt at seduction, thick rings knocking against Romans jaw. His other hand released the bard’s sash to grip his wrist instead.

“Kiss me,” the man breathed, the stink of ale on his breath making Roman gag.

Face burning with mounting frustration and embarrassment, Roman attempted to plant a quick kiss on his cheek, but the man twisted his head at the last moment to meet his lips with his own.  Pressing Roman back against the wall with a slobbering assault as he attempted to pry Roman’s lips open with his tongue.

Panic flickered in Roman’s belly and then just as quickly dulled. It was generally easier to let these things run their course.

And then, suddenly, the pressure on his mouth – and wrist and chest - was gone.

Roman blinked open eyes he didn’t remember squeezing shut to see Patton with an expression so furious Roman had to fight the instinct to cower.

“What.” Patton snarled “Do you think you’re doing?”

“I di-didn’t mean to-“ Roman started.

“Well?!” Patton roared and Roman realised he wasn’t speaking to him – but rather the rich man who appeared to be rapidly sobering up in Patton’s grip.  The warrior held him by the scuff of his neck, his toes just scraping the floor. When Patton shook him, the plethora of chains around his neck clinked together musically.

“Roman,” Patton asked, his voice still shaking with an anger that made Roman draw his shoulders up instinctively “do you…know this man?”

“Well…no.” Roman glanced at the chains again, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as his heart rate started to return to normal “I think he might be the mayor though Pat, put him down!”

“I don’t care if he’s the King of the elves! Did you want to kiss him?”

“Well no, but – but its fine! These things happen!”

“You call yourself a Prince and this is how you carry on?”

Wait. What?

Roman blinked, feeling strangely hot in the cool hallway.

Patton wasn’t supposed to say that. Patton was supposed to ask what he meant. And Roman would backtrack and feed him some lines about people often feeling entitled to performers time off stage – which was not untrue – and Patton would look at him wide eyed and tell him that would never happen again –

“You’ve been told over and over, to keep yourself to yourself.”

- that Patton would stand guard at every performance from now on if that’s what it took.-

“If you insist on putting yourself into these situations, don’t come crying to me when the inevitable happens.”

-And Roman would be so elated at the implication that they were to keep travelling together that he would almost forget to feel embarrassed at the situation.-

Patton’s lips narrowed into a thin disapproving line, “Don’t be naive. You are far better off alone, Romulus.”

“Dad?” Roman whispered.

“He doesn’t look much like the Prince.”

“Oh, like you’ve seen him.”

“Well he’s meant to be handsome right? This guy’s not winning any contests.”

Roman opened his eyes, squinting against the light. Three men stood around him, illuminated by the glow of an oil lamp. For one wild moment elation flooded through him - his friends had found him after all!

And then their conversation registered and he scowled. Disappointment robbing him of a witty comeback to their insults.

Still. Let them travel almost non-stop for three weeks, spend a night standing out in the middle of a field whilst an old woman sang at herbs, march for five days through a forest - including a detour through he thickets brambles known to man- and then follow that up with an entire day wandering around the city, have two panic attacks and be left to sleep tied up in caller. And then see if they looked their best.  

With the gag still in his mouth, Roman’s attempt to covey this sentiment were mercifully muffled.

“I don’t know.” The biggest of the three stepped forward, grabbing a handful of Roman’s hair and yanking his head back painfully, abruptly cutting off his complaints. “I can kinda see it.”

“Be careful Niki,” the one who had first spoken whispered, he was holding the lantern and keeping well back from Roman. “His nibs thinks he’s got devils with him.”

“In here?” Niki cast a glance around at the iron cage of pipework that covered the room. “If he does they’re not coming out.”

“Still.” Lantern-boy whined.

“Well let’s test it.” Niki grinned down and Roman spitefully and released his grip on his hair. In one quick movement he had produced an iron dagger, not unlike Roman’s own, and pressed the flat of it to Roman’s cheek.

Roman stared at him.

“There you see? If was possessed he’d be screaming.” Niki said smugly and pulled his knife back, twisting it slightly as he did so, leaving a shallow cut along Roman’s cheek, making him wince.

“Careful,” lantern-boy said meaningfully “he’s still the Prince’s brother.”

“Oops.” Niki smiled cheerfully down at Roman. “My bad.”

“He needs to drink.” The third man stood far enough back from the lantern that Roman couldn’t see his face, but he saw the way the other two responded to his soft voice, their posture automatically stiffening.

“Here,” lantern-boy stepped forward after a moment, holding out a water skin to Niki  who rolled his eyes but reached down to rip the gag from Roman’s mouth.

Roman coughed, swallowing air greedily. His throat was painfully dry, all moisture sucked out by the silk, but he still hesitated when Niki held the skin up to his mouth.

“Listen to me.” He croaked “you-“

“Just drink it.” Niki snapped and Roman surged forward despite himself, swallowing a few precious mouthfuls before the skin was yanked away again.  

“You’re from Notaleveale.”  he whispered. “Right?”

“Obviously.” Lantern-boy muttered, taking the water skin back from his companion.

“Well then,” he drew himself up as much as he could, ignoring the pain the movement caused “ – as true men of The North I must implore you to assist me. The Marquis has been embroiled in some- some conspiracy of untruths, is perhaps plotting against the very crown itself and-“

“The Marquis de Orenlla couldn’t plot his way out of a paper bag.” Niki snorted contemptuously.

Roman opened and closed his mouth a few times.

“Isn’t he your Lord?” he asked eventually feeling bizarrely offended on the Marquis’ behalf. Niki and lantern-boy were both wearing chest plates embossed with the three peaked mountain range that signified allegiance to Orenlla, the royal kraken of Notaleveale floating above. They were clearly guardsmen brought with Lucius on his journey south.

The third man, who hadn’t spoken since he mentioned Roman needing to drink, wore no identifying uniform.

“It’s not an insult.” Niki shrugged, “personally I prefer an employer too daft to organise a coupe.”  

Lantern-boy nodded in agreement, “It’s a, whatcha call it - a positive working environment, innt?”

“…alright.” Roman decided to change tactics. “I’ll double what he’s paying you.” This time both men laughed.

“With what?”

“Well, I. I’m still a Prince I’ll have you know -  I have many rich and influential friends who would gladly-“

“Oh really. Where are they then?”

There was an unpleasant pause whilst Roman desperately tried to get his brain to think. He was supposed to be more creative than this!

“You’re no Prince of ours anyhow.” Lantern-boy stepped a bit closer to glare into Roman’s eyes. “Traitor.”

Roman flinched back at the pure look of venom on the young man’s face.

Little fae touched traitor.

“Listen to me. Whatever you’ve heard – it’s not true. My father-“

“Don’t you dare speak his name!” Niki surged froward, pulling Roman up by the neck of his tunic. Their faces were close enough that Roman could feel the spittle from the man’s mouth land on his cheek as he shouted: “After your despicable actions you would dare to-“

“Nicolas. Don’t upset yourself.”

The third man was barely visible to Roman over Niki- Nicholas’- shoulder, but as soon as he spoke the large man stilled, lowering Roman slowly back to the ground.

“Marcus. Some more light if you will.”

Lantern-boy -presumably Marcus– quickly produced a box of long matchsticks, almost tripping over himself in his haste to light more lanterns around the room. By the time he was done the room was brightly lit, the glow from each lamp bouncing off the metal pipes until it filled every corner.

The third man did not look especially Notalevealean, with skin almost as white as Virgil’s and pale white blond hair.  He was dressed plainly, with pale grey robes and soft shoes, and carried only a thin walking stick. If he hadn’t spoken, he could have quite easily faded into the background - camouflaged against the dull back drop of pipes.

“Nicholas. Marcus. Go and guard the passages.”

“But we already have a dozen men out there-“

“And I’m sure they’re in need of leadership. Go now.”

The two men glanced at each other. Roman thought for a moment that they would stand their ground, but then Marcus snatched up his original lantern and headed for the door, Niki following after one last reluctant glance back.

“W-wait.” Roman called. “Is my Father alive?”

They disappeared into the gloom of the next room.

Left alone with only the quiet grey man, Roman found himself wishing they’d stayed.

The grey man smiled at him as he shuffled towards the kneeling prince. His smile was an awful thing that did not touch his eyes.

“The young Marquis de Orenlla is a rather silly boy.” He told Roman in his soft papery voice. “Much like yourself.”

Despite himself Roman let out an offended squeak, but the grey man continued unhindered. “He has very little idea how to survive alone, can barely function without his servants.”

Roman caught himself staring at the floor and snapped his gaze back to the grey man’s face. He didn’t want to miss any information he might let slip but looking at him was-

It was difficult.

When he tried to look at the details of his face they seemed to slip away. Was he young or old? What colour were his eyes?

The whole time he had been talking, had his mouth actually moved?

“What are you?” Roman whispered.

The grey man smiled again, Roman shuddered.

“But also like you, he is not wholly stupid. He has started asking some inconvenient questions.”

Within the blink of an eye, the grey man was next to him a knife in his hand. Before Roman had a chance to do more than flinch, he had cut the ties biding his hands, and was back across the room.

Dazed, Roman rubbed his wrists, trying not to wretch.

Up close, the grey man smelt of death.

“Now. Sit there, and listen to me until I finish.”

Romulus whimpered.

“Your father is dead.” The grey man told him bluntly. “You killed him.”

“No.” Romulus- Roman shook his head. Used his newly freed hands to cover his ears. “He was sick.”

“You poisoned him over many weeks.” the grey man whispered. “Disguised it as a common sickness. You tried the same on your brother but he was too strong to succumb.”

Roman lowered his hands. They were pointless anyway- the grey man’s voice seemed to be inside his head.

“That’s not how his strength works!”

“And so instead, you allied yourself with a traitor to the fae court and placed a curse of madness on the crown prince, rendering him unable to rule. You hoped to take over in his place, but luckily your father’s advisors found you out. You were forced to flea with your fae companion.”

Roman stared at him, eyes wide. “That’s insane!”

“That’s the truth.” The grey man insisted. “When The Marquis asks you for the truth, that’s what you’ll say.”

“No.” Roman shook his head. “No, no, no.”

The grey man reached forward, resting his hand gently against Roman’s cheek. Romulus stared up into his eyes.

“Julius?” he whispered.

“In a way.” The grey man’s face seemed to twist. For a single moment, it was Julius’ face that looked disdainful down at him, rendering Romulus mute with terror. And then with another twist to reality it was gone, back to the grey man’s blank visage.

“I’ve had eyes all over looking for you Romulus. I was so sure you must have died in the mountains and yet –“ His fingers tightened on Roman’s face, nails digging cruelly into his skin. “Here you are. Like a little cockroach.”

With a shove he released Roman’s face and walked swiftly to the centre of the room, where the largest pipes rose out of the floor. “Stay on your knees and come here.” he ordered. Face burning, Roman shuffled after him, knees bruising on the stone floor.

“Put your hands here.” He gestured to one of the larger pipes. Even before his hands touched the surface, Roman could feel the heat radiating from it. It was far hotter than the one he had been tied to and although he braced himself he couldn’t hold back a yelp of pain when his hands made contact.

He snatched them back quickly, his palms an alarming shade of red. And without pausing, sprang to his feet, aiming a punch directly at the grey man’s immobile face.

“Stop moving.”

Roman felt his muscles lock, momentum sending him crashing to the ground as the grey man easily sidestepped his swing.

“Don’t move until I tell you too.” The grey man added, leaving Roman frozen on the ground where he landed.

Slowey the grey man stepped around him, crouching down by his head. “Look at me, Romulus.” Roman did so, only moving his eyes to stare at the flickering mirage of the grey man’s face.

Up close, the smell was so bad Roman felt the remains of his pastry threatening to make a reappearance.

“I am going to ask you some questions. You are going to tell me the truth. Nod if you understand.”

Slowly, Roman nodded. The grey man – Julius – whatever it was, had already told him what it wanted him to consider the truth. But even so, ‘tell the truth’ was an easy enough order to get around. Truth being in the eye of the beholder and all.

“And if you don’t, I am going to tell you to hold onto that pipe again, and I am going to tell you to keep holding it until I am satisfied with your answers. Do you understand?”

Roman swallowed.  He nodded again.

“Did you kill your father? Tell the truth now.”

“No.” he said quickly and then bit his tongue, cursing. Franticly he looked up at the grey man  “You, you said that was a truth for The Marquis, not for everyone I can’t just –“

“Raise your left hand.” the grey man said mildly. “Bring it here.”

Romulus felt tears of frustration and fear spring to his eyes. He was stupid for thinking he had a chance at this. Julius’ tests were never designed for him to pass.

***

Roman wasn’t sure how many hours passed before the grey man seemed satisfied.

Fortunately, he had methods of persuasion beyond just the pipe. When Romans’ left palm had become completely coated in blisters the grey man had handed him walking stick and instructed him to bring it down hard on his own back instead. And then his shoulders. The side of his face. His left palm.

The grey man never touched him himself.

He didn’t have any need to.

Whenever there was a pause between punishments he ordered Roman to stillness. Time which Roman happily spent fantasising, first of smashing the stick down across the grey man’s head, then of pressing his own eyes to the hot pipe.

Even if they took him home – he could not allow himself to lay eyes on Remus. That was the one thing he could not fail on.

“Did you kill your father?” asked the grey man.

“Yes.”

The stress of raising Romulus, of hiding the curse; there was no doubt he’d contributed to his fathers early death. It was true, at least to him.

“Did you curse your brother?”

“Yes.”

When he was a little boy there had been a phase where he tried to put a curse on Remus daily, and Remus him. The kind of curses they dreamed up were for itchy feet and stinky farts, and none of them had worked, but it was still technically true.  

“Why?”

“I was jealous of my brother.”

If Roman had only been born a half hour earlier he could have avoided a lifetime of being second best. He could have avoided his curse. Grown up with his Father instead of Julius. Not that he would wish any of that on Remus but. It was natural, surely, to be a little jealous of his brothers freedom.

“Good.”

Julius’ face smiled down at him. He reached out with the grey mans hands to stroke Romulus’ hair, like he sometimes did when he was a child. “You see Romulus, there is always a way to work within the confines of your curse, so long as you are willing to look for it. I taught you that.”

“Where are you?” Romulus whispered.

“I am waiting for you.” he smiled. “I have no sons Romulus, no one to pass the Stewardship to. And we must think about the future of our kingdom. When you are back, we can write a new story.”

“You…you’re ruler?”

Romulus frowned. There was a missing piece here but he couldn’t find it. The heat and pain were making his brain slosh against the inside of his skull. He found himself leaning in to the hand in his hair, even as revulsion rippled through him. “If you’re ruler then where’s –“

“Where’s the serpent?”

Roman blinked. Looking up, he found that Julius was gone again, the grey mans expressionless face staring back at him.

“What?”

“The serpent. Where is he?”

“I don’t – I don’t know what you mean.” Romulus held his injured arm close to his chest, curling over it protectively.

He heard the disappointed sigh and flinched even before the grey man brought his other hand to Romans’ bruised shoulder, squeezing hard.

“Look at me.”

Romulus did, eyes bright.

“I know he has left his prison. I know he was with you at that inn. I sent that stupid boy to get him and he found you.”

“I don’t know what you mean!” Romulus wailed, hating the childish wobble in his voice. “There wasn’t anyone else at the inn.”

“No?”

Julius eyes were peering out of the grey man again, a cruel glint to them. ”You were alone?”

“Yes.” Roman told him. Voice steady.

He’d entered the inn alone. He’d sat in the room alone. Climbed out of the window alone. Anything else was none of Julius’ business.

Before the grey man could speak again, a clatter from the next room made them both jump.

“Hmph. He’s early.” the grey man murmured.  “Get back to your place.” He gestured to the pipe Roman had originally been tied to and, haltingly, Roman crawled towards it, sprawling at the base.

“If The Marquis asks, tell him nothing about your injuries.” the grey man added lazily, taking up his position in the centre of the room, fading back into the background.

Roman grunted. It wasn’t a bad plan: his most visible injuries – the burns on his hand which he couldn’t stand to look at – could be explained away as being caused by the very pipe Lucius had tied him to. As usual, nothing could ever be pinned on Julius.

They waited. But neither the Marquis or his men appeared.

The grey man stood across from him, gazing out into the darkness of the next room. Roman wasn’t even worth looking at.

He slumped further against the pipe and tried to focus on breathing. There wasn’t a single place on his body that didn’t hurt, though the worst by far was his hand. He shivered from cold, which, given the heat of the room, couldn’t be a good sign. He let his eyes slip closed. Exhaustion threatening to take him again.

And then he felt a soft pressure on his lap.

“Mrrp.”

Roman opened his eyes. Then he closed them again.

He opened one eye. It was still there.

“Mister Mittens?” he asked, slightly hysterically.

Romulus and Remus had grown up with dogs. He wasn’t sure if cats were supposed to be able to feel smugness, but this once clearly did. It butted it’s head against Roman’s chin with another self-satisfied “Mrrp.”

“What?“ The grey man was staring at the pair of them, looking as confused as his expressionless face could manage. “Where did that thing come from?”

Roman was saved from having to answer by a crossbow bolt. One that came through the open door, burying itself in the grey man’s skull.

Chapter 7

Extra warnings

Consent stuff – Roman relives a memory of being sexually assaulted (he doesn’t necessarily think of it in those terms). A drunk man kisses him and pushes him against a wall. The man tells Roman to ‘kiss me’ without knowing anything about Romans curse. They are interrupted before it goes beyond kissing. (whether anything else would have happened, or whether the man would have stopped if he had known about the curse, is not shown in the text). It is implied that this sort of situation has happened to Roman before, and that it has gone further, but this is not explicit.

Violence stuff – Roman is tortured in this chapter. This includes cutting, burning and beating with a stick. The majority of this is not described in explicit detail but it’s certainly going on. Due to the nature of his curse, most of this takes place due to another character ordering him to hurt himself. Roman briefly contemplates burning his own eyes (for ‘trying to get around my curse’ reasons rather than ‘self harm’ reasons) . Someone also gets shot in the head with a crossbow. Roman also spends most of this chapter dehydrated and suffering from heat stroke .

I’m not totally sure what this falls under but its grim stuff – a character from romans past spends a lot of this chapter tyring to gas light him/ manipulate him into believing a set of false memories. Roman retains his correct memories but gets hurt a lot in the process. Meeting said character causes Roman to dissociate (I think this is the correct term but please correct me if I’m wrong), he continuously switches between his name and his childhood name during the chapter and at some points reacts as if he was a child.

[gloomybabygirl]

{in my head pt.2} Poe Dameron x smuggler!reader (soulmate au)

series masterlist 

last part  *  next part

a/n: hi everyone! I can’t thank you enough for all the love on the first part of the series!! I was actually super nervous to post it and had my friends beta read it an unhealthy amount of times, so the feedback I’ve gotten has been wonderful :) p.s. the series tag list is open, send an ask or message if you want to be tagged for the rest!

warnings: alcohol consumption, soulmate trope, poe not clearing his throat, cliffhanger, I haven’t proofread this yet 

timeline: I never established this so here we go! this is set between force awakens and last Jedi! so we’re still on D’Qar ladies, gents, and nb friends. however Miss Rey has not yet traveled to see Uncle Luke 

word count: 4k oops

songs used: mr. loverman - Ricky Montgomery & the chain - Fleetwood Mac (kinda? I just listened there's no singing in this part lol)

summary: you and Poe spend some time bonding, you go on your first mission 

You loved being apart of the Resistance. Waking up on D’Qar every morning was a blessing in your eyes. You had a purpose here. You’d never stayed on one planet for so long. Being on the run was your norm for the majority of your life. It was too dangerous for you to stay on one planet for too long (or stay in one region for that matter). The humid Jungle was the closest thing you’d had to a permanent home since you were a child. 

That is, D’Qar was the closet thing to a physical home you’d had in years. There was one person that had no trouble making you feel at home. You could be stuck in carbonite on a bounty hunters ship and hearing your soulmate’s voice wold make you feel safe. His sweet song felt like coming home to the warm embrace of a lover. 

But you hadn’t heard it in weeks. And it was starting to worry you. There had always been that nagging voice in the back of your mind telling you that he’d found someone else. But now that voice was trying to convince you of something much worse. You don’t know what you’d do if you’d spent all this time waiting for your person only to find out that something awful had happened to him. 

You’d rather find out he already belonged to someone else. 

You did your best to push the dark thoughts away, locking them in a box in the back of your mind. You couldn’t let yourself linger on the idea of him being dead or it would drive you insane. 

There were three people that did a magnificent job of keeping your mind off of all the negative thoughts. On days when it felt like the weight of the war was resting solely on your shoulders, your friends were the ones who could help you bear it. They were always there for a joke or a long talk, if that's what you needed. Of course you were there for them as well. It was the first time you’d allowed yourself to have people in your life that could rely on you. 

Days like today were your favorite. The weather was finally starting to cool down on the swampy planet, making the outside air somewhat tolerable. Everyone you loved was on base, safe and accounted for after a successful mission. Every time one of them left the base you felt as though you were holding your breath until they came back. But now, in Poe's small quarters with Rey and Finn, you felt the air return to your grateful lungs. Poe had devised a plan to hit up Maz’s on the way back from the mission and snagged a few bottles of jet juice, which you and the rest of the gang were all happily draining  in his quarters. The alcohol was just beginning to burn in your stomach and your head was the slightest bit fuzzy. You took your time soaking in the scene of your found family spread out on the cold permacrete of Poe’s room. 

Finn’s boisterous laugh rang out as his best friend finished telling every one about his adventure and a half to get the jet juice. Finn was especially fond of the tangy, red alcohol and was on drink number four down the hatch.

“Only you, Dameron,” Rey laughed to herself, gently taking the half full bottle out of Finn’s hands. His face of protest caused another round of laughter to erupt around the small room. He looked like a child that was denied a sweet by their parent. 

Finn fell back against the permacrete, his head making an awful hollow sound as it hit the ground. He didn't seem to feel it and decided the floor was his new best friend for the night. Rey got up from her position against the wall and began to pick up the empty bottles scattered around the room. 

“Looks like the jet juice served it’s purpose,” you commented, nudging Poe in the side with your elbow. Finn was now curling into the fetal position, trying to use a rug as a blanket. 

You had your legs resting over Poe’s strong thighs. He patted the side of your leg where his hand had been resting, carefully moving your legs off of him. “I better help him back to his room. Someone has to make sure he doesn’t end up running naked through the tarmac trying to fly an X-Wing,” Poe said. 

“I’d should head back to my quarters too,” you stood up to put your boots on, but Poe stopped you. 

“Actually, do you think you could wait here till I get back? I have something I want to give you,” Poe winked at you, helping Rey tug their friend to his feet.

You couldn't help the way your heart sped up at his words. And you definitely didn't miss the eyebrow raise Rey shot you from the door. 

“Yeah, I’ll just hang with BB-8 till you get back.” 

A low voice bellowed out from the door, “OOOOH HE GOT YOU A PRESENT! How romantic,” Finn was apparently trying to wake up the entire base with the way his voice was booming off the walls. You were sure he hadn't meant for that to come out so loud. Or to come out at all. 

Everyone went silent. You and Poe pointedly looked away from each other. His cheeks flamed red. You pretended to be preoccupied with the frayed laces on your Resistance issued boots. 

Rey looked between the two of you and then broke the awkward silence with: “Aaanyway, let’s get you to bed Peanut!” She sounded too cheerful, trying to reduce the awkward energy that hung in the room. Being force sensitive you could only imagine how she was perceiving the situation. She and Poe hauled their inebriated friend out into the hall, desperately trying to shush him as he was now singing. You hoped his poor soulmate wasn't trying to sleep. 

_ 

Finn clapped Poe on the back hard when they finally got into the drunk man’s room. Rey had helped Poe get Finn to his quarters but had dipped when Finn requested to be helped into his pajamas. They were close, but not ‘undressing one another’ close. Poe was itching to get back to his room and see you again, but he helped his buddy none the less. 

Finn was finally laying in bed when Poe turned to leave. 

“Are you okay?” 

Poe hesitated, then turned on his heel. “Yeah?” he furrowed his brow at the unexpected question, “Why?” 

“You haven’t been singing.” Finn was suddenly serious. 

Poe’s face softened when he realized what Finn was so concerned about. 

And he was right, Poe hadn’t been singing. It wasn't hard to miss, everyone on base noticed. The man who used to use every spare moment to sing to his soulmate had gone quiet. People actually missed hearing his voice all the time. Echoing through the halls of the base or out on the tarmac mixing with the whine of X-Wings taking off and landing. Finn wasn’t the only person worried about Black Leader. Leia had even mentioned something to her surrogate son a few days back. She enjoyed his singing more than anyone. She said it was a sparkle of hope during a dark time.

But the truth was, Poe didn't feel like singing. Guilt was the main thing keeping him from inflicting his voice on people whenever he could. How could he sing to his soulmate when he was fighting off feelings for someone else? He was doing everything in his power to stop you from being at the forefront of his mind all the time, but it was hard when your smile was his favorite thing to occupy his mind with. 

“I miss my lover, man.” 

He did. He missed his soulmate, whoever they were. He missed randomly hearing their soft voice humming through his mind. He missed the way he felt when he would sing to them. It was the closest thing he had to actually being with them, talking to them. He missed that he used to long for them. Lately that unconditional, blind love was being clouded by someone else. You. 

_ 

“Tell me more stories about your Dad.” You were sitting cross-legged on the floor across from where BB-8 was nestled in his charging station. He had been beeping and booping at you for the last half and hour as you waited for his father to return. 

The droid animatedly jumped into another anecdote about a recent mission he had gone on with his favorite person. He rattled around in his charging station, whirling his head around and beeping rapidly at you. 

“He did what?!” you asked the little orange droid as the blast doors flew open, revealing the man in question. You turned to face Poe, mouth still agape at the droids admission to you.

“Who did what?” Poe asked confused, walking into the room. The droid then decided he was done charging and rolled over to Poe for scritches. Poe kneeled down and gave his favorite little guy some love, looking at you for an answer. He laughed at the way you had your arms crossed and were giving him the same look Leia gave him when she found out he’d gotten into a dog fight.

BB-8 beeped adamantly at him. 

“Maker, Beebs, you told her about that?” He glanced nervously at you, only to find you were now trying to suppress a laugh. He was soothed by that damned smile that was burned into his mind. 

“Unfortunately for you, I can understand BB’s binary perfectly. Now I know why you have to work on your ship so often,” you teased. “You’re not exactly tender with her.” You were trying to keep up your facade of being angry with him for being reckless. You were failing, your smirk giving you away. 

Why did the fact that you understood BB-8 give him heart palpitations? His droid was absolutely going to get him into trouble with you one day. Apparently he can’t be expected to keep secrets. 

Poe ignored your jab and  walked over to sit behind you. 

“Close your eyes,” he demanded softly. 

“No, I don’t trust you. What kind of weird creature are you about to put on me?” you asked, twisting your torso to see him. 

He cocked his head at you, “Would you just have a little faith in me? I have something special for you.” He laughed. You narrowed your eyes at him but closed you eyes and turned around anyway, your smile growing bigger every second.

“Besides, if I was going to put a creature on you, I’d do it on front of more people,” he taunted. 

You laughed humorlessly at him, “Always the attention whore.” You heard him playfully shush you. 

Poe took a deep breath, silently grateful that you couldn't see the way his hands were trembling. He reached up and removed the silver chain from around his neck for the first time in years. He then carefully slipped it over your head and watched from over your shoulder as his mothers ring came to rest at your sternum. 

Deep breath. “Open.” 

You immediately turned toward him, a look of shock on your face.

“Poe what is this?” you asked, alarmed by the ring resting delicately on your collar bone. 

Poe's warm eyes held so much softness in them, you thought you would bust into tears right then. You turned to face him fully, confused as to why he just put this piece of jewelry around your neck. 

“A good luck charm,” he whispered, admiring the way it looked on you. 

“Is this the chain you wear every day?”

He nodded, still giving you that look that made you feel like the only person in the universe. 

“Then what's this ring?” The bottom of the silver chain was always dipped below his collar, if the ring had always been there, you’d never seen it. 

“It was my mother’s wedding ring. I wear it every day, take it on every mission, even sleep with it on. One day I’ll give it to my soulmate when I ask them to marry me, but for now it serves as a good luck charm for me,” He explained with a sad edge to his voice. 

You had become close with Poe Dameron in the last few months. While a large portion of that time was spent with Finn and Rey, you also had spent a few late nights just the two of you. He had a knack for making you laugh and you would often stay in his quarters long after the others had retired. Deeper conversations were far and few between, the two of you preferring to spend your time together in a fit of hysterics. It was strange to see this man so serious. There was no twinkle of mischief in his eyes tonight. 

You suddenly felt suffocated by him. His face was a mere few inches away from yours and you could feel his cool breath fanning across your face. His large hands rested on your knees, giving you a light squeeze and snapping you out of your haze.

“Poe are you sure you want to give this to me? I can't imagine how important it must be to you.” You reached up and stroked the smooth metal. 

“It’s the most important thing in the word to me. But I want you to have it for your first mission. Since I’m not going with you to help you when you accidentally shoot yourself in the foot, I want you to have a piece of me there with you. And what better to give you than my good luck charm?”

You felt your tears spill over, streaking hot and wet down your face at the sincerity in his voice. You couldn't believe he wanted you to have this piece of him with you. He was becoming one of the most important people in your life, and him sharing something so special with you meant the world. 

You were going down a slippery slope. If you weren't careful, you could fall in love with this man so easily.

“Poe, thank you. I don't know what to say,” you reached forward, pulling him into a tight hug. You nuzzled into his neck, letting the scent of leather and engine oil envelop you. He reached one arm securely around your waist and brought the other up to gently cup the back of your head. He took a deep breath in without meaning to, overwhelming his senses with you. He didn't want to pull away and had to hide his disappointment when you did. You kept your hands on his shoulders, squeezing slightly. 

“I promise I’ll bring it back safely so you can give it to your soulmate one day.”

_

The next few days were a whirl wind of meetings, briefings, more meetings, caf breaks, and did you mention meetings? You spent more time in the command room with your team than you did anywhere else. You forgot life existed outside the confines of the dirt walls.

But you were ecstatic that Leia trusted you with such an important mission so soon after joining the Resistance. Plus you couldn’t be more grateful for the people that were joining you for this mission. 

Finn was excellent for morale and a very smart man when he needed to be, unless of course he had jet juice in his system. Miss. Force-User Rey was always a good person to have on a mission. You brought a sense of craftiness to the crew, thanks to your smuggler skills. And Chewbacca was the only one (besides Poe) that Leia trusted to pilot the Falcon. Plus, he had a soft spot for smugglers, making you a new favorite of his. 

The one person you wished you could add to this team was Poe. His pilot skills would have been a great help to Chewie, he was talented with a blaster, and he was easy on the eyes. But he had a more important solo mission with BB-8 that Leia needed him on. He didn't make himself completely scarce though. He often came in and out of the Command Center, having his own mission to plan with Admiral Akbar. He made a point of bringing you caf every time too, he knew exactly how you liked it. 

You were terrified for your first mission as it was, but not having Poe there made everything ten times more dangerous in your eyes. 

The ring he had let you borrow was becoming a source of comfort. Whenever you got anxious about the mission you found yourself fiddling with it. The smooth metal was slightly worn in one spot on the band and you ran your fingers over it repeatedly to calm yourself. Something you caught yourself doing unconsciously on a number of occasions. 

The plan was simple. The Resistance had gotten word of an ex First Order official on the planet Ryloth, less than a parsec away from Tatooine. You and the rest of the crew were to go there and see what information the old Commander could offer you. Simple. But that didn’t stop you from needing to cover all your bases. Every single thing that could have possibly gone wrong had an escape plan to coincide. You were as prepared as you could be.

Your favorite part of the plan was your mode of transportation. As an ex-smuggler, you’d admired the Millennium Falcon and it's pilot for years. You’d heard every story surrounding Han Solo and his old piece of junk. Seeing it in person, let alone flying on it was something you’d never thought would be possible. But here you were, boarding the infamous ship. 

Finn and Rey brushed passed you, Rey laughing at the look of awe on your face as you were frozen in the doorway, the ramp hitting you on the ass as it closed.

You took your time walking around the hull of the Falcon. Taking a moment just to think about the adventures she’d been on, the places she’d seen. You laughed fondly to yourself as you remembered your favorite story. You reached out and placed a hand tentatively on the wall of the old ship. “So this is the ship that made the Kessel Run in fourteen parsecs?” you called out to your friends.

“Twelve,” Finn and Rey chorused from the cockpit, mixed with the indignant cry of your favorite Wookie. 

“Okay, twelve! Sorry, sorry,” you laughed and joined your friends in the cockpit. 

_ 

Poe was exhilarated every time he was in the air. There was nothing in the world that gave him the same feeling. This man was more comfortable in a cockpit than he was on his own two feet. If it were up to him, he’d never come down. 

But there was someone pulling him back to solid ground, like a magnet. Someone he couldn’t stop thinking about no matter how badly he wanted to exile them from his mind. He couldn't ignore your gravitational pull. He hadn't seen you in several days, you having returned from your mission two days prior. His mission was a success and he couldn't wait to tell you all about it. Leaving out the dangerous details that BB-8 was sure to fill you in on later. 

He was nervous to hear about how your mission went. It was a simple enough task, but he couldn't help but worry about you. He hoped his good luck charm was as comforting to you as it had been to him these last few years. He felt naked without it, this having been the first mission he hadn't taken it on. He found himself reaching up to stroke his finger across the band of the ring he had worn in from playing with it when he got nervous, but then remembering he'd given it to you. The idea that you were wearing a piece of him around the base made his heart leap in his chest. 

He was practically giddy when he leaped down from his X-Wing, already rushing to find you. 

Cool it Dameron, you have a soulmate waiting for you. 

Plus, he had to see the General before anything. Was he so clouded by his need to see you that he forgot he was fighting a war? 

A twinge of guilt hit him hard in the stomach, forcing him to take a deep breath and remind himself of the person looking for him somewhere in the universe. He let his feet take him down the familiar dirt path to the Command Center. The soft, damp earth caused his flight boots to sink slightly with each step.

He flooded his mind with images of what his future could be like with the person the galaxy had chosen for him. A small home on Yavin IV. Children he could teach how to fly the same way his mother taught him. A safe, quiet life with no threat of the First Order. No threats at all. He stored these images in the back of his mind for when he needed a glimmer of hope during the war. But lately he was using these daydreams as distractions from you. 

He stepped into he large room where Leia was addressing General Akbar and a few other pilots that had also just returned from a mission. 

When she caught sight of Poe her forehead created in confusion and she abruptly dismissed the debrief she was in the middle of with a wave of her hand. As they shuffled out of the room, several of them shot Poe sympathetic looks. 

What the hell was going on? 

“Commander Dameron, what are you doing here?” The General asked, walking over to him.

He hesitated, unsure as to why she was asking a question with an obvious answer, “I just landed from my mission, General. I’m here to debrief.” 

Leia dropped the General persona and gently caressed the pilots face, running her thumb over the stubble she resented.

She had always been like a second mother to Poe, and he like a second son to her. Their relationship was something special and unique. Something she thanked the Force every day for. However, her unexpected shift from serious Resistance leader to caring mother made Poe nervous. 

“I thought Finn or Rey would have been waiting on the tarmac to tell you.” 

Now he was starting to panic. What was he missing? What happened? 

“Come with me,” Leia softly implored, grabbing his calloused hand and yanking him out of the room. She tried to flood him with calm though the force connection she made with him, but his anxiety was too overbearing.

She continued explaining as she pulled him through the base, “The mission went south. There was no ex Order Commander on Ryloth. It was a set up. When they landed, there was a fleet of ‘Troopers waiting for them, ready to capture them and bring them back to the Finalizer for my son to interrogate.” She tried to keep her voice even for Poe's sake.

Poe was really panicking now, starting to pick up his speed. He squeezed Leia’s hand, begging her to continue. 

“They got out relatively unscathed. Chewie stayed on the Falcon so they were able to get away quickly. But Poe,” she stopped in her tracks, jerking Poe back to a halt. She looked him in the eyes, worried for what his reaction to her news would be. 

“Poe, the new recruit was badly hurt. They were shot in the side with a blaster and lost a lot of blood. They’ve been in the medbey unconscious for two days, but they’ll be okay,” she finished. 

Poe wordlessly turned and broke out into a run towards the medbay. Leia watched him go, knowing he needed to see you more than anything in that moment. She had felt a connection between you and Poe. She knew he wanted to wait for his soulmate, but she also knew that finding them was not likely. Part of her wished he would give in and let himself fall in love with you. Soulmate or not, she wanted him to be happy. 

[watch-grok-brainrot]

For the character and letter prompts: how about D. Subtle kindnesses, with the yunmeng trio?

Here you go! Sorry it took me so long! I got overwhelmed making gifs and then doing some other stuff. I really enjoyed this prompt. It wouldn’t have been something I explored on my own. I don’t know if the kindnesses were all SUBTLE, but this is what came out of it. 

Assumptions: 1) WWX and JC are on speaking terms. 2) Post canon. 3) CQL JC who is softer and kinder than MDZS JC. 4) WWX lives in CR and doesn’t really go to Lotus Pier much. 5) WWX and LWJ are married. 

Thanks again for being patient! <3 

Visit Often in the Future

Word count:  ~1540

Characters: Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng, Lan Wangji (brief appearance), Lil Apple

Rated G

Warnings: Not much really... canonically dead characters. 

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

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come along?” Lan Wangji asked his husband as Wei Wuxian packed a qiankun pouch. 

“I’ll be fine. You need to preside over Qingming events in your family. And I owe it to Jiang Cheng to show my face in Lotus Pier.”

“If he lays one fin-” Lan Wangji began, but Wei Wuxian shushed him with a finger. 

“He won’t. He’s always more angry and louder than he actually means. I need to go see Shijie and let her know everything that’s happened and show her that Jiang Cheng and I will be ok.”

“Fine. You know I cannot deny you anything.”

“You’re so good to me Lan-er-gege. When I come back I’ll thank you properly,” Wei Wuxian said as he bid his husband goodbye with a kiss and went to fetch Lil Apple for this trip to Yunmeng. 

~~~

The familiarity of Yunmeng never failed to surprise Wei Wuxian. After nearly two decades and across two lifetimes, the place seemed unchanged: the same smells of food and rain, mostly similar shops and stalls, and even many familiar people. 

He guided Lil Apple through the crowds, stopping to look at trinkets in stalls. He picked out something Jiang Cheng and Shijie would like from their childhood. For Jiang Cheng, he got a little glass dog, clear bodied with purple floppy ears -- he blamed his residual guilt from when Uncle Jiang got rid of Jiang Cheng’s pets when he was first taken in. He then purchased a simple sandalwood hair stick with one end intricately carved into a blooming lotus flower for Shijie. Her style had always been elegant but not ostentatious. Maybe he could burn it as an offering to Shijie this year. Maybe the peacock would enjoy seeing her wear it in the afterlife. 

Wei Wuxian settled Lil Apple in the stables and went to watch Jiang Sect sword practice. Before he even got close to the Sword Testing Hall and main courtyard, he could hear Jiang Cheng barking out instructions. 

“Lift up your arm! Squat lower for a better horse stance! How can you call your base stable with that form?!” 

Wei Wuxian smiled and lept onto a banister, perching and watching. 

Jiang Cheng seemed to have matured in the last two years since their altercation in the Jiang Sect ancestral hall. He held himself with less tension and his instructions were more precise. Instead of hitting the disciples as Wei Wuxian remembered him doing in the past, Jiang Cheng guided their arms and adjusted their legs in place. He could see some of Uncle Jiang’s kindness in the current sect leader. 

Wei Wuxian reached into his qiankun pouch and held the dog in his hand, rubbing his thumb over the coarse ears and smooth body. The little figure really seemed appropriate for Jiang Cheng -- hard as rock, cute (at least for such a wretched creature), and full of various textures. 

“Jiang Cheng! Mind if I join in?” Wei Wuxian called from where he perched. 

“Wei Wuxian! I didn’t think you’d show your face! Do you even remember any of our forms? Can your weak body handle it?”

“Well, we won’t know until we try!” Wei Wuxian hopped down from his perch and set his stuff onto the ground. He grabbed a practice sword and joined the students in their forms. 

“Let’s see if the former head disciple remembers Jiang Sect teachings,” Jiang Cheng huffed as he continued drilling his sect. 

Wei Wuxian felt himself falling into the familiar pacing and movements of the Jiang Sect sword forms. Each thrust, jab, and extension of his arms brought him a sense of ease. He quietly thanked himself for picking up cultivation shortly after the Guanyin Temple events. It took him a few months to get accustomed to Mo Xuanyu’s body proportions but afterwards the movements and his qi started flowing in unison -- something he had not felt since the fall of Lotus Pier years ago. 

By the time sword practice finished, Jiang Cheng approached his former shixiong. “I see you picked up cultivation again.”

“Yup! Since i have a new body, I figured I might as well see if I can make use of it.”

Jiang Cheng hesitated before clenching his jaw and asking, ”Do you want to spar with me?” He paused and then added, “Wooden swords. No spiritual energy.”

Wei Wuxian’s eyes lit up, “Just like old times. I”ll do my best to kick your ass! Loser buys lunch!”

Much to Jiang Cheng’s chagrin, he was forced to buy Wei Wuxian lunch. But he did get a cute purple glass dog as thanks. Why Wei Wuxian even had a dog figurine was beyond Jiang Cheng’s comprehension. 

~~~

The next day sword practice was canceled for Qingming preparations. 

“Wei Wuxian! How dare you think you can visit Lotus Pier for Qingming without helping out?” Jiang Cheng’s voice bellowed across Lotus Pier, trying to track down the elusive Yiling Laozu. 

“Jiang Cheng, I am helping! I’m supervising, can’t you tell?” Wei Wuxian leaned against a pillar of the Sword Testing Hall, held up a small bottle of Lotus Breeze Wine, and gestured in the general direction of the bustling Jiang Sect disciples.

“You need to clean too!” Jiang Cheng said as he plucked the bottle of alcohol from Wei Wuxian’s hand and replaced it with a broom and a few rags. “Go to the Ancestral Hall. Sweep the floors, polish the tablets, set out the offerings. Get it done in two shichen. There are many more Qingming preparations to finish!”

“Alright alright,” Wei Wuxian said as he sauntered towards the Ancestral Hall.

“And pick up the pace. Don’t set a bad example for the juniors!”

“Alright! Alright!” Wei Wuxian called back and headed to do his task. He stepped into the Ancestral Hall and stopped. There was an extra table set up with two memorial tablets. Did someone else die? But wouldn’t he know about it? 

He shook his head and started cleaning the floor. He’ll have to clean them anyway. He’ll find out then. After the floor was swept, mopped, and polished,  he pulled out a new rag and started cleaning the memorial tablets. He remembered Shijie sitting by the lotus-shaped altar and crying over Madam Yu and Uncle Jiang’s tablets. He remembered himself and Jiang Cheng as children being forced to kneel before the spirits of the dead after they got into trouble. He remembered learning the names of all the Jiang Sect ancestors from the last few hundred years. From the oldest to the most recent, he carefully wiped the dust from their names. 

He got to Madam Yu and Uncle Jiang and held them a bit longer. Closing his eyes, Wei Wuxian muttered, “I hope you’re proud of Jiang Cheng. He’s done well for the sect. Under his care, Lotus Pier has gotten stronger and become well respected. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to help him more. I hope you forgive me for that.” He opened his eyes and returned Madam Yu and Uncle Jiang to their rightful spots. 

He then reached for Jiang Yanli’s tablet. He wiped it down and spoke to her, told her about A-yuan and Wen Ning and Lan Zhan. He spoke of the rabbits his Lan Zhan kept for him and of all the new Gusu rules. He described the way the pine trees bent under the snow in Cloud Recesses winters and the food Lan Zhan cooked just for him during that time. He told stories about night hunting adventures with Jin Ling and the Lan Juniors, about how Jin Ling was growing up to be a respected sect leader. After a quarter of a shichen, his voice started to crack and he finally returned his Shijie to rest beside her parents. He then pulled out the hair stick he bought for her. “I hope you like this Shijie. I miss you so much.”

The last two tablets were not with the others on the lotus altar but set aside on an offering table in a prominent location. Wei Wuxian almost dropped them when he saw the names: Zangse-Sanren and Wei Changze. What? Why? His fingers brushed over his parents’ names. Was this why Jiang Cheng told him to come here? Did Jiang Cheng plan this all along? 

He fingers tightened as he slowly lowered himself onto the floor. Even when Uncle Jiang was alive, memorial tablets of his parents were never in the Ancestral Hall. He had never gotten a chance to speak to them or tell them about his life. Suddenly faced with two lives worth of memories, Wei Wuxian found himself speechless. He opened and closed his mouth a few times and finally returned the tablets to the table. 

Pulling over a pouffe, Wei Wuxian knelt before his parents’ names. He lit three sticks of incense and bowed solemnly thrice. “This unfilial son, Wei Wuxian, pays his respects to his parents, Wei Changze and Zangse-Sanren. Forgive me for my years of transgression.” 

Outside the Ancestral Hall, Jiang Cheng leaned against a sliding door, hidden from view. “Uncle Wei, Aunt Zangse, A-Jie. I hope you’re enjoying your time with A-Xian today. I promise he will visit you often in the future.”

[tales-from-nocturnaliss]

Ario's story part 1

While I keep editing part 2 (coming soon-ish!), enjoy the first part of this Fantasy-ish character-driven story set in my own world of Aeyuu.

I suck at presenting my stuff, so please just give it a read. It’s fairly long though, so story beneath the cut!

(this part cannot be voted on anymore)

Part 1: Onwards for adventure!

Finally! At long last, after years of saving up his wages, after so many months of meticulous preparation, the grand day was upon him! Freedom! Adventure! The open sea!

Clutching his waterproof travel bag, Ario breathed in deep the fresh morning air of Port Sabeto, his heart swelling with relief and excitement. In just a few hours, he would board the most famous sea-bound ship in all of Rao, the Oroi. No more musty tomes burning his retinas, no more shushing colleagues staring at him with suspicion. No more fear of being outed. Soon, he'd embark on the greatest adventure still left to Raonkind:

To discover, as the first Yosen ever, what truly lied on the other side of the Sea of the Dead.

Stifling a giggle, Ario hopped forward, down the winding streets of Sabeto. So many novels he had read over the years, of brave Yosen crossing the sea and uncovering lush and exotic lands, strange new creatures and people, fantastic cultures full of primitive tradition… Some of them had to be real. And he would be the first Yosen ever to discover the truth, to study these lands, to document—

"Watch where yer going, Yosai!"

Ario's mind snapped back to the present, right in time to shriek as he was shoved face-first against the nearest wall. Stone and grime pressed painfully into his skin while loud cursing stomped him past,  and he felt what had to be large fingers squeezing the back of his head. As soon as he was released, Ario peeled himself off the wall, not without mumbling an insult that he swallowed back as soon as he sized his aggressor up – really, really up.

Pointed ears twitched like angry snakes in the wind, the large, burly Kokai sailor wiping off sweat and bright crimson strands of hair from his dark brow. In the shade of awnings, the sailor's eyes gleamed like a cold, unspoken warning that Ario's heart caught the gist of. He swallowed that insult way, way down.

"Got a problem, runt?" the sailor growled, his deep voice raking Ario's nerves.

"N-No, I'm good," Ario replied with a gulp, squeezing his bag. "Thank you. Great hair."

Eyebrows furrowing, the sailor grunted, stared, bared the corner of his lip… and then tramped off without another comprehensible word. To Ario's heart-shattering relief.

Wiping cold sweat off his twitching face, fingers at his throat to feel the racing of his heart, Ario continued on his now cautious way. He really needed to learn to think twice – or, at the least, once – before speaking out. You'd think he'd have learned that lesson already, with how many times he'd had to steer a conversation astray over the years. After all, fear was the only future a Yorei like himself could expect from this insatiable world. Fear, persecution, all built upon misbeliefs.

Yosai, the sailor had called him. An insult, he'd gleaned in a history scroll, based on the silly belief that all Yosen descended from the Oromisai, the mythical Black Calamity that supposedly destroyed the entire world generations ago. Black-haired monsters. Death spirits. Disgusting filth, no doubt, in the eyes of the Kokai. These thoughts in mind, Ario paused to look down at his free hand, at the five fingers attached to his palm. He stretched out his arm and stared at it through his vest, clearly picturing frail limbs beneath frayed blues. How could anyone think that his people, the Yosen, were anything beyond just that: people, made of flesh and bone, of prejudice  and bloody mistakes? The Empresses of old were long gone, their heirs dead or living without knowledge of their once-Yorei heritage. Nothing remained of their genocidal evil except for words strewn across countless history scrolls. The past was over.

With a trembling sigh, Ario lowered his arm and resumed his walk. In truth, he could easily understand the Kokai and their fear of persecution and slaughter. He'd read enough salvaged, centuries-old documents on the many ways of dissecting live Yorei 'specimens' to know what terror felt like. It could take but one more mistake – one long stare, one revealing word – for him to end up on an experiment table, all strapped up by his peers, screaming for someone to just kill him—

"This is horribly depressing," he blurted out. The shaking in his throat startled him back into the present, into glancing furtively around himself, expecting for someone to have heard him – to have guessed what he was. Finding no one staring at him, Ario hurried on his fidgeting way.

Along the cobbled streets, Ario quickly found points of distraction in the crowd surrounding him – countless Kokai tending to their businesses, several Yosen brave enough to wander about Sabeto without travel bags or weapons… At the very least, he eventually concluded from watching the Kokai not watching him, he wouldn't have to fear anyone on the ship figuring out that he wasn't just another Yosen traveler. They clearly didn't care about him, or even where he walked. If he managed to curb his natural curiosity and kept out of everyone's minds, all he might have to fear was a sail-in with the Orebashi. Ario couldn't help but grin at the prospect of meeting the legendary sea serpent face to snout. What a fabulous adventure that would be… if it didn't smash up their ship, of course. But what would be the odds?

With barely muffled squeals, Ario tip-toed down the road, his mind full of fantastical images of the Orebashi swimming alongside his ship, of stroking its beautiful rainbow scales and oh, if he was lucky, maybe riding the waves astride its back. What a fantastic discourse that would make! But first, he reminded himself while tapping the eagerness out of his cheek, he needed to board his ship. He needed to find that ship. Surely it wouldn't be too hard to find something dubbed 'death spirit', would it?

Following the trail of sailors and the maritime breeze, Ario made his giddy way further down Sabeto, swerving between the Kokai crowds and delicious foodstands and sharp-edged crates carried up on broad shoulders. Before long, houses parted before him, and he gasped a squeal as the port finally revealed itself to him in all its grandeur – as a jaw-dropping network of intricate, overhanging wooden piers spread out like an endless labyrinth just begging to be explored. With a loud squeal, Ario rushed down the streets.

Floorboards creaked beneath his feet, like a symphony of age and anecdotes welcoming him aboard history. History, he repeated for himself, speechless beneath the glory of these countless colourful sails obscuring the bright blue skies of Rao. How this port had endured across the ages, despite rebellions and massacres, Ario couldn't fathom. But he was here, now – breathing in the chilly breeze of foregone times. Just a few more hours, Ario reminded himself with choking glee; just a few more hours, and he would start writing his own part of Sabetian – of Raon – history.

If, of course, he'd manage to avoid getting shoved off the pier by distracted Kokai sailors. Really truly, no one did care where he walked or stood, did they?

Ario had to bite his tongue a few times while seeking his mighty vessel, the way forward often blocked by sailors clearly adamant on shoving him off the pier – accidentally, surely, Ario reminded himself. Would it also be deemed an accident if he tripped over a sailor who'd trip over him in turn? Or it could not be an accident, he calculated with growing exasperation, eyeing now a slender sailor chatting a few feet away. Within a few eye blinks, an emotion began swirling in Ario's chest – a distant sense of true joy that nauseated him. Jaw clenched, he squeezed his bag and carried on his congested way.

After what felt like several hours of near suffocation and keeping his natural curiosity distracted by counting legs, Ario finally caught sight of relief: the name Oroi, emblazoned on what he soon discovered not to be merely a black stern, but an entirely black hull. Ario couldn't fight the shiver that ran down his spine when he looked up at its deep darkness, at the deep blue sails snapping viciously to the winds. He'd read about the Oroi being a ship made of death and tears, but this…

What kind of people superstitious enough to believe in a 'black calamity' destroying their entire world would crew aboard this monstrousity? "This can't be right," he told no one.

"Are you boarding the Oroi?" a shrill voice replied.

Startled, Ario squealed and squeezed his bag tight. "Who said that!?"

An exasperated sigh – a vicious sensation of pleasure – froze Ario in place. Heart pounding in his ears, he cautiously lowered his gaze towards the source of the sensation. A petite, stripes-clad Yosen girl glared back, armed with a clipboard whose edge she pummeled with her pen. Ario gulped.

"I—Is this really the Oroi?" he asked. "Seabound, departing in," and he squinted up towards the sun overhead, "erm, soon-ish, apparently?"

"And we have no room left," the girl snickered. To Ario's disgust, she sized him up with a wide grin on her face. "But that won't make a difference to you, now, will it."

"I'll have you know I spent all of my savings on this trip," Ario said, gesturing wildly. "Ereno Ario. Trip's already paid in full—"

With a swift, broad swipe, the small girl slashed her pen through what could only be his name. Ario couldn't help but knead his throat, swallowing hard.

"Gear down in the hold. Welcome aboard," she added, grin stretching now from ear to ear. The more heartbeats he stared, the deeper a trembling chill ran down in his bones. There was something beneath this smile, something he could almost hear – a sort of sadistic delight. Ario trembled and, preferring not to sense more from this twisted little girl, he clambered up the gangway and onto the Oroi's main deck.

To Ario's great relief, the ship's deck was built out of naturally coloured wood, somewhat lighter in colour than the skin of the predominantly Kokai crew. Glancing about, he soon realized just how quickly the Kokay crew rushed from side to side, from stern to prow and the shrouds in between. Was it almost time for departure? Did he truly miscalculate that badly? Hand shielding his eyes, Ario squinted up towards the clear skies and the sun's general area. It had to be midday – or, maybe a little later? A lot later? Well, he was aboard now anyway, so what did it matter? The sooner the better. As soon as possible. So, so very soon. Ario couldn't contain his squeal, excitement building in his chest and in his bouncing legs.

This was it. Freedom. Adventure. To step where no Yosen had ever stepped.

Leaving behind fear, sorrows, and regrets, to start his life all over, in a place where no one knew of Yorei or Calamities. What greater purpose could there be, when all you'd ever had to look forward to was suffering?

Ario shook his head. This wasn't the time for worry anymore. Now, all he had to look forward to – all he had to look forward to – was departure, adventure, and bliss. Excitement filling his chest again, he decided to distract himself by wandering the deck and studying his fellow passengers.

Without surprise, given the high price of tickets, Ario spotted but few non-Kokai aboard. A couple of groups comprised fellow Yosen who, judging by their intricate and ample clothing, had to be believers of Aorei off to 'join their goddess in her realm beyond', or whatever religious types believed they'd find across the sea. Ario couldn't help but run his fingers through his hair, wondering what these believers in 'Aorei's glorious Yorei lineage' would think if they knew of his abilities…

The group of Yosen scientists tucked away beneath the captain's quarters, Ario widely circled around. If his former colleagues were any indication, these Yosen might suspect him at the first wrong glance, the first too knowledgeable word. He'd flipped through enough notes and diagrams about the dissection of Yorei to know that these people could make his life aboard very, very unpleasant if he wasn't careful.

Ario let out a trembling sigh, his gaze now rolling towards the clear skies. Months of staring into air and clouds and water and evading sharp-minded attention? How was he going to do that? Pretend, he told himself. Pretend, don't think, don't say hi, don't even think of getting skinned alive—

Repressing a heave, Ario tore his gaze away from the scientists and resumed his stroll across the deck, not without growing apprehension. To his relief though, he encountered no more Yosen scientists, no one whom he felt might discover his true nature. He paused as he passed a group of Kokai travelers who, he vaguely perceived, viewed this trip as a sort of… spiritual epiphany? Like the Yosen believers, then? Intrigued, Ario casually approached them, and rested his arms and his bag upon the ship's railing while he focussed on the peaceful feelings emanating from the Kokai. Try as he did, he couldn't gather more than an eerie sense of serenity from them. He clicked his tongue, loathe to disturb their relaxing tranquility just to satisfy his own curiosity. Rather, he wished he could feel as they did. But, wasn't that the point of this whole trip?

After giving the Kokai a smile and a nod, which they pleasantly returned, Ario headed off to end his tour of the ship by the prow's shrouds, just in time to watch the crew raising the anchor. He gulped down a surge of anxiety, and turned back towards Sabeto's port with fear and happiness pounding through his heart. This was it – finally. Adventure. Discovery. Freedom. Who knew how many weeks or months – or years? – of travel. Sea-sickness. Storms? He was so under-prepared. Would they let him off if he asked!?

As the Oroi took a sharp, unexpected turn away from the pier, Ario gripped the railing with a loud squeal. He closed his eyes tight, squeezing the railing and his bag while the ship swayed beneath his shaking legs, sails flapping loudly in the winds, the sea lashing out against the ship's prow. Surely, the ship couldn't sink so close to to shore, could it? There had to be failsafes? Rowboats? Singing gulls?

At that last confusing thought, Ario opened his eyes. All around him, a song echoed, many voices intertwined, words he couldn't quite comprehend – but the depth of their meaning, however, pulsated through his veins. A plea for a safe journey. Joy. The weight of tradition.

Ario turned around just in time to watch the Kokai crew finish their hymn and resume their duties. As their emotions dispersed into the air, Ario realized how the sway of the ship had calmed, now but a creaking vibration. Ario let out a deep sigh that flushed the remnants of the hymn's vibrations out of his heart. He settled against the prow's railing, relaxed for what felt like the first time in his entire life, and let his eyes and his mind wander along the ship's cacophony of inner thoughts.

In a matter of heartbeats, a couple of minds imposed themselves to him.

One, standing nearby at the very edge of the prow, a lone passenger clad in a dark cape. Ario sensed a muddled array of emotions, something like… grief. And pain. And maybe something else, buried deeper inside, but Ario couldn't imagine what could be worse than grief.

The other, on the opposite side of the prow, sitting atop a barrel. A Kokai sailor whetting a large, spiked harpoon. There was something about him, Ario sensed; something deep and dangerous, that somehow reminded him of the dangers of quicksand. Out of misplaced curiosity, Ario prodded these two minds, reaching a little deeper with each touch… Until he suddenly found himself collapsed on hands and knees, gasping for air.

Too deep; he'd gone too deep. Between two coughs, memories resurfaced of budding childhood friendships gone sour, of colleagues' suspicious glares after a misplaced word, even of his ex-girlfriend Kara, a sweet girl, gentle and fragile – all of these relationships ruined before they ever got a chance to begin. All because he couldn't turn this power off.

Coughing himself upright, Ario glanced between the caped one, and the Kokai sailor. He knew he shouldn't; but the swirl of strong emotions within them called out to him, begged him to go and pry into their secrets.

Should he…

1. approach the cloaked traveler, who is exuding a dark, grief-filled aura, or

2. stealthily approach the Kokai harpooner, whose hatred oozes from every heartbeat?

[ninbayphua-moyan]

Where The Harvest Moon Is Brightest

Sweat trickled down my back as I lugged my suitcase behind me along the five-foot ways of Penang. A sense of Saturday afternoon languidness hangs in the balmy air like a soft, heavy blanket, lulling you to sleep. A gentle breeze fleets through the walkway, pleasantly cool against the slight stickiness of my skin. I paused and took a deep breath, head tilted back with eyes closed, listening to the faint rustling of palm leaves. The air was steeped with the fresh, earthy petrichor of a recent shower, and tinged with undertones of the alluringly sweet scent of frangipanis.

          Loud giggles. Shrieks of laughter. Opening my eyes, I turned towards the sound and saw a group of children playing a game of ‘The Eagle Catches The Chicks’ on the street. They dodged and ran with unabashedly childish grins plastered onto their mud smeared faces, eyes twinkling with youthful glee and carelessness. I smiled. It wasn’t that long ago when I too was a little rascal playing on these very streets without a care in the world. I remember the days when the neighbourhood kids and I would play in the streets until our mothers called us in for dinner. Oh, the adventures we had! Climbing up trees; playing in the rain; racing the roti man down the street as he rides by on his bicycle. Ah yes……the roti man……how we used to wait for him to make his rounds each evening after school……The tinkling sound of the metal cup-like object being struck with an iron rod signalling his arrival…our short legs running, shouting ‘roti!’ until he stopped by the side of the road…the chaos that ensues as we crowded around him like hungry chicks waiting to be fed, coins held tight in our sweaty little palms……

          Then, I heard it. The familiar ‘Ting! Ting! Ting!’ of the roti man echoing down the street, as if summoned by my reminiscence of it. The children had heard it too. They ran towards the roti man shouting ‘roti!’, their game abandoned without a second thought. Instinctively, I started running as well, fumbling around my pockets looking for loose change to pay for the bread. I joined the little gathering crowd just as the roti man was getting off his bicycle. A tantalising aroma of freshly baked breads and buns wafted out the minute he undid the catch on the little glass framed doors of the meat-safe seated behind his bike. I couldn’t help but groan internally at the heavenly sight and smell. I watched as he slathered the savoury margarine and rich kaya onto thick slices of roti benggali, mouth watering uncontrollably. After a few minutes, he handed me a big bag of the bread to me and I dropped the money into his outstretched palm. He flashed me a quick grin before returning his attention to the next customer.

          Making my way back to the five-foot way, I stuck my hand into the plastic bag and brought out a piece of warm roti banggali. Biting into the bread, I felt my tongue melting. The crispy, golden crust and soft white crumb of the bread served as a fragrant base, a sacred chapel where the buttery saltiness of the margarine and the rich, creamy sweetness of the kaya sang, each in their unique tune before harmonizing into a heavenly choir and melding into one savoury mouthful of bread. Before I knew it, I had already finished a third of what I’d bought. Realising that I wouldn’t have any left by the time I reached my destination if I continued eating, I quickly knotted up the bag and hurried along.

          Ten minutes later, I came to a stop in front of a shophouse at the end of the five-foot way. A large ebony plaque hung regally above the doorway, my family name engraved upon it in golden Chinese characters. U-shaped terracotta tiles covered the roof and three full length louvred windows lined the upper floor of the two-story building. The pillars were adorned with painted, three-dimensional decorative plaster of beautifully crafted flowers. Majestic peonies and tender lotuses blooming, their elaborate and delicate carved petals unfurling elegantly. Majolica tiles lined the dado façade on the lower quarter of the walls, adding yet another splash of colour to the otherwise, dull and plain exterior. The carved timber ventilated doors stood wide open, each of its panel depicting legendary creatures of ancient Chinese folklore. The exquisitely detailed carvings of phoenixes never ceased to amaze me, even after all this time. Perching nobly on golden branches, their wings were spread wide as if to take off at any second as I gazed, entranced. Then, as the late afternoon sun shines upon their gilded bodies, it was as if those carved mystical beauties were suddenly brought to life. Their once dull sheen now aglow in brilliant shades of scarlet, orange and gold, almost as if they would burst into flames at any moment, just like in the myths of old, and be reborn from the ashes.

          The sound of fluttering wings and clear melodic chirruping snapped me out of my daze. Looking up, I saw a family of swallows roosting in their nest at the corner of the roof. Ah…it was that time of the year again wasn’t it…the swallows always left the nest as the harvest moon approached. I remember how excited I used to get when they came to roost in the spring and how sad I would be when they’d left as autumn drew near. A-Poh[1] would always pick the nest once the swallows had flown, clean it and turn it into a bowl bird nest soup. She always told me it was good for the skin as well as health but I was never sure how true these claims were.

          Peeking my head through the door, I announced my arrival home out of sheer force of habit. There was a loud clanging and scuffling from the kitchen as I heard a delighted shout. I had barely stepped across the threshold into the house before I was pulled into a tight bear hug by A-Poh, immediately enveloped by the familiar scent of incense and rice powder. She was strong despite her age and sometimes I couldn’t help but wonder if all her stories about bird nest soup were true. Pulling out of the hug, she gave me a quick look over and pinched my cheeks, complaining that I’ve lost weight again even though I hadn’t. I tried protesting but she shushed me with a fond pat on the cheeks and shouted for A-Gong[2] who instantly came wobbling out of the ground floor bedroom, a large toothless grin on his wrinkled face. He wrapped me into a warm hug whilst A-Poh hurried off into the kitchen, determined to stuff me up with food before anyone could stop her. I shook my head in resignation whilst A-Gong just laughed and ruffled my hair, amused.

          Pouring some pu-erh tea into two clay teacups, A-Gong motioned for me to sit down, asking about my time abroad. As we sipped on the earthy fragrance of the pu-erh, I told him about my time in the UK; about its miserably wet weather; its tasteless food; its strange customs; and how much I had missed home whilst I was away. Upon hearing that comment, he chuckled heartily, a knowing look in his eyes. He too had left the comforts at home at a young age, sailing the seas to unknown lands to avoid the war. When I asked if he ever missed Hainan and his childhood home, he would always smile a little wistfully but would then shake his head saying home for him was where my A-Poh, a content look upon his wisen face. Even after all this time, they were still as in love with one another as they were back then, just like the butterfly lovers from Chinese folklore.

          Halfway through our conversation, he suddenly stood up as if he had just remembered something. Giving me a wink, he disappeared out the door. I grinned, knowing exactly where he was headed off to. As I sat by the round wooden table in the living room, I gaze absentmindedly at the sparrows fleeting about A-Gong’s potted plants. The afternoon sunlight was streaming in through the lightwell, brightening the otherwise dimly lit interior. I remember still how my siblings and I would play hide-and-seek in the interior courtyard amongst those potted plants. Ah, those really were the days……

          Shifting my gaze, my eyes were immediately drawn to the majolica tile floor. Its kaleidoscope of bright colours a stark contrast against the plain wooden and rattan furniture. Come to think about it, those mosaic pattered tiles were probably what triggered my interest in art in the first place…oh, the afternoons I’d spend on those cool, smooth floor drawing and trying to mimic their intricate patterns and colours…..

          I was brought out of my reminiscence when a bowl of steaming hot pork dumplings was placed before me. Ahh…A-Poh’s pork dumplings. How I’ve missed it while I was away! Eagerly, I picked up the chopsticks and took a bite, my mouth immediately exploding with flavour. The saltiness of the pork meat marinated with soy sauce and sesame oil, the refreshingly sweet spring onions contrasting the meat’s saltiness, the delicately wrapped flour encapsulating it all, the slight bitterness of the herbal broth…this was my definition of heaven. Seeing me happily wolfing down the dumplings, she smiled and returned to the kitchen.

          I was only halfway through my bowl of dumplings when the intense aroma of spices and chili came wafting out of the kitchen, making my mouth water. There wasn’t a need to look. I already knew what it was A-Poh was preparing. And sure enough, she came tottering out of the kitchen a few minutes later with two big bowls of hokkien-mee. Taking a seat next to me and we both dug in. I took a big slurp of soup and my tongue was instantly set on fire, the spices clashing as they performed a tango on my tongue. I had forgotten how potent the chili at home were. My lips were turning a numbing red within seconds but that didn’t stop me from downing down the entire bowl of noodles. After all, no self-respecting child of Penang would ever be caught dead bested by a bowl of spicy hokkien-mee. A-Poh chuckled as she watched me switching comically between fanning my tongue and slurping down the spicy soup.

          Just then, A-Gong came walking in through the front door and I squealed in delight. He grinned, handing me the little plastic bag in his hands before sitting down. Like a child who was just given her Christmas present early, I happily started munching on the packet of ais kacang. The frozen sweetness of the shaved ice instantly cooled my burning mouth and I quickly took a few more mouthful. Content, I glanced at my grandparents and started noticing things that had previously escaped my attention. A-Poh’s once salt-and-pepper hair was now silvery white and her hands seemed more worn and wrinkled than I last remembered. The wrinkles on A-Gong’s face seemed deeper now and his hands, especially the one with a missing finger, shook a little more than they used to whenever he held something. Since when had they aged so much?

          Realising that I had stopped eating, A-Gong pushed the plate of pandan cake closer to me, urging me to eat. Now, I was never much of a sweet tooth but I was particularly fond of this green coloured sponge cake that just melted in your mouth like a piece of cloud. The mild, aromatic sweetness of pandan and the light, fluffy texture of a chiffon cake, a beautiful fusion between European cake-making techniques and locally grown ingredients.

          As I continued munching on the cake, I couldn’t help but smile, having realized how beautifully diverse my hometown was. Just like the pandan cake, it was a place where cultures of the East and West collided and coexisted in harmony. Yes…this little culture cocktail of an island was what I called home and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

NOTES:

[1] ‘A-Poh’ means ‘grandmother’ in Hainanese

[2] ‘A-Gong’ means ‘grandfather’ in Hainanese

[3] ‘Where The Harvest Moon Shines Brightest’ is a play on  月到中秋分外明，每逢佳节倍思亲 meaning the moon is brightest in mid-autumn; homesickness multiplies during each festival

Author's Notes:

Back with Part 4 also known as the final part of the short story slash prose pieces from uni series (this was the earliest piece I wrote in first year lol). The story takes place a year and a half after Part 3. A-Yun has finally graduated uni and has now gone home. All is well ends well. Yes I am aware that there is a slight glitch and A-Gong shouldn’t exist at this point but I wrote it before I wrote everything else so we’re bringing him back to life OuO Anyways, I hope you enjoyed reading Part 4~

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3  

Since exams are over and graded and I've officially graduated, I can finally post my work online without having to worry about Turnitin picking it up as plagiarism because apparently you aren't allowed to plagiarise yourself according to university which is absolutely ridiculous but I'm not the one making the rules here so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Also, please don't reupload my works without permission.

[purplestrawberrywerewolf]

Raya gets her revenge

Part 2!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/33232162

So, i think I might make this a mini series based off my own experiences because the things I have experienced are like so weird and my life should be one of those shows where the camera crew comes out and says "Ha! It's a prank" so let me know in the comments if I should.

She knew this was revenge. She knew because she was suffering the same way Raya did. She thought they were over this. She thought Raya would forget what she had put her through but instead, she remembered.

Every last detail.

Raya had called her that morning. Namaari’s phone rang as she finished feeding the cats and saw the contact was her best friend. She answered. “Hello?”

“Hey dep la. I need you to do me a favor” she didn’t know why, but when Raya said that, she felt her stomach churn. “Uh, sure what’s going on?” She asked. Raya sighed on the other side of the phone. “I got called into work this morning and I was rushing and didn’t get chance to let Tuk Tuk out. Do you think you can?” There it was. The ‘favor.’

“Umm..”

“Please? I cleaned the dang cat litter for you, the least you can do is just take my dog out for a walk” she had a point. Namaari sighed. “Y-yeah, okay.”

“Thank you! You have the key to the apartment so you can get in. Thanks dep la” the girl hung up and Namaari found herself groaning. She liked animals, don’t get her wrong, but she wasn’t much of a dog person. She preferred cats.

They were easy to take care off and only meowed, not bark super loud. She grabbed her keys and mask before heading to the car.

~*~

The Fang girl entered the apartment building and went to Raya’s apartment. She unlocked the door, expecting it to be quiet like hers, instead a big long-haired dog came and scared her.

“Ah!” She yelped when Tuk Tuk ran towards her, barking in excitement. “Ow, shhh!” She shushed the dog, cringing at the volume. “Hi, I’m happy to see you too” she said as she pet the dog.

The dog calmed down as it ran off to the kitchen. Namaari spotted his blue leash and the set of black roll of poop bags on the table. She took a deep breath. This was easy, she cleans cat litter all the time, so she’s dealt with poop before, so if Tuk Tuk poops, it’s fine!

Right?

She grabbed the items before whistling. Tuk Tuk came to her panting and running in circles in excitement, knowing he was about to go on his walks he loved. Namaari couldn’t help but laugh at his excitement.

“Come on you big furball. Let's take you for a walk” she said as she clipped the leash on and lead him out the door.

They descended the stairs and Tuk Tuk did his business. This was easy! He’s peeing now, and maybe drop some poops but overall, it was running smoothly right now. They walked a few more steps before he did his stance that automatically told Namaari he was doing his business.

She pulled out the bag, ripping it off as she tried to open it, but it wouldn’t budge. She kept rubbing the bag to make it open but instead, it stayed closed and the smell was getting worse.

“Ugh, come on” she groaned. She was wearing a mask but the smell was going through. Finally, the bag opened and she bent down to grab it. “eww” she squealed as she closed the bag. “That’s disgusting” she said as she spotted an alley. She decided to walk to it to throw his business out when Tuk Tuk spotted a squirrel.

“What are you-ah!” She yelped when she was dragged across the sidewalk towards the tree as Tuk Tuk barked at a squirrel. “Tuk Tuk! Come on!” She groaned as she pulled him, but to avail.

She groaned as she waited for him to calm down and continued their walk. She would’ve pulled him, but she didn’t want to hurt him because if she did, Raya would never forgive her.

She walked through the neighborhood, admiring the trees and flowers as she walked. Things were going smoothly until she saw a guy coming towards her with what looked like a German shepherd. Namaari couldn’t help but panic slightly, not being a fan of those specifically when she got chased by one when she was 10.

From what she remembered, Tuk Tuk was a friendly dog, and liked making friends with both humans and dogs. Tuk Tuk and the dog both stopped to sniff each other.

The guy smiled at Namaari, but she could tell it was a flirty one. “Hi” he greeted. She smiled back, trying to be polite. “Hey” she responded. “You know, I’ve never seen you. You come here often?” He asked.

Namaari kept herself from groaning and hopefully he couldn’t see her cringe behind her mask as she recalled the amount of times men have asked her that when she was at the bar with Raya or another friend. Usually, it ended with her turning them down.

“U-uh, no. My friend just wanted me to walk her dog so you know” she gestured to Tuk Tuk. “Oh okay. What's your name?” He asked. “Namaari” she answered. She silently pleaded Tuk Tuk to hurry up so she could leave.

“Oh, I’m Mason. You’re cute by the way. Are you single?” He asked. Namaari tried so hard to not cringe. She also was single, but wasn’t looking for anyone.

“Uhm, yeah but I’m not looking to date right now” she answered. “Ah, well makes sense. But hey, if you’re looking to, I live down that street, so you can come by” he winked before continuing his walk with his dog. “See you, cutie” he said as he left.

Namaari couldn’t help but blush but also be absolutely uncomfortable. “You know, you could’ve been fast about sniffing the dog instead of leaving me there to burn” she said to Tuk Tuk who happily walked ahead of her, dragging her with him.

The walk was mostly calming but also had its moments when Tuk Tuk would run after a rodent. “No!” Namaari said as she struggled to pull the big dog back. How he went from a tiny pup to this big, 50 pound something dog will forever be a mystery.

“Ugh!” Namaari fell on her bottom as Tuk Tuk kept barking and she groaned as she got up. Raya knew this would happen. She knew Namaari would struggle to walk Tuk Tuk, since she’s only taken care of cats.

She knew this was revenge.

“Come on” she said as she dragged Tuk Tuk back to the apartment.

~*~

“And then, this guy comes up to me and starts flirting with me” Namaari explained her adventure on walking Tuk Tuk. Raya had come home early and decided to get some food for her and Namaari.

As they ate, Namaari told her about the walk. “Wait, wait. Was he kind of buff, short hair and a little taller than you?” She asked. Namaari furrowed a brow. “Yes” she answered.

Raya rolled her eyes. “Yup, that’s Mason. He's the neighborhood flirt. Loves flirting with girls to see who would jump in his bed. Trust me, he’s flirted with me a couple of times” she said as she took a bite of her rice.

Namaari rolled her eyes. “Men are so weird” she commented. Raya snorted as they finished their dinner.

Well, at least Namaari knew one thing; Raya got her revenge.

[itawonka-creates]

This Jewelry Will End Up Killing Me - CH 1

So this Konosuba AU actually got attention and I love this dumb fleeting idea so I’ll run with it. It’ll be short and the chapters won’t be super long, but - by god’s name - there will be a story arch. [Prologue] [Chapter 2]

“What are your parents’ names?”

“Talia and Bruce.”

“Siblings?”

“Too many.”

“Pets?”

“Is this going to be the whole trip with you?” Marinette pouted and he rolled his eyes, “You don’t get out much do you?”

“Nope. Alya’s the adventurous one. I get kind jealous of her and Nino’s travels.”

“Alya?”

“Alya’s my best friend and Nino’s my longest friend. They make a very effective couple.” He hummed in acknowledgement. Keeping her talking meant he didn’t have to answer any more questions. “Do you have a best friend?” Of course it didn’t last.

Damian thought about it for a while before shrugging, “Jon. He’s one of the only people who can keep up with me and we work well together.” He scowled and pointed at her, “Never tell him that.”

Marinette blinked and shrugged, “Okay?”

Right, she didn’t know Jon. She didn’t know anything. Tikki tapped his shoulder and he looked around, “Are we close?”

“Very.” She looked at the bustling crowd in front of her and grabbed his arm, “C’mon.” Damian allowed himself to get dragged around the unfamiliar town and simply took in the scenery. As big as it initially seemed, he figured it wasn’t too hard to navigate. He looked around at the peaceful atmosphere and found himself feeling a bit envious. He thought back to his city and to the state he left it in. This world had literal monsters, yet his city was the one in tatters. “Damian?”

“Hm?” He brought his attention back to an odd looking building with large doors. If this was an RPG, this place would be begging to be interacted with. “I’m assuming this is the place.”

“Yep.” She stood there for a moment and motioned for him to open it. Damian sighed and pushed through the entrance and was immediately greeted by a man sitting by a bar. He looked rugged and almost stereotypical in his appearance. He was an adventurer for sure, but the leering put him on the defensive side. He was about to say something when Marinette gasped, “What are you wearing?” The man blinked and looked down at his clothes. She didn’t hesitate to run to his side and pull him to his feet, “Who told you this was a good look?”

“What?”

Damian widened his eyes once he realized this girl had a death wish. “Marinette-”

She didn’t even acknowledge him. She had the same look in her eye when she first looked at his costume. It was starting to give him the creeps. “This bulky armor doesn’t compliment you at all! I mean you look like a weird puffed up bird! No figure or anything!” She shook her head, “You need something leaner. You have broad shoulders but a small waist. This just hangs off of you and makes you look huge!”

Damian smacked the back of her head, “Marinette!”

The man towered over them and almost glared at her. Damian pulled Marinette behind him and tensed. This girl had death wish being so forward and insulting a man clearly used to fighting. He stepped forward and Damian reached to grab a weapon before the man frowned, “Is it really that bad?”

“Yes!”

“What?” Marinette pushed forward and continued talking to the man, giving him tips even. “What?” She shushed Damian and pushed him away as she continued to give the adventurer tips. “What?”

She finally turned and snapped at him, “What, Damian, what?” Damian really wanted to strangle her, but that would be against his father’s code. He opted to drag her away from the entrance and further into the building, “Hey!”

“You are incorrigible.”

“What?”

“Seriously? How’d you make it this far?”

Marinette narrowed her eyes and shook her arm out of his grip, “That’s not nice!”

Damian scoffed, “Not nice? What are you? 5?”

“I’m 17 thank you very much.” She looked him up and down, “And you?”

“We’re the same age.”

“I don’t know. Many of the men around here are taller than you.”

Damian growled and turned away from her, “Just show me where to register!”

“Fine! Fine.” She looked around and pointed, “Over there.” He looked over and saw a wall with clerk windows. There was a woman wiping the outside table down in a less than comfortable looking outfit.

His shoulders fell and he walked over, “Excuse me?”

She looked up and smiled, “Yes?”

“I’d like to register.”

“Oh? Do you have the registration fee?”

He pulled out the bag Chloe gave him and plopped it on the table, “This enough?”

The woman blinked and pulled a few coins from the bag, “Thank you?” She grabbed a very unique object and motioned to it, “Go ahead.”

He examined it. It looked like something out of a dumb manga Jon read. It looked like a large shiny blue orb being held in place by the brown iron mold and some gears. The space between the bottom and the needle sticking out of the orb was a fair size, but looked intimidating. The whole thing screamed magic.

The woman noticed his hesitation and simply smiled, “Allow me to explain how this all works.” Damian nodded, grateful for the woman’s kind nature as back home he’d expect nothing less than 26 hours of teasing for not knowing something. “Adventurer is a generic class and your skills are important.” She pulled out a card and pointed at it, “This brings us to your registration card. It keeps track of your level based on all the monsters you’ve killed! When your level increases, you’ll gain points that you can trade to learn new skills.” She looked at the two and gave them a thumbs up, “Work hard and you’ll raise your level in no time!”

She motioned back to the device, “On to the next step! Would you please hold your hand over the crystal, sir?” She put the card on the bottom and stepped aside.

“Sure.” He took off his glove and held his hand over the orb, “Like this?” The device lit up and gears started rotating. Light from the crystal orb funneled down towards the needle. After concentrating on the tip for a moment, the light burst out into a steady stream and started writing on the card. “Woah.”

“Once it’s finished the evaluation process, you’ll get your current stats. Based on those, we’ll know which class suits you best!” After a moment the device stopped and the light died down. Damian pulled his hand back and the woman pulled the card out, “Alright! Let’s see your stats.” She read over the card, “Damian Wayne? Interesting name. Huh?”

“What?”

“Your agility and dexterity is incredibly high! Your intelligence isn’t anything to scoff at either! Strength is above average as well as well as your health. Your luck is terrible and your magic is low but still!” Damian smirked and put back on his glove. “Your magic is low, so you can’t be an arch priest or a mage. However, you could probably be a crusader or swords master – Oh! I know! You could be in the assassin class!”

Damian flinched, “Assassin?”

“Yes! Either that or a thief could be a great pairing for your level of dexterity!”

Damian’s eye twitched, even in this new world he couldn’t escape his past. Marinette gently placed a hand on his shoulder brought his attention back to the present, “Hey, if you don’t like the class you can choose to be an average adventurer class for now. We can always decide after you level up some more.”

Damian relaxed a bit under her touch and shook his head, “No. Give me the assassin class.”

“Are you sure? She’s right you know. You can always come back later.”

“Yes. Trust me when I say that’s the best class for me.” Marinette frowned and he shook his head, “Your turn.”

“What?”

“Your turn.”

Marinette looked between him and the woman patiently waiting by the window, “Me?”

The woman smiled, “If you’d like.”

Marinette jumped back, “No! No! No! I couldn’t – I mean, there’s no way!”

Damian quirked a brow, “Are you serious?”

“I couldn’t!”

“Of course you could, just go.”

“No!”

Damian reached for her hand and she drew it back. He frowned and stepped forward, making another attempt to snatch her arm. Again, she evaded. They looked at each other for a moment, a beat passing between them before both pounced. “GIVE ME YOUR HAND!”

“NEVER!” The two ran around the tables, completely ignoring the other patrons who simply watched amused and confused. Marinette slammed her hand on a table and Damian stopped on the opposite side of it. “No!”

“C’mon!”

“NO!”

“You just talked about your friends’ adventures-“

“They’re real adventurers!”

Damian rolled his eyes, watched her for a second before mumbling, “Screw it.” He jumped on the table and threw himself at her. She screamed her dropped to the ground and crawled under the table. The yelps from the women she crawled past to get to the other side were completely ignored as she ran. “MARINETTE!”

“NEVER!” The patrons were getting a kick out of this. She could tell and she glared at all of them. She grabbed the arm of the man she met when they first walked in and hid behind him, “Stop!”

Damian merely saw the man as an obstacle, a pillar between the two, and made a grab for her. “Just register!”

“Damian!”

“Marinette!”

Marinette pushed the man forward, making him stumble into Damian, and scrambled. The other bar patrons cheered her on as she made her escape. “Damian, no!”

“You are being too dramatic here!” He looked around the bar. Simple. Bunch of tables. Not a lot of hiding spots. She can’t outrun him, only evade him. Good. He watched her and she looked like she was going to turn right. He took the opportunity to shove a man out of his seat, running and jumping on the table tops as he did his best to avoid food and drink. He was gaining on her this way, but he was surprised to find that he was pushing himself in this chase. He dove off the table and toppled her over, both rolling on the ground until he pinned her down. The men and women cheered at the escapade as two struggled to catch their breath.

Marinette blew her bangs out of her face and pouted, “I don’t wanna.”

“Stop acting like a little kid. You know you idolize these people.” He pulled her to her feet and kept a firm grip on her wrist. He took a step towards the registration desk, but she didn’t budge. She shook her head and he narrowed his eyes at her.

A moment passed before she gasped, “You wouldn’t.”

“I would.”

“Damian, no-” She shrieked as he flung her over his shoulder. She kicked and screamed, “DAMIAN!” Some of the men laughed and whistled at the two while she hid her red face. She groaned, “No…”

One dared to yell out, “She’s a feisty one!” Marinette and Damian both glared at the man, making him cough and look away.

Damian walked over the desk and set her down in front of the device, “Register.”

“Damian-”

“Register.”

“But-”

“Re-“

“C’mon-”

“-gi-“

“But-”

“-ster.”

She stomped her foot and looked at the device hesitantly. She held her hand a safe distance away and groaned, “I don’t want to.”

Damian rolled his eyes and sighed, “You’re like a little kid.”

“Thank you.”

He placed his hand over hers, exposing the palm and dragging it to the device. Damian wondered if she was still reeling from the chase because her face continued to stay red as it printed on a blank card. She stopped struggling in his grip, though he didn’t think he was clutching too hard. When it done printing, Damian tried to pull his hand back but she grabbed it again and gave it a squeeze. He was about to ask her why when he noticed she was staring intently at the woman reading her card.

“Let’s see. Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Ah! The baker’s daughter!” Marinette smiled, but he could tell it was a bit forced. The woman hummed as she continued, “Average across the board. Your intelligence is high, that’s good. Oh wow! Your luck is way above average! Unfortunately, that’s not an essential stat for the adventurer class. With this much luck I recommend you be a merchant instead.”

Marinette sighed and frowned, “I knew it.”

The woman noticed her disappointment and was quick to do damage control, “L-Like I said before, you can choose to be an average adventurer class for now. We can always change it later or-”

“No, no. It’s fine.” Marinette shrugged and forced another smile, “I’m just the baker’s daughter after all.” She looked at the card in the clerk’s hands and mumbled, “Of course I’m just average.” She sighed and there was a clear melancholy in her eyes, “Just a normal girl with a normal life.”

The woman continued to do her best reassure the girl in front of her, “Merchants can make a very good living and with your luck you’d be very well off and-”

“She’s an adventurer.” The two snapped their heads to Damian and he repeated himself, “She’s an adventurer.”

The woman nodded, “A-Alright.”

She handed over the card and Damian snatched it out of her hand. He grabbed the coin bag off the counter, “C’mon.” Marinette struggled to say something, anything, but the sound of a strangled cat was all she made as he dragged her away. She noticed how he kept looking forward and she wondered if something she did offended him. Marinette stuttered a bit before sighing and squeezing his hand again.

“I’m sorry.”

“No I am. I got caught up in the moment.” It was the first apology he’d given her and from the little time they’ve spent together she could tell it was a rare occasion. “It’s not a bad thing.”

“What’s not a bad thing?”

“Being average. It’s not a bad thing.” He pulled her in front of a bulletin board and looked at her, “It means you’re well rounded. You have potential to be anything and everything. Besides, with your luck you could probably find yourself doing whatever you want.”

Marinette relaxed and she smiled once more. This one wasn’t forced, instead it was a soft expression. There were a few wrinkles around her eyes, telling him that it was genuine, and he was surprised to see it. He’s seen her embarrassed, he’s seen her worked up, he’s seen her hyper fixated, and he’s seen her sad but this was different. It was something authentic and sweet. He suddenly felt the need to pull his hand back and instead shoved the card into her hands. “Here.”

She looked over her card, “Thank you.”

“I’m assuming I look here for jobs and monster quests?”

She looked up at the bulletin, “Yep.” She looked around the board and tapped on one of the fliers, “Let’s hunt toads outside the town. It’s breeding season for them so they tend to be around a lot.”

“What’s wrong with a few toads?”

“They eat the goats off the farms and sometimes kids go missing.” Damian’s eyes widened, he wondered if she was messing with him. Her matter of fact tone told him otherwise, “Their meat will sell well.”

Damian groaned, “Alright.” He pulled his mask out and looked it over. No matter where he went he had to fight something. He frowned as he put it over his face, adjusting it until it was resting comfortably. He pulled out one of his swords, briefly looking it over and he caught his own reflection. He narrowed his eyes before looking over at Marinette. “Let’s go.”

When he usually gets ready to go, people follow. It was a routine occurrence when with team and his family. Hell, even if he wasn’t with them anyone took it as a sign to roll out. Based off of Marinette’s expression, he was doing something unusual. She bit her lip in a miserable attempt to hide some snickering. Damian frowned, “What?”

Her snort made him glare, “What was that?” Damian’s shoulders fell as Marinette hid her grin behind her hand, “Was that supposed –“ She giggled, “- was that supposed to be cool?”

Damian sighed and lowered his sword, “No.”

“I mean the cape, the dramatic turn –“

This type of thing is so mundane in his world, but replaying the scene through her eyes was telling. “No.”

“- the mask, the sword –“

He knew Dick was dramatic at times, but he figured he took after his Father. Was his father this theatrical? “No…”

“- the frown -”

“Marinette-”

She licked her lips and did a dramatic turn, purposefully lowering her voice and narrowing her eyes at him, “’Let’s go.’”

He ran his fingers through his hair as his eyes widened, “Oh my god, I’m becoming Grayson.”

“Who?” Damian shook his head, she had no idea who he was talking about. Marinette licked her lips and grinned, “You know for an assassin, you really stand out.”

Damian sighed and put his sword away, “Okay, fine.” He looked Marinette in the eye and took a deep breath as he forced his next comment out, “Tell me something. What should I wear then? Clearly, I stand out here.”

There it was again, the same look in her eyes as before. She examined his expression, hesitant to jump on the chance in case he wasn’t serious. When she found no hint of deception, she gulped. “Really?”

Damian wondered just how many times she was denied the chance to display her skills. Clearly she knew what she was talking about and had a passion for it, but she was so afraid to take the chance. It was as if he would laugh at her or take the opportunity away once she grabbed for it. Damian filed that train of thought for another time. For now, he could feel the stares of the other patrons watching them and he was growing more uncomfortable by the second. “Yes?”

First was the spark in her eyes, next came the ever-growing grin, then bouncing. She could’ve bounced off the walls, instead she grabbed his arm and headed for the nearest exit. She started rambling about the different aspects of his uniform. “Why does an assassin need those loud colors? You are asking to get caught. And what is with that mask? Your name is on your adventurer’s card! Don’t get me started on the cape!” She continued on as they made it outside and she looked towards the shopping district. She held him close as they weaved through the crowds and she expressed more of her ideas.

Damian didn’t know what to make of her. He snuck a peek at Tikki for any type of guidance, but she provided no help. Only a knowing smile and quiet giggle. He looked around and noticed a girl on a rooftop watching them closely, but before he could say anything Marinette pulled him into a shop. She was in her element despite the residential chaos surrounding them in the market. It was like watching a different person.

“-his one?”

Damian shook his head, “What?”

“What do you think about this one? As an assassin class you’ll want darker colors and clothes easy to move in.” She pushed a shirt into his hands, “Tell me if you like anything.”

“Aren’t you the expert?”

“I’m not going to force you to wear things you don’t like.” She held up a red shirt resembling the top of his uniform. She smiled and handed it to him, “I want your input too.”

He looked back at the rooftop and noticed the girl was gone. His nerves stayed with him, but he still looked around the shop. “This isn’t exactly my scene.”

“Well, that’s why I’m here isn’t it? Guess you’re just lucky to have me around.” He raised his brow at her and she giggled, “It’ll be fun. I swear.”

He highly doubted it. Still, standing out could just make him an easy target in the long run. He needed to integrate himself here. He’s playing by different rules and right now his only real ally is the girl in front of him. He rolled his eyes, “Give me the dark green one.” She gladly handed it over and he bit the skin in his inner cheek. Even if he was getting help, he was already tired of this mission. He whispered to Tikki, “You are going to owe me big time.” Tikki giggled as another shirt hit his face.

[hetacon]

Much Ado About Remus

Word Count: 1,614

Pairings: Platonic Dukexiety, Prinxiety, Creativitwins, Implied Demus

Warning: Swearing, sexual jokes, Remus-like ideas, mention of tearing one’s heart out of their chest, kissing, Roman is an oblivious dumbass, Virgil is a pining dumbass, and Remus is a dumbass dumbass who loves his dumbass brother

______________________________

Summary: Remus and Virgil may not get along but the one thing they have in common is that they love Roman. Both in different ways, mind you, and Remus tries to help Virgil deal with his own affections. It’s definitely interesting to say the least.

______________________________

Virgil sat on the back of the couch, watching movies with the rest of the sides and Thomas. Tonight had been Virgil’s pick and of course, The Nightmare Before Christmas was currently on, Sally’s Song playing. He couldn’t help it as he stared at Roman from his little pillow throne, the dork.

“Hey Virgil!” he heard whisper shouted next to his ear.

Virgil shrieked as he fell backwards, landing painfully on the ground behind the couch. He saw Remus looming over him with wide eyes and an excited smile.

“You alright kiddo?” Virgil heard Patton ask as the movie paused.

“Yeah yeah, keep watching, I’m fine!” he insisted quickly before glaring at Remus. “What the fuck do you need?”

“You want my brother to bone you?” Remus whispered excitedly, maybe a bit too much with the words he just spoke.

“What the fuck,” Virgil muttered. “What’s it to you?”

“You’re making goo-goo eyes at him, it’s disgusting. I want to help!”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “We’re not really friends you know. Why would you help me? Why would I accept it in any case?”

“Cause you have the hots for him and I can tell you’re a horny bitch about it too so why not!”

Virgil looked unamused and Remus pouted.

“He’s my brother,” Remus conceded. “Even if he’s sometimes kinda boring, I still want him to be happy and he’s a doofus who can’t see what’s two feet in front of him.”

With a sigh, Virgil looked up at him. “What would you know about romance?”

“I’ll have you know that I take two d’s every night like a good little boy!”

Virgil grimaced at that. “It’s a mystery why Deceit likes you.”

“Yes it is!”

“And again, why would I accept your help?”

“Because you maybe sorta actually still like me like the good old days?”

“No, I still despise you.”

“Eh, fair enough!”

_____

Somehow, Virgil found himself in Remus’ room, sitting on the one clutter-free part of the bed that Remus had cleared off for him. He watched as Remus sat across the room from him, smiling widely.

“Am I supposed to start? I wasn’t even going to tell him, you know,” Virgil said finally.

Remus snorted. “That’s why I’m helping! You’re just gonna fantasize about being his pretty little damsel in distress and boring romance shit like that if I don’t help. And then when I read your diary, it won’t be any fun-!”

Virgil’s head shot up. “You read my journal!?”

“So what better way to get you to stop being sappy and disgusting than by getting you laid?” Remus finished.

Virgil groaned, strongly tempted to hit his head against the wall. He managed to control himself enough to not do so, no easy feat for Remus’ room. “What do you suggest I do?”

“I was hoping you’d ask!” Remus said with a clap of his hands.

“That’s why I agreed to your help dumbass, it’s what you offered.”

“Shush, first idea! You go to his room, lie naked on his bed, and tell him to take you when he comes in!”

Virgil looked at Remus blankly.

“Scream at him to take you right where you stand!”

Still no good based on the look Virgil was sporting at it, even worse as another thought popped into his head.

“No? You could rip your heart out of your chest and give it to him as a symbol of your undying love!”

Remus only received an uncomfortable grimace. Closer but not quite.

“You’re so boring, mutilation and sex are fun!” Remus huffed out.

“I’m not tearing myself open or telling him to fuck me and you know it,” Virgil snapped. “Like, what does he like?”

“Lots of things! Adventure, saving damsels in distress from me, slaying dragon witches—that one’s my favorite, he makes it really gory—sour gummy worms, romance, swords, poetry, ceiling fans, sappy shit a lot of the time!”

“That was all just really random,” Virgil told him.

“Yep, that’s me!” Remus beamed. “But c’mon, it’s not that hard! Just tell him how horny and or sappy he makes you feel and then you can tell him to take you!”

“Alright, I’m leaving now,” Virgil said quickly, standing up.

“Suit yourself!”

“Er..” Virgil paused at the door, looking back to Remus. “Thanks.”

“For what?” Remus asked.

“Nothing, whatever.”

_____

Virgil held a piece of paper in his hand, looking at Remus with an unsure look. “Are you really sure I should do this? What if he doesn’t want to even talk to me anymore? What if he laughs at me!?” he shouted in Remus’ face, clinging to his shirt.

“If he doesn’t like you back, he’s clearly more stupid than I thought,” Remus told him.

Virgil looked at him for a second, blinking. “Wow.. That’s uh, that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever-“

“Though to be fair, he’s just stupid in general so that’s not saying much!”

“You ruined it,” Virgil deadpanned, dropping him. He sighed as Remus only cackled on the floor.

“Enough enough,” Remus said, hitting Virgil’s ankle with his hand. “Go show him your disgustingly sappy poem!!”

Virgil took a deep breath and walked down the stairs to where Roman was on the couch, absentmindedly watching a Disney movie as he wrote ideas down on a notepad. Roman looked up to see Virgil holding a piece of lined paper in front of his face.

“What’s this?” Roman asked him, glancing up to see Virgil look away as he took it.

“Just read it before I pass out from embarrassment,” Virgil muttered to him.

Roman opened it up, reading it quietly to himself. He smiled. “It sounds nice, did you want my feedback on it, oh angsty one?” he asked.

Virgil never wanted to disappear more in his life and stupidly nodded, not willing to tell Roman the real reason for it. That was how he ended up sitting next to Roman on the couch, Roman telling him of things he liked about it, the meaning he gathered from it, ways to improve it should Virgil feel it needed to be.

_____

Virgil walked up the stairs in a daze and lied down on the floor in front of Remus. Remus snorted.

“I told ya, he’s dumb!” Remus sang out a little.

“I’m never going to do it, I’m never going to be able to confess to him, I’m going to be miserable for the rest of my life-“

“He’ll fuck you eventually!”

“I hate you.”

“Love you too~!”

_____

Attempt numbers 2 through 4 had failed miserably too and Virgil was close to giving up as Roman once again missed the point on attempt number 5. Heading towards his room, he grimaced to Remus again and Remus shrugged.

“He’s a dumbass you know, I didn’t think he was this stupid though! That’s usually my job if anything!”

Virgil thought about it for a moment before lighting up. “You’re right!” he shouted before hurrying to his room.

“Well geez, you didn’t have to agree with me,” Remus said but shrugged, sinking out.

_____

Virgil took a deep breath as he opened the front door, seeing Roman sitting on the porch. He held his guitar with a tense smile as Roman turned around and beamed at him.

“Hello my dark and stormy knight, how are you this fine evening?” Roman asked, stunning Virgil for a moment.

“Good, um, can I play something for you?” he asked, motioning to the acoustic guitar weakly.

Roman smiled more and scooted over on the doorstep, following Virgil’s gaze as he sat down.

Virgil gave a quick strum, tuning it a little to make sure it sounded ok. He strummed again, cursing as he dropped his pick.

He wasn’t even sure what he played as his nerves got to him. He knew he was playing, he knew he was singing, he knew that Roman was watching him.

He knew there was no turning back.

“I love you,” he heard himself say over the sound of blood rushing through his ears. It was a miracle it happened.

“Really? You mean that sincerely?” Roman asked.

Virgil only nodded before Roman was holding his chin up, asking his permission to kiss him. Virgil nodded once more and Roman’s lips were on his in seconds.

_____

“So, need another plan? I think I’ve got a good one this time!” Remus said as Virgil walked into his room.

Virgil sat on Remus’ bed, staring at the ground with probably the dumbest grin on his face. “I told him.”

“Without me? Ah, no fun!” Remus whined. “How’d you do it? Finally took my advice and ask for him to take you? Did he bang you?”

“I just- I just told him, just said I love him.”

“What? Boooooooring!”

Virgil laughed. “You said he couldn’t see what’s two feet in front of him so I just was upfront about it,” he said with a smile.

“Is it too late to go on the record and say this was a mistake? You’re sapping all over my bed!” Remus joked, only to be met with a pillow to the face as Virgil snorted.

“Shut up, God!!”

_____

“You’re welcome you know,” Remus grinned as he passed Roman in the hallway the next day.

______________________________

Taglist: @virgils-paranoia, @marshmallow-the-panda

[theladyofdeath]

Rags & Riches {2}

Summary: An A Court of Thorns and Roses Fanfiction. 19th century AU. Based on the prompt sent in by @cat5313 All characters belong to SJM, I am just a fan with a plot.

Warning: Mature content strung throughout.

A/N: and so it begins.

Leave a comment to be tagged & tell me what you think! :)

“I may have lost my heart, but not my self-control. ” ― Jane Austen, Emma

By the time morning came, Nesta was alone, and Tomas neglected to show up for the rest of the week. Friday quickly approached, and she knew Tomas would be showing up at the ball being held at their manor in a matter of hours.

She crawled out of bed, groaning all the while. The night before, she’d snuck a bottle of whiskey out of the cabinet and helped herself to the entirety of it.

It was how she ended up missing breakfast and, instead, spending the morning with her face over the toilet. 

Of all days, even she had to admit that it was not the best day to be hungover. 

She stumbled out onto her balcony for a breath of fresh air. The servants would be eating breakfast downstairs while her family ate in the dining room. She should be alone. At least, she certainly hoped so as she dwelled in the fresh air in her nightgown and robe. 

It was a cool morning, but she didn’t mind that. The rainy week had cleared as the sun was beginning to peek through the clouds. 

She looked down at the stables.

The stableboy had seen her the other night, she knew he had, even if he pretended like he hadn’t. She should confront him, but confronting him would only lead to more suspicion if they were to be caught.

Nesta knew she shouldn’t allow Tomas into her bed, but she felt no shame. She had lost the ability to feel shame over sexual matters long ago.

She should not have to defend her actions, just because she was a woman. Often, Nesta thought she had been born in the wrong world. She read beautiful stories of heroes and heroines on exciting adventures and longed to be them instead of waiting like a prize to be taken away the instant a man worthy enough laid eyes on her. 

The thought alone infuriated her to no end. 

A soft knock came to her chamber door.

“Come in!”

Alis swept inside, a bright smile on her lips, as there was every time a ball occurred. It meant guests, and guests meant a night of fun.

“Goodmorning, Miss Nesta,” she said. “Shall we get you dressed?”

Nesta sighed. “Can’t I just stay in here until it’s time for the ball to begin?”

Alis clicked her tongue. “Oh, no, my dear. There’s too much to do. You must help your sisters with the set up. Your father is expecting you downstairs within the hour.”

“Oh, good,” Nesta said, walking back to her bed. “Then I can sleep for another thirty minutes.”

“No, no, dear,” Alis began, opening her wardrobe. “We would all sleep into the late hours of the morning if we could, but there’s simply no time.”

Nesta didn’t protest any further. It would be of no use. She could already see Elain, ordering around the help. She was a natural planner, though. Nesta? Not so much. The idea of planning gatherings annoyed her. Feyre did it, bright-eyed and with a smile on her face, so no one would ask any questions. Nesta did it only to please Elain, who would be the next one to come knocking if Nesta wasn’t downstairs soon.

“Very well,” she said. “I have to run into town this morning to pick up my dress, so find something comfortable, please.”

She was soon dressed in a deep, lavender day dress. Her hair was braided back and her boots were well-worn in - perfect for walking. 

Nesta looked at herself in the mirror after Alis had curtsied and left. 

She looked like a zombie. Dark shadows rested beneath her eyes, her cheekbones had grown sharper. Perhaps it was a lack of sleep. She couldn’t get a good night’s sleep unless alcohol was involved, and being a young woman held high in society, it was difficult for her to drink when she pleased.

Which was always. 

Before she could talk herself out of it, Nesta was out in the hallway and strutting down the main staircase.

As predicted, Elain was telling servants where tables and chairs should be, where the strings quartet should be set up, and where every piece of decor should be strategically placed.

Feyre was holding a plate of cheese, popping the little cubes into her mouth. “Ah, about time you joined us.”

Nesta raised a brow before nodding down at the plate. “Did you not just eat breakfast?”

Feyre shrugged. “Decorating makes me hungry.”

Nesta snorted. “Let us not pretend that you have done anything.”

They both looked at Elain, who was floating on air.

“Azriel!” she called.

A tall, broad-shouldered man instantly came to her aid. 

“I would like all butlers in this room thirty minutes before we open our doors,” she began. “They each need to be carrying a tray, either of champagne or hors d’oroeuvres.” 

He bowed his head. “Of course, my Lady.”

She watched him leave.

“He is a lovely one, isn’t he?” Feyre asked, mouthful. “Very mysterious looking.”

“Speaking of mystery,” Nesta mumbled. “I went by your room last night-”

“Ah, I need more cheese,” she interrupted, scurrying out of the room and taking the tray with her. 

Feyre would never spill her secret, but Nesta would be lying if she said the thought didn’t intrigue her. 

“I’m going into town to get my dress,” Nesta announced, but everyone was too busy to notice. 

Bodies were fluttering all over the place cleaning and setting up. The Archerons held a ball annually, but this would be the first year that their father truly wished to have them become engaged since the passing of their mother. He hadn’t wanted to lose them just yet.

Now, he was ready. 

Nesta retrieved her satchel and her white gloves before ordering a carriage to be prepared. As she waited, she pulled a book of poetry out of her bag and began to read as she sat on the front steps.

Her mother had always scolded her for sitting in public places with a book. It was unladylike, or something of that nature. Her father, however, always smiled when he found Nesta plopped down somewhere, a book open on her lap. 

“Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades

Past the near meadows, over the still stream,

Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep

In the next valley-glades:

Was it a vision, or a waking dream?

Fled is that music:--Do I wake or sleep?”

Nesta froze, staring up from the book laying open on her skirts. The stableboy had come, seated at the head of the carriage, the horses’ reins in his hands.

He was watching her, grinning.

Nesta blinked. “Did the stableboy just quote Keats to me?”

He nodded down at her book. “I read his work from time to time.”

Nesta blinked, again, longer and slower. “I’m...sorry, but where is Edward? He’s typically the one to take me into town.”

“He’s not feeling well,” the stableboy replied. “But, don’t worry, Miss. I know what I’m doing.” 

Nesta lifted her chin. “Very well. However, I am on a tight schedule today so we must make haste.” 

The stableboy inclined his head before jumping down from his seat and opening the carriage door. He held out his hand to help her inside, which Nesta completely ignored as she pulled herself inside of the carriage. The door was soon closed behind her and they were strolling down the pathway.

Nesta loved open carriages, which is why she often volunteered to go places alone. Especially in the warmer weather, when the wind felt good against her skin, blowing her hair.

Nesta put her book bag into her bag and looked up at the back of the stableboy. His shoulders were broad. It was clear through the thin, ivory fabric of his shirt that he was quite fit. Tall. Tanned. His hair was tied at the nape of his neck. He was slouching, but not in a way that was disrespectful. Only in a way that showed he was in his natural habitat. 

They were halfway to town before Nesta cleared her throat. “Now that we are alone, we must speak about...something.”

He didn’t look back at her when he said, “What is that, my Lady?”

Nesta hesitated. Perhaps she had been mistaken. Perhaps he hadn’t seen Tomas’ hands roaming her body, his lips pressed against her neck. Perhaps it had all been in her imagination. Just as she was about to tell him to forget about it, he asked, “Is this about your lover? The one that sneaks onto your balcony at night?”

“Shhh!” Nesta hissed.

The stableboy looked at her over his shoulder. “Why are you shushing me? With all due respect, my Lady, there’s no one around.” 

“I could get you dismissed for being so blunt with me,” she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest.

She couldn’t see his face, but she could tell from the gentle shake of his shoulders that he was laughing, quietly. “Forgive me, my Lady.”

Nesta closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Look. Keep what you saw to yourself. Please. If you told anyone, I will have you-”

“I told no one,” he promised, and she could tell by his tone that he was being honest. “And I will tell no one. Your secret is safe, my Lady.”

“Thank you…” she began, trailing off.

“Cassian,” he supplied for her.

“Thank you, Cassian,” she said, words crisp. “Now, pick up the pace. As I said, it is a busy day.”

“Of course, my Lady,” he said, and that was the end of their conversation.

They rode the rest of the way into town in silence, the sound of the horses’ hooves clumping against the dirt the only sound that carried them. Every now and then, she’d glance at his back, admiring the muscles and the dark scars beneath the thin fabric. She found herself wondering where they came from but accepting the fact that she would never know. 

Ten minutes later, Nesta was walking into the finest dress shop in town. The owner, upon seeing her, was thrilled.

“Ah, Miss Archeron,” Helion beamed. “Welcome back. Your dress is finished, as I assume that is why you have come.”

Nesta liked Helion, although she wasn’t sure why. Their personalities were complete opposites. He was far too cheery, far too pleasant. Yet, he never seemed to mind Nesta’s pessimism. In fact, he seemed to thrive on it.

“Shall we try it on, my dear?” he asked.

Nesta shook her head. “No, I trust your work. Besides, as you know, it’s a busy day.”

“Indeed,” Helion said, before disappearing into the back and appearing with a giant box. “Very well. Here it is. And, I must say, I cannot wait to see it on you at the ball tonight.”

Nesta fiddled through her satchel, collecting his payment. “Will you be bringing a guest?”

“That is for me to know,” Helion began, before snatching his payment away from one of his favorite customers, “and for you to later find out.”

Nesta snorted, shaking her head. “Well, then I will see you tonight.”

“Of course, my Lady,” Helion smiled, brightly and wonderfully, before bowing. “I look forward to it.”

“Good day,” she said, before taking her box outside. 

Cassian was waiting by the carriage and when he saw her with the box, he humbly took it from her before setting it inside. “Is there anywhere else you need to visit, my Lady?”

Nesta looked at the pub across the street and longed for an ale. “No. Take me home.”

Cassian, once again, held out his hand to help her into the carriage.

Nesta, once again, ignored it. 

~~~~~

Elain’s anxiety was through the ceiling.

Not because of the setup.

No, Elain loved planning. The time of year when the Archerons held their annual ball was her favorite time of the year. It meant guests would come and she would spend the evening laughing and dancing among her friends and neighbors.

But this year was different.

Lucien.

His name had consumed her for days. It was all she could think about, and yet, it was not exactly because she was excited. No, she feared meeting him.

She feared she would hate him.

She feared she would love him.

Since the night she found out of their courtship, Elain had rarely seen Azriel. There had been no flirting, no secret kisses. She longed to feel his lips against hers, but she knew how much she was asking in longing for such. 

Instead, she would be presented tonight to another, as a precious jewel. It didn’t matter what she felt, their fathers would make arrangements for their betrothal if they saw fit.

And Elain could only pray that they found her and Lucien to be unfit.

And yet, what would be the point of that? She could never marry Azriel. It was impossible. He was a lowly butler, and she was a beautiful Lady. 

Ladies and butlers did not wed. 

Yet, she couldn’t help but dream. Every time Elain needed something done, she would call for Azriel. Even when it was an unnecessary task, she would call for him, just to see him, to speak to him, for a moment’s time. 

Now, she was standing in her room looking at herself in the floor-length mirror, admiring her gown that Helion had made for her in town. It was lovely. Plum, with a full skirt and beaded designs along the silk fabric. He had truly outdone himself. And Alis, who had perfected her hair in neat curls, had pleased Elain immensely.

Yet, there was a hole in her chest. 

She used to thrive on the idea of marriage, used to long for a husband. Before she met Azriel, she couldn’t wait to find a man that found her wonderful enough to court. Then she met Azriel, then she fell in love with Azriel, and his adoration for her was true. 

Elain used to think that love and marriage were the same thing.

She no longer believed as much.

Marriage was a contract, while love was the connection between two souls.

Elain admired herself one more time before exiting into the halls, then walking alone to the ballroom. She hadn’t seen her sisters in hours. Feyre, since she dismissed herself for a plate of cheese; and Nesta since she went to pick up her fitted gown.

She and her sisters had once been so close. They still had a bond, but as they grew, and after their mother had passed, nothing had been the same. 

Elain had no idea where Feyre spent her nights, and Nesta always seemed to have an emptiness in her gaze. 

She could hear the humming of a crowd the closer she walked to the ballroom. At this time, most everyone should have arrived. Of course, there would always be a few latecomers, but Elain figured it was time to make her own appearance. 

She straightened her back and took a deep breath as she turned the corner. The doors were open, the music was playing, and it was everything she imagined it would be. Couples were dancing, groups were laughing, and Elain found herself scanning the walls for a certain butler. 

But it was her father that met her at the door. “You look beautiful, darling.”

“Thank you,” Elain smiled, gently. 

“The Vanserras have arrived,” he said, as Elain looped her arm through his. “Shall I introduce you?”

Elain nodded, although no words came once she opened her mouth.

Isaac chuckled. “It’s okay to be nervous. You should have seen me the night I met your mother.”

Elain nodded, still unable to spot Azriel. 

They walked through the crowd, and Elain should have been pleased. The ballroom was beautiful, the band played wonderfully, and everyone seemed to be having a joyous time. 

Where is he? She kept thinking to herself as her father led the way.

It wasn’t until they stopped that she snapped back to reality. And when she did snap back to reality, she was met with a pair of russet eyes.

“Elain, this is Lucien Vanserra,” Isaac beamed. “Mr. Vanserra, my daughter, Elain.”

Lucien bowed and Elain curtsied.

He was handsome, in the most obvious sense. He was lean, tall, and his auburn hair flowed beautifully around his shoulders. His eyes were kind, his smile gentle.

“Pleasure to meet you,” he said. His voice was soft and lovely. 

“The pleasure is mine,” Elain assured him.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Isaac smiled, before kissing his daughter’s cheek and moving onto his guests. 

Elain felt her cheeks reddened as she debated on following her father, but just as she was about to take a step, Lucien spoke up. “I hear we’re a good match.”

Elain huffed a laugh. “I hear the same.”

“Well,” he began, “I must confess that I was a bit nervous to meet you. However, you are beautiful, my Lady.”

Elain’s smile was genuine. “Thank you, my Lord.”

It was then that she spotted him, on the far wall. He should have been observing the other butlers, making sure everyone was doing what they were supposed to be doing.

But his eyes were on her.

Lucien was speaking, but Elain couldn’t hear him. Guilt flooded her senses. Lucien seemed kind enough and was most handsome. 

But her eyes had connected with Azriel’s, and she couldn’t look away. 

“What do you think, Lady Elain?”

Elain blinked, bringing herself back to their conversation. “Forgive me, I suddenly feel lightheaded. I must find a place to set.”

“Allow me,” Lucien offered, and held out his hand.

As Elain took it, she swore she could feel Azriel’s gaze fall from across the room.

~~~~~

Feyre loved to dance. 

There was something freeing about not giving a damn as a series of men twirled her around on the dance floor. 

As the youngest, she had a few more years of freedom. Unless someone came to claim her hand, which she doubted would happen anytime soon. She had never had a man come to court her, and she loved it.

A courtship among the rich and stuck up sounded horrible. 

But dancing with them?

Splendid. 

It wasn’t until she’d had one too many glasses of wine that she fell into the arms of a young man with lavender eyes.

“Well,” he crooned, “I must say, you look much different in women’s clothing.”

Feyre, as if just realizing whose arms she was in, grinned. “Ah, Lord Rhysand. And how have you been after our adventure the other night?”

Rhysand lifted his brow. “How many glasses of champagne have you consumed, Feyre, darling?” 

“Not nearly enough,” she laughed, her hand tightening in his. 

“Hmm,” Rhysand mumbled, contemplating. “You’re worrying me.”

“Why is that?”

Rhysand pulled her closer as he said, “You’re much more pleasant than you were the other night. Dare I say, you’re being nice to me.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Feyre asked.

Rhysand weighed the question. “I must admit, I rather enjoyed our banter.”

It was true, their banter had been surprisingly pleasant the night he had brought her home after saving her from Tamlin in the alley. She rode on the back of his horse, her arms around his waist as they left the town and slowly made their way to the Archeron Manor. 

She hadn’t seen him since, nor had she sought to. But now, in his arms, the wine flowing warmly throughout her body, she remembered the way his eyes lit up when he laughed, remembered the amused tone in his voice when he told her how horribly ridiculous she looked dressed as a man. 

The song ended and the couple stepped apart, bowing to one another. 

“Walk with me?” Rhysand asked.

Feyre hesitated, but nodded, nonetheless, before looping her arm through his. They made their way out onto the balcony, into the cool night air. The stars shone brightly above them as the doors were shut behind them. The celebration inside became muffled background noise.

“I am to go back to Velaris tomorrow,” Rhysand said.

Feyre lifted a brow. “Am I meant to care?”

Rhysand grinned, facing her. “I do not expect you to, although I wish you would.”

Feyre leaned back against the banister, crossing her arms. “Well, you expect correctly.”

Rhysand looked for her arms, then met her eyes once more. “You know, ladies shouldn’t cross their arms and slouch.”

“I am the youngest of three daughters,” Feyre explained. “I am the one being looked at the least. No one in this town cares about the youngest Archeron.”

“Is that why you gamble?” 

"There are many reasons why I gamble, none of which I will share with you,” she assured him.

Rhysand laughed, deep and heartily. “Ah, there’s the Feyre I have dreamt about for the past three nights.”

Feyre laughed, quietly, as she broke his gaze, begging her cheeks not to redden. “It has been a pleasure knowing you, my Lord. I wish you safe travels.”

Feyre took a step to move around him, but he followed her lead, blocking her path. 

“There is one more thing.”

Feyre blinked, amused. “Yes?”

“I would like to court you,” he said. 

Feyre barked a laugh. “Court me? Why, so that I may become your wife?”

Rhysand did not look bothered whatsoever by her outburst. His grin simply widened. “Would that be so awful?”

“I..” Feyre hesitated, before laughing once more. “I have not even thought of marriage.”

“Perhaps not,” Rhysand said. “Just think about it. Okay?” He picked up her hand and pressed his lips softly to the back of her hand. “Until next time, Feyre, Darling.”

Before she could gather a response, he was gone. 

~~~~~

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