#(not. like. both red and blue separately but what exists when they collide. purple?)

[lesbianralzarek]

color identity is so cool and fun and i like how differently each combo can be interpreted for different characters. such a big difference between someone whos azorius with red and someone whos izzet with white, but they both come out jeskai. crazy. im nearly falling asleep while typing this and dont imagine itll be goodposting in the morning. gnight yall, try not to cost 1UG

[milazka]

Distraction — Drew Starkey.

image found on pinterest

summary: the one where the quaterback of the football team helps you forget about your bad grade.

request: yes

content: fluff & smut

author’s note: it’s my very first story about a member of the cast of outer banks! i would like to clarify that all this is fictional, i only use the looks and the names of the actors and actresses. my masterlist will be linked at the end of this story if you feel like reading some other fics. this one is for my babe cort ( @pogue-writings ) because she is drew’s soulmate.

warnings: most of my stories may contain mature themes such as swearing, underage drinking, substance abuse, sexual language and scenes, fights and more. also, i do not intend to be offensive towards anyone who reads this blog, if anything written can be perceived as hurtful to any community or person, i apologize, it was never my purpose while writing it.

word Count: 1957.

The campus library has always been her favorite spot to study. It's quiet and the atmosphere is always soothing, the exact opposite of her dorm room where her roommate seems more interested in experimenting the male anatomy than studying it in her textbook. A few weeks ago, after catching her once again during the act, she had decided to find a new place to study. She had walked around the campus and eventually found this spot around one of the large hardwood tables that stand between the bookshelves full of old books about psychology. The perfect place to set her in a study mood. 

For the past few hours, she has been sitting in her usual place, her textbook open in front of her eyes and her black notebook on her right. She only has one midterm left in two days and it will cover all the topics seen in her subconscious psychology course, which is one of her most interesting courses, but also the one that requires the longest hours of study in order to pass the exams. 

The sound of a chair gliding on the floor makes her look up and she’s surprised to see Drew, a boy from her psychology of the subconscious class, sit on the chair in diagonal to her. Normally, the library is almost empty at this time of the night and she never saw him here; he seems like the kind of guy who spends more time on the football field than he does in front of his textbooks. They’ve been in the same class for four months, but she never really paid attention to him, except when he is disturbing the class with the two other musketeers, Chase and Rudy. She smiles nicely at him when their eyes meet and he raises his coffee cup which he pretends to drink all at once while they both laugh silently, hoping not to be warned by Mrs. Jones, the librarian who looks strangely similar to Roz from the movie Monster inc.

She tries to put her nose back in her book, trying to focus on the pages suggested in the study guide and highlighting important sentences from a passage about Freud and his discovery of psychoanalysis, but she can't help but look up discreetly at the boy. He is wearing a navy flannel shirt which, half-buttoned, reveals a white shirt that moulds his muscular chest. His trademark cap, which he always wears backwards, rests as usual on the top of his head, still letting a few strands of hair slip out of the hat. She particularly lingers on his muscled arms covered by the navy blue cloth, it's not surprising that he's the quarterback on the football team. The  studious look on his face and the way he’s chewing on the tip of his pencil while frowning makes him look cuter than usual, she can’t deny it. 

When she sees the lateness of the hour, she delicately puts her books back in her red bag, not noticing how intensely the boy is staring at her. He simply can't help but admire her sweet angelic face, her tired-looking little eyes, the thin, shiny layer of lip balm covering her lips that he would dream of kissing; he likes everything about her and cannot help but smile foolishly. 

“Hey Y/n,” he whispers, catching her attention. “Me and the boys are throwing a party friday night, you should come.” 

“Oh, yeah, of course!” she smiles at him, noticing his blushing cheeks and the little spark in his gaze.

“Great! Good luck on your exam.” 

“Good luck to you too. I’ll see you friday.” 

─── °• ❀ ───

The room goes from purple to blue, then from blue to pink, courtesy of the spotlights that change the colour of the room's luminosity along the rhythm of the music. The parties hosted by the university football team always do justice to their reputation, no matter what’s the occasion. It's not the first time she attends one, but it's the first time she’s been invited by the quarterback. Her mind did not stop playing back the memory of the little sparkle in the young man's eyes when she had accepted his invitation. Maybe it meant nothing, but a part of her wants to believe it didn't. Plus, she really needs to take her mind off things after receiving her mediocre grade from the last exam. She knew her teacher was strict, but not this strict. 

As she makes her way through the dancing crowd, an arm slips around her naked shoulders, making her startles. She's used to being approached by boys at parties, but she hates it when they think they can do anything and touch her even if she doesn't want to. Looking up, she loosen up when she sees Drew's familiar face smirking at her and she's glad it's not a drunk who's asking her to blow him.

“I'm so glad you came,” he says to her as he hands her a red cup filled with beer. “How did your exam go?”

She pouts, taking a big sip of the golden liquid that tickles her throat.

“Really bad.” 

“That sucks,” she raises an eyebrow at the boy as when he takes back the cup that he just gave her and drops it on the countertop behind him. “C’mon, I have the perfect remedy for a bad grade.” 

Drew takes her tiny hand into his big one, guiding her to the backyard where several tables are set up to play beer pong. Small lights illuminate the yard where games have already started. People cheer each other up and yell like crazy when someone manage to get the ball in a cup. She recognizes Rudy’s familiar blond hair when he jumps into Jonathan's arms and she deduces they just won their game against Madison and Austin. Everyone laughs when the two boys lose their balance and crash into the grass, grunting at each other. Her hand is still holding Drew's firmly when he walks up to Chase who is sitting in a chair close to the fire pit with his girlfriend on his lap, grilling and eating marshmallows. 

“Yo Chase! Me and Y/n vs Maddie and you?” Drew challenges his friend, wiggling his eyebrows. 

“Game on, baby!” Chase exclaims as they both stand up and follow them to the table.

She and Drew make a fire team, throwing a series of winning shots and gradually getting Madelyn and Chase drunk. All the way through the game, she never worries about her bad grade, it's like it never existed. The alcohol in her bloodstream seems to be opening her eyes to Drew's attractiveness. The girl never really paid attention to how he is totally her type of guy. She bites her lower lip, obviously checking him out when he pulls off his hoodie and his shirt comes up, revealing the prominent V-shape above the hem of his pants. 

“Like what you see, don't ya?” he teases the girl, an irresistible smile on the corner of his lips. 

She blushes up to her ears, making Drew laugh, and he just adds to her embarrassment by putting his arm around her shoulders before throwing the last ball who lands directly into the last standing cup. Maybe it's the emotion of the moment for her, whereas he's been dreaming about it for months, but their eyes meet each other and suddenly their lips collide. The kiss doesn't last long, not long enough in his opinion. The flight of butterflies in the young woman's belly doesn't disappear when their lips separate, she needs to kiss him again, to feel him touch her. 

“I need you, Drew.” she whines close to his ear, making his heart skips a beat. "God, Y/n," he breaths out, pulling her closer to him. "Do you know how long I've been dreaming about you saying that to me?”

She just winks at him and grabs his hand, pulling him toward the front door as he pinches himself on the arm, not believing that this is really happening. He throws a murderous look at Rudy and Chase who make fun of him by pretending to make out sensually. They pass through the living room which is still full of people swinging their bodies to the rhythm of the music and climb upstairs where Drew guides them to his room. He slams her against the door, his hands grabbing her hips as he kisses her again. She bites his lower lip, making him growl against her mouth. Drew starts to place open mouthed kisses on her neck and she tiltes it to give him full access to her burning skin. He leads her to the bed, pinning her on the mattress and he removes her short as he is now hovering over her half naked body. His hand slides down her thigh, making her squirm under him as he gets closer to her core. He plays with the waistband of her panties, smirking against her lips.

“Drew,” she moans, looking at him with her eyes filled with desire. He grabs her waist and flip them over so she is now straddling him. She unbuttons his khaki shirt, slipping his hands over his muscular chest. She starts to grind down on his lap, making him whine and dig his fingers into her buttcheeks

“It's not about me tonight, I'm not the one who needs to be distracted.” he whispers to her ear before  flipping her over again so that he is now hovering over her. 

She lets out a few muffled moans as he leaves a trail of kisses between her breast and on her stomach. He sucks and nibbles at the skin on her inner thighs, only increasing her desire to feel him on her already wet womanhood. 

“You’re so pretty, all wet and spread out like this, just for me.”

“Drew, please…” she begs, but he cuts her short by placing a kiss on her clit, slipping her underwear off. He places an open-mouthed kiss just above her wet folds, making her buck her hips up. 

“So eager, baby, I like it.” he hums just above her bundle of nerves, sending vibrations on it. She runs her fingers through his light brown hair, pushing him closer to her heat. He finally licks a full stripe through her folds, making her back arch to the so desired feeling. 

“Oh fuck,” she groans as he inserts one finger in her, his tongue sucking on her clit. His hands are  firmly wrapped around her thighs to keep her spread open for him. She clenches the sheets between her fists, her eyes close under the wave of pleasure that runs through her body when he replaces his fingers with his tongue. His nose rubs up against her clit as he moves his face, pumping his tongue in and out of her.

“Fuck I’m so close, please don’t stop,” she moans, making him pumps his tongue faster. A few profanities mixed with loud moans leave her lips as she reaches her high, legs shaking on his shoulders. He licks her folds a few more times to clean her up, sending electric jolts through her body when he touches her sensitive nerves from the orgasm. He lies down beside her, pulling her towards him with his arms wrapped around her body.

“What about you? I’m no the type of girl who doesn’t give back,” she starts but Drew shushes her with a quick kiss. “I’m sure you’re not, but tonight it’s about you and only you.” 

“Fuck, you’re perfect, y’a know?” 

“It was about time you figured that out!” he mocks her and she giggles, burying her face further into the crook of his neck. 

─── °• ❀ ───

mila’s masterlist

taglist (send me an ask if you want to be added)

@milaonthemoon @spilledtee @pogue-writings @thebutterflyonhischest @ilovejjmaybank @bananasfromtarget @drewstarkeyobx @void-maybank @prejudic3

[rosiegeee]

Janna Ordonia and Tom Lucitor as Boscha’s Biological Parents

I know I am not the first to say this, but if its any consolation I came up with it on my own and only discovered it had been done before afterwards. Before season 2 of the Owl House comes out I would like to put my two cents into this theory. The main parties involved in this theory are Dave Lucitor (a caucaian, brown haired, blue eyed mewman, with round ears which because of his mewman heritage has potential for dormant magical powers), Wrathmelior Lucitor (a huge red skinned demon with three vertically slanted and slit yellow eyes with no pupils, dark pink hair, long pointed ears, and giant horns on her head, and demonic powers such as super strength and weather manipulation.{We know demonic powers are separate from magic because when all the magic left stars universe Globgor still had his size manipulation so demonic powers and magic are different}), Thomas Draconius "Tom" Lucitor (light purple skin, light pinkish-purple hair, three pinkish red eyes with more human characteristics, smaller horns then his mom, pointed teeth, and pointed ears although less demonic then his mom, and a lot of demonic powers such as pyrokinesis, telekinesis, levitation, Curse infliction, and Geokinesis), Janna Ordonia (a Filipino human with brown eyes, dark blue {most likely black dyed blue}, round ears, and no magical abilities), and finally Boscha ( A supposed witch with light pink skin, dark purplish pink hair, and three human like eyes that are a greyish blue, rounder teeth, and round but pointed ears.)

Before I continue I would like to clarify that in my theory Luz and gravity falls earth is a different earth than Marco’s earth, they exist in the same universe, but are two separate realities. So my theory is that at some point after Star and Marco and all the other dimensions collide Tom and Janna fall in love, I can see this happening very easily from the canon we have, and the combination of there genetics lead to Boscha (who so far has no canon last name) I can easily see her skin being a combination of Tom and Janna’s, her ears would be from her 1/4 demon status, her three ears would be from her father but are more human in appearance then Tom’s because of Janna, her hair is from her father and grandmother, and her blue eyes from her grandfather. Her magic could source from two stems or a combination of both, one it isn’t magic it is her demonic heritage from her father, or two just like Luz who has no magic she has studied runes and other magical objects and are using that, again t could also be both.

So why is she in the Demon realm and why is she so rude to non-witches when she isn’t one herself, my answer, she’s adopted. Some point after she is born, perhaps around two to three, she is somehow lost and somehow ends up through a dimensional rift or a portal and is found in the Boiling Isles 10 years prior to the series (as in time travel) by a high class female witch. Clearly not human and having near identical pointed ears to a witch the woman would assume Boscha is a witch, and would adopt her as her own, Boscha would only remembers her first name so that is what her mother would call her. Boscha would show her “magical” alibies early on making her mother very proud and would brag about it to the Blights. She would eventually notice that Boscha’s magic doesn’t quite work the same and would teach her runes and other things to compensate. She wouldn’t remember her family so she wouldn’t know her 3/4 human heritage and would learn her bigotry from her mother. Weather she ever learns the truth, we will have to wait and see. Her bio parents would probably search everywhere for there daughter but even if they could get to the demon realm and happened to bump into her they would be looking for a 3 year old, not 13 and might not recognize her.

Anyway thats my theory.

[milkybonya]

Our Souls at night

Warnings: a lil angsty

Pairing: time traveller!B.I x time traveller!reader

Summary: The Person of Action and the Person of Withholding: two forces materialized in the form of people who time travel to keep the world’s balance. When they meet, who knows what will happen.

[a/n]: can you tell that i miss him?

this is written kind of like a blurb or synopsis or summary or something.. so if anyone wants a more fleshed out version or anything relating to this, just shoot me an ask :-)

The ability to time travel was both a blessing and a curse. It was fascinating to see the world during different time periods, but your responsibilities were a big burden. You couldn’t choose where you wanted to go, or rather, when, and you were only allowed to stay for a set number of days. During this time, you had tasks to complete. They could be as small as moving a potted plant or as big as stopping someone from taking a job offer. By carrying out these tasks, you would maintain the peace and natural flow of the world. Some things were not meant to happen, and it was your job to stop them from happening.

Someone else was in charge of making things happen. The two of you were opposing forces: contrasting greatly but vital for the world. You both needed to exist and carry out your tasks so that the world would not fall apart.

You rarely met. In fact, you never met until you were both sent to the same time at the same time. 

He was required to assist a group of musicians, a band who wanted to make their debut. You were required to put the debut of the competing trainees on hold.

Your first meeting with him in the company’s building was not even a proper meeting. The two of you passed by without batting an eye, and it was only after he was long gone that you realized he was wearing a ring on his finger when he passed you. His ring was red; you knew that ring. 

The ring of Action.

Yours was blue, the ring of Withholding.

That was how you were able to realize who he was, and when you found him in the building again, you greeted him. He was too lost in his work to properly pay attention to you, but he still smiled politely and greeted you in return.

It was as you were buying a coffee for yourself when he finally realized, noticing the blue ring on your finger as you held your credit card, ready to pay.

“It’s you?” he asked, when you stepped out of the line to wait for your coffee.

You recognized him right away.

“It’s me, which means it’s also you?” you asked in return.

The two of you had to speak strangely because no one was allowed to know of your existence. Time travelling was only a rumour, and the ideas of destiny and fate were used to cover up your presence.

He nodded with a small smile, scratching the back of his neck.

“I never thought I would meet you,” he said. “I’m Hanbin.”

You twisted the ring around your finger, feeling shy. Who knew that the Person of Action would emit such a warm energy...

You were able to discuss your role with him over coffee, laughing and venting about some of the previous tasks you had to carry out in the past. It felt nice to be able to actually tell someone about your duty for once, to open up and talk to someone who understood.

He also shared a few stories with you, too.

You had to leave this time setting after thirty days, and so did he. At first, you were worried about spending so much time in a foreign place all alone, but after meeting Hanbin, you were able to spend all those days in his company.

While completing your task, you were able to be with Hanbin when you weren’t busy. He gave you advice and you also consoled him in return.

You didn’t think that your rings would turn purple. You didn’t think that you would fall in love.

It only took two weeks for you to realize that he was your other half, that you loved him. 

When thirty days were up, both of you were in deep. You had spent intimate days and night together going on dates. He felt like the closest person to you, even though you had just met him.

After thirty days, it was time to go. You didn’t know when you would see Hanbin again, and as you said goodbye to him, he pressed a finger to your lips.

“Not goodbye, but see you soon. If we met once, we’re bound to meet again.” His smile was all teary eyes and wobbly mouth, but it was beautiful.

You were also struggling to hold back tears as he cupped your face in his warm hands, stroking your cheeks with his thumbs. The kiss that he planted on your nose left a tingling sensation even as you both disappeared.

-

“[y/n], I am somewhat disappointed in you.”

“What is it, master?”

“I allowed to two of you to meet, but I did not want you to meet in that way. The two of you are parallel lines, heading in the same direction but never supposed to touch. Sure, he was present in the same time as you. But did you have to go and make your rings turn purple?”

“I don’t understand. What’s wrong with that?”

“You are meant to exist separately. If you collide, the world’s balance will turn into chaos. Thank goodness I set your time limit to thirty days. If you continued to meet with him and your ring became a deeper purple, we would not be able to recover.”

“Why did you let me meet him then?”

“It was a test of your conscience. I realize that the test was too difficult, though. I will have to separate the two of you properly, now.”

-

He still searched for you. He searched for you in the stars that you had peered at together one night; he searched for you in cafés that reminded him of the ones where you shared your deepest feelings; he searched for you in every place where you had left your trace, in every place where his memories with you lived in reality.

You both carried out your duties diligently, but you were both nothing but two separated souls who longed for each other at night.

[chickensarentcheap]

Sanctuary - Chapter 1

So this can be seen as either a companion piece to I Found (my first and still on going Tyler Rake/OC fan fic) or a sequel. It works either way lol.   I decided to work outside of the box and do more fluffy/soft/cute Tyler mixed in with his edge ;)    So this will be multi chapter and include everything from fluff, angst, drama, love, suspense, you name it. 

If you’d like to be tagged, please just let me know. I love comments, messages, you name it!

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y  @alievans007  @hemmyworthy  @valkyrie-of-the-light

FIVE YEARS LATER

 He listens to the sound of life...his life...drifting up from the floor below. Hands behind  his head, eyes closed, the cotton sheets cool against his skin. Trying to squeeze in that extra bit of sleep despite the noise:  incessant high pitched giggling, some squabbling and name calling, the occasional ear piercing shriek. Outside the dog is whining to be let back in the house; not wanting to miss out on the action and the endless attention and treats the kids toss its way. A two year old German Shepherd that one of his son's had...much to the chagrin of everyone else in the house...named Macaroni. Mac for short. Further back on the property, in a safely fenced off area, chickens cluck and squawk within their pen as two goats tend to making sure their area is free of weeds and any left over food.

 It's a simple existence. A four bedroom farm house in Telluride, Colorado that had taken three years to fully renovate. A mixture of white wood siding and red brick; old fashioned touches like claw foot tables and a storm cellar, along with the newer and more modern amenities: a home gym and fully finished basement with its own entrance, kitchen, living space, bedroom and bathroom. Pushed four hundred meters from the road, there's enough land for a decent sized hobby farm; the chickens and goats, three separate vegetable gardens, an above ground pool and tons of free space for the kids to play. There's a creek at the very back; running horizontally at the edge of their property line, a common meeting ground for deer, fox, and other wildlife. And the one thing that had truly sold them on the place -when it had been nothing more than a rotted old place that looked as if it should be bulldozed to the ground- a view of the snow capped mountains.  A far cry from the sand and surf of Australia, but a paradise in its own right.

 “Okay...boys...boys...you need to take it down a notch...”  his wife's voice, a hint of exasperation in her tone. “..why are you like this? Please just go and sit down and do something quiet for five minutes so I can get breakfast started. Why do you have to act like wild banshees the moment your eyes open?”

 “Maybe daddy's up,” one of the twins-Tyler Junior's voice. Or TJ as he's affectionately known to everyone in his life. He's the taller of the two: sharing his father's height and naturally broad shoulders, along with the same texture and colour of hair and brilliant blue eyes. He's the wilder of the two. Loud and boisterous. Fearless. To a fault.

 “Can we go check?” Tanner now. Smaller and slighter than his older (by a mere six minutes) brother. With slightly darker hair than his siblings, and his mother's build and smile and the freckles splashed across the bridge of his noise. He's the quiet, introspective one. An old soul trapped in such a young body.

 “You two get down from there,” Esme hisses from the bottom of the stairs. “No going up there. Daddy is asleep. He's tired. Do you want me to throw you out there with the chickens and the goats? Because I will. I swear to God I will.”

 He smirks at that.

 “Maybe he's awake,” Millie pipes up. Even more hopeful than her younger brother. She's a daddy's girl. Through and through. Has been since the moment she made her entrance into the world and had been placed in his arms, her entire fist closing around one of his fingers.

 “I said no. Now all three of you get down here right now. Daddy didn't get in until late last night. He's had a very busy two weeks and he needs to sleep. Are any of you even listening to me right now? Are you feral?”

 Tyler actually laughs out loud at that.

 The kids have extremely keen ears, and their mother's patience is already running low, and now he can hear the pounding of little feet against the wooden stairs as they seize the opportunity and make their move. And he's just manage to slip into a pair of sweats and climb back into bed when the door is being thrown open. The twins collide with either side of the door frame; causing the human equivalent of a three car pile up.  And they decide to just throw down right there and then; head locks and elbows to the face as they fight over who actually gets to enter the room first.

 Millie takes charge, and with a roll of the eyes, simply shoves them both out of the way. She's tall and slender for only five. With unruly light brown hair and blue eyes that are always filled with both mischief and curiosity. A healthy mix of tomboy and girly girl: a room filled with both dolls and action figures. She enjoyed both tea parties and dress up but could turn around and climb trees and roll around in the dirt in the blink of an eye.

 All three jump onto the bed to greet him and he finds himself tackled by the lot of them. Letting them push him down onto his back; a tickle fight immediately ensuing, followed by a wrestling match. They all love to rough house. Even Tanner, who is smart and compassionate like his mother but could lay an ass kicking on his bigger twin. They're tough kids. Both physically and mentally.

 “I gotta pee!” Tanner announces, as he slides across the bed on his butt, jumps off and scurries from the room.

 His brother takes it as a chance to catch him unaware, and in less than a minute they're in the middle of the hallway, rolling around on the ground fighting. It will end the way it always does. Tears. Maybe a black eye or a split lip. If left to their own defences, they'd spend a half an hour beating the hell out of each other followed by a quarter of the day declaring they hate one other. Then they'd forget about why they were even mad and once again join forces to wreak havoc.

 ****

Millie crawls across the bed and plops down onto her side, snuggling into him. Nestling her head underneath his chin, one of her hands on his shoulder. And he drops a kiss on her hair and wrapping an arm around her, pulls her close. Once again closing his eyes, enjoying a few extra moments of relaxation. Until she's moving against him and her tiny fingers are attempting to pry his eyes open.

 “Wake up daddy,” her hand moves to his beard, giggling as she rubs her palm against it.  “It's time to get up.”

 “What if I don't want to?”

 “It's breakfast,” she announces, and she's at his eyes again, growing frustrated as he screws them shut even tighter. “Daddy...” she grumbles. “...don't be such a boy.”

 “I am a boy,” he reminds her.

 “It doesn't mean you have to give me a hard time like the rest of them.”

 Tyler grins. “You sounded so much like your mother just now.”

 “Smart like mommy, cute like daddy,” she declares.

 “Atta girl. You know what's up.”  He opens his eyes: bright blue meeting bright blue.

 “Hi!” she chirps, and leans in so they can rub the tips of their noses together. It's their 'special thing'. Something he'd taught her shortly after her second birthday. And she refuses to share it with her brothers.

 “Hi.”

 “I missed you, daddy.”

 He will never grow tired of hearing that word. Or the way it makes him feel. How it fills him with a sense of accomplishment. That someone like him...with all the monsters in his closet and all the battles he's fought ...could both make and deserve something so perfect.

 “How could you miss me? You were still up when I got home. I tucked you in. Read you a story. Five of them to be exact.”

 “I missed you while I was sleeping,” she says, and fiddles with the chain around his neck.

 He'd been gone for two weeks this time; helping Nik with a handful of  simple 'in and out' extractions throughout central and south America. Returning with little more than a couple of bruised ribs, scrapped up knuckles, and a small gash above his right eye. He only takes the easy jobs now. He has way too much to lose. A wife and kids. Even his own side business: home renovations and handyman work.  A way having steady cash flow and being able to get food on the table, the bills paid, and keep a roof of over their heads.

 She is investigating the cut above his eye now. It hadn't been deep enough for stitches, but the skin around it was starting to swell and turn a vivid purple. Millie had lost it when she'd seen his injuries; crying like she'd never cried before. The only thing calming her down had been a bowl of ice cream and those five stories he'd been suckered into.  

 “You were gone a long time,” she pouts.

 “Too long,” he agrees.

 “Did you miss me?”

 “Of course I did. Didn't I call you every night when I was gone? I missed you very much. And your mommy. And your brothers.”

 “But not as much as you missed me, right? Because I'm your favourite.”

 “I love all of you the same. I don't have any favourites.”

 She pulls back, taking his face in her tiny hands. “Just tell me, daddy. I can keep a secret.”

 It feels like a lifetime ago when she was just a tiny baby that he could carry around in one hand. Now she's in kindergarten, taking gymnastics, enrolled in martial arts, and willing try any sport that tickles her fancy. Sometimes he misses the old days. Getting up in the middle of the night to tend to her, feeling that tiny body just melt into his, smelling that powdery, fresh scent that clung to her hair and clothes. She's a daddy's girl. Always has been. And there's no sign of that changing any time soon.

 He hopes it never does.

 “Daddy?”

 His eyes are closed again. Relishing the precious and all too fleeting moments with his first born. His only daughter.  “Yeah?”

 “I love you,” she announces, and it nearly brings tears to Tyler's eyes. She is so innocent and so pure, as is her blind faith and trust in him. She has no clue of what his other job entails. Just that he goes a way a lot and she hates it. And sometimes he comes back with cuts and bruises and the occasional broken bone.

 It's his number one fear: what will happen when she gets older and she learns just what he's been up to all these years. He worries it will change how she looks at him. Right now she adores and idolizes him; there's no problem that daddy can't fix, no toy he can't repair, no monster he can't chase away. Soon that will end. She'll grow out of that and their relationship will be different. And he worries that the truth and the monsters and demons of his past will drive her away.

 He tightens his hold on her. Drops a kiss on the top of her head.

 “I love you too.”

 ****

 His family is gathered in the kitchen. The smell of pancakes, eggs, and sausage hanging heavily in the air as google home mini perched on a nearby counte rtop plays the current and most popular music. Tanner scurries back and forth between cupboards and table as he happily and dutifully finishes setting places for his mother. The baby in his high chair; ten months old, a lock of strawberry blond hair falling across his forehead, brilliant blue eyes focused intently on scooping  the selection of dry cheerios and slices of banana on the tray in front of him. Declan is long and lanky like Millie and TJ. Feisty and mischievous at even such a tender age.  The genes run strong in the Rake family. Never a doubt to strangers on the street that those four came from the same mom and dad. Especially the latter.  Their appearances strikingly similar; both physical and in their mannerisms and facial expressions.

 “Help your brother,” Tyler instructs his daughter, placing her on the ground. “And no fighting over who gets what colour cup or what spoon.” 

They were only eleven months apart and while incredibly close and nine times out of ten the best of friends, they loved to scrap. Their little pissing matches often turning physical. But Mille is strong and clever and never backs down from a challenge.

 He joins his wife at the counter where she stands dishing food out onto plates. His hands coming to rest on her shoulders, then sliding down her arms and coming to rest on her hips. They’re wider now; she’s had four children after all. His children. Yet she is still firm and tone in some places, soft and more curvaceous in others.  Her hair is shorter; skimming the tops of her shoulders, wispy bangs over her forehead. She is beautiful even first thing in the morning; a wide headband holding her hair away from her face, clad in a pair of simple black leggings and one of his t-shirts. And he leans into her, eyes closed as he breathes in the soft scent that lingers in her hair.

 “Good morning,” his lips are against her ear, hands tightening on her hips as she pulls her back against him.

  He feels her shudder against him and he smiles as he presses a kiss to her cheek. He had heard that once children came into the picture, a lot of women lost some, if not all, desire for sex. They were tired. Physically and emotionally. But not his wife. In fact, it had seemed to heighten her need for it even more. She’s always been insatiable; right from the very beginning of their relationship. The only woman he’d ever known -including his first wife- whose sexual appetite almost matched his. Last night she’d been especially in the mood; pouncing on him the second he walked into their bedroom. And then  proceeding to wake him up twice in the middle of the night with no so gentle demands that he make love to her.

 Who was he to say no?”

 “Good morning,” she tilts her head back and smiles up at him “Did you sleep okay? I’m sorry the kids were so loud and woke you up.  They were excited you were home.”

 “They only woke me up once. You woke me up twice,” he teases, grinning when she blushes, and presses a kiss to the tip of her nose. “By the way…” he places his lips against her ear once again, and presses his groin against her ass. “…you were incredible.”

 Her blush deepens, spreading all the way to the tips of her ears. “You weren’t so bad yourself.”

 “You definitely were not complaining,” he chides, and then kisses her cheek. Behind them, TJ makes a very distinct gagging noise.  “One day you’re going like kissing girls,” he informs his son, as he leans back against the counter and accepts a mug of steaming black coffee from his wife.

 “Never,” the little boy declares.  “Girls are gross.”

 “Your mommy isn’t gross,” Tyler points out. “Far from it. Daddy thinks she’s the most beautiful girl in the world. One day you’ll find a girl that you feel the same way about.”

 “Nope,” his namesake remains steadfast. “Never. Ever. Girls that aren’t mommy are nasty. And kissing is gross. Just…ughhh…” his nose crinkles in disgusts as he shudders dramatically.  Definitely his mother’s son with that little display.

 “Kissing is where babies come from,” Mille announces, as she scrambles into her seat at the table.

 “Well there’s a little more to it than that,” he says, and Esme digs her elbow into his ribs and shakes her his. “Well there is.”

 “Like what?” Millie inquires. “Kissing and what?”

 “Kissing and things,” her mother replies. “Things you don’t need to know about until you’re older. Much older.”

 “How much older?” the five year old isn’t giving up that easily.

 “When you’re thirty and your father finally lets you go out on a date.”

 “Thirty!” Mille squeals. “That’s old as shit!”

 “”Hey!” Tyler admonishes. “None of that. Only mommy says that word. She invented bad words like that.”

 “Yeah…” Esme snorts.  “…way back when the Pony Express still delivered mail.”

 “I think you made the F word, daddy,” Tanner says, and his twin giggles beside him.

 “Someone needs to watch their language when little ears are around,” Esme scolds, and hands him a cold plate of eggs and pancake for the paper.

 “You might get your mouth washed out with soap,” TJ adds. “That’s what grandma says she used to do to Uncle Mike when he was little and swore like a drunken sailor.”

 “Thirty is really old,” Millie muses dramatically, as she tucks her hair behind her ears.  

 “Your mother was being generous,” Tyler says. “I was thinking more like forty.”

 “Daddy, that’s mean. You can’t boys away from me that long.”

 “Don’t say that him,” Esme pipes up. “He’s going to take that as a challenge.”

 “She can date, but I’m sitting on the front porch with a gun in my lap until she gets home,” he vows, and his wife rolls her eyes and begins carrying plates of food to the table, leaving an extra on the counter.

 The baby squeals happily when Tyler steps up beside the high chair and reaches up for him with dirty hands. Fists repeatedly opening and closing in a request to be picked.

 “Mate…” he sighs, as he takes in the state of his youngest. Banana smashed into oblivious, smeared into his hair.  “…why do you have to do this to me? What kind of mess did you go and make? Your son tried to shampoo his hair with his banana,” he informs his wife. “Look at him. He’s a bloody wreck.”

 “How come he’s only my son when he’s bad?” she smirks, and tosses him a package of baby wipes.

 “Because the bad genes come from you,” he states, and then uses the wipes to clean the baby’s face, hair, and hands before unbuckling him and lifting him from the seat. Little arms curling around his neck, a face nuzzling into his shoulder. “Here we go, mate, here we go,” he says, and then slides into his chair. “Time to eat. Time to get big and strong so that you can kick some ass when you get older.”

 “Really, Tyler?” Esme sighs. “Really?”

 “Daddy said ass,” TJ giggles, and soon he and his brother are dissolving into hysterics and making fart jokes. Their sister rolling her eyes and giving them hell for being so rude.

 Just another day in paradise.

 ****

  “Well…well…well…” Esme grins.  “…it lives. Long enough to emerge from it’s dungeon to eat.”

 There’s a slight blush to Ovi’s cheeks as he enters the room, a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he lays a hand on her shoulder and presses a kiss to his cheek. She may not be the woman that carried him for nine months and given birth to him, but she was very much his mother. Spending the last five years making sure he was well taken care of; nurtured, shown affection, encouraged to enjoy the simple things that came with a quieter existence. And he may not use the word, but he feels it in his heart. And he knows she does too.

 He’s much taller now; half an inch shy of Tyler’s six foot three frame. He’s not as muscular and powerful as the man he considers his father, but is tall and athletic; a sinewy, well toned body from all the hours he’s spent lifting weights,  helping out on their little hobby farm, and accompanying Tyler to his reno and handy man jobs. And while he lives in the apartment in the basement, he never misses a meal with the family. He craves the togetherness; the conversations and the jokes and hearing the kids giggling and playing.

 He snags the plate of food off the counter and heats it in the microwave, then slips into the chair to Tyler’s left. “What time did you get back?” he inquires, as Esme moves to fill his empty glass from a pitcher of orange juice on the table.

 “Around nine.”

 “That was a long one,” he remarks, and Esme nods in agreement.

 She has gotten used to his time away, but still doesn’t like it. It’s cold and lonely in the middle of the night and sleep rarely comes; too many worries about where he is and if he’s okay.

 “What happened here?” Ovi gestures to the area above his own eye.

 “Just a little mix up with someone that wasn’t too happy with me. Nothing serious. Where were you? The car was gone when I got home.”

 He’d been the one that had taught the kid to drive; taking him on back country roads in a beater pick up truck that they’d picked up for cheap.  Ovi’s come a long way in five years; physically and mentally. He’s no longer plagued by the vivid nightmares of what had happened in Dhaka or how’d he’d killed Gaspar to save  Tyler’s life, and essentially, his own.  He had thrived in the public school system and quickly and effortlessly made friends.  Joined the swim team. Ran track and field. Tried his hand at football. He had decided to take a year off from pursuing a higher education; electing to busy himself on the farm and learning how to use power tools, sweating under the weight of hard, manual labour.

 “Ovi had a date,” Millie sing songs. “With a girl.”

 He reaches across the table to tousle her hair, and she gives that musical little giggle.  

 “It wasn’t a date,” he says.  “I was helping her study.”

 “Yeah…” Tyler smirks as the sips his coffee. “…it was studying.”

 “Right…” Esme grins from across the table. “…studying. I was a teenager once. I know what studying is code language for. Tyler and I like to study together. He’s actually an excellent tutor.”

 “Which is why we have four kids,” he adds.

 “I am never going to study,” TJ declares, causing the adults to laugh.

 “Oh boy child…” his mother sighs. “…you are in for one heck of a rude awakening when you get older. No kissing and no studying? Come back and talk to me when you’re fourteen.”

 “You’ll like studying,” Tyler says. “Even by yourself. It’s not as fun as when you study with someone else, but sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do.”

 Ovi laughs, nearly choking on a mouthful of orange juice.

 “Excuse me,” Esme directs a kick to his shin under the table. “When was the last time you actually had to study alone?”

 “I was just gone for two weeks,” he reminds her.  “Just because you wanted to study together when I got back doesn’t mean I didn’t have to study by myself while I was away. Go that long without studying? I haven’t gone that long without studying since I was fifteen.”

 She holds a hand up to silence him. “Okay that last part is just way too much information.”

 “Sometimes you have to study alone,” he continues with a shrug. “Because your study partner is tired. Or they feel sick Or they have a headache. Study partners get headaches a lot.”

 She kicks him under the table to get his attention, then mouths: “I will kill you in your sleep.”

 He shoots her a grin and a wink, reaching out with his foot in order to run his toes over her instep, along her shin, and then around to the hell.

 At first she glares at him, glass against her lips, then gives a smirk and places her other foot in his lap. Causing him to clear his throat noisily and shift in his seat when she presses her toes into his crotch. But he doesn’t make her stop.

 “So what’s her name? Esme asks. “This study partner of yours?”

 “Chloe.”

 “Oooo that’s pretty!” Mille gushes. “That’s a princess name. Is she pretty like a princess?”

 “She is,” he confirms, but then reaches across the table to tousle her hair. “But not as pretty as you.”

 “How’d you meet her?”  Tyler asks, his hand slipping below the table to push his wife’s foot out of his crotch. The last thing he needed was to get up from the breakfast table with a raging hard on. He is almost forty one now, but she still has a way of making him feel like a horny teenager.

 Esme pouts dramatically, then goes back to her breakfast. Foot now on his thigh, his fingers massaging at the bases of her toes.

 “The internet,” Ovi sheepishly admits.

 Tyler groans. Jesus , mate. We talked about this. We’ve been talking about this for five years now. No social media. It’s too easy for people to find you on there and track you down.”

 “I’m being really careful,” he insists. “My security settings are really high. I don’t use my real name. Esme has a facebook.”

 “With only her family on it. It’s not the same thing. How’d you end up randomly meeting her online in the first place? Don’t tell me you did something creepy like sending her a message out of nowhere because you thought she looked cute.”

 “It was a group. For single people in Colorado.”

 “Oh for fuck sakes,” Tyler mutters, much to the chagrin of the kids; the twins giggling and telling he was going to get his mouth washed out with soap and Millie who immediately scrambling for the ‘swear jar’ that sits on the counter by the stove. Informing him that he knows five bucks because it was a ‘really, really, really bad word’.   “Why would you go on something like that? I get being lonely and wanting to meet girls, but for Christ sakes, mate.”

 “I wasn’t thinking, I guess. I just wanted to meet new people and talk to them. I wasn’t really planning on meeting anyone. I was just wanting  to talk.”

 He’s had a handful of girlfriends in high school. Nice, down home kind of girls that came from decent families and seemed to have no secrets in their closets. Tyler had made sure of it: giving their names and addresses to Nik so she would do a little digging. Everything had come back clean, thankfully. But it was better to be safe than sorry, especially with kids in the house.

 “How much do you even know about this girl?”

 “Enough.”

 Tyler arches both brows, waiting for a better response.

 “We’ve been talking for a little while,” he admits. “A few weeks now. She lives in Butte. So when we wanted to meet in person, we agreed to drive hallway and meet in the middle.”

 “How old is she?” Tyler presses. “What does she do for a living?”

 “Twenty three.”

 Out of the corner of his eye, he can see the way his wife’s widen at the revelation. There’s almost five full years between them and while that had never stopped them, it seemed a little wrong when it was a nineteen year old boy being pursued by an older woman.

 “She teaches in a day care,” Ovi continues. “So she’d fit in really well around here. She loves kids and you guys have a lot of them, so…”

 “I wanna met her,” Mille decides, and her brothers join in.

 “You can’t just bring strangers to the house,” Esme speaks up.  “You know that’s one of the big rules. We can’t just have anyone and everyone walking through the front door. How much do you really know about her other than her name, age, and what she does for a living? Do you know anything about her friends? Her family? Her background?”

 “I can always get Nik to run a check on her,” Tyler suggests. “I mean, if he really wants to see this girl…”

 “Still doesn’t mean I want a stranger coming to my bouse. Being around my kids.  Wasn’t that we agreed on about five years ago? When we moved here and I was having the twins? That we wouldn’t take the chance of just letting someone walk through the door? There’s always a chance, remember? That someone is looking for us. Those are your exact words.”

 “But if I get Nik to do a background check, we’ll get some answers. If nothing comes up, great. He can see the girl. If someone comes up, then he doesn’t. You wouldn’t, right?” he looks at Ovi. “See her if something came up?”

 “No! I would never do anything like that! I’d never bring someone like that around here.  I just want the chance to get to know her. That’s all. She’s really nice and really pretty and I think you guys would like her.:

 “I’m going to like her,” Millie chimes in. “I already do. If she’s good enough for my Ovi, she’s good enough for me.”

 “Pound it…” he says to her, as he holds out a fist and she enthusiastically responds. “…now blow it up.”

 They’ve always been close. Right from the moment they’d brought her as a baby to the Mahajan house five years ago. It was the first infant he’d ever had contact with and he’d been immediately smitten; mesmerized by the little sounds she made, how she would look up at him with those big blue or wrap her entire fist around one of his fingers. And when he wasn’t holding or begging to hold her, he was playing the piano for her; having her in the car seat on the floor next to him while he entertained her with his favourite songs. As she grew older, she’d always referred to him as ‘my Ovi’. Sometime she’s even called him her brother, and when people tried to point out it wasn’t physically possible that they were related in any way, she’d argue that ‘Christmas presents aren’t always in the same wrapping paper and neither are people’.

 Pretty wise for a five year old.

 “It won’t hurt to take a look at her,” Tyler attempts to reason with his wife “What’s the worst that can happen? We see something we don’t like in her background and he cuts ties with her. That’s it. No harm, no foul.”

 She’s become increasingly paranoid with each baby they’ve brought into the world. Always worried that there was someone out there just waiting to trample on the happiness that they had managed to find. And when he’d gotten back into the job without consulting her first, the worry became obsessive and all consuming.

  And there was also some lingering animosity towards him on her part; that he’d willingly go back into a profession that put a target on not only his back, but hers and the kids as well. He no longer saw it that way; he was more than capable of protecting his family and there were others -like Nik, Yaz, and the rest of the team- that would help them out no questions asked. Besides, the jobs he took were considered low on the scale of risk when it came to severe injury or death.

 “If nothing comes back and she’s totally clean, there’s no reason why she can’t come around,” he adds, and gives her foot a squeeze. “You know I’m not going to just let a stranger walk up in here. I wouldn’t take that chance. So I’ll get Nik to look her up. The kid does deserve to have a life. Isn’t that we brought him along with us in the first place?”

 Sighing heavily, she uses her fork to push the remains of her food around her plate.

 “Nothing is going to happen,” he assures her. “We do things this way, there’s no chance of something going wrong. Let’s at least give the girl a chance, yeah?”

 “As long as you promise to have Nik look into her. And as long as you…” she trains her gaze on Ovi.  “…promise me you won’t bring her here until Tyler find outs about her. I’m serious, Ovi. I can’t have some random off the street getting near my kids. I just can’t.”

 “I won’t,” he vows. “I’d never do something like that.”

 Giving a small smile, she nods and then pushes her chair away from the table and begins tidying up the dirty plates and utensils, instructing the kids to run upstairs and get cleaned up and dressed.

 “Is she okay?” Ovi asks. “She seems a little….mad.”

 “I think she’s a bit pissed at me. I was only supposed to be gone four days and it ended up turning into two weeks. It’s hard on her. Being home alone all that time with the kids. This job was supposed to be easy and it turned into a real shit show instead. Definitely not what I thought I was walking into.”

 “Well at least you’re alive, right? You’re home. At least you’re still here.”

 “That’s all that matters, mate. Dragging myself through that front door. As long as I get home to my wife and my kids, it’s a good day.”

 As long as he wasn’t being brought home in a body bag.

[otaku-daydreamer-4673]

Short Story #3

Defect

  Perfect...is a relative term. Everything is clean cut and precise; flawless without any abnormalities….but then you could also argue then that it’s lacking anything unique. Innovative, inspiring, creative...those words were a mystery to me, as well to half the Earth’s population. Looking down at my grey uniform, it was no different than any other high school student within a mile of me. The adults were no different, wearing one of three colors to voice their status. Grey, blue, or purple; grey being the lowest in terms of hierarchy. Purple being the highest, for the government and law makers.

  Each day was the same, repetition, repetition, like an assembly line. School, work, home, repeat the next day. Democracy? No, more like a dictatorship. There was hardly any greenery here, just lots of concrete. Just a single tree on every other corner. I looked over my shoulder at the massive electric fence separating us from them. We called them Zenites; don’t ask my why. I didn’t come up with the name. We weren’t allowed to talk to them, or associate with them in any way. Anyone who did ended up missing. Now of course that was always a rumor, but rumors originate from somewhere don’t they? The fence was 100 feet high, see through, but electrified. Here on the Western part of the world, at least we had clean clothes, food in our stomachs and a place to call home. But you couldn’t say the same for the Zenites; who lived on the eastern part of the world. You’d see them passing by from time to time, eyeing us from the other side of the fence. And if I was being honest, they really weren’t that different from us. Well...give or take some differences. Such as their clothes, which weren’t in the best condition. They were often dirty, for whatever reason. If you looked hard enough you could see makeshift houses from whatever materials they could find. They had less than what we had, but there was something they had that we didn't. Freedom, identity and happiness. Where laws were ancient history, and each person had their own individuality. ...Something that no longer existed here.

  Walking out of school; prison as I liked to call it, a passerby collided into my shoulder, they apologized and went about their business, but the interaction knocked off my ID tag off my shirt. I sighed frustratedly as I bent down to pick I up. “Dammit...” I put it back in place on my uniform shirt and frowned at the engraving that I was forced to wear everyday. X01519; my ID, what I was known as, and essentially my name. There were no such things as names anymore on the Western side of the fence, just ID numbers. But...that wasn’t the case for the Zenites. At the thought, something that used to depress me, now brought me  small sense of joy, as I quickly made my way to my secret spot. Being wary, not to catch the attention of the guards and security in this area. Because against my better judgement, I had been actively doing something illegal for the past three months. Something that would spark some truth to those rumors of missing people. I had unintentionally made a friend, from the other side of the fence.

  Jogging past civilians, and sneaking my way past security check points, I came upon the fence. The sun was setting, and this has been the usual time we would meet. But I couldn’t see her. Looking over my shoulder to be sure I wasn’t followed, I cupped my hands over my mouth as a called for her in a loud whisper. “Renee? ...Renee…?” I heard footsteps approach, as worn out shoes toppled over the partially dead grass. And then she came into view, and truth be told the sight of her made my heart skip a beat. Blonde hair and brown eyes, with freckles surrounding the area around her nose and cheeks. Wearing a simple pink T-shirt with ripped overalls. I frowned when I saw she had a scrape on her knee today, but she didn’t seem to think much of it. Her laughter brought me out of my thoughts, as I looked up to see her smiling at me.

  She pulled her hands out of her pockets, and smirked at me as she crossed her arms. “Hey Zane!”

  I blushed, and ran my hands through my hair nervously. “I’m still not used to you calling me that.” I admitted sheepishly, “I’m just so used to my number.”

  She waved her index finger at me from the other side of the fence, a small frown on her face. “I hate that number that they gave you, that’s why I gave you a name.” That comment only made me blush harder. What she said was true, when we met three months ago and introduced ourselves all I had was a number to go by. So in that moment, she gave me a name. Something secret between us.

  I scratched the back of my head and laughed nervously, “Yeah you’re right. I’ll do my best to go by Zane.”

  She smiled at me, and her whole face lit up. “By the way, were you able to get it for me?” She asked excitedly, her eyes shimmering in the dim lighting.

  I arched my eyebrow in confusion for a moment, before I remembered what she was talking about. I smiled and reached into my pocket, “Oh yeah!” I pulled out a candy bar and placed it on the floor. She beamed, which warmed my heart, as she knelt down to pick it up. In our secret meeting together, we’ve dug a small hole in the to pass things to one another; careful not to get electrocuted by the fence. Once she grabbed her prize she jumped up and down and squealed excitedly, and I had to shush her, putting my index finger to my lips. “You idiot, quiet down..!” I whispered harshly, there’d be no telling what would happen if we were caught talking to one another. I noticed a blush across her cheeks in the dim lighting, and I forgot how to breathe for a moment. She looked….pretty. I groaned and held my head in my hands, what was I thinking. Simply talking to her was illegal, I couldn’t see her as anything more than an acquaintance….or friend. Right?

  She tore the wrapper off, and moaned in delight. “Oh this is amazing! I wish we had chocolate over here.” She was an odd one. She was always hyper, and loved to tell jokes. It wasn’t what he was used to, but...you guess you could say that’s what drew him to her. She was...different. She ate the chocolate bar quickly, and had a smudge of it on the corner of her lip, and it made Zane swallow a lump in his throat. If only he could... No! No thinking like that dammit! Damn these hormones and these….urges. It wasn’t his fault marriages were assigned on the Western side of the fence, so there was never a need for him to have a ‘girlfriend’, as Renee put it; whatever that was.

  Renee was licking the excess chocolate off her fingers when she looked back at Zane. “Thanks again! I owe you for next time.” She got close enough to the fence to be closer to him, but not close enough to get shocked. She looked at him, as she cocked her head to the side, her expression sincere.

  Her gaze made Zane feel a little uncomfortable, “W-What is it…?” He asked, stuttering; an obvious blush across his face.

  This only seemed to make Renee giggle. “You know what Zane? ….I like you.”

  Okay, that for sure stopped Zane’s heart for a minute there. “You….You what?” He asked, both shocked and confused. “W-Why…? You hardly know anything about me.”

  He stared at her in awe and confusion, while she just continued to smile at him. “I know enough to know I’ve gained feelings for you.” She smiled, before turning around to grab something behind her. She came back with a shovel and planted it in the ground by the hole they had made. “Come with me.” She said with pleading eyes, as she looked over at him. “Come over to this side with me.”

  Zane paled and took a step back, making Renee’s expression turn sad. “I can’t...” he whispered, swallowing a lump in his throat.

  Renee’s expression grew pained, “But why not…?” He opened his mouth to answer when suddenly a siren went off, and bright light was shining down on him.

  Zane clenched his jaw, “Shit! They found us!”A helicopter flew overhead as a loudspeaker went off “X01519, step away from the fence or we will shoot!” Warning shots were fired off by his feet, and he stumbled back and fell on his butt as he scooted backwards, will his back was an inch from the fence.

  The sound of shovel hitting dirt interrupted his thoughts as he hesitantly looked over his shoulder to see Renee hurriedly shoveling away dirt desperately trying to make the hole bigger. “Zane, dig!” Her expression scared him, he’s never seen her make that face. So….desperate.

  More warning shots were fired at him, as a red beam starting making its way up the floor onto his shirt. “I’m gonna die….” he whispered to himself, beads of sweat coming off of his brow.

  “Like hell you are!” Renee shouted shoveling away like her life depended on it. It may not have been her life, but she was going to save his. “Zane, come on dig!” She repeated, managing to get the whole to be twice the size it was. “Please, I’m begging you! I won't let you die, you hear me!?” She began to cry, as tears ran down her cheeks. That once happy smile gone….and that about broke his heart in two.

  He nodded wordlessly and began to dig. His fingernails scraping dirt and rock; he hissed in pain as the rock cut his skin, but he kept going. Another shot was fired, and Zane screamed in pain as a bullet went through his leg. “Fuck…!”

  Renee just became more desperate, “Climb underneath Zane! It’s big enough now!” Zane groaned but did as she said, and crawled underneath. The edge of the fence caught his shirt, but Renee grabbed him and pulled with all her might until he was on her size of the fence. The helicopter rounded the area, but didn’t go farther than the fence. “We made it!” Renee said, tugging Zane closer to her. “Come on, I know someone who can heal that wound.” As Renee tugged Zane up to his feet, he looked to the other side of the fence, that has been his home for 19 years. It was no longer that anymore. He looked up at Renee, and despite the pain he was in he smiled. His new home was with her now. ...At least he’d be with someone he cared about. The same could be said for her. A place with the Zenites. A place to truly be himself...

[tywriteskpop]

Sleeping Beauty (Mark Tuan)-Final Chapter

Warnings: Violence and possible trauma Genre: Fluff, Angst

Chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / Epilogue

Mark dived behind a pillar and pressed his back against it. He barely had a second to catch his breath before he was forced to cover himself with his arms. He could feel the heat from the purple flames that spewed from Jinyoung’s jaw. It was blazing hot and Mark could feel sweat falling down his face.

He panted heavily as the flames died down. He leaned back and looked around the corner of the pillar. Jinyoung was blocking the path to you. His large reptilian body destroyed any option for Mark to sneak past him. He settled back and closed his eyes for a moment to get his bearings.

“There’s nowhere for you to go, brother,” Jinyoung said. His voice was dark and almost like a roar. “You’re in my realm now.”

Mark cursed under his breath and clenched his fist. The sword made from his magic formed in his hand, and he grasped tightly onto the handle. But he paused, realizing what he was about to do would not work. He couldn’t attack Jinyoung head on yet. He needed to distract him, or throw him off balance. Something that would allow him to get closer and attack him directly.

He remembered training with the brothers. They showed him how to exert his magic offensively. He decided it was worth a try. He reformed his sword, making it a smaller dagger. He peeked around the pillar once more and saw Jinyoung was waiting for him. He took a deep breath and stepped out from behind his cover. Aiming for Jinyoung’s head, he threw the dagger.

It flew over him, and Jinyoung snickered at Mark’s poor attempt. But when the dagger was right above the dragon, Mark waved his palm out. The dagger burst into a blinding light that disoriented Jinyoung. He roared, shutting his eyes and shaking his head to relieve the flash in his eyes. With his eyesight distorted by Mark’s light magic, he couldn’t see Mark moving from behind the pillar.

Mark ran out towards the next pillar, ducking behind it. Relieved that his plan worked, he let out the breath he was holding. Quietly he looked around the back of the column and saw Jinyoung coming to.

The dragon focused on the pillar Mark had hidden behind before. He reared his head back and a storm of fire engulfed the pillar. Jinyoung heard no indication that the prince was affected. He turned and swung his tail at the colum, shattering it to pieces. The stone lay in a loose pile in the corner of the room.

Mark heard a rumbling growl come from Jinyoung’s throat. He swallowed nervously when he heard thundering steps as Jinyoung moved across the room.

“You can’t hide from me!” Jinyoung shattered another pillar further away from Mark.

Keeping his back to the stone column behind him, he looked past it and saw Jinyoung’s back facing him. He slowly shifted to look on the other side of the pillar, searching for you.

You were motionless on the table you lay on. Hair fanned out around you, your eyes remained closed and your breathing steady. Mark felt a silent relief that you were unharmed, but he couldn’t help but wish you would finally wake up.

“I can hear you breathing,” Jinyoung said. He suddenly turned his attention to the column Mark hid behind. “Nice try.”

Mark huffed and jumped out from behind the column. He waved his palm out in front of him and swung upwards. A stream of needles made from his light magic shot at Jinyoung from below. He howled in pain and reared back onto his hind legs. Mark took his chance and ran towards you.

He was only a few steps away from you when he skidded to a halt. Jinyoung’s tail came down on him. At the last second, Mark jumped back, rolling onto his knees as the dragon’s tail crashed to the floor. He looked back at where he was merely seconds ago to see Jinyoung lifting his tail from the crumbling floor. Mark stared, horrified, at the trench that now separate him from you. The fissure open up to the lower floor, a room directly below the one they were in. It was a long fall. Mark could try to jump it, but he feared the possibility of failing. He had to find another way.

“Your efforts are futile, foolish brother,” Jinyoung scorned.

Mark faced him and stood his ground. “I thought I made it clear you aren’t my brother,” he scoffed. “You ever going to tell me why you’ve done all this? Why you killed me and tried to take Y/N’s magic?”

Jinyoung laughed menacingly. “You must have not yet recovered all of your memories. You don’t remember what happened. What you did to me.”

“Can’t say that I do,” Mark answered. “Seems kind of unfair, don’t you think?”

Jinyoung took a step closer to Mark. “If you can force me down, I’ll tell you everything about your pathetic existence.”

Mark saw Jinyoung lift his clawed forefoot and ran forward to avoid it when it came down. He ran towards the base of Jinyoung’s body, his magic energy sword forming in his hand once more. When he was closer enough, he brought his sword up in a powerful swing, pouring his pure magic into the blade.

An animalistic cry of agony boomed inside the room. Jinyoung swatted Mark away with his claws, making him land a ways away. He skidded on his back, causing a slight burn from the friction, but he ignored it and pushed himself up. He looked down and saw the sleeve of his jacket torn from Jinyoung’s claws. Three scratches covered his upper arm, but they were shallow and only allowed beads of blood to seep through. However, they burned, and it threw him off balance for a moment. But he forced himself to ignore the burning sensation and focus his attention on the dragon looming over him.

His black leather skin was tinged purple as he bled from the wound Mark gave him. He slammed his foot down in front of Mark in anger, causing the stone floor to break around it. His nostrils flared, and Mark could have sworn he saw him exhaling steam.

He got to his feet and held his blade out, bracing for the next move. “I guess it won’t be that hard to force you down after all.”

Jackson rolled his neck and cracked his knuckles, meeting Jaebum’s gaze with a deathly gaze. He knew Jaebum was weakened after the altercation between him and Youngjae. He’d be able to finish this fight with him and get to Mark before it was too late.

“So the traitor has come to save his pathetic baby brothers,” Jaebum taunted. “How quaint.”

“My so called pathetic baby brothers messed you and your friend up pretty good,” Jackson shot back, unfazed. “And now that you’re in the state you’re in, what makes you think you have any chance of beating me?”

Jaebum smirked. “Maybe you should find out.”

Both ravens’ eyes blacked out and their magic chaotically swirled around them. The air in the hallway became dense with power, their clothes and hair rustled by the winds they created. Jackson lifted his right arm, closing his fist and tensing his muscles as he focused his power in that part of his body. Jaebum’s aura surrounded him in a whirlwind, acting as a defensive shield.

“Let’s see you get past this, traitor!” Jaebum waved his hand up from below. A rain of black flames hurdled towards Jackson.

Jackson dropped to his knees and punched the stone tile of the floor. It jutted up from its cemented place, allowing Jackson to lift it up and use it as a shield. He ducked behind it and allowed Jaebum’s attacks to collide with the stone shield. The remaining flames blurred past him, and he waited until the moment the assault ended.

As soon as he sensed Jaebum had ceased his initial attack, he jumped from behind the stone slab and ran to the end of the hall. Jaebum took chase, running after him as fast as he could in his weakened state. Jackson turned a corner and continued rushing down the hall.

“Running kind of slow, aren’t you?” Jackson yelled, taunting Jaebum.

Jaebum growled and tried to speed up. He didn’t know what Jackson was doing, but he couldn’t let him get away. He followed him through the halls, a maze of endless walls. Jaebum wasn’t even sure where he was anymore.

Jackson finally came to a stop in dark room, so he turned around and waited for Jaebum to cross the threshold. A soon as Jaebum skidded to a halt inside the room, the door slammed shut, drowning the room in complete darkness.

Youngjae kicked open an old wooden door and stumbled into the room with BamBam hanging off his shoulder. He paced into the room slowly, adjusting his grip on his brother’s waist.

“Just a bit further,” he muttered to his semi-unconscious brother.

BamBam released a small grunt, letting Youngjae know he heard him. Youngjae led him to the far side of the room towards the corner. With as much care as he could, he lowered BamBam to sit him on the floor. He propped him up against the two walls in the corner.

He knelt down and examined his brother, moving his head from side to side gently. He felt the cold sweat coating BamBam’s face and forehead. He reached down and placed his hands on BamBam’s arms, feeling how cold he was. Trying not to panic, Youngjae reached up and ripped BamBam’s shirt open. Ignoring the buttons that flew off to the side, Youngjae gawked at the lacerations across BamBam’s abdomen. The blood was starting to clot over the wounds, but fresh blood still seeped through, painting his stomach red.

“Damn it.” Youngjae looked around and spotted a fallen banner on the floor nearby. He went to grab it, shaking the dust off of it, and brought it back to press against BamBam’s stomach.

The younger boy groaned in pain. He tried to pry off the pressure, but his strength was at its lowest. Youngjae hushed him and started concentrating his magic to his palms.

“You’re in a state of shock from losing so much blood,” Youngjae choked out. He still felt the soreness in his bruised throat, but he felt the need to reassure his little brother. “You’re going to be fine. Just stay awake for me, BamBam.” He placed his glowing blue palm on the wounds after removing the stained banner.

At the cool, soothing feeling over the burning holes in his stomach, BamBam weakly opened his eyes. It took a moment for him to focus, his vision blurred and erratic. But his found his brother in front of him and felt at ease. He spotted the blood coating Youngjae’s shoulder.

“You’re hurt,” he said. His voice was small, almost incomprehensible.

Youngjae glanced up at him before concentrating back on healing him. He let out a humorless chuckle. “This is nothing.” Youngjae cleared his throat and tried to raise his voice a little. “Just worry about yourself right now.”

BamBam closed his eyes again and relaxed more, letting Youngjae do his work. He thought back to what happened that got him in this state, and laughed in disbelief. “I guess that asshole really did a number on me, huh?”

Youngjae used his free hand to reach up and hold BamBam’s head steady. “Hey,” he said, making his brother open his eyes again. “Jackson’s going to take care of it. Okay?” Youngjae gave him a confident grin. “No one hurts our little brother and gets away with it.”

With that confident sense that Youngjae provided him, BamBam remained silent. He needed rest, and with Youngjae doing what he could to aid his injuries, he could only hope he’d be back on his feet to help his family.

Mark ducked and rolled away from Jinyoung’s claws. He panted and felt sweat dripping from his face. As much as avoiding the dragon was tiresome, the heat from his flames made it worse. Jinyoung was trying to wear Mark down, and Mark knew it. But trying to find an opening for him to attack Jinyoung was proving to be difficult.

“You can’t keep running if you expect to get to your beloved,” Jinyoung taunted. “Face me, your highness, and embrace your failure.”

Mark huffed and held himself up on his knees. He needed a plan, but to take down a dragon was no small feat. With his hope riding on this attempt to throw Jinyoung off balance, Mark used the torches on the walls as his anchors. He gathered the light energy from the flames and used it to form an arch above Jinyoung’s head.

The dragon reared its head and looked up. He squinted at the immense light forming above him. “What is this?” he asked incredulously.

“One last shot.”

Mark clenched his fist and pulled it back. The arch came down on Jinyoung and wrapped around his long neck like a chain. It looped around his throat until the two ends met, covering his eyes. Jinyoung screeched a terrifying sound as that of a possessed animal. The blinding light burned Jinyoung’s eyes, even after he closed them as tight as he could. Shaking his head violently, he began to thrash, his tail swinging everywhere while he tried to claw off the bind around his head.

The prince decided that now was his only chance. He acted quickly, rushing straight towards you. He came to a stop near the fissure in the floor, sizing it up. The opening in the floor thinned towards the back end; he’d make the jump. But Mark stumbled when the room began shaking, a loud rumbling booming around him.

He looked back and saw Jinyoung had collapsed another column. As Mark observed the rest of the room, he realized how few pillars there were left standing. They were the only things keeping this room from collapsing to the floor beneath. He had to get to you before that happened.

He step back and took a breath. With full speed, he ran at the trench and jumped. Managing to barely catch the jagged edge on the other side, Mark tripped before recovering quickly. He made a b-line for you, not paying attention to what was happening around him. He was so close to reaching you, having barely brushed your hand with his before his was yanked back by a large, clawed hand.

Mark was forced onto his back, his head slamming against the stone floor. His vision blurred, and he felt his body weaken immensely from the physical shock. Through his foggy sight, he saw Jinyoung above him, holding him down. His size had grown smaller, and it seemed like it continued to do so as each second passed. Mark’s attack had weakened him greatly, but with the prince as disoriented as he was now, his light magic had disappeared, freeing Jinyoung from the burning sensation.

Jinyoung had returned to his human form. His stomach was coated in his blood, along with minor cuts and burns across his skin. He panted heavily as he tried to recover from the previous attack Mark made, his face covered in perspiration.

“You managed to force me down, brother,” he huffed. “I suppose you earned your explanation.” Jinyoung hovered his free hand over Mark’s eyes. “Learn your past.”

Mark felt his eyelids grow heavy. No matter how hard he tried to force them open, he felt them close. His mind blank, he delved into the memory Jinyoung provided him.

Total darkness was all Jaebum could see. It was complete silence, he couldn’t even hear Jackson’s breathing. Turning his gaze from one side of the room to the other, he found that it was impossible to see anything other than the black void. He couldn’t even see his hand right in front of his face.

“What is this?” he demanded. “Some kind of trick?”

“You could say that.” Jackson’s voice echoed around the room, making it difficult for Jaebum to pinpoint his location. “After being stuck in the shadows for so long, I’ve discovered there’s only one way to defeat the shadows.”

Jaebum paused to take in what Jackson was saying. His mouth twitched uneasily and he swallowed. “If you think taking away the shadows will help you, you’re out of luck. You’re no different from me, traitor. You’re one of us, you share the same power.”

“Yeah, but I’ve figured out how to fight without that dark magic.” Jackson moved up to stand right behind Jaebum. “You haven’t.”

Jaebum whirled around and swung his arm out, hoping to catch Jackson blindly. But his opportunity was lost when Jackson leaned away out of reach.

“How do you expect to fight me if you can’t see me?” Jaebum challenged.

“I can hear you,” Jackson answered. “You’re nervous because you’ve never fought without relying on your magic. You’re making mistakes, letting me hear your every move.”

Jaebum unconsciously took a step back. It was only then he heard the scrape of his foot against the floor, and he realized Jackson was right. He was being outsmarted by the prince and had no way to counter.

Out of anger, Jaebum swung his arms in every direction of the room. Sharp feathers of magic darted around the room, a blind attempt at taking Jackson down. The storm of feathers ceased a moment later. Jaebum was hunch over, panting, and looking around despite not being able to see anything. I tried to listen for any sign of Jackson, but heard nothing.

“So much for that.” Jaebum smirked.

“Agreed.” Jackson wrapped his arm around Jaebum’s neck from behind. Jaebum grunted and instinctively reached up and tried to pry Jackson’s arm off. “You tried to strangle my brother to death.” Jackson tightened his hold on the raven. “It doesn’t feel so good, does it?”

Jackson kicked behind Jaebum’s knee, knocking him off his feet. While keeping the raven in a chokehold, Jackson grabbed one of Jaebum’s wrists and twisted his arm behind him. Jackson then kicked Jaebum in the head, slamming his skull onto the floor.

The struggle came to a halt. Jaebum was unconscious, bleeding from a gash on his head. Jackson willed the torches in the room to light up with purple fire. He was covered in cuts and puncture wounds, some bleeding and some burning. Jaebum hadn’t realized that his attack earlier had proven successful, but Jackson had continued on the sheer willpower to avenge his brothers.

“So much for that.” Jackson walked away and left the room without looking back. He had his destination in mind.

Hoping that his brothers made it to a safe place to recover, Jackson made his way to the grand hall.

“Brother!”

Mark paused in his step in the middle of the hallway and turned. Jinyoung was racing towards him with a wide smile on his face.

“What is it, Jinyoung?” Mark asked, sharing his own smile.

“Mother is in the garden today!” Jinyoung exclaimed excitedly. “She wants to spend time with us!”

Mark nodded. “I’ll race you!”

The two small boys ran down the halls, dodging servants and soldiers alike who only felt joy at seeing the two happy children. The boys raced to the garden, running into the hedge maze and expertly weaving through the brush walls to get to the center. As they came to the clearing, they saw their mother rest in a plush cushion chair, a canopy hanging over her to block the sun.

“Mother!” they greeted, running up to her.

She turned to them with tired eyes, but her smile radiated a shining beauty at seeing them. “Hello, my sons. Would you like to give me company today?”

Mark and Jinyoung nodded happily and went to sit on the grass at their mother’s feet. They listened as she told them a story of her childhood, about her best friend who was the current queen of their neighboring kingdom.

“She has three sons, you know,” she said. “I think you would all make great friends. And she has the most beautiful daughter. I think you’d like her.”

“Girls are icky,” Jinyoung groaned. He stuck his tongue out and shook his head.

His mother laughed. “You know I am a also a girl, Jinyoung.”

“Yeah, but you’re our mother. You’re not icky, mother.”

“Thank you, my sweet,” she said. “But you never know. One of you may be marrying this princess one day.”

“I don’t need to marry a princess,” Mark said defiantly. “All I need is you and Jinyoung, mother. I’ll be happy with the two of you.”

The queen smiled graciously at her sons’ love for each other. She wished she could see them like this forever. She was taken out of her reverie from a harsh cough leaving her throat. She covered her mouth to suppress it, inhaling deeply to catch her breath.

“Mother, are you alright?” Mark asked. “Do you want to go back to bed?”

She shook her head and patted Mark’s hair down lovingly. “No, my son, I’ll be fine. Now why don’t you two show me what you’ve learned?”

Mark and Jinyoung waited impatiently outside of their mother’s bedroom quarters. Mark stood against the wall, clutching the hilt of his sword tightly. Jinyoung paced back and forth, biting his lip worringly. They had nothing to say to each other, unable to give each other comfort in such a distressful time.

Their thoughts were interrupted when the doctor and advisor exited the bedroom. They practically cornered him, waiting for answers.

“Well?” Jinyoung demanded. “Is she alright?”

The doctor gave them a solemn look. “I’m afraid her illness has taken its toll on Her Highness,” he said in a grave voice. “It would be best if you remained by her side during her last few moments.” The doctor bowed with a farewell to the princes and took his leave.

Jinyoung was frozen in place, tears beginning to take over his eyesight. He inhaled sharply and fought the tears, unwilling to let his mother see him in such a state. Mark gripped his brother’s shoulders comfortingly, fighting his own sadness as they entered the bedroom.

They each sat on either side of her bed as she reached for both of their hands with her own. “Do not be saddened, my sons,” she said. Her voice was so small, they barely heard her unless they listened carefully. “My time has ended. You must be strong, and lead your kingdoms as the kings you are.”

“Our kingdoms?” Mark repeated.

“Mark, my dear son. You are the eldest. You must marry Y/N and help her lead her kingdom. And my sweet Jinyoung, you shall rule here. You both have a part to play in the future, to make a brighter future.”

“Mother…” Jinyoung squeezed her hand gently and brought her hand to his lips. He loved his mother dearly and couldn’t bear the thought of her leaving him, but he knew it was inevitable.

The princes remained by the queen’s side for the night. Even long after she had taken her final breath, they stayed with her. They mourned her, sharing the pain of losing the woman who raised them. They only had each other now.

“What do you mean you’re leaving?”

Mark signed in frustration and turned back to his brother. “Jinyoung, we both knew this day would come.”

Jinyoung scoffed. “You’re leaving your home to go marry a princess you’ve barely met. You’re leaving me behind. How could you?”

“It was mother’s wish,” Mark said, trying to reason with him. “If she hadn’t expressed her desire for me to marry Princess Y/N, I would remain here with you. You know I would.”

“It’s been three years since mother’s passing. He will doesn’t matter anymore.”

Mark’s eyes widened at Jinyoung’s words. “How dare you say such a thing? You loved her more than anyone. And you dare defy her!”

Jinyoung remained silent, glaring at his older brother with disdain.

Mark sighed. “I leave at dawn. It’s your time to rule the kingdom, Jinyoung. Goodbye.”

Mark turned his back to the younger boy, slamming the doors shut behind him. Jinyoung seethed, breathing heavily through his nose. In a rage, he shouted and threw everything off of the table next to him. It all clattered to the floor loudly, and Jinyoung stood there panting. He rubbed a hand over his face and tried to calm down. He was alone now.

BamBam opened his eyes tiredly and gazed around the room. He was lying on his back, his head resting on Youngjae’s leg. Looking up at his brother, he saw Youngjae was sleeping. BamBam carefully pushed himself up, trying to not wake him up.

As BamBam sat up, he gently brushed his hand over his stomach. The holes in his abdomen had nearly closer, the bleeding stopped. The cuts along his skin were also healed significantly, leaving faint scar tissue. He felt weak and exhausted, but he no longer felt as if he was on death’s door.

He turned and examined Youngjae to inspect his injuries. Youngjae’s throat was an ugly mix of purple and red. His shoulder was stained red with his blood after the stab wound Jaebum gave him. Youngjae’s breathing was shallow, his throat constricted slightly after nearly being strangled to death.

BamBam muttered a curse and sat back against the wall next to Youngjae. He reached for his brother’s hand and gripped it. He silently willed for Mark to win the fight against Jinyoung. He wanted his family back together, safe and unharmed.

Mark gasped as he jolted awake. His eyes wide and breath ragged, he looked Jinyoung in the eyes with surprise.

“Now you see,” Jinyoung spat. “You see what you did to me. Betraying me. Leaving me alone, pretending I didn’t exist. Ignoring me in favor of your precious beloved and those imbeciles.”

Mark was at a loss for words. “I…” He wasn’t sure how to settle the rage behind Jinyoung’s eyes. The hatred pouring from his every word. Jinyoung hated him and he didn’t know how to resolve it. “I was sent away,” was all he could say.

Jinyoung grabbed Mark’s shirt collar and roughly shook him. “You left me!” he shouted, almost desperately. “After promising to stay with me. You left me with no one!”

Jinyoung closed his eyes and breathed in deeply before letting go of Mark. He stood up and rubbed his face with both hands, head tilted back.

Mark sat up, watching his brother carefully. “That’s why did all of this?”

“I wanted you to feel the pain of losing someone you cared for,” Jinyoung said. “I wanted to make you feel like I did. But I killed you instead. I’ve killed you so many damn times!” Jinyoung’s eyes glowed that menacing purple once more, his rage radiating off of him. “And yet you still came back, all because she’s keeping you alive. I’ve grown tired of this game. It took me only two days to destroy two kingdoms. Yet it’s taking me centuries to destroy two people. How can you defy certain death for so long while I remain suffering for generations?”

Mark couldn’t pinpoint what it was, but there was a certain desperation in Jinyoung’s words. “Two kingdoms?” Mark said. “You destroyed our home?”

“Our home?” Jinyoung laughed maniacally. “You have no right to call it your home. You abandoned it long ago.”

Mark grew angry. “You destroyed thousands of lives for this?! Out of loneliness?”

“No.” Jinyoung set his glare back on Mark, and the prince was shock to see the water in his brother’s eyes. Jinyoung was holding back tears, that he was certain of. “I did all of this out of necessity. Everyone betrays me, leaves me. If they want to treat me like a monster…” Jinyoung’s figure started transforming once again, his skin turning black. “Then I’ll be a monster.”

Mark scrambled to his feet and stumbled. Jinyoung was trying to turn into a dragon once again, and Mark knew he stood no chance against him at this rate.

But Jinyoung suddenly let out a shout of agonizing pain. His transformation stopped, and he reverted back to his human self. Mouth open wide in a gasping pant, Jinyoung hunched forward and reached behind him. He let out another shout at the burning sensation in his palm after he grabbed the dagger made of pure magic that was embedded in his back.

He turned around on loose footing to face his surprise attacker. Mark looked past Jinyoung’s shoulder. The relieved shock he felt seeing you standing there, another pure magic blade in your hands as your defense, was overwhelming. He was so frozen with awe, he didn’t register that Jinyoung had set his focus on you.

“You bitch!” Jinyoung seethed.

“You let Mark get too close, Jinyoung,” you said. Your voice was strong, but filled with nervousness. “The slightest brush of hand…”

Mark thought back to the moment before Jinyoung dragged him away from you. He had barely touched you, but it was enough for the curse to be lifted and for you to wake up.

“Now you can die together!” Jinyoung formed a large purple fireball and hurled it towards you.

Your reflexes were too slow after being incapacitated for so long. You froze to the spot in a panic. Right before the fireball made contact with you, you were tackled to the ground and covered by another body. The fireball burst into smaller flames that scatter the area. You heard the person holding onto you grunt in pain as the flames burned him.

You looked up and saw your brother. “Jackson,” you gasped.

“Those foolish ravens failed me,” Jinyoung growled. “You’ll all die here!”

Jinyoung’s aura circled around him in a raging whirlwind, his hair and clothes blowing wildly in the current. The density of the room’s air grew heavy. He gathered his magic into the palms of his hands, a giant fireball growing larger with each passing second hovering over his palms.

“Shit!” Jackson moved as best as he could to pick you up into his arms. He needed to get you to cover before Jinyoung torched the entire room. He secured you in his arms and managed to run past Jinyoung towards Mark.

Mark didn’t move, a forlorn look on his face as he gaze at his brother. He felt guilty, like he truly was at fault for everything. He needed to put a stop to this. He reached behind him and grasped the hilt of the blade as he walked calmly towards Jinyoung.

Jinyoung turned around to face them, ready to released his destructive magic. His eyes were blacked out with sheen glow of purple behind them. He was losing control.

Mark sped up and stopped right in front of him, face to face. He pushed the blade into Jinyoung’s abdomen, and the whirlwind stopped. The fire in Jinyoung’s hands evaporated, and the air became calm. Jinyoung’s eyes returned to normal, wide open and staring into Mark’s with disbelief. A cough rumbled in Jinyoung’s throat, and a second later he coughed out blood, some drops landing on Mark’s shirt.

Jinyoung grabbed Mark’s shoulder as tight as he could and looked down. Mark was holding the dagger, the same dagger that Jinyoung used to kill him so many times. Mark had turned it on him now, and although there was no longer any poison on the blade, the pure magic it was laced with poured into Jinyoung’s body. He looked back up and saw Mark’s eyes filled with tears.

Jinyoung coughed again and used his free hand to grab Mark’s wrist. “Please,” he whispered painfully.

“I’m sorry.” With a tearful goodbye, Mark plunged the blade deeper into Jinyoung’s stomach.

Jinyoung gasped and his eyes shut tightly. Mark tried to pull back, but Jinyoung tightened his grip on the prince’s wrist, keeping the blade within him. Mark and Jinyoung stayed like that, unmoving.

You and Jackson watched in awe. You weren’t sure what to do now. You could only wait until Jinyoung took his final breath.

BamBam and Youngjae supported each other as they stumbled to the grand hall. The door was wide open, so they were able to see inside as they got closer.

“Y/N,” Youngjae muttered. He saw you hunched over in the middle of the room.

The two boys walked up to stand with their brother. They looked around and saw the room absolutely destroyed. Mark was on his knees, head bowed and refusing to let go of Jinyoung’s lifeless body. You were bent over him, hugging him from behind in an attempt to provide some sort of comfort.

“What happened?” BamBam asked.

Jackson sighed and rubbed his face. “It’s over now. That’s what matters.”

“Will he be alright?” Youngjae felt saddened seeing his friend in such a state, but he couldn’t help but feel relieved that his family was all alive. “And Y/N?”

“They need time,” Jackson answered. “We all do. After fighting for so long, it’s time for us to recover the lives we lost.”

You tightened your arms around Mark’s shoulder and buried your face in his neck. “I’m so sorry,” you whispered.

Mark gently set Jinyoung’s body on the floor. “He wanted me to kill him.”

You stepped back and let Mark stand. “How do you know?”

Mark shrugged. “A feeling. I just don’t know why.”

You pursed your lips and took his hand in yours. “Maybe one day you’ll find out. I’ll help you figure things out.”

Mark looked you over from your bare feet to the top of your head. He sighed in relief and pulled you to him, wrapping his arms around you and cradling your head. “It’s finally over,” he muttered, pressing his lips to the crown of your head.

You wrapped your arms around him and let him hold you. Despite what you and your family had been through, you felt content at having your prince and your brothers back in your life.

[sleemo]

How Star Wars authors work with Lucasfilm and earn creative control

— SYFY WIRE

Is there a franchise more secretive than Star Wars? Disney and Lucasfilm are notorious for keeping upcoming projects locked away in an inaccessible vacuum and maintaining an air of mystery and secrecy around every aspect of the franchise (at least the stuff that happens on screen). In an age when trailer and spoiler leaks are the norm, Star Wars is air tight.

But that secrecy isn't limited to the films. Every aspect of the Star Wars universe — films, television, books, games, comics — is held to the same standard. Book and comic announcements are major news, and nearly everything — across all media — connects to tell the story of a cohesive galaxy.

Star Wars is one of the few transmedia properties where "canon" is given nearly equal weight as solid storytelling.

Enter the Lucasfilm Story Group, which was formed in 2014 (following the Disney purchase) and is composed of roughly a dozen people responsible for maintaining order — and keeping all of the creative ducks in a row — within the Star Wars universe. No small feat, that.

Since then, one of the most persistent questions among fans is how much creative control the Story Group has over various projects. And when it comes to books (of which there are many), how much freedom do the authors really have to tell their own stories?

Turns out, they have quite a bit! SYFY WIRE reached out to a number of Star Wars authors, and if there's a common theme among their answers, it's that they have almost total creative freedom.

Leland Chee, the official "Keeper of the Holocron" is one of a few people on the Story Group who also helped control the creative strings before the Disney purchase. In other words, his experience managing "canon" predates the Story Group. Because of that, he has a unique view on how the role has changed.

"We've got more content [now] then I ever thought we'd have. Before we had a Story Group, what George did with the films and The Clone Wars was pretty much his universe," Chee said. "He didn't really have that much concern for what we were doing in the books and games. So the Expanded Universe was very much separate. What we had to do in the Expanded Universe was, if George did something in the films that contradicted something we had done in the Expanded Universe, then we'd have to change the EU to match what he did in the films."

"[For example,] all of a sudden, lightsabers can only be blue, green, purple, or red. That means we've got to take out these yellow lightsabers. OK... Jedi can't marry. So, this Jedi over here that got married, we'll have to figure that out. So there was a lot of that — having to retcon to compensate for what's being done by George in the films.

"So with the Story Group overseeing all of the content in film and television and elsewhere, we don't have to retroactively make those changes. We can anticipate those changes. We can seed things in one medium [and see them grow] in another. So we might be seeding things in books or TV that you might not realize is substantial until years down the road. And if people knew what the road map looked like, they would just be floored."

Perhaps the most public face of the Story Group (thanks to social media), Pablo Hidalgo clarifies their surprisingly hands-off role: "All of us in the Story Group are here to help creatives find the story they're trying to tell in Star Wars. Sometimes that means feedback regarding continuity. Sometimes that just means feedback based on how we think the story is shaping up."

And that sentiment was overwhelmingly echoed by the authors with whom I spoke. They almost all describe approaching their respective projects with a bit of trepidation, expecting the Story Group to micromanage their stories and mandate story/character changes in the interest of continuity. The truth, as it turns, is something quite different.

Chuck Wendig (Aftermath trilogy) describes the process almost verbatim with Hidalgo: "I had a lot of freedom to develop and shape the story; guidance from Lucasfilm was about sharpening that story and bringing my vision in line with the storyworld at large. It was pretty much the ideal relationship, and I never felt stifled or managed."

Adam Gidwitz (So You Want to Be a Jedi?) describes the process as empowering and exciting, even though one of his ideas was nixed by the Story Group. "One thing they did shoot down was an idea I had early on in the process. [I wanted it to] be a Jedi teaching a young Padawan this story soon after [Return of the Jedi] concluded. And they had said that because J.J. Abrams had been contractually given a perfectly clean slate for Episode VII that I could not even imply the existence of Jedi after Episode VI."

Still, Gidwitz got to retell The Empire Strikes Back in the second person, an unconventional approach that shows the flexibility of the group.

And according to Tom Angleberger (Beware the Power of the Dark Side!), it was Lucasfilm's willingness to roll with Gidwitz's non-traditional take on Empire that gave him the courage to suggest a similar creative risk with his adaptation of Return of the Jedi.

"I remember being really nervous about telling the story the way I wanted to. And then we were there at Skywalker Ranch, and I'm so nervous that I'm just going to get shot down when I say I want to have the 'dear reader' style of writing," he remembered. "And then Adam goes, 'I'm going to tell mine in the second person!' And then I was like, 'Oh, I'm doing dear reader.' Because Adam broke the ice with that second person thing, and they were so supportive of it! They were like, 'Go for it!' So I realized that, wow, they really do want us to go for it."

Angleberger confirmed that he had "almost no parameters" while writing the book. "But we knew that eventually the Story Group was going to have to look at it. We knew we wouldn't get away with everything, but we also knew that we were allowed to at least try to get away with stuff. And I got away with some really fun stuff."

For her part, Alexandra Bracken (The Princess, the Scoundrel, and the Farm Boy) was not allowed to read Gidwitz's or Angleberger's adaptations of the original trilogy in advance of writing her adaptation of A New Hope, but she was told about Gidwitz's decision to use the second person.

"It was in the sense that they were trying to show me that I could do whatever I wanted with it. [My editor] told me that, first and foremost, they wanted me to have a ton of fun writing the book," she said. "And initially I was not having fun writing the book because I was so stressed out about it. And then I had a separate visit to Lucasfilm, and the Story Group said, 'You can make little changes and alterations. We just don't want you to contradict something that's in the film itself or anything that's upcoming in The Force Awakens. But you can make little scene adjustments and alter the dialogue a little bit to better suit your needs.'"

Claudia Gray (Lost Stars; Bloodline; Leia: Princess of Alderaan) was initially approached to write a YA "Romeo & Juliet in space" set adjacent to the events of the original trilogy. With a few relatively minor exceptions, she was set loose to write whatever story she wanted. "I thought, when they came to me, they were going to tell me what to write, but that was very much not the case. I had a lot of freedom. The outline had to be approved, but it was my outline and they really let me tell the story I wanted to tell. It was wonderful."

John Jackson Miller (A New Dawn) is one of only a very few authors who straddle the line and has written for the franchise both before and after the Disney purchase. His novels exist in both the "old canon" (now Legends) and "new canon."

Miller explains, "Back before 2014, Lucasfilm had their fiction team proofread everything and approved the stories that go forward. But I think, then, it was more a matter of air traffic control—of them being aware of all the other things that were going on and coming out, and just wanting to make sure that things we did didn't collide with things that were going on elsewhere."

From his perspective, there are a few changes with the Story Group in place, but it's "not so much a matter of content flowing in our direction as the authors, but like 'Hey, here's a character you should name-drop.'" For example, when he was writing his short story "Bottleneck" (which appears in The Rise of the Empire), he was asked to insert a character who would later appear in Alexander Freed's Battlefront: Twilight Company.

"It wasn't a heavy-handed 'This is what this story is about,' but it was guidance in the sense of 'Here's something that's going to come out fairly far down the line, and if you insert this character now, it'll look like we planned it.' And in fact, we did! In the past, it was possible for characters in one medium to pop up in another, but it kind of happened organically and it wasn't something that was done by design."

Cecil Castellucci (Moving Target) had a similar experience. "You have to understand, [I was writing] before The Force Awakens came out. We didn't know what was going to happen, and nobody was allowed to know anything. So there were things in my book, and I didn't even know what I knew. I wrote a framework for the story and then [the editors] would come in and pepper little things in. It kind of worked like that. I knew that Leia was going to be giving her memoirs to a droid. So I just named the droid whatever. But then they were like, 'No, this is the name of the droid: PZ-4CO.' Because they knew he would end up in the movie. And he does! You hear his name! I was probably the only person who was excited about that. It was kind of like, you do your thing, and then other people come in and course correct."

So how much freedom did Ben Acker and Ben Blacker (Join the Resistance) have when they started writing their series? Blacker doesn't even hesitate. "Oh, so much freedom. It is absolutely the book that we wanted to write. I would say, there's not really oversight, but there's guidance, and that's really an editor's job. And [our editor] did a really terrific job with it. The big thing that the Story Group (who reads everything) provides is just their knowledge of what's going on in every corner of the Star Wars universe. They're really good at looking at an outline of the manuscript and saying, Well, you can't use this kind of droid because it's no longer in use 30 years after Jedi, but what about this kind of droid? Or instead of using this kind of alien, why don't you make up a new alien so it doesn't have ties to anything and you get to own a piece of the Star Wars universe? That's been a really cool and surprising thing."

What's fascinating about the Star Wars publishing machine is that there's also an entire library of "nonfiction" titles that dive deeper into the details and minutiae of the universe. Adam Bray (Ultimate Star Wars; Star Wars: Absolutely Everything You Need to Know) is intimately familiar with these.

"In 'nonfiction' Star Wars writing, the freedom I have varies a little from project to project. My primary objective is to work within existing canon and tell it like it already is. But sometimes there are gaps that need to be filled in. In these instances, the Story Group folks give me a lot of freedom to invent new information, as long as I run it by them later for approval. This tends to be background details rather than storylines, though occasionally these details might suggest a little story waiting to be told.

"When I worked on the guides for the animated Star Wars Rebels series, the show was new, so there were lots of vehicles and technology that needed names and stats, so that kept me busy. Numbers and droid names are a fun thing to invent, especially if you can tie them to something meaningful. If I have questions about obscure details, I can consult Leland Chee or Pablo Hidalgo at Lucasfilm. And one or more members of the Story Group always reads my manuscripts, fact-checks, and provides feedback for both in- and out-of-universe content."

The amazing thing about Star Wars, though, is that the members of the Story Group are very accessible to fans. Find me another fandom that can say that. Pablo Hidalgo (@pablohidalgo), Leland Chee (@HolocronKeeper), and Matt Martin (@missingwords) are all very active on Twitter and responsive to fans. But please be respectful and reasonable.

Hidalgo's Twitter bio used to read "2 rules: Don't pitch anything. Please don't ask me about the future."

You can bet they've heard it all.

— SYFY WIRE

[angelic-writer]

Lost Memories (Redux) - Prologue

“Um...”

“Hello? Are you alive?”

“Oh, this is bad! If they find out we killed a human, we’ll get sent to Hell!”

“Relax! He’s not dead!”

The man slowly opened his eyes as he came to. Where he was at, he couldn’t explain. There was no floor, no ceiling, no walls, nothing. Just shimmering lights. Yet he wasn’t falling. It looked like he was... floating? Seven little kids were standing in front of him. The one in the center had dark, brown hair and black eyes. He was wearing a black shirt with gray stripes and blue shorts. He wore short socks and black shoes. He noticed that the man was awake.

“...Oh, you’re awake! How do you feel? Does it hurt anyone? Can you see us?” The boy asked as he checked the man’s body for any wounds. The man just stared at the boy, confused. What is going on?

“Thank God you’re alive! I was really surprised. I thought maybe we had killed you.” The boy with red hair and yellow eyes said. The man looked at the boy in a suspicious manner. He had a feeling that the kids were shady and were involved in some sort of business and so they were nice to him just to get what they wanted. The red-haired boy noticed.

“Oh! No, uh... W-We’re not in the least bit shady at all! Really!” He spoke as if he can read his mind. “It’s not like we hit you with a blunt object, or pushed you off a cliff, or ran you over with a car...”

“Alex!” The girl with blonde hair and purple eyes punched the red-haired boy in the arm, making him wince.

“Ha, ha... Hah... Um, so, to explain who exactly we are... Well, we’re just spirits who happened to lodge ourselves into your consciousness!” The boy with blonde hair and green eyes said.

The man just stared at them. No reaction. No emotion. Nothing.

“Nothing? No reaction to who we are... or to the situation you’re in now?” The red-headed boy asked.

“Hey, are you really okay? You can see us, right?” The boy with brown hair and blue eyes asked, concerned.

After a moment of silence, the man said this. “I see several... bug looking things.”

“B-Bugs?!” The red haired boy exclaimed.

“Well, I was a cute little bugger.” The brunette said. “Hey! You’re still a cute little bugger.” The boy with purple hair and magenta eyes said to the brunette.

“Um... You must mean that we look like pretty bugs! Like butterflies or dragonflies, right? Well, I’m glad you understand my “ant-tresting” fashion sense!” The red-head said. The other children looked at him with a look of disapproval. He noticed and chuckled nervously.

“That was terrible.” The blonde girl said.

“Anyway, I’m glad you can at least see us. Still, you’re really calm. I thought the moment you woke up, you’d be like, “W-What? Where am I?! Who are you people?!” or something like that, but... Wait. Your personality didn’t fly off with your memories, did it?” The blonde boy asked.

Again, the man said nothing.

“T-This is bad!” The red-haired boy said as he started to panic. “A-Alex, calm down! I’m sure his personality will come back.” The blonde girl said in an attempt to comfort him.

“W-Well, for now, let me explain things from the beginning. I’m Simon and these are my friends, Fredrick, Brian, Amy, Alex, Lance and David. We’re spirits from the afterlife. We were on our way to the human world for some business, and by accident, we sort of... collided... with your mind... I don’t understand it myself, but for some reason, we’re trapped inside your soul now. It looked like you lost consciousness from the impact. A-And, well... This is kind of hard to say, but... It kind of looked like your memories skedaddled, too! What a mess!” Simon explained.

Nothing. The man just simply stared at them.

“Sorry, go ahead and yell at us. I know Simon said a lot of things that probably don’t make sense to you. But, please say something!” Alex said.

“U-Um... I... don’t know where to start.” The man finally said.

“Yeah no, you’re right. We completely understand! Ha, ha...” Alex said, chuckling nervously, then looked down.

“We’re really sorry for our carelessness. We’ll do anything to help get your memories back. Besides, if we don’t, I’m not sure we’ll be able to separate from you. I’m not absolutely sure, but... I think we’re trapped inside the place where your memories used to be. Think about it like, your memories were pushed out by the amount of space we take up. So if your memories were to return, then we would get pushed back out instead. There might be another solution, but aside from what I just said, nothing comes to mind. I feel bad that we made you lose your memories. Let’s work together and try to get them back!” Fredrick said. The other kids nodded.

“A-Alright...” The man said.

“Alright!! Thanks for understanding. I kind of expected a “You better start running!”“ Alex said. Amy giggled. “I would’ve understood completely if you were that harsh with us.”

“You’re pretty accepting of things, huh? A very mellow temperament... It might be strange to say, but I’m glad it was your mind we got stuck in. Well... I guess that’s just how it is. From now on, we’ll work with you as hard as we can to get your memories back. We’ll do anything you need us to do. ...Is what I want to say, but we actually have some limitations. We can’t interfere with the human world. We can’t touch you and you can’t touch us. What’s more, people around us won’t be able to see or hear us. So we can’t investigate much for you, and we can’t move in your stead. In fact, we can’t move more than ten meters away from you! I said we’d do anything, but... But it looks like all we can really do is cheer you on.” Lance said, looking down.

“W-Well, it’s better than having no one, right? No matter what, we’ll always be on your side. I promise it won’t be like, “The culprits were the child spirits all along!”“ Amy said.

“Thank you. I appreciate it.” The man said, smiling.

“Thanks. I’m happy you would say so. Ehehe. Then let’s do our best together!” Amy said, smiling back. Simon then looked at the man, concerned.

“So, you really can’t remember anything? What about your name? Do you think you can at least remember your name?” Simon asked.

The man closed his eyes and tried to remember. Nothing came up. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t remember a thing. Just as he was about to give up, he remembered someone calling out to him.

Someone calling out his name.

His name...

“E-Eric... M-My name is... Eric.” The man said.

“Eric...? Is that your name?” Simon asked.

“I think so.” Eric asked.

“I see, that’s good. It’s a good start to remembering! Alright then... There’s no point staying here, so let’s go back to your world.” Simon grabbed Eric’s hand and started walking when he stopped him.

“Wait! Um, before we go, I gotta ask... What is this place?” Eric asked.

“Hmm? What is this place, you ask? It’s hard to explain... The space between dimensions... That’s the closest description. This world has many possibilities. And there exist as many parallel worlds as there are possibilities. For example, in one world you may be going to school, and in another, you may be just working. This is the space between those many parallel dimensions that isn’t connected to any of them. To put it bluntly, right now you’re suspended in the rift between worlds. But... We don’t know which world you came from. Oh, but... Any world is a world that you were in. There’s no such thing as right or wrong with parallel worlds. So let’s go back to the world you were in, and recover your memories! There are lots of ways to do it, like talking to your friends, or looking at your phone’s history.” Simon explained.

“Oh, but just a sec. Be very careful of who you trust.” David said. Eric and Simon both looked at him.

“Why?” Eric asked.

“Humans are brutal and cruel beings. You should only tell people you really trust about your amnesia. Otherwise they might try to give you memories you’ve never had. Like, “You own me 10,000 dollars so you’d better pay me back,” or something. There’s no way you could tell if what they said was true, right? Some horrible girl might introduce herself as your girlfriend and take you away from your actual one. You might be told you don’t have a job, and then get fired later on. Or someone with no relation to you tricks you into joining a pyramid scheme! Or maybe you’d wind up in a situation where you find yourself being shipped off overseas! Right? It’d be terrible if that happened, right?” David asked.

“Uh, can’t I call the police?” Eric asked.

“Yeah, I see what you mean. But it’s not like the police know who you are, right? In that case... What would happen to you, then? If you said you had amnesia, wouldn’t they force you into a hospital? You’d probably be confined to your hospital room until your memories returned. Even if you were allowed outside sometimes, for the most part you’d be shut up inside, right? For other people, that might be okay, but for you, it isn’t! Your memories haven’t disappeared because of any mental or physical problems. They’re being pushed out by our existence. So staying home or at the hospital wouldn’t help. In fact, without stimulation, you’d just get worse. Sitting around, spacing out in the hospital room without any memories would worsen your mind. You might forget how to drink water, or even how to breathe! Advice to Avoid Such a Terrifying Ending... #1! Gather information! Try to actively meet people and investigate what kind of person you used to be. Who you, your family, and your relationships were, and what you were doing. Increase your knowledge and fill up that outer part of your memories. Once you do, I’m sure it’ll trigger something, and the rest of your memories should return. As that happens, we’ll be pushed out and eventually be able to separate from you. It’s a long shot, given our situation, but at the moment, it’s the best plan we have.” David looked down. “...Sorry. I keep talking about nothing but negative things.” He looked up at Eric. “But first... I think it would be good to confide in your family. They won’t believe that seven child spirits got stuck in your head, but they’ll at least provide some information. We can think more about the plan after that.” He said.

Simon nodded and looked at Eric. He smiled and offered him his hand. “Now, let’s go back to your world! The method is simple. Just close your eyes and think. With no memories to influence you, whatever world you can recall is the world that you desire. Only, I think there are several worlds like that... Choose the world that you feel is right.” He said.

Eric nodded and closed his eyes.

He is just a man with no memories. He had no idea what he was supposed to do, no idea where to go... He is lost. But, seven children came to help him and he is happy. Happy that someone was there to help him. He knows that he can trust them. As soon as he knows the people around him more, he will tell them too. He wants to get his memories back. Nothing more than that. His thinking is on that alone. And the children will help him no matter what. Even when they can’t move ten meters away from him and can’t interfere with the human world, he knows that they can still protect him if there is any danger. As he starts thinking of a world he feels is right, he starts thinking to himself.

“What will happen to me from now on? Will I get my memories back? Or will the task become impossible?”

He is then enveloped in a bright light.

((So, here’s the prologue! I hope you guys like it! :)

Eric Jefferson belongs to Cole Goodrich.

DS belongs to Mobox87 and Pole Bear.

FNAF belongs to Scott Cawthon.

Amnesia: Memories belongs to Idea Factory.))