#ALSO SORRY ABOUT THE PACING BUT DID YOU KNOW THAT DRAWING TWELVE PAGES OF A COMIC CAN MAKE YOU REALLY MESSED UP IN THE HEAD

[sbeana]

the pool scene

[thran-duils]

Use All of Me (P.13)

Title: Use All Of Me (Part Thirteen) Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark Mob!Steve Rogers. The Avengers are heroes saving the world but in this AU, they are also permitted by the powers in charge to have less than favorable business underneath their guise of mere superheroes. Steve and Tony are at the helm, keeping their empire’s wealth in check, both devious and perilous if crossed. Steve takes a liking to the reader at a party and it may be her undoing to her autonomy choosing to go home with him. Words: 3,575 Warnings: Dark AF, angst, emotional/mental abuse, smut, breeding, death

Part Twelve || Part Fourteen || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

A branch snapped out in the woods and you turned quickly towards the noise. It was dark outside still, the sun just starting to rise. You had been unable to sleep since 3:30am and instead of tossing and turning that could wake Yua up, you had come out onto the upper balcony with a book and a blanket.

The only sound you heard now was your heart pounding in your ears, worried that you were going to see a shadow step out from behind the trees in the shape of Steve’s broad shoulders.

But the woods were quiet, no looming figures. Slowly, you relaxed, the tension leaving your muscles. You could not see anything, so you nestled back down, opening the book again. After a few minutes, the sound was forgotten, and you were immersed in your book.

When you finally came back inside, Yua was up by then. You walked quietly by Natalie’s still sleeping form and made your way down the stairs carefully. Yua was already at the sink making herself some coffee. She eyed you as you walked into the kitchen.

“God, look how big you are,” Yua said groggily, eyeing your stomach.

“Good morning to you too. And yes, I can feel it,” you jested. “26 weeks.”

She laughed, “I mean honestly. Since this all started out… it’s like you swallowed a volleyball. It just hits me sometimes, still catches me off guard.”

“Soon to be a basketball, I’m sure.”

“Or bigger.”

“Probably bigger,” you admitted, grabbing a glass to get yourself some water.

“Well, you’re not that size yet. So, where is my breakfast? Cause you look like you’ve been up for a while. Why isn’t it ready?” Yua joked.

Yawning, you said, “Well, ma’am, I was actually going to go back to bed after I got something to drink. I’ve been up since 3:30. I couldn’t sleep. And now it’s catching all up to me. But if you would like, I could make you eggs.”

She waved you off, “I was just kidding. Go back to sleep. It’s still early enough! Do you want me to put a plate of food in the fridge for you for whenever you do wake up?”

“That would be nice,” you said before taking a large gulp of the water. You placed the half empty water glass back on the counter and said, “I’ll have that later too. Don’t want to drink too much at one time. The babies have declared a competition on who can kick my bladder the hardest.”

<><><>

Back in New York, Clint looked way too proud of himself as he strode into the room, but it caught Steve’s attention because that could mean only one thing. And that thing was going to bode well for him.

He was halfway out of his seat as Clint approached, a wide grin tearing at the sides of his mouth.

“I think I got it,” he said, throwing the few pictures he had printed out upstairs on the desk in front of Steve. Steve sat back down, pulling the photos towards him eagerly. “I saw that one of Natalie’s cousins had some photos up in the woods. I couldn’t get a location on them because I wasn’t friends with him. So, I got Shuri to make up a hack for me to gain access to an account. I chose one of the aunts, disguising it as a money scheme – she fell for it, clicked on the link. I was able to gain access to her account and was able to access more of the photos on his page. He’s got a cabin in New Hampshire.”

Steve was looking at the photos of the family outside their cabin.

“If she isn’t on the trains,” Clint said, excitedly. “Where are we now with the cameras? The west coast? We should have seen her by now if she was on the Amtrak.” He pointed eagerly at the pictures and said, “This might be it. It wouldn’t cost them anything to stay in and it’s probably secluded. It’s not too far but it’s far enough out of state.”

<><><>

Wanda was leaning back on the couch, flipping through a magazine. She had been watching the cameras for most of the early morning, but Tony had arrived around 6:30am, wanting to try different locations so she got up and left, giving him the space he needed.

The phone on the desk rang nearby, drawing her attention instantly, and she sat up, craning her neck to look at it. The phone was the number they had given out on the ads to call if anyone had any information on Y/N’s whereabouts. Tony’s gaze was locked on it too and before he could react, she was there, picking it up.

“Hello?”

“Hi, I’m calling about the missing persons ad.”

Wanda’s breath caught for a moment before she breathed, “Yes?”

“For Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Yes,” Wanda said more impatiently.

“Saw a woman like the photo at one of the cabins up here as I was on a walk real early this morning, right as the sun was coming up. She was sitting on the porch, very pregnant. I didn’t get a great look at her, didn’t want to gawk, you know. Plus, I think I was on their property, so I was probably trespassing, but I was following a doe—”

“Where was it at?” Wanda asked, cutting him off in the politest voice she could muster.

<><><>

“Steve!” Wanda called, taking the stairs by two. Steve called from the community room and she walked briskly, practically breaking into a jog. When she entered the room, she saw Clint, Sam, and him were looking at some photos on the table. Tearing her attention away from that, she said in a rush, “We maybe got something. A man named Will called about it, saying he thinks he saw Y/N.”

“In New Hampshire?”

“Y-Yes?” Wanda said completely confused at how he knew that.

Clint looked beside himself and Steve demanded, “Where at? Did you get a location?”

Wanda told him the address and Steve pulled his phone out, typing it into the maps app. He slammed his hand down on the desk in triumph, standing quickly. He thrust the phone into Clint’s hands. Sam was trying to peer over Clint’s shoulders to get a look too.

“That’s the same damn cabin,” Steve exclaimed, hardly able to contain his excitement. Wanda took notice of the pictures now, leaning over the table to look at them herself.

“Are we going now?” Sam asked just as Steve breezed past him. His eyes swept to Clint and said, “I guess so then.”

“Ha, teamwork,” Clint smiled, squeezing Wanda on the shoulder encouragingly as he walked by, rushing to follow Steve.

<><><>

The team was quick in their assemble upon arrival, Bucky and Natasha having to travel to get there which set Steve on edge because he had been ready immediately in his black suit, anxiousness coursing through him. He was pacing in front of the facility, having a hard time containing the hope blooming. His eyes were set on the tree line, wanting to just get into the car and drive to the address, scoop Y/N up and bring her back home.

He was not going to make the same mistakes he had that had let her slip through his fingers. If he could help it, she would never step foot off that property without him again. He would make sure she learned that lesson as soon as he got her home.

Tony met him at the edge of the entrance patio, not suited up. He was staying behind to monitor from there and he surprised Steve with a small drone, holding it out to him.

“You should not go in there guns blazing before you get sights on her or something to be absolutely sure. Use this. You don’t need to be barging into some random pregnant person’s cabin. Not a good look, not good press. Especially since you’ve got it out there now that you are looking for her. This drone is quiet, but it’s not silent so don’t fly too close or they’ll hear it and it’ll blow your whole covert cover.”

“You mean hovering above the place in a plane isn’t going to do that?”

“You’re not taking a plane, jackass,” Tony retorted, and Steve smirked in response. “Park down the road. You can go in on foot.” Steve thanked him, taking the drone. Tony ran his eyes up and down Steve and asked, “Was it really necessary to get up in the suit?”

“Can’t exactly show up in slacks. Just in case things get squirrelly,” Steve responded.

“’Squirrelly’,” Tony chortled. “Y/N will hardly be able to run.” Steve’s only response to that with a slight smile of acknowledgement. Tony stepped closer and said, “I got something else too. Of course, they say it doesn’t exist because the general public already has an issue with frothing at the mouth with conspiracy theories of the government tracking them. People honestly suffer from grandiosity in this country.” He noticed the impatient look on Steve’s face and apologized, “Sorry. Soap box. How do you feel about a GPS chip?” Steve’s eyes widened in surprise and Tony back tracked quickly. “Right. We can talk about that when she gets back home, safe and sound. I’ve just wanted to try out the new model and she seems like the perfect candidate, perfect circumstance. We’ll chat when you’re back. Don’t forget.”

Tony clapped Steve on the shoulder before walking back towards the door to the elevator.

<><><>

The trip up north was taking longer than Steve wanted it to, his fingers drumming impatiently on his thigh as he watched the trees go by. The thought that Y/N would somehow get tipped off and bolt before he got there was eating away at him. He was watching his phone anxiously, seeing them get closer and closer to where the cabin should be.

When Clint pulled off on the highway at what should be the end of the road that would lead to the cabin, Steve threw the door open and stepped outside. He was ready to let the drone go, flying it towards the direction of where the cabin was in a matter of a few moments, the only pause in the effort being from the drone having to start up. Steve was watching the viewing screen of the drone with intensity as it hovered over the trees, keeping an eye peeled as he followed the gravel road. The rest of the team was waiting around the SUV. Bucky leaned against the side, tapping his foot, trying to expel some of the pent-up adrenaline that everyone was garnering, knowing this needed to be executed without injury or incident.

The cabin was there at the end and Steve leaned forward in anticipation seeing the car.

“That looks like the car model,” Tony said over his earpiece. He was able to access the drone’s camera was well back at the facility. “Zoom in a bit to the license plate.” Steve did as he asked and Tony breathed, “Bingo.”

“Alright,” Steve said far more calmly than he felt. “That’s good enough for me.” He walked back towards the open back door of the SUV, walking up and placing the screen just inside. “The cabin is about half a mile away. Clint, stay here with the car and be ready to come up when we are ready to go. I don’t want Y/N to have to walk back down the driveway. Nat, Sam… you’re with me at the front. Buck, take the back of the cabin. Don’t shoot anyone unless I tell you to.”

“Taking the fun out of things,” Bucky halfheartedly joked.

<><><>

Stretching out on the bed, your toes curled. A sigh of contentment left your lips as your eyes opened, blinking away your sleep. When your vision focused, you saw the clock said it was almost 11:00am. You had managed to fall back asleep around 7:00am and you felt better now that you had gotten some more sleep. You could barely detect Yua and Natalie speaking in low tones, more than likely trying to avoid waking you up.

The serenity was shattered at the loud bang from on the first floor and you heard Yua scream in alarm. You sat up with difficulty just as the door from the balcony burst open. You jolted to the side, holding your stomach protectively.

Your heart rate slowed only for a moment upon recognizing the man who burst in was Bucky. When his cerulean eyes landed on you, gun pointed in your direction, your heart rate blew past normal, your breath quick.

“Bucky?” you got out in a gasp.

He relaxed ever so slightly, his eyes softening at the sight of you. His gun was no longer pointed at you, hanging at his side now. You did not miss the uptick of his lips, satisfaction flooding his face. But he still stayed on alert, ready to raise his weapon again if needed.

You sat up straight slowly, despite the commotion downstairs, keeping eye contact with him. Getting to your feet you tried to drown out the sounds of shouting downstairs, focusing only on him. His eyes flicked to your stomach, causing your hands to clench tighter around it and he made eye contact with you again.

“You can let me leave,” you said to him, your voice shaking.

Bucky’s laugh was humorless. “Y/N. Sweetheart, c’mon.” He was chastising you for even suggesting it with that tone.

“Buck?”

The sound of his voice rolling up the stairs made you freeze to the spot.

“I’ve got your doll in my scope. She looks good, Steve,” Bucky called back down towards the ground floor.

The sound of his foot on the bottom stair made you flinch. His footfalls were heavy, each step putting another nail in the coffin of your freedom. Your eyes flicked towards the open door and Bucky gave you a disappointed look, taking a step back towards it. He shook his head and you tore your eyes away from him, eyes fixated on the stairs.

He came into view quick, his height surpassing the staircase railing long before Yua or Natalie’s would. The same time elation flew through his features upon seeing you, you felt dread course through your veins. He was geared up, like he was going into a fight. Apparently, he did not underestimate the three of you.

Steve was a foot from you now, his gaze piercing and you were too afraid to take your eyes off him. There were a few moments of silence before he said quietly, “I admit, you have some loyal friends down there. They remind me of Buck.” You said nothing and he asked harshly now, “What did you think this was going to accomplish though, really, Y/N?”

You sucked in your bottom lip, unable to form a sentence in your frightened state about what he was there to do besides take you back.

“Answer me.”

Stammering, you said, “I… I just…” You were embarrassed he was shaking you up so bad. You had been in such a haze, hoping beyond reason that the three of you would eventually be able to settle down and it would blow over. The longer you had stayed away, the more the doubt it could work had been overshadowed by that terrible misleading feeling of hope.

Steve’s expression softened seeing you tripping over your words. He stepped closer and you instinctively stepped back. His lips formed into a thin line, stopping his advancement. “Y/N, doll, please. I want what is best for you. All I want is to take care of you. You worried me, doll. You worried me a lot. Do you know what it felt like to not know where you were? If you were safe? If the children were safe? Can you imagine how utterly upset you made me? How betrayed I felt when I realized you were gone? I leave to let you have a party with your friends, to give you space with them.” You almost flinched at the phrasing, like he had taken the words right out of your mouth. If he noticed, he did not show it. He continued on, “I leave a gift behind for you to find, something I built for you and the babies, and how do you repay me? You left. Without a word. Like I didn’t matter. Did you even see the gift?”

“No,” you whispered.

“Of course you didn’t. You didn’t care enough to look. You were only concerned with yourself. Out of everyone in the world, I didn’t think it would be you that would betray me like this. You told me you loved me.”

Heat rose to your cheeks as your eyes glistened with tears. He sounded deeply hurt, wounded. You could see it in his eyes.

“I can forgive you, Y/N. Trusting you is something else entirely. I don’t think that’s an option right now. But… I can forgive you. You just have to come back and be good.”

You averted your gaze, your chest tightening at his order.

Steve closed the space between you, and you did not move away this time. He hooked his fingers underneath your chin, tipping your head up. “It’s me…” Steve told you as his eyes hardened, and he warned gravely, “Or nobody.”

You did not have to imagine all the guns pointed at your friends downstairs. You either left with them both dead and back with Steve. Or left with them both alive and with Steve. Either way, he had you enveloped back to him. The degree of guilt is what you were choosing, that’s what he was giving you.

You were taking too long to answer.

Steve looked over his shoulder, making eye contact with Bucky. Bucky started walking towards the staircase where he could look down on the living room.

“Steve, don’t—” you choked out.

“I want to hear you say it.”

“You’re scaring me.”

“Good.”

You let out a strangled noise before you got out in between tears, “I won’t ever try to leave you again, I swear. I’ll stay home for you. I’ll take care of the twins. I’ll do what you ask, I’ll listen, like I promised. I’ll be happy.”

“Were you ever?” He asked coldly.

“I w-was,” you said shakily, nodding. Nodding to convince yourself, remind yourself that you had been. “I was, really.”

“And what changed that, hmm?”

“You… you locked me away in the house.”

His lips twitched at the accusation and you feared you had made a misstep, fearing for Yua and Natalie. He did not make a move though except to say, “And why did I do that?”

He wanted you to say what he believed. He wanted you to believe it too. The tears were fat rolling down your cheeks as you whispered, “Because… you wanted to keep me safe.”

“That’s right, doll,” Steve breathed easier, smiling. His fingers caressed your face. “That’s exactly what I was doing. And you pulling this little stunt proved my gut instinct was right, didn’t it? You need protection, especially from yourself. You are impulsive and don’t think about the long-term repercussions of your actions.” His hand came to rest on your abdomen, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I don’t want you to be afraid of me, doll. I want you to just come home and let me take care of you. That’s what’s going to happen. Right?”

“Yes,” a voice that sounded like yours said; it was like you were outside your body. “Yes, I want that.”

“That’s what I thought,” Steve said, leaning forward and giving you a long kiss on your forehead.

“My friends?” you choked out.

Steve pulled away from you and smirked at you. “Hmm, maybe you can be concerned with more than yourself. Maybe I was too harsh there for a moment… what about your friends?”

“Please don’t hurt them. Please let them leave and go back home unharmed.”

He exhaled heavily and asked seriously, “And why should I do that?”

“Bucky would help you if you asked.” Bucky turned his head towards the pair of you and you tried to pretend like you did not notice his gaze. “It’s not their fault. I asked for help. It’s my fault. They shouldn’t be punished for my mistake. Please don’t make them pay for my behavior.”

Steve looked contemplative and you waited with bated breath, hoping he would react positively to your display of holding yourself liable. He wanted you to beg and you were giving it to him.

Over his shoulder, he finally ordered, “Let the ladies grab their things and get out of here. They’re safe… as long as Y/N continues to behave.” You opened your mouth to protest but he cut you off by pressing a button on his earpiece. “Barton, we’re ready. Come on up.”

He grasped your arm and you tried to yank your arm away from him. He was far too strong and jolted you to him. “Don’t go messing this up now, Y/N. You were doing so well. Don’t make this harder for me than it has to be to get you in the damn car. You got what you wanted with your friends; you just need to uphold your side of the bargain.”

~~~

Tags: @imsonick , @alexakeyloveloki, @kvzctam, @ironlady1993, @taintedgenre, @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @roxyfan14-blog @mrsnegan25 @coconutqueen21

[theflashdriver]

Waves of Fate (A Silvaze Modern/Soulmate AU)

Beaches were supposed to be happy places, books always described them that way at least. People came to the beach to have fun, to play games and relax. It was supposed place of joy, where smiles supposedly reigned supreme and you could count on the sun parting the clouds to grant a blue sky.

A grey sky hung over the pale white sands of the secluded, manmade, beach the belonged to the Sol estate. A family made wealthy through inheritance and investment; the sole monarchs of the estate had built themselves a high castle, separate from the common rabble, to settle and grow. Unfortunately for them however, perhaps due to their greed, the pair’s first and only child had arrived with a certain abnormality. That grey sky also hung over that very child, the twelve-year-old Blaze the cat, as she stared down at her workbook.

It was peculiar for her to take lessons by the beachside but, with some effort from her tutor to convince the feline’s parents, a bizarre and impromptu lesson had been quickly organised. Sat atop a thick picnic blanket, wearing a smile so caring that the young girl could practically feel it, was the in-house tutor for the estate, Vanilla. Contrary to the scowl Blaze wore as she carefully considered what to write next, the youngster didn’t dislike the rabbit. She had in fact, even at this young age, come to truly appreciate the role the tutor filled. The feline’s parents were always either distracted or busy, she couldn’t particularly tell or care which, but Vanilla, a mother herself, always found time to listen and care. Even in situations like this… even when the young girl claimed that she wanted nothing more than to be alone.

“How’s it going Blaze? Are you stuck?” Stubborn as ever, trying not to listen, the kitten bit her tongue, “You don’t need to write too much, just think of this as practice writing letters.”

Attempting to make a show of it, the feline (dressed in dungarees rather than her school uniform) silently continued her cursive work until she harshly dotted the end of a sentence, “I’m fine Vanilla,” As she looked up and caught the rabbit’s eyes, Blaze realised that, though she had technically answered the question, something further had been revealed. Of the people she knew, Vanilla was the only one who could peer into her heart and see the truth. The child’s eyes returned to the page, “I’m writing fine I just… you know…”

“I know you don’t believe in this and you think it’s foolish but that’s fine. A hint of whimsy is just what you need right now. Just think of it as a break from boring maths questions and everything else,” It was fortunate that the words everything else were cut off by a certain rummaging sound and a bread triangle entering the corner of her vision, “Gardon made these while I was talking with your parents, would you like to partake?”

Unable to resist her gentle charm any longer, regardless of how arduous today had been, Blaze set her book aside and claimed the wrapped meal with a muted, “Thank you.”

“It’s not the best day for a picnic, but it’s far from the worst,” Vanilla mused, claiming a sandwich of her own, “Not too windy and the forecast doesn’t call for rain, it’ll be smooth sailing for your letter.”

“Assuming it doesn’t just wash back onto the beach,” She glumly shrugged, undoing the wrapping and taking her first bite. Salmon, probably fresh from this morning. Once she’d swallowed, Blaze couldn’t help but look up to her tutor again, “Is it really cold? Are you okay?”

“Oh, no, dear. It’s not that cold, just a little chilly. I’ll be fine, honestly,” Blaze met her smile with an incredulous stare. The rabbit’s face somehow grew even softer, “Well, I suppose I wouldn’t mind just a little warming up,” Without even hesitating, the tutor reached across again; this time an empty hand was extended.

Blaze took the comparatively large hand in her own and, trying her hardest to be gentle, allowed a few small flames to build on the back of her knuckles. The heat immediately began to radiate, even though the flames were stagnant in terms of both position and size. Absentmindedly, ears drooping without their owner’s consent, she spoke, “It’s not hard to control them when I’m comfortable. It’s easier when it’s just you and me.”

“I know dear but, one day, it’ll be easy all the time. I’m certain of it,” Vanilla promised, drawing back her hand and pressing it to her cheeks, “That was lovely of you, thank you.”

A half mile behind them, in the estate’s main building, cindered remains were likely still being swept up. An attempt to set up a playdate with the children of another wealthy family hadn’t gone over well, but the issue wasn’t as mundane as that. To say Blaze didn’t get along with the other children was certainly an understatement, the feline’s very first encounter with those infants had ended in tears and a ball of fire. Today, when her parents refused to see reason, a similar explosive display had ignited the living room couch before spreading to the wallpaper. Of course, plans were in place for this sort of occurrence, the house’s sprinkler system had gone off, but it hadn’t cooled her parent’s scorn. She’d scarcely been able to dry herself and change before Vanilla had plucked her from the house.

“You’re welcome,” Was all she could manage to mumble.

“And whoever gets this letter will surely love you for your gift,” A seriousness lingered in the rabbit’s tone, despite the multiple layers of foolishness behind her claim, “Not despite it.”

Blaze scoffed before quickly finishing her sandwich, not yet returning to her work, “Who even thought this superstition up? I know I’ve read about it before but never like this…”

“This one in particular was thought up by the wives and children of widow sailors, as tragic as that is,” The bunny half cringed, “As I’ve told you, when a destined pair send messages out to sea, they’ll receive a sign of their connection. The ocean will take you letter and, just and only this once, deliver it to your soulmate as long as it meets the right conditions.”

“It has to be fully written by one person, it can’t include that person’s name, physical description, hints to find that person or to try and organise a meeting. It also has to be the first message a person sends to sea and no one else is allowed to read it until it reaches the intended individual,” Blaze recalled aloud, “Making it seem all the more pointless. All you can really tell them is what you’re like and what’s happening to you and, regardless, it’s not going to reach anyone. How are you even going to mark this if you’re not allowed to read it?”

“Come on Blaze, when I was your age, I wanted so badly for a handsome prince to sweep me off my feet. I must have rewritten my letter a hundred times,” Vanilla chastised, plainly ignoring the kitten’s question, “You can tell them what you think loving them will be like, your hopes and dreams. No one else will ever get to read it, only you and them,” Admittedly, that was true. Whatever she wrote down here would likely be lost to the sea, “And even if it doesn’t work, no one who finds it would ever know it came from you. It’s a thought exercise as much as it is a writing one, a way to air your frustrations and ambitions.”

The kitten claimed her journal again, trying her hardest to ignore the cloudy sky above. For whatever reason, her pen felt heavier than it had just a moment prior. She let her thoughts flow onto the page, their pace kept by a modest barrier of consideration, and tried her hardest not to overdo it. In truth, she’d never really considered what she wanted from a partner or what a partner might want from her. Did she even want a partner? Part of her didn’t, and she was certain that would come across in her writing, but she couldn’t deny that she saw the appeal. The idea of someone loving her for her flames was more than a little farfetched but someone who could see past them and still love her? Someone who actively, genuinely, wasn’t afraid of her? How could she say no to that?

Finally, Blaze clicked her pen closed. Vanilla perked up, “Is it done?”

“I think so…” The young feline hummed before drawing her eyes to the page and giving it a final read.

To whomever comes to possess this note,

I hope we can meet and that, when we do, that the reason behind our link becomes clear rather than being the mere whim of coincidence. I have been instructed that, in this letter, I am to tell you about myself. While I was born into fortuitous circumstances, I have not lived the most fortunate of lives: though I am privileged in some ways, I am far more socially handicapped than the majority of my peers. I handle criticism poorly as I always try to give my all, regardless of the actual importance of any given assignment.

My peers don’t think too highly of me, many of them fear me, but the few truly close to me claim that I am mature for my age and intelligent. I’ve recently started to play the violin and have practiced ballet for as long as I can remember. As for other interests, though they’ll undoubtedly change by the time we meet, classical literature and music has always appealed to me. If we are destined to be together then I doubt you are a pilot, so this is probably unimportant, but I do have a fear of heights. I’m sorry if you wanted more details but I’m quite confused as to what is safe to include, in accordance with this dubious tradition.

I don’t think I’m the easiest person to love, both for reasons that should become clear to you and my inherent defensiveness. Though my investment in this idea of soulmates may be limited, the thought that there is someone out there who will love me for who I am is, undeniably, appealing. I may not be the best at displaying how I feel but, if we are to care for each, I will try my best to show you that I care. To be honest, I don’t know what to expect or to ask of you beyond that you keep an open mind if we do meet. Perhaps, just as this rumour being true would, you will surprise me.

Please stay safe and write soon, from your soulmate.

“It’s a little… melancholy,” Blaze admitted, trying not to wince, “But I don’t want to rewrite it. It’s good enough.”

It was all written in her neatest handwriting, entirely cursive and eloquent. There wasn’t a single spelling error, not one that she could identify at least, and it looked professional enough? She’d written it in the manner she’d learned to write all of her letters and, perhaps, that was a little too formal for the occasion. Then again, it wasn’t as though it would actually reach anyone.

And, of course, she hadn’t mentioned her flames; not in explicit terms at least.

“Is it how you truly feel?” Vanilla questioned, “Is it how you want to introduce yourself to them.”

Blaze took another moment, considering it for just a moment more, before tearing the paper from her jotter and rolling it into a tight scroll, “Yes.”

The tutor turned to rummage through her bag again, this time drawing forth three things: a ribbon to bind the note, a small (cleaned and untinted) glass bottle and a whittled down cork from an old wine bottle. Blaze took the ribbon first, gently securing her note, and trying not to crumple it, before gingerly sliding it into the bottle’s narrow mouth. She let Vanilla secure the cork in place, not much trusting that it’d hold if she did it. Then though, curiously, the rabbit produced another object from her bag. A small violet tealight, brand new and untouched.

“I think it might be nice to seal the bottle in your own, unique, way,” The rabbit explained, tilting the cantle upside down and holding it above the now sealed bottle, “With a little bit of fire, we can make a wax lid.”

The tealight exchanged hands, Vanilla held the bottle in place. Just as her prior heating, the tutor was likely the only one who would trust her to do this. Well, perhaps Gardon would too on a good day. Blaze snuck her forefinger around the tealight’s metal casing and birthed a burgeoning flame directly into the wax. The reaction was almost immediate, purple, lavender scented, wax began to drip down in gooey clumps and gather atop the cork. It took a while, and some shifting, to completely cover both the entryway. Most of the candle was diminished by the time it was done, the bubbling mass gradually cooling on the glass.

Vanilla drew it back, gently blowing on it, “Good job, Blaze. That’s perfect.”

In the silence that hung as the wax cooled, Blaze couldn’t help but dwell on her future a little. She knew she was young, far too young to be seriously considering these things, most children her age would still be focused on becoming a pop singer or filling some other extravagant niche. Her parents wanted her to focus on law, become a judge or an attorney, but, despite how important those callings were, they didn’t appeal to her. The only thing she knew that she wanted was to be away from here, to find somewhere that she could settle herself and actually be free to think, but that was so long away. She was bound to this place, bound to her parents, for the-

A gentle hand pushed up the feline’s chin and brought her to look the elder rabbit in the eye, “You might not meet whoever gets this letter for some time, but I promise you, Blaze, you will find them. You won’t be here forever; you feel so trapped forever. With their help or otherwise, I know you’ll do great things.”

The tutor rose, passing the bottle to its first owner. The kitten stumbled to her feet, taking it but quickly reaching out and holding her teacher’s hand. Barren white sand crunched underfoot, the clouds refused to part even now. It wasn’t long until she was at the cusp of the water, the lapping waves mere centimetres from the toe of their shoes. The older of the two drew up the hem of her skirt, Blaze awkwardly fumbled with her dungaree’s legs before retaking the rabbit’s hand. Vanilla took the first step into the foamy waters, but Blaze was quick to follow after. They waded until the sea reached the young feline’s knee, a glance from Vanilla informed her that was far enough.

Gently, Blaze set the bottle in the water. They stood for a moment, just to see that it would leave their sight. The tide was receding, they’d see the bottle bob above the waves every so often as it was gradually being carried towards the horizon. It was off to either meet with a watery grave or find some person somewhere else in the world.

“Well, now we just have to wait and see,” The rabbit smiled, turning and gently retaking her hand, “I’m sure it’ll reach someone wonderful. I can’t wait to see you two together. Its been so long since I’ve seen young love, I’m sure your Prince Charming will be wonderful.”

“M-Miss Vanilla,” The little girl couldn’t help but whine, “I don’t want a Prince.”

“Oh? What is it you want then?” She asked, nearing the water’s end.

“I don’t know…” Blaze murmured, giving it just half a moment’s thought, “I just want a friend. I just want someone else who will be nice to me.”

“Can’t they be both?” Vanilla laughed, taking the first step onto dry land.

The young girl hadn’t considered that, but she wasn’t sure that she liked it. She was about to speak up in defiance when she felt something peculiar. A wave had passed behind her, lapping just above her heels, but it had hit differently somehow. It’d almost felt too hard.

Turning to look over her shoulder, Blaze frowned as her eyes scanned the water. Among the waves, hitched in the sand, was a bottle. Had her note followed them back? Breaking off from Vanilla, the young girl crouched to get a closer look. Something about this bottle looked different. It wasn’t sealed with wax, it had a screw on lid. What’s more, this bottle was tinted green. Dumbfounded, without so much as thinking, she reached down and plucked the bottle from the water.

“Miss Vanilla?”

-----------

Butterflies flapped in her stomach as though they were giant eagles pursuing some sort of endlessly evasive prey. Blaze the cat, age twenty-two, had just spent the last twelve hours traveling with three overstuffed suitcases and a violin case. She’d departed a train forty minutes ago and had been walking ever since but, prior to that, she’d endured two different taxi rides and a full four hours failing to ignore a window seat view on a flight. To say that she was exhausted would be an understatement, she’d travelled further from her home before but never on her own and never like this, but to say she was unhappy would be entirely false. Blaze the cat was free, free from the Sol estate and free from all that came with it. She had finally claimed control over her life.

She’d never thought that the violin would be her escape; music simply been her hobby, but it had borne an unimaginable fruit. She’d managed to land herself third chair in an orchestra with a high probability of moving further up the ranks. The concertmaster was apparently reaching her elder years, looking for a protégé and to breathe new life into the group. A well-placed audition tape and a handful of politely worded emails had secured her the position. Sure, the job as it was now wasn’t enough to fully support her, but with her education the feline was certain she’d manage to pick up another form of income.

That orchestra job had led her here, Station Square; a city filled to bursting with opportunity which just so happened to also contain a cheap apartment-share near the city’s centre. An application for said lodgings had brought her to the door she was now standing outside of, an entrance to the supposed accommodation that persisted above an old pizzeria. She didn’t know where she’d anticipated her life to restart but the fact it was somewhere this plain honestly excited her. No more private beach; she had to build her own luxury.

First impressions were important, she’d been chastised about them her entire life. She’d tried to dress modestly, what few of her more expensive outfits she’d brought she intended to sell online. Her hair was fixed into a tall ponytail that almost crowned her head, a ponytail that she’d already remade five times today. A long brown trench coat, the brown top button of which she redid, was successfully obscuring a comfortable striped t-shirt and (surprisingly expensive yet unassuming) bootcut jeans.

Once she was certain everything was in place and she had some form of greeting in mind, she dared to press the grimy electric buzzer. Almost immediately, a slightly overloud and static riddled voice answered her call, “Hello? Is that Blaze?”

“Yes, hello. I take it this is the residence of Silver the hedgehog?” She answered.

“Yeah, that’s me! It’s so nice to finally meet you, I hope…” He seemed to catch himself mid-sentence, though he went quiet, the buzzing persisted, “Oh, oops, I should probably open the door. Sorry! I’ll be right down!”

The buzzing finally faded and, once again, Blaze was left alone. That was the first time she’d ever heard his voice and, admittedly, she hadn’t been able to hear it very well. He sounded a lot more excitable than she’d truly anticipated. Their communication up until now had been limited to brief emails and, as a result, she didn’t actually know very much about the man she’d be living with for the foreseeable future. He had no criminal record, the flat itself both looked nice and was affordable, but beyond his job working in the museum and need for an additional housemate, that was the limit of her knowledge. Well, that and the picture attached to his=

Before Blaze could ponder on it for any longer, the white painted door before her swung open and a figure practically burst into view. She wasn’t sure who or what she’d expected out of this museum worker, but she certainly wasn’t this. A set of seven ludicrously long quills immediately consumed Blaze’s vision, followed by a set of excitable yellow eyes and a vaguely sun-kissed muzzle. He was rather peculiarly dressed too; he wore a jumper with a strangely low cut that allowed a seemingly endless flare of white chest fur to slip free. As if that wasn’t odd enough, he wore gloves that were lit by a bizarre cyan symbol on both their front and back.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Blaze!” His smile matched his eyes so very perfectly.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Silver,” She half bowed, already feeling a little overwhelmed. The picture she’d seen had made him look demurer, his quills had been tied back and he’d been in his work uniform. She truly hadn’t considered that he’d be a head taller than her.

Almost immediately, he seemed to notice her luggage. Without even blinking, he gestured past her, “Oh, you must be exhausted. I can help with those!” Blaze’s surprise transmuted into total befuddlement at what happened next. With that wave of the hedgehog’s hand, those cyan symbols began to glow much brighter and Blaze heard shifting behind her. Before she could turn, all four of her bags had taken to the air and hovered above her head, “I’ll take them up and show you around, come on.”

She stood in the doorway for a moment, entirely dumbfounded. She knew people with powers like hers existed, but they were rare enough that she had never met another. To think that the first person she’d ever stay with, the first person she’d encounter, was capable of such a feat though? This Silver was filled to burst with surprises. Catching herself though, butterfly-eagles still running rampant in her stomach, Blaze began to give chase.

The hallway leading up to the flat itself wasn’t very well lit, but it was homely enough. It led up to a landing where (judging by the small pile) shoes were supposed to be kicked off. Following it was a glass door that immediately opened into a small and very well stocked kitchen. It didn’t smell like anything was cooking at the moment but, judging by the drying rack, he had been hard at work.

“I cook quite a lot,” As he called back, Blaze couldn’t help but notice the hedgehog had gone from walking to floating amongst her luggage, “Are you much of a chef?”

“Not particularly,” Blaze admitted, nonchalantly. What few cooking lessons she’d received had gone especially poorly.

“Oh, well, if you’re ever in trouble or want to learn then let me know,” He offered, spinning back around to face forward, “I made a little something to celebrate your arrival, if you’re up for it.”

“Oh, thank you,” She said, now doubly surprised at his fast kindness.

Blaze took a sniff but, curiously, couldn’t smell whatever it was he’d mentioned. The hedgehog had clearly done a good job of cleaning up in preparation for her arrival, but then again… she had no idea whether the apartment had been messy in the first place. She passed an open door that seemed to lead into a small combination dining room and sitting room. Two patchwork couches sat near the room’s centre, a modest TV cresting just over them and a coffee table between them.

“Is this a violin case?” He called back, drawing her attention away from the room.

“Yes, it is,” She responded, noticing that he’d turned mid-flight and was now hovering the violin between them, “I’m joining city’s orchestra. I’ll need to practice fairly often, but if there’s ever a time you need quiet then feel free to say.”

“Oh, no, free to play it all you want honestly, the place downstairs just does take away and, apparently, the floor is pretty well soundproofed,” He said, that excitement still clinging to his voice as he landed outside a door, “That’s amazing, I’ve always wanted to meet a violinist. I can’t wait to hear you play, you must be wonderful!”

“I’m well practiced,” She coyly admitted, not used to barrages of kindness (let alone praise). She could feel herself locking up but tried to fight it, “Is this my room?”

“Oh, yeah. It is,” The hedgehog nodded, patting himself down before seeming to realise something. With a wave of his hand up the hallway, Blaze watched as a small set of keys raced their way from the kitchen area to float in front of her, “Almost forgot these.”

“Th-Thank you,” Blaze cursed her stutter, plucking them from the air. They found their way to the lock but, before she dared to push inside, she decided to feed her curiosity. He seemed so very open, it couldn’t hurt to pry, “How long have you been able to do that?”

“For as long as I can remember. It comes in pretty handy around the house, if you ever need anything moved then just say,” He grinned, clearly somewhat proud to have made a positive impression with his powers.

“I see,” She hummed, turning the key. She certainly wasn’t comfortable immediately revealing her power to him but, then again, her name was probably a bit of a give-away. Ideally, he wouldn’t question it, “It does seem rather useful.”

Blaze pushed the door open and found herself faced, for the first time today, with a sight she’d expected. The room wasn’t even half the size of her prior bedroom, its walls were both blank and painted off-white. Unlike the other rooms in the house, a grey carpet persisted underfoot. Blaze watched as her bags hovered through the door and landed inside in a small, neat, pile.

“I know it’s not especially stunning, but the landlord says you can decorate it if you want. I did my room up a couple months ago, before I moved in. It’s easier than you think, I’d be happy to help,” Blaze couldn’t tell whether it was due to her cold expression or some sudden realisation, but the hedgehog seemed to falter and turn away, “S-Sorry, I’ve never had a flatmate before, I guess I’m a little overexcited.”

“You haven’t?” She questioned though, in hindsight, the underdeveloped room spoke volumes.

“I’ve moved from place to place quite a lot, living in tiny, two-room, apartments,” He explained.

“Well, I’m sure we’ll manage to figure this out between the two of us,” She wanted to give a reassuring smile but was fairly certain it would only scare him off. It seemed like neither of them were particularly good at this, “Thank you, Silver.”

“I’ll leave you to get comfortable. If you need anything I’ll just be, uh, in here,” He tapped the door opposite, assumedly his bedroom, “There’s an en suite in your room and, um, I think that’s everything? If you need me then just call.”

Blaze nodded and allowed herself the smallest of smiles, “Perhaps, once I’ve put everything away, we could look over the paperwork?”

“Oh, sure, okay! Just say when,” He managed to grin again, ducking back into his room but not bothering to close the door.

Blaze matched him, stepping inside and heaving a sigh of relief. She’d made it through her first interaction with her flatmate, she’d made it to her new home, she was so close to relaxation. There was a small, single, bed against the wall with a tiny wooden bedside cabinet next to it. A reasonably sized, yet still small in her experience, closet was set up against the far wall and she could see the door that likely led to the bathroom. This was liveable, she could do this, it was just the first step in something new.

Unpacking her clothes and amenities took quite a lot longer than she’d anticipated, getting everything onto hangers and into the right place was relaxing albeit slow. There was nowhere especially practical to place her violin so it’d ended up propped against the far wall for the foreseeable future. The final of her bags still sat where Silver had placed it, entirely filled. Vanilla had packed it for her, saying its contents were mere food and cutlery, but she had made the feline promise not to open it until she was settled in her new home. Well, it was finally time.

Blaze hoisted the bag onto her freshly made bed, immediately creasing her work but not especially minding. She quickly brought the zip around, popping the top open, and was stunned by what she saw. The rabbit hadn’t lied, cutlery and non-perishables of all sorts filled the base of the bag, but a small note affixed to an object that Blaze hadn’t even thought about in almost ten years sat atop the other goods. A certain bottle that had washed up on the beach just after she had sent her own message to sea.

Vanilla’s note was short and simple, “Enjoy your new life, don’t forget to write and remember, they’re out there somewhere,” Concluded with a small, winking, smiley face.

Slipping onto the bed, Blaze found herself cradling both the note and the bottle. While that day on the beach stuck out in her mind like a sore thumb, perhaps due to the familial chaos that had come before it, the contents of this bottle did not. She hadn’t thought about that day often, especially not in the latter six of those twelve years, but whenever a book or a person mentioned the concept of soulmates she’d recall but never mention the occurrence. Admittedly, the young feline had long accepted that the note had in fact been written by Vanilla in an attempt to cheer her up following her childish strop. She didn’t believe in such nonsense then and she certainly didn’t now. Still, what was the harm in giving the coincidental note another read for nostalgia’s sake?

Blaze unscrewed the lid, giving the green aluminium top a quick once over before setting it on her bedside table. Wherever it had come from, the bottle had long lost any identifiable markings, but it was more bulbous than that containing any drink she’d ever had. She managed to get a finger in and, with some difficulty, pluck the note free. The sheet felt more like card than paper and was riddled with creases from its initial folding so many years ago. The handwriting was, admittedly, awful. She’d written her note as a child, but this letter looked to have been written with extreme haste. Regardless, due mostly to the large spaces between words, Blaze could make it all out.

It read:

“Hi there! If you’re reading this then I guess you know who I am? Just in case; I’m your soulmate! I can’t wait to meet you, I’m sure we’re going to get along great! I can’t write all that much about myself, otherwise the bottle will sink to the bottom of the sea, but I’m supposed to describe what I think our relationship might be like? But I’ve never been in one before, I’ve never had a soulmate before, so I’m not sure what to do or what to tell you.

People tell me that I’m a little blunt and that I wear my heart on my sleeve and that I’m pretty gullible. I’m not so sure, but I guess they’d know better than me? I really like sweet food! I can’t have a lot of it, we can’t really afford it, but that’s okay because it’s not good for me anyway. I also really like history books. The lost worlds of the past are so interesting to me and I’d love to discover more of them. I hope you like them too! I guess I can’t write about this too much, but I have a special skill that comes in useful quite a lot. It helps me tidy up and cook and get to all sorts of places, even ones I’m not really supposed to.

I don’t know you yet, but I hope you’re nice. I don’t really know a lot about love, a lot of my friends think it’s gross but not me! I think it’s nice knowing that there’s someone out there for me and I’m just waiting to meet someone. If I can make a difference, even if it’s just for one person, then I’ll be happy, so I’ll try my hardest to make you happy! I’m learning to cook and bake so you don’t have to worry about that, I can already make spaghetti!

Please stay safe and I can’t wait to read what you send me!

From your soulmate”

Blaze’s nose wrinkled as she reached the end of the note. She’d decided years ago that Vanilla had written this note, perhaps with her left hand so as to forge childish writing, but something was bothering her. The feline’s eyes traced back up the note, specifically lingering on the mention of a special skill that helped the individual to cook and clean. A foolish thought entered her head, a quiet whisper that was still loud enough to break the otherwise peaceful silence. Reading over the page again, the bluntness and earnestness mentioned further loudened that quiet voice.

Catching herself in her own stupidity, Blaze quickly rerolled the paper and returned it to its bottle. Not quite knowing what to do with it now, feeling a bizarre heat on her face, she set it on her bedside cabinet and threw her gaze to her lap. Attempting to escape the heat, and realising she’d been too distracted to do so earlier, she undid her jacket and shrugged it from her shoulders.

The occurrence ten years ago was just one of many bizarre occurrences in the flame producing feline’s life, she’d seen her fair share of oddness and coincidence. There was absolutely no way that this bottle had come from the person she was now living with, she’d long decided it was a forgery made to keep her happy. It wasn’t like anyone was pulling at the strings of fate. Even if Vanilla hadn’t made it, for a bottle from someone else, someone who clearly believed in the superstition, to have drifted to shore while she was out there... that was possible, wasn’t it? Just as it was possible she’d seen some vague familiarities between the man she’d just met and that note’s writer.

She took her head in her hands, she was being ridiculous. It must have all been induced by her nerves, she was in a new city and living with a stranger, of course she was going to overthink things. There was no way she’d just stumbled into living with her soulmate; she didn’t even believe in soulmates. She’d never believed in soulmates and now, of all times, wasn’t the time to start. Blaze rose from the bed, collected the goods from her remaining suitcase and made a beeline for the door.

When she stepped into the hall though, her eyes were unintentionally drawn through the askew door of his bedroom. Though she could only see perhaps the smallest quarter, assuming that their rooms were the same, she’d locked eyes with a corkboard. A corkboard with many sticky notes tacked to it but also a small, curled, notebook page stuck to it rather than pierced by a tack. With each passing second Blaze felt her face grow hotter and heard her thoughts grow evermore foolish. It was as though fate was tempting her to burst into the room and look at it, or at the very least ask him about it. But that was the height of foolishness, she’d surely sound insane or rude at the very best. What self-respecting adult believed in such a fairy-tale, let alone would discuss it with a new flatmate on the first day they’d even met! She couldn’t ask about that leaflet now of all times! That would look ridiculous!

His mention of always wanting to meet a violinist metamorphosed in her mind from a show of kindness to a potential deeply held honesty. She didn’t recall much of the letter she’d written, but Blaze knew that she’d listed some of her hobbies. She’d only just started to play the stringed instrument, it’d surely been included.

Finding herself lost and dazed in the hallway, Blaze couldn’t help but call out, “Silver?”

She heard what sounded like the hedgehog falling over before he rushed into the doorway, quills wildly tossed, “Hey, is everything alright?”

Blaze swallowed, “I’ve just got some stuff to put in the kitchen and I think I’m ready to sign the papers, as long as you’re not busy?”

“Oh no, don’t worry; I was just doing a little reading, let’s do it,” He beamed, taking to the air again and leading the way to the kitchen.

She felt an immediate impulse to enter his room, he’d left the door open, but Blaze knew that was foolish. No, the much louder thought in Blaze’s brain was questioning what he was reading. The hedgehog worked in a museum; it was likely that he liked to read about history. Even if he was, it would have just been another coincidence… but things were lining up more and more. What was today? Was this all just some bizarre dream?

Blaze begrudgingly followed the white hedgehog, finding herself analysing him more than she probably should. His fur and quills were unkempt but it wasn’t as though he was dirty, just fluffy. She supposed his fur must just have grown out like that. The strange cyan energy he produced seemed to let him guide both himself and objects through the air… perhaps even other people. Blaze could certainly see how useful this power would be for cleaning… it probably let him make multiple dishes and clean at the same time too, pending how it worked.

Heat flashed across her face again and, reflexively, she balled her fists. Though she’d long learned to keep her powers under control, their connection to her emotions was a constant worry. Embarrassment, of all emotions, was one she hadn’t yet managed to control. While it lacked the ferocity and excitability of anger, it was still especially important to keep it subdued. If she let them, these thoughts would do much more than reveal her power. She might burn down her new home before she could spend a night-

“Blaze?” His voice tore her from her thoughts, he’d made it to the kitchen while she’d frozen up in the hall, “Is everything okay?”

“I’m fine I’m just,” She scrambled for the right words, marching towards him, “I’ve not settled yet, I’m still getting used to this arrangement. Just getting my bearings.”

“Oh, that makes sense,” He nodded, still smiling so very brightly, “Take all the time you need. You said online that you’d never lived away from home before, right?”

“I’d visit hotels with my family but, outside that, yes,” Blaze answered, stepping into the kitchen, “I know I’m a little old for that to be the case but…”

“No, no. Don’t worry, I get it and I know it’s pretty scary,” He smiled, leaning against the kitchen counter, “I’ve moved around a lot and your first night in a new place is always weird, let alone your first time anywhere new,” His smile faltered just a little, he began to scratch among his quills, “I’m sorry if I’m making it worse. I’ve been trying to make things more comfortable but I’m probably going a little overboard, right?”

“N-No, no, you’re doing fine,” Blaze quickly replied but she knew that her stutter betrayed the truth. Her failure to convey what she was actually feeling was simultaneously a blessing and a curse this evening. She tried to smile, “Thank you, Silver.”

“It’s no problem. You can put your stuff wherever you want, but I cleaned these two cupboards out for you. I keep the pots and pans in the big drawer and the cutlery in the one above that,” He pointed, his grin slightly returning, “Oh and there should be enough fridge space, I hope?”

Setting the bag down again, Blaze quickly began to unload Vanilla’s parting gifts. She kept the hedgehog in the corner of her eye, watching as he pulled a magnet from the fridge and slid free a small bundle of papers. Assumedly, that was the lease. He then, seeming to realise he didn’t have a pen, gestured up the hall again. The face he, likely unknowingly, pulled as he reached for the pen was far too serious, his soft features barely allowed for it. He seemed very innocent, harmless even; judging by his apologies, despite his attempts to appear confident, this was surely all very new to him too.

“Is something wrong? Is there not enough space?” He asked, catching her staring.

“N-No, no. It’s fine, there’s more than enough,” She quickly looked away, shoving bushels of pasta into the cupboard as she tried her damnedest not to ignore the little voice screaming inside her. The voice that kept repeating the line in that note, that the writer was often described as wearing his heart on his sleeve.

Too many pieces of this non-existent puzzle were lining up, far too many. As she shifted to put away her cutlery, lost in thought, she very almost knocked into him. Even if it was all somehow true, even though that was entirely possible, then that didn’t actually mean anything. It wasn’t like just knowing some miraculous coincidence had happened meant they were bound to stay together forever or fall in love or whatever. She didn’t know him, he didn’t know her either! They’d hardly even talked!

As the last pan clattered into place, Blaze dared to throw another glance his way. The hedgehog had set the paperwork down on the unit and entered the fridge. Blaze hadn’t ever looked for a relationship before and she certainly hadn’t intended to now. She hadn’t really looked at boys or girls or anyone for that matter, but something was bothering her. Perhaps it was just a result of his earnestness, perhaps it was because he looked so fluffy and soft, but there was something almost… charming about him. Was he attractive? Was he cute? Beauty was supposed to be in the eye of the beholder and this beholder had literally no idea what she found attractive.

The moment his bright yellow eyes hit hers, she understood that aspect of herself just a little better. He’d leaned out of the fridge, having not actually taken anything, “I noticed that we need a witness, do you know anyone else around here who you’d like to be it? I can witness it if that’s okay with you but, you know, don’t want to impose or anything. Landlord owns the place downstairs and said you can just leave it there.”

“I-I’m fine with that, yes,” She quickly rose to stand straight, taking the pen and papers from him, “Don’t worry, Silver. I’m just getting my bearings; you’ve been nothing but helpful.”

His smile returned, the spark of joy in those eyes rocked Blaze to her core, “If you’re sure. I’ll leave you to it then.”

Blaze quickly threw her eyes toward the document. She’d read it before online, of course she had, but it was her only escape! She quickly filled in her share before blindly passing the sheet back to Silver for his witness confirmation signature, pretending to be distracted by the spice rack.

When she finally dared to look at him, Blaze found that Silver had casually let go of the objects he’d gathered and left them to hang in the air. Though she’d tried to fight it, Blaze couldn’t help but peer at his handwriting. He’d signed his name twice, both on the landlord’s copy and her own. It’d been at least ten years since the message in the bottle had been written, of course the writer’s handwriting would have changed over that time, but Blaze couldn’t help noticing the slightly scrawled nature of his penmanship. His handwriting wasn’t bad per say but it wasn’t in cursive, and it certainly wasn’t what you’d call neat. Though she longed to think of it in any other way, that was yet another strike in the soulmate column.

“Oh, um,” The hedgehog’s hand returned to his quills, “I don’t know if you’ve had dinner or anything, and you don’t need to eat it if you don’t want it, but I was so excited for you coming so,” He gestured into the fridge, “I made a cheesecake. Feel free to grab a slice whenever, it looks like it's properly set now.”

The hedgehog couldn’t just cook, he could bake. Alone that fact would mean nothing but, with all this compiling evidence, Blaze felt her head spin and more heat jumped to her face. She shifted by him, glancing into the fridge, and sure enough, there it sat. A biscuit base topped with a creamy yellow mass and decorated with what looked to be some kind of cherry or strawberry jell or jam. She took hold of the door to steady herself, feeling the heat gather and gather on her face until a single spark ignited near the tip of her nose and, with a small pop, burgeoned into a flame. Blaze ran her free hand down her face, snuffing it immediately, but the thoughts that prompted it still ran rampant in her mind.

“Eh, Blaze? Are you okay?” She heard him shift and felt him looking over her shoulder, standing so very close, “You’ve gone all red.”

She had no idea how much of that he’s seen but, regardless, his innocence was astounding. His reaction to that pop and a palpable burst of heat from the fridge wasn’t to question what had happened but if she was okay. His concern for her was so very plain, his heart truly was fastened to his sleeve, he truly was very naïve. She had no idea what his life had been like up until this point, no idea who he really was just as he had no idea who she truly was. They were just a pair of very socially awkward individuals, albeit in very different ways, who happened to have collided due to the machinations of either fate or coincidence. She still couldn’t just up and tell him about these thoughts or the message she’d received but, regardless of them and whether this was fate or not, it was only right that she got to the bottom of this.

“I-I’ll have some if you will,” She blurted out, turning away from the fridge and towards him. Though embarrassment was surely twisting her face into a grimace, he still looked so kindly, “Maybe we should have a sit down and… get to know each other a little better?” The day’s travel had run her ragged, but nothing could compare to this past fifteen minutes, “I think we have a lot to talk about.”

[bellatrixobsessed1]

The Final Agni Kai (A Terrible AU Fanfic that literally no one asked for!)

This was totally going to be the battle between Sie and Zuko in the cabbage fic but I couldn't pass having the fire siblings do this.

Summary: Agni Kai AU where instead of actually fighting the Agni Kai, Zuko and Azula play a monoply-uno hybrid from Hell.

The sky is heavy with smoke and an odor of sulfur. Sozin’s comet paints the mid-afternoon sky a shade of orange-red. Azula, stares up at said sky--she is daydreaming about just leaving everything behind to become a J-pop idol. 

“By decree of Phoenix King Ozai, I now crown you Fire Lord…” But it is hard to do that when the fire sage keeps blabbing on and on. And it is twice as hard when a wild flying bison swoops into view. Suddenly feeling as though she has run out of time, she turns to the sage and asks, “What are you waiting for? Do it!”

Azula had been rather vague so he isn’t sure what he is supposed to just do. All he knows is that he can’t let his dreams just be dreams. Just do it! Azula’s voice echos in his mind. But in his mind she sounds more motivating than angry. 

Appa lands in the courtyard and Zuko dramatically jumps off of him. “Sorry, but you're not gonna become Fire Lord today. I am.”

Azula laughs, “you're hilarious.”

“And you're going down.” Zuko informs her.

“That was my line.” Katara whispers. 

“Sorry.” Zuko replies. 

The fire sage, recalling Azula’s words--just do it!--begins to ignore the interrupting duo and brings the crown closer to Azula’s messy topknot.

She lifts a hand and then the rest of her body. “Wait!” And then to Zuko she says, “You want to become Fire Lord? Fine. Let’s settle this. Just you and me, brother. The showdown that was always meant to be. Monopl-uno!” She whips out a game board and a deck of cards and slaps them onto the ground. 

“You're on!” 

“What are you doing? She’s playing you. She knows she can't take us both, so she's trying to separate us.”

“I know. But I can take her this time.” Zuko declares. 

“But even you admitted to your uncle that you would need help facing Azula.” Katara protests. Also she does not want to have to wait through a game of Monopoly, that game is boring as hell even if it is mashed together with Uno.

“There's something off about her, I can't explain it but she's slipping.” Zuko rubs his chin as he takes in the disheveled sight of his sister. Her hair is a mess and her eyes are tired. “Hmmm...can’t quite put my finger on it.” She flashes him an uncanny and feral smile. “Nope. No idea.”  He makes his way across the courtyard. 

He and Azula stand on opposite ends of the courtyard, kneeling as you do before beginning a game of monopl-uno. It is always best to start any board, card, or any kind of game by kneeling before your God and asking for protection lest the game transform itself into Jumanji and you find yourself stuck in a jungle forever. 

This is what had happened to Jet. He has been stuck in the Foggy Swamp, which is also a jungle, ever since. He is now a backwater redneck. But this is no surprise being as he already liked to chew on straw prior to being transported into the jungle to live out the rest of his fuqboi existence. 

“I'm sorry it has to end this way, brother.” 

“No you're not.”

But she really is. She actually hates monopl-uno, in her foggy state of mind, she had momentarily forgotten this. But she cannot back out of this now. “I am so.” She whispers quietly.

“Are not.”

“Are too.”

“Are not.”

“Are to.”

“Are…”

Luckily Katara is there to get them back on track. The only thing more boring than Monopoly is reading approximately six pages of ‘are not’, ‘are too’. Even more boring than that is pre-algebra. Thank Raava, that math does not exist here. “Will you two just get on with it!?” She asks.

Azula passes out five uno cards and a fat stack of monopoly cash. For every green card, the player receives $500. For the blues the player gets $100. Yellow cards earn the player $50. And red earns the player $20. 10’s & 5’s are a free for all, Azula and Zuko snatch as many as they can. 1’s are distributed by wiping out a Candyland, whoever draws Queen Frostine gets to steal all of the 5’s. Azula bites Zuko as he reaches for the last one dollar bill. He retracts his hand quickly. 

It settles in that Azula is losing her shit.

If no one draws Queen Frostine by the game’s end then the 1’s burst into flames and are claimed by the void that manifests itself as a third player in the form of a sentient piccolo, that plays truly awful covers of Rammstine’s Du Hast and Smashmouth’s All Star the whole time.

With dread, Azula notes that, “Colonel Mustard has murdered Mrs. Scarlett with a candlestick in the billard room.” 

Zuko grips his head in stress, knowing that this means that Azula has to move her gingerbread man to the next purple square. This ends the game.

No one has drawn Queen Frostine. 

The 1’s burst into flames and a piccolo rises.

The first notes of Du Hast echo through the courtyard, terribly off key.

Katara has a wicked urge to puncture her own earholes just to end the madness.

Why did Colonel Mustard have to murder her with a candlestick. If he would have just used the wrench then they might have had a chance to draw Queen Frostine!

Far, far off in the distance Sokka, Suki, and Toph fight a different kind of battle. They play Battle Ships, but they use actual ships. Except the ships are not water ships but airships and they are in the sky and the bombs are real.

Suki is uncomfortable with this. 

It is Toph’s time to shine. She can use echolocation to cheat. 

Aang and Ozai also fight. But their fight is different. It is a battle of wit. They have chosen several popular debate topics including women’s rights, religion, which economic model to follow, and whether or not pineapple belongs on pizza. 

Pineapple does not belong on pizza. 

Neither does cheese, because cheese is gross. 

In fact, pizza does not belong on pizza because pizza is gross and no matter what Aang is still a vegan and Aang is not sure if a good vegan should be eating pizza. 

Iroh finds himself a tall mountain and yodels atop it until the militia stationed at Ba Sing Se submit. 

But none of this is as important as Azula declaration, “go fish!”

Zuko cusses and picks up a goldfish. He curses again. Drawing a goldfish means that he has to pull a block from the jenga tower and that rickety thing is already very close to collapsing. Azula smirks as he nears an old and vacant house in Capital City. It is the same one that they have been stealing boards from since they were children. 

It is on its last legs. 

A bead of sweat drips down Zuko’s forehead as he tugs at the board. The whole house bobs precuriously. Azula and Katara take several huge steps back. They, in fact, stand approximately one-hundred feet from the building, which is a safe number when practicing social distancing. 

Zuko yanks the board free and the building groans. He clenches his jaw. But the building remains up right. 

“Ha! Take that, Azula!” He says loudly. The building shakes at the sudden noise and it topples. He has done this to himself. Now he has to draw six more uno cards and one more go fish card. 

“So, how have you been?” Zuko makes small talk as they walk back to the coronation courtyard. 

Azula thinks that it is a stupid question, she is obviously in a state of mental torment. “Oh, I’m fine.” She replies nonchalantly. 

“Yeah, me too.” He replies. “I read this really cool book the other day.”

Azula hasn’t, she has been stress eating cherries and pacing around her bedroom. “I read one too.” She lies. 

“Which one.” 

“Oh...you’ve never heard of it. It’s a really underground novel.”

They reach the courtyard, Zuko draws his uno and go fish cards. It is still his turn so he rolls the dice. “Yahtzee!” He declares and Azula flinches. She moves her gingerbread man to an orange square and picks up a trivial pursuit card. She relaxes a little, upon remembering that she is a trivial pursuit expert. 

“What’s the tallest piece on a chessboard?” Katara reads the card.

Azula rolls her eyes, this is an easy one. “It is the King.”

Zuko Googles the answer just to be sure that Azula isn’t lying again. 

Katara winces, “correct.” 

Azula flashes a smug smile as she passes go and collects $200. She is glad that she did not have to answer a Guess Who question. Those always throw her off. 

Zuko stands up, it is his turn. He throws down a green skip. This time Azula curses. He then throws down a green reverse card so it is his turn again. Azula snarls. He realizes that he has no more green cards so he picks up a Go Fish card. It is an angelfish. Angelfish act as substitutes for yellow cards so he is stuck with it. Having none of her own, but having the mindstate of one, Azula literally turns herself into a wildcard and flops down onto the deck. She changes it to blue. 

She always changes it to blue.

She has no blue cards, but she never changes it to anything but blue.

She reclaims her human form and draws a Go Fish card. 

It is a clownfish. 

Which makes sense because she played herself (clownfish substitute red cards only), she is the clown in this situation. 

Zuko smirks and throws down a blue seven. 

Azula is about to throw down a blue three, when Zuko brazanly shouts. “No draw fours today? What’s the matter, afraid I’ll reverse it!?”

“Oh! I’ll show you a draw four!” Azula shouts. She lifts her blue drawfour as well as four scrabble tiles--one for each letter of her name, except she is missing the ‘u’ so instead she has Azla--and powers her draw four up with them. 

A is the first letter of the alphabet so Zuko has to not only draw four cards but another two extra. And since Z is the last letter he also has to draw twenty-six extra cards. By this time the deck has run low so he has to pick up a twelve of spades which amounts to twelve green uno cards.

To figure out what number each represents they must spin the twister spinner and consult the magic eight ball. 

“Nooooo!” Zuko screams as she throws the cards down. 

Katara bites her cheek. She doesn’t like cheating to win, but she is pretty sure that Azula had swapped out her ‘u’ scrabble tile for a ‘z’ while Zuko was messing with the Jenga tower. So she doesn’t think too much of it when she completes Zuko’s Connect Four line. 

“Zuko!” She yells. “You forgot to say, ‘I’ve united the four!’” 

Zuko pumps his fist and says. “I’ve united the four!” This nullifies the power up Azula has used on her draw four. It balances out so he only has to draw four uno cards. 

Azula’s face bunches up in disgust as she gives the twister spinner a flick. 

Right hand on blue. 

She places her right hand on blue and the twister board tells her to move her top hat to the chance square. Katara picks up the chance card and reads “go directly to jail. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200.” 

Azula blinks several times. She is trapped, with nowhere to go. She sadly makes her way over to the grate, overwhich they have constructed a jail out of a cardboard box. The word ‘JAIL’ (though Zuko accidentally spelled it ‘JAYL’ at first so that was crossed off and ‘JAIL’ is written beneath it) is written in big red marker. Katara doodled a star under it in pink gel pen. 

Azula sadly lifts the box and sits under it, clutch her knees to her chest as Zuko passes go, collets his $200, and uses it to buy a candyland card. A smile lights up his face, he has drawn Gramma Nut! That means he gets to discard exactly three uno cards. 

He sets them on fire and shouts “uno!” 

He throws his remaining card, a blue five, onto the deck. 

From within her jail cell, Azula shrieks. She sets the jail on fire, marches up to the unused chessboard, flips it over, and throws the pieces at Zuko “I hate this game! This is a stupid fucking  anyways!” 

Zuko and Katara slap each other high five. Unbeknownst to them, Momo swoops down. “But you forgot to play Bop It before saying uno, which means that your victory is null.” 

Zuko slaps his forehead. 

Azula’s eyes grow wide. 

This means only one thing…

One terrible thing…

Azula swallows as she removes Don’t Wake Daddy from the box. The siblings stare at each other. If at any point, daddy wakes up, Ozai will materialize before them and win the game. “Here, you do it!” Zuko says to Azula. She very carefully takes the tweezers and as steady as she can, attempts to extract the wrench representing the funny bone.

But Azula is already shaken from her loss and the stress of losing her friends. She accidently touches the rim and the game buzzes. 

She and Zuko weep as they both take turns pressing the alarm clock. Daddy springs up and Ozai appeared before them to reclaim his Fire Lord crown. In leaving his debate, Aang has automatically won. Ozai’s bending yanks itself from his body, as he had bet it before the debate started. Aang cheers!

Another airship explodes as Toph cackles. 

Ozai begins to weep for he might be the Fire Lord again, but he has no fire. 

Neither Zuko nor Azula are the Fire Lord. They both hug each other and cry as Katara plugs her ears. 

The piccolo still plays Rammstine. 

Ozai also cries because, even though he is Fire Lord in title, no one is going to listen to him since he is a non-bender. The Fire Nation will fall into anarchy unless the siblings can work something out. 

Aang also weeps because her realizes that, Ozai is still the Fire Lord so he is still going to have to defeat him somehow.

Truly, nobody has won here. 

Nobody except Iroh and Toph.

[nyaacatboy]

Fate’s Door, Chapter 14: Deadline

Masterpost/Chapter 13/Chapter 15

It was the eve of the solstice, and at a long last the insanity of the previous-Roman couldn’t believe it had been three weeks. The time felt much longer and much shorter at the same time. But now was not the time to reminisce, the curse was now or never.

Roman assumed the role of leader/drill Sargent/commander. Wrapping their mother’s scarf around their neck under the cloak, they began. “Okay, the time when the castle is the most vulnerable is when the royals are eating dinner. Lots of guards move close to the kitchens, to defend the king’s food from poisoning, and most of the servants have dinner then too,” Roman said. They were all huddled in the closed bookstore to run through strategy, dressed in dark hooded cloaks so no one would see their faces. Patton had joked that they looked like a herd of Virgils when they had all first put them on.  Sloane and Corbin were busy getting anything they thought would help the group on their journey.

Fingergunning at Virgil, Roman said,“There will be two guards at the gate. We need some sort of diversion to get them away from there, since two bodies on the ground or two people frozen in place raises suspicion.”

“I can rustle leaves or something,” Virgil said, looking at the floor.

“I have a passcode for servants that will get us through the door. From then onwards, everyone needs to follow Logan and I. While we’re making our way to the dungeons, Patton and Virgil, keep a close eye on anyone we come across, but not too close. Virgil needs to use her freeze spell on anyone who notices us. We all need to act like we know what we’re doing, and like we’re meant to be there. Got that?” Roman would have the hardest time fitting in of them all, but at least if they got captured it wouldn’t mean too much legal trouble.

They all nodded. “If I know anyone, can I ask them to keep quiet instead?” Patton asked.

“Yeah, but if they’re untrustworthy, Virgil may need to use something more aggressive than a freeze spell. She can scramble their memory of the past minutes if needed, but she can’t quite finesse it yet. That could get nasty.” Roman unfolded a paper and laid it out so everyone could see it.

“Got it.” Patton gulped. As nice of a friend and person Roman usually was, they could also be intimidating.

Roman pointed at the paper. “This is a map of the dungeons. The first level has a lot of security, but there is a back way here. We just need to be really quiet. Don’t sneeze, burp, curse, fall, talk, or anything else that could make a sound. The lower levels have fewer guards, but I can make my way through them. They know me, and they’ll side with me. If I screw up, Virgil should scramble their memories. That should not happen, but we need to be prepared for all possibilities. At the very bottom of the dungeons is the cell where the Dragon-Witch is. There shouldn’t be any guards at her cell. Patton and Logan, your job is to defend Virgil with me as she performs her spell. No matter what, it’s likely that someone will see us, and we still don’t know if Virgil will actually perform the spell.”

“If things go south, we need to get out of the dungeons and go to the throne room. Then, we take out the king and I take his place. Questions?” Roman abruptly folded the paper, stowing it away in their bag.

Everyone shook their heads, and so they made their way out of the bookstore.

“Alright, goodbye!” Sloane said. “Roman, I’m only paying bail money for Logan, Patton, and Virgil. Protect them.”

Roman nodded, looking considerably more afraid. The four got up and made their way towards the door, only to be stopped by Sloane and Corbin giving them goodbye hugs. Logan rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t blame his parents for wanting to hug him one last time. He was amazed they were even letting him go on what could potentially be a death mission. Usually, they were about twelve times more protective.

Silence hung over the group as they made their way through the city. Some people were inside their homes, eating dinner, but others were still out and about. They stuck mostly to back alleys, since there was no way they wouldn’t turn a few heads. Four teenagers really tense, walking with purpose, and not talking to each other would raise anyone’s suspicions. The city grew darker as the four approached the castle gates.

Virgil focused on the bushes and vines that crept into the walls around the palace. They began to shake, and a few twigs snapped. The guards didn’t notice, so Virgil continued her efforts. Realizing it wasn’t working, she pushed a brick out of the wall, making parts of the wall crumble. It was loud enough to get their attention, and both rushed over. Moving as fast as they could without drawing attention, the four slipped past the gates and approached the castle.

For the privacy of the nobility, trees are planted all around the castle just tightly enough that the lower levels of the castle are obscured from view, but wide enough that you could comfortably spread a picnic blanket between trees. There are less trees close to the gate, and they become denser as one approaches the castle. Roman was grateful for this, since there was no way there wouldn’t be any changes of plan between the bookstore and the castle doors, and everyone needed to be on the same page.

When the group was out of the guards’ range, everyone relaxed. Their paces slowed from frantic to casual. “We can talk now,” Roman said.

“I don’t know if I can pull off the spell,” Virgil said, “It was hard for me to move the brick under pressure, I can’t imagine doing a level 28 spell when the fate of the whole country rests on my shoulders.” Her face was slightly pink, and her hands were shaking.

“You can do it,” Patton said, “I believe in you. Plus, we’ll all be protecting you while you do the spell. You’ve progressed so quickly in such a short span of time, it won’t be stretching your abilities much more than you’re already used to.”

Logan looked up ahead. “Stop talking. There’s a guard right there, at the door.” Virgil swallowed her response to Patton, letting her thoughts stew.

The guard in question looked very confused at the four approaching him.  When they were about five feet from the guard, Roman stepped forward. “Ducks are commonly seen at midnight, flying into chimneys.”

“That’s last week’s. Sorry, can’t let you in. Security’s been tightened, something about top security prisoners and the solstice.” The group did not move. “Go on, shoo.”

With a glance at the other three, Roman took off their hood, leaving their face visible to the guard. They sighed, then said, “As your crown prince I command that you let us through,” fast enough that no one was quite sure what they’d said.

“Hmm? I didn’t catch that,” the guard said.

Looking like they’d rather be anywhere else, Roman said, “As your crown prince, I command that you let us into the castle.”

The guard recognized them.“Oh! Yes, of course, my prince. Step right through. I’m sorry I held you up, I had no idea that it was the prince that was coming, and…” The guard rattled off excuses, while Roman led the group through the door, not even giving him a second glance.

“Thank you!” Patton said.

“I wish I didn’t have to do that,” Roman said, walking faster, “If he’s a guard who just wants to go home, he won’t tell anyone. But there’s a high chance, with me missing, that he’ll tell any member of the palace staff that stops by that the prince came through. Virgil, forget freezing spells. We need to move.”

Roman led the group at a pace that was almost running, not caring to speak to anyone as they pounded through the castle hallways. Logan gave Patton and Virgil instructions on where to turn, and they managed to keep pace with the prince. Rare electric lights passed in a blur as the labyrinth of stairs and hallways led them deep into the castle.

Legs aching, they stood before the entrance to the dungeon. The metal door had a large chain and padlock holding it closed. No guards were stationed anywhere near it. Virgil raised up a hand to break the chain, but hesitated.

“C’mon Virgil, this trick’s an old hat for you by now,” Logan said. “You broke the spines of every gross romance novel people donated at the book drive. You can do this.”

Virgil laughed a little at the memory, then pointed both her hands at the door. A link of the chain broke, and she moved the fallen chain and lock away like they were made of helium. She started to open the doors, but felt Roman’s hand on her wrist.

“Let’s not make a huge entrance, ok? We are fugitives,” they said.

Patton opened the doors, and they all walked in, feeling more confident in themselves. The difficult part for most of them was done, and Virgil’s faith in her sorcery abilities was renewed.

The confidence melted away when they took in how many guards were stationed at the entranceway to the first level of the dungeons.

Roman eyed the entrance to the shortcut. The entranceway had been made for people waiting to see prisoners. A secret stairwell was installed for prisoners to take when they had visitors, since no one wanted inmates having contact with each other at all. Many a breakout had been planned by inmates in different floors passing notes when one was taken up to see a visitor, so the castle had decided it was easier to install a secret staircase than get tighter bars for the cells.

Four guards stood between them and the lamp that concealed the secret lever. One switch, and the young adventurers would be in the stairwell before anyone could blink. Unfortunately, eight eyes were already fixed on Roman.

The guard nearest to Roman drew his gun. “We’re under direct orders from the king to apprehend you using any forces necessary and take you to your quarters. Come quietly and it will all be over.” Roman didn’t know this guard, and he’d been pretty clear that they were not friends. So much for talking their way out of this.

“Never. I’ve got better things to do.” They scanned the room for a potential path to the lamp, then noticed where the other three guard’s guns were pointed. Directly at his friends.

Come to think of it, these weren’t guards. They were soldiers. King’s Men. Roman turned to Virgil, who was right at their side. Her hands were poised to cast a spell at the slightest provocation. “Can you cast a shield that only I can get out of?”they asked in an undertone, “The soldiers can’t touch me in case they harm me, no matter what they say. If you all are safe behind the shield, I can go to the secret passage and open it for you. Then, make your way over keeping the shield between you and them. Got it?”

Nervous but determined, Virgil nodded. She focused, and with effort, a glistening wall began to form between her, Logan, and Patton.

“Come, prince. Rejoin the elite, where you belong.”

Roman’s blood boiled, but a lump also rose in their throat. They knew what that elite planned to do in the name of their country, and they didn’t want to be a bystander any longer. Hopefully, they wouldn’t become the instigator. Virgil’s shield solidified, becoming opaque. Roman ran.

The lamp, when only pulled halfway, would only open halfway. The prince gave it a jerk, and the nearly invisible section of floor rotated, taking them with it. Roman hit the wall, then walked over to the half-open entrance.

They let loose an expletive that was incredibly inappropriate for a prince-well, anybody to say. The soldiers in the entranceway and those crowded in the secret passage glared. Roman resisted the urge to curse again.

Patton, Logan, and Virgil all looked terrified. Looking from them to the soldiers, Roman knew what they had to do.

“I surrender.” They kneeled on the floor before the soldiers attacking their friends, arms raised for handcuffs. A pang shot through Roman’s heart as the cold metal clasped their wrists. Their friends looked confused, curious, and worried, but above all, afraid. This was the part of tonight that wasn’t in anyone’s plans but Roman’s.

“May I be permitted one request?”the prince asked. They weren’t very experienced in groveling, but there’s a first time for everything. Though when Roman had thought about their “first time,” this was not what they had in mind. A soldier nodded.

“I need to speak with my father, privately. And I need my friends kept safe in the meantime, preferably in my quarters.” Roman bowed their head, trying to show respect.

Virgil looked at them, her eyes practically screaming, What are you doing? Why do we need to be kept safe while you talk with the King?

Trust me, Roman tried to say with a glance, but they didn’t have very much conviction. Virgil’s shield lowered.

“We can arrange that. I’ll take you to the king, and your”-the guard glared at the three friends-“acquaintances can come with you.” With a few curt words to the four soldiers closest to him, Virgil, Logan, and Patton were taken to the prince’s rooms. Two soldiers flanked Roman, taking them towards the throne room.

Heart breaking in two, Roman watched their friends being taken away.  Each of them had a soldier that was more or less physically forcing them towards Roman’s rooms. It hurt to see their friends more or less hauled along by guards. That was Roman’s fault, and they couldn’t help but feel guilty. They could only hope that their friends stayed comfortable while Roman did...this.

While Roman knew that the soldiers couldn’t touch them without their permission, they were still jittery. Sure, there was a chance they would convince the king to step down from the throne, and carefully word everything so that they had what was basically full control of the country, but there would be big sacrifices to make, as the king was who he was. The presence of two public displays of the king’s power did not calm their nerves at all.

TAGS: @fanficptsd (care to be notified?)

[thesportssoundoff]

“Friday Night With Marlon Moraes” The UFC in Utica Preview

Joey

May 28th, 2018

A casual perusal of the Fight Night in Utica, reveals a nothing special lower level card to the average eye at least. It's very light on star power on a not normal UFC night from a place nobody probably equates MMA with (sorry Utica!) without the usual big hook and sell to it. After watching a PPV with some big names then the first MMA card in Chile and then the biggest free WW fight in quite some time in Till/Wonderboy, it might be hard for some folks to then turn around and get giddy over a show in Utica on a Friday night. Making matters worse? Its headlined by bantamweight which is still one of those weight classes struggling to find some acceptance. Having said all of that? I really like this card. It's not a great show by any stretch of the imagination but the main event is sublime, there's a few debuts I'm excited about on the card and there are some damn good action fights on it. It's not going to compete with UFC 225 for card of the year or anything but I believe it's well worth checking out on a Friday Night. Maybe you'll be able to say you saw the next bantamweight champion debut live.

Fights: 13

Debuts: 4 (Jose Torres, Nate Wood, Sijara Eubanks, Chance Rencountre)

Fight Changes/Injury Cancellations: (Bryan Barberena OUT, Ben Saunders IN vs Jake Ellenberger/Leonard Santos OUT, David Teymur IN vs Nik Lentz/Niko Price OUT, Chance Recountre IN vs Belal Muhammad, Hector Sandoval OUT, Jose Torres IN vs Jarrod Brooks)

Headliners (fighters who have either main evented or co-main evented shows in the UFC): 1 (Jake Ellenberger)

Fighters On Losing Streaks in the UFC: 6 (Ben Saunders, Jake Ellenberger, Gleison Tibau, Desmond Green, Walt Harris, Jessica Aguilar)

Fighters On Winning Streaks in the UFC:  6 (Jimmie Rivera, Marlon Moraes, Belal Muhammad, Gregor Gillespie, Vinc Pichel, David Teymur)

Main Card Record Since Jan 1st 2016 (in the UFC): 26-17

Marlon Moraes- 2-1 Jimmie Rivera- 3-0 Vinc Pichel- 2-0 Gregor Gillespie- 4-0 Walt Harris- 2-2 Daniel Spitz- 1-1 Ben Saunders- 2-3 Jake Ellenberger- 1-3 Daniel Teymur- 0-1 Julio Arce- 1-0 Sam Alvey- 6-3 Gian Villante- 2-3

Divisional Breakdown: Lightweight- 3 Welterweight- 2 Bantamweight- 2 Light Heavyweight- 1 Flyweight-1 Featherweight- 1 Heavyweight- 1 Women's Flyweight- 1 Strawweight- 1

Too High Up- Jake Ellenberger vs Ben Saunders

I feel bad for kicking two guys when they're down, I really do. Ben Saunders and Jake Ellenberger probably shouldn't be fighting anymore but this is MMA and you have to basically go out feet first. The winner of this fight will probably wind up getting fed to another dude way higher up in the food chain than them.The loser probably fights Michael Venom Page in Bellator. Both guys are on losing streaks with Ellenberger in particular rocking a nasty 3 wins in his last 10 fights. All of this paints the picture of a really sad fight on the main card because both Saunders and Ellenberger are still "names".

Too Low- Nik Lentz vs David Teymur

So why is this here on the prelims? Nik Lentz since moving up to 155 lbs is a cool 3-1 with wins over Will Brooks and Danny Castillo. David Teymur is 4-0 in the UFC with wins over Drakkar Klose and Lando Vannata plus he's normally good for either a snazzy finish or an exciting fight. Lentz isn't the same dude who would lay and pray his way to wins, dude's improved as a striker, has tremendous grappling chops and still brings pacing and cardio to all his fights. Color me bummed this one is buried on the prelims package since it's not even the prelim headliner (Sijara Eubanks vs Lauren Murphy is in that spot).

Stat Monitor for 2018: Debuting Fighters (Current number: 11-16):  Jose Torres, Nate Wood, Chance Rencountre, Sijara Eubanks

Short Notice Fighters (Current number: 12-6): Jose Torres, Chance Rencountre, David Teymur, Ben Saunders

Second Fight (Current number: 16-15): Jodie Esquibel, Julio Arce, Daniel Teymur

Cage Corrosion (Current number: 10-16, 5 straight wins):  Jessica Aguilar, Jake Ellenberger

Undefeated Fighters (Current number: 18-13): Gregor Gillespie, Jose Torres

Keeping An Eye On But Not Really:

The UFC Win Check Test The records of fighters who have 4 or more UFC fights (or three full calendar years in the organization) but 0 wins against people still in the UFC: Nik Lentz. I would've been SURE that Gleison Tibau would be here but Tibau has two insanely impressive in hindsight wins over Francisco Trinaldo and RDA. Dude was really good once.

Twelve Precarious Ponderings

1- Every fight is its own story and journey through the careers of two athletes. I'd be remiss if I didn't point out how friggin' insane the "How we got here" for both of these guys is. Marlon Moraes was 7-4 going into a fight with Miguel Torres on the first WSOF show, he was there to lose but apparently didn't get the memo. After beating Miguel Torres, Moraes was put up against WSOF's prized signing Tyson Nam. He finished Nam who was coming off an upset over Dudu Dantas which in turn made Moraes a bit of a fan favorite as this super underdog beating all of the hyped dudes. Moraes is now 20-5 which means that since his time as "the opponent" vs Torres until his UFC debut, he went undefeated and racked up 11 wins all over relatively quality competition. It's easy to accuse a dude on a run like his of can crushing but Sheymon Moraes, Josh Hill, Carson Beebe and Josenaldo Silva are quality regional fighters (Moraes has the ability to be a lot more). In the UFC, Moraes' lone loss is a "What can ya do?" split decision vs Rafa Assuncao who basically neutralized him as he tends to do. Since then Moraes decisioned John Dodson in a close scrappy fight and became the only man to finish Aljamain Sterling when he ruined his life with a step in knee. Moraes has proven his worth and his reward is his first ever UFC main event less than a year into his run with the organization.

The road was equally weird for Jimmie Rivera. Rivera's pre-UFC career is littered with fighters you'd know (Jared Papazian, Brian Kelleher, Willie Gates, Carson Beebe) in big time organizations (Bellator, WSOF, ROC and CFFC) but he never really stuck or found a home. Bellator used him frequently but for some reason, never featured him as a name. Perhaps that's because he was a guy who went to the decision more often than secured a dominant statement win. Maybe Rivera is just difficult to negotiate or deal with (more on that later) or perhaps he was just overlooked. He tried out for TUF and fought up a weight class in deference to his friend Louis Gaudinot. That decision proved to be the wrong one as Rivera drew Dennis Bermudez and lost by TKO in the try outs. Rivera eventually did make it to the UFC----as a short notice replacement on an international fight card. Since that point, RIvera has gone 5-0 with wins over Thomas Almeida, Pedro Munhoz and Urijah Faber. Jimmie Rivera has proven his worth in the UFC and his reward after being "the opponent" for what seems like his entire UFC run is his first ever main event spot in Utica.

There's a pride in this, I suppose. We see guys debut, get hyped and get main events far earlier in their careers than Rivera. We've seen guys be "the favorite" long after they've proven they're not the guy for the job while guys like Moraes have to just keep winning. For two guys who had to really earn it, I'm glad they're in a main event spot no matter if it's a Friday UFC event or a Fox spotlight. These guys earned it and in a sport where earn and deserve is more about timing and opinion, it's nice to have two definitive cases of "earning it" colliding at the same time.

2- I'd ALSO be remiss I suppose if I didn't point out how long it's taken this fight to come together. Both guys claim they were supposed to fight on the regional circuit but those sorts of "You might fight X" type rumors are what they are. What we DO know is that Moraes was offered the opportunity to fight Rivera in December as a fill in for Dom Cruz. Moraes said he couldn't make weight and depending on who you ask, he either needed to fight at 145 or higher to fight Rivera. The fight fell apart and THEN it was rebooked for UFC in Orlando. According to Moraes at least. Rivera has said that he wasn't offered a contract or wouldn't sign it or etc etc etc. Whatever the case may be or may not be, we've got it now. The whole back and forth created legitimate realistic tension.  Sometimes it's nice to have dudes who dislike one another a little bit.

3- Jimmie Rivera is currently the slight betting favorite and while that might seem controversial for some, I think it's insanely realistic that he can take a decision. Marlon Moraes' weakness has been guys who can counter strike with him, force him to think and react more than he wants to and challenge him with either a size or a speed advantage. Rivera can fight going forward and backwards, has all sorts of versatility to his game and carries consistent pop in his hands. He's not a fight finisher by any stretch but we've seen him drop dudes like Thomas Almeida and Iuri Alcantara. He's also far more likely to be active during the lulls where Moraes seems to just be trying to patiently stalk a dude down for power shots. Conversely Moraes winning this fight by KO is pretty possible as well given that Rivera loves to exchange, often times abandons defense and security for swangin' n bangin' PLUS Moraes really does hit fucking hard.

4- Is the main event a #1 contender fight? The winner will probably have a hell of a case for the shot, no? The alternatives are Raphael Assuncao who I'd bet the UFC would rather cut than put in a title shot if they were given only those options (although Rapha vs TJ/Cody winner sounds like a fantastic way to kick off your ESPN run), Dom Cruz or John Lineker.  Lineker is a guy who people assume is a draw but never really generates any numbers worthwhile of backing that up. Both Lineker headliners at BW did pretty poorly which, I suppose, helps create the mythos that BWs can't draw viewers. I also can't imagine an audience being that giddy for Lineker vs TJ 2 if Dillashaw wins again. You could make the argument that Dom Cruz has a case over both guys but if Garbrandt wins then whats the point? We've been there and Cruz was soundly handled by Cody. Cruz vs Dillashaw 2 might be a lot more intriguing a second time around for some folks? Still I couldn't count on Cruz to make it to fight night again since 2016 seemed like an anomaly across the board for him health wise. Perhaps the ultimate question mark is Rob Font who seems to be finally getting his act together en route to a clash with Raphael Assuncao in July.

5- So just WHO necessarily is it that the UFC is attempting to hype up and develop in the famed "special showcase third fight" slot? Will Harris is 34 years old and he's already been in the UFC for close to six years now on and off. Harris is coming off two straight losses and while he deserves credit for stepping up vs Fabricio Werdum on like thirty minutes notice, his performance vs Mark Godbeer was hilariously heavyweight. Is the focus on Daniel Spitz? Spitz is a newbie HW who has a 1-1 record in the UFC  with a win over Anthony Hamilton and a loss to Daniel Spitz. Was this just a case of wanting a big guy in a key spot because you've got a bantamweight and a lightweight up top?

6- Sijara Eubanks attempting to make the cut to 125 lbs again seems....dicey. I suppose conversely the same could be said for Lauren Murphy as well so let's just hope everybody makes weight healthily.

7- It took me 7 spots to talk about Gregor Gillespie and at first it kind of bothered me that I had forgotten about. In hindsight, I guess I just don't know what would make him worth remembering to begin with. As a fighter Gillespie is fantastic and while he's slowly creeping out of his athletic prime (he turned 31 in March), he's pretty much dominated everyone he's faced. The only thing a detractor could cling to would be a short brief moment where he was hurt in a firefight vs Jason Gonzalez, a fight he ultimately won in the second round. He's a tremendous wrestler with serious control on the ground plus his hands are really powerful. I just don't know what else there is to really comment on about him. Seems like a nice enough guy, am I right? He fights in an insane division where thus far he's wiped out everybody he's faced----but it's likehe's the world's biggest afterthought. He's really good and really forgettable at the same time. I hope this fight vs Vinc Pichel showcases more of why we SHOULD be excited about Gillespie's prospects. Pichel is one of those guys who exists just below the level of good but way above the level of opposition Gillespie has faced thus far. I'd like a bigger step up for Gregor but in a showcase fight with a moderate step up in competition, you could do a lot worse.

8- If you pay your $9.99 for UFC Fight Pass, your reward for such is the debut of two fascinating prospects who figure to be players in the lighter weight classes. We can begin with Nate Wood who is the easier of the two to explain. Think of everything you liked about Brad Pickett and then make him slightly less chinny and slightly more athletic. The wrestling improvements (or lack thereof) will determine his upside his ultimately. I think he has a more fundamental game than Tom Duquesnoy but I feel more confident on Duquesnoy turning into a bigger deal. On the same card you have the long overdue debut of Jose "Shorty" Torres, a tremendous prospect who has shades of everybody from Chris Weidman to Kelvin Gastelum in his game. He has tremendous pop in his hands, great cardio, a stalking power style on the feet and the ability to absolutely mix it up on the ground as well. I don't know if Torres will be as good as a lot of us think he can be but he's the most excited I've been about a lighter weight fighters debut since probably the aforementioned Duquesnoy last year. Shorty is a really good fighter who I think can comfortably be a force at either 125 lbs or 135 lbs. Both guys get tough matches as Nate Wood gets Johnny Eduardo and Jarrod Brooks welcomes Jose Torres to the UFC.

9- If Sam Alvey vs Gian Villante leaves the first round, I think you're within your right to spend the next 10-20 minutes doing something more important.

10- Daniel Teymur with a full TC is going to give Julio Arce more problems than people imagine. I think that speaks more to the qualities Teymur has than it does about Julio Arce.

11- We're six fights into Belal Muhammad's UFC career and I have zero idea what kind of fighter he really is at this point. I know he's good (wins over Randy Brown, Jordan Mein, Tim Means proves you're quality) but I have no idea if he's anything more than a placeholder in an aging 170 lb division. The Niko Price fight would've told us a lot about him but now he's facing the pretty good Chance Recountre; a regional fighter who would've probably found his way onto the DWTCS eventually.

12- Is Demond Green contractually obligated to just fight massive wrestlers in the UFC? Four fights in he's had Josh Emmett, Rustam Khabilov, the oversized Michel Prezares who was basically fighting at MW vs him and now Gleison Tibau.

Under Pressure

1- Jake Ellenberger

We might as well start here. Ellenberger is no longer the dude who flirted with title contention on multiple opportunities. Those days are long and gone. What remains? Well....it depends. We can start with the cynical view; the raw numbers aren't pretty. Ellenberger is coming up on close to 50 pro fights before the age of 35 in the USADA Era where the dramatic "he's turning back the clock!" runs aren't going to happen. Since the start of 2014, he's just 2-6 with only one decision loss. He's taken damage in his losses and of his two wins, he's Matt Brown changing his mind again away from having 0 current UFC wins. He's chinny, spotty with his offense and it's fair to wonder if he's just been figured out by better fighters who have evolved quicker than he has. An optimistic POV? Ellenberger was far too good for far too long to fall apart this quickly. The quality of competition hasn't helped either given his losses are to genuinely top tier dudes like Rory Mac, Robbie Lawler, Jorge Masvidal and Wonderboy. Even in the losses, he had some moments of life to make you believe that something STILL is in there. In his most recent fight vs Mike Perry, it sure felt like the "old" Ellenberger was back----right before Perry exploded his face with an elbow. He had glimpses vs Masvidal and I felt like he did damn good vs Tarec Saffiedine as well. What if this is just a really bad ugly sort of slide that'll eventually even itself out? Maybe against weaker competition even? Ben Saunders is really the last in the line for Ellenberger. It's win or go home.

2-Jimmie Rivera

Jimmie Rivera's 5-0 run has been fantastic during his time in the UFC----but outside of the cage? It hasn't been as smooth sailing. We detailed the Moraes fight scuffle but beyond that, Rivera sort of got put in an awkward spot as his wife and Aljamain Sterling had a back and forth on twitter that was pretty cringy. Beyond that Rivera has been known to turn down fights in the past and we know that puts a spotlight on a dude. He's not the guy the UFC "wants" so to speak as much as he's the one they got. Rivera has his main event in what is essentially home turf against an opponent with a ton of buzz. You gotta step up and show out.

3- Sijara Eubanks

The Eubanks we saw on TUF was a hell of a lot better than the Eubanks from Invicta. Even with that said, she got yanked from the event the day before fighting for the title due to an awful weight cut. She might've had enough to beat Nicco Montano but alas and alack, it's back to the drawing board. Lauren Murphy is a really tough go of it in your UFC debut but if the TUF Eubanks shows up? Good chance she pulls this off.

4- Jose "Shorty" Torres

It's short notice and that normally is the caveat needed. This is a different situation though. It's not just some prospect but arguably MMA's best unsigned prospect. We're talking about a guy in Jose Torres who is too good to not have these sorts of expectations put on him. He has the ability to be a genuine lightning bolt in a struggling 125 lb weight class or a blossoming 135 lb weight class. It's a lot of pressure to put on somebody making a short notice debut but again, Torres is a different kind of fighter and a different kind of prospect.

5- Vinc Pichel

He is the opponent. Gregor Gillespie is the guy that everybody is excited about which leaves Pichel in the spot of "don't lose too badly!" which is always a bad place to be. Pichel is the sort of fighter who presents enough stylistic questions for Gillespie that even if Gregor is better, you're still looking at a guy who has the ability to give Gillespie some problems.  The pressure is on Pichel to not get blown out here and test Gillespie.

Five Can't Miss Fights

1- Marlon Moraes vs Jimmie River

2- Jarred Brooks vs Jose Torres

3- Walt Harris vs Daniel Spitz on the Walt Harris factor alone

4- Julio Arce vs Daniel Teymur

5-  Nik Lentz vs David Teymur

[emmymarch]

TGIT: Thank God I Thought... to post  this on Thursday.

Something that I’ve struggled with as new plot bunnies pop up in my head (seriously — rabbit breeding is annoyingly always happening in my brain that is almost entirely composed of cottontails by this point) is genre. It’s something I still, even after having sent out the first batch of queries for my novel and engaging in subsequent rewrites, wrestle with in an attempt to pin it for the requisite amount of seconds that will leave me victorious and satisfied I’ve settled on the right one (or two, but not more than that, don’t worry). Not only, I’m assured by my days, afternoons, and nights trolling through blogs, is it important to be able to boil down the plot to this one classifiable word for the sake of letting people know what they can generally (is this a pun? It feels like a pun) expect from it, it’s important for the lit agents, too. They need to know this so that they can figure out if they have the right contacts to help your book get sold to the right people — otherwise, you’re sending it out aimlessly, and they are, too, and you set yourself up for far more heartbreak than you might ordinarily have to go through.

Certain tropes and paces are expected in or are more common in some genres than others. How do we find where our story fits, especially if we feel like we’ve written some mega-hybrid behemoth that combines elements into something Paul Hollywood and Mary Berry would judge with pleasure?

(Or, as the case may be, might find its way onto Rachel Green’s dinner table… but let’s try to keep a glass half full approach around here, okay?)

[X]

Faced with this question, we research — we’re writers, it’s what we do. Sometimes we examine comp titles that might come from our own bookshelves that have informed our storytelling preferences and styles, or we pull descriptions and sample pages from our shiny “others who bought this also bought�� suggestions on Amazon.

I’ve got my fair share of authors who’ve influenced me over the years in different ways and who have impacted the types of stories I like to tell, the kinds of stories I would like to write, and the ways in which I would like to put them out into the world. They range from J.K. Rowling (I would love to be as immersive and sincere as her writing is — never once do we doubt Hogwarts’ existence, and, indeed, many of us are still waiting for our letters), to Louisa May Alcott (normal people, living normal lives, and timelessly relatable emotions), to friends of mine who I’ve met over the past ten to twelve years who also write and who have grown and developed with me (I owe many of my strengths to them for allowing me to learn from them, and I’m grateful for it). I’d argue, however, that the biggest influence on me as a writer comes not from literature, but from television (and, to an extent, film).

Back in the day (“the day” being 2006, an unbelievable 11 years ago), I had a pretty popular Grey’s Anatomy fansite. It was hosted on MySpace, in part because it was free, but also because my 14-year-old self had no idea what to do with domain names, let alone how to pay for them. I spent hours coding my layouts (standard MySpace formats and the luxurious DIV ones that made the page seem more ~legitimate~), creating layouts for others, making icons, banners, fan edits, you name it. I started a song of the week trend which featured a song from the episode that I thought was best/most important that quickly got picked up by other fansites (let my 14-year-old self have this glory, even if my 25-year-old self sounds obnoxious), and I found my way into every resource possible to get information to disseminate while interacting with loads of other fans around the country and the world who also *loved* the show. Being the only person I knew who watched the show, this was a huge deal to me. What was an even bigger deal to me, though, was the story that the show told and continues to tell, often to disparaging remarks by the general public (and, in truth, as I’ve grown older and more critical, there are characters, storylines, and chunks of specific scenes that set me on edge — but that’s life! Not everyone can like everyone or everything).

All Shondaland shows take place in a specialized setting, and this setting is, largely,  merely the framework upon which stories about personal relationships and friendships get hung on and woven together through. This has made them the punchline of many jokes, because while doctors are arguing in the hallways, cracks are made about how they should, perhaps, be saving lives — y’know, their job. However (hopefully) unrealistic these scenarios are, it’s these personal relationships, the taboo subjects, and the moral grey area (ha, haha, hahaha… I’ll see myself out) that are the primary draw to the audience, and having watched this show since I was 13, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that the soapy way in which stories are told has shaped my interests as a writer.

I like that the job informs their personal lives, but it isn’t necessarily the focus of the show. It has consequences and teaches them lessons about life and themselves, but their interpersonal relationships are what’s at the forefront. People are what hold my interest (evidenced, perhaps, by the four years in undergrad I spent literally studying the human mind and its ins, outs, and motivations for all sorts of behaviors), and people and their every day, universal emotions are what I enjoy writing about — regardless of how wildly fantastical or dull and dreary their day jobs might be. When Im writing, I try to help the characters who start whispering in my ears become full-fledged individuals so that their interpersonal relationships aren’t their sole identities, rather, they happen to be the part of their lives that we’re interested in seeing develop and resolve, sometimes in a struggle with their professions and what that means.

(I hope I never a person whose identity is solely comprised of their love interest’s, unless it’s part of a larger point or some exception to the rule. Now that I’ve written this, this will, of course, bite me in however many years it takes for someone to find this post and rip apart any work that I may or may not have published by then to say that I’ve spent my entire career doing just that. Hiya!)

But what is Grey’s Anatomy? It’s a show about surgeons, but the sex far outweighs the surgical procedures for screen time. So it’s a romance… well, no, because there’s a lot of infidelity — like, a LOT — and that’s typically a no-no in romance. Also, these people are fighting, but it isn’t a lover’s quarrel, they’re just friends, and also, look at how these characters have developed since this season and—

(Special shoutout to Alex Karev for doing the most growth of the entire show.)

Maybe Grey’s Anatomy, and television shows like it, is that mega-hybrid behemoth that’s best characterized as “soap” or “drama”. I’ve never studied screenplays or how to write for television or film, but I’d wager that the beat lists for these mediums looks a little different than the ones for novelists.

Having learned what I know and what I like from Grey’s, though, makes genre beat lists hard for me. I consider myself a romance writer, but a lot of the “romances” I write might not tick off every box, and, indeed, they might check off some of the hard nos. I consider the professions my characters have to inform the development of them as people and of their personal lives and the trials, triumphs, and tribulations they face. Some of that development, though, might require taking the focus off the romantic side of things for a good chunk of the book or even taking awhile to get there so that the scope of the protagonists struggle for the entire arc to come can be set up — even though the romance and how that shapes them is the ultimate focus.

True to my Grey’s Anatomy roots and much to the chagrin of ethicists everywhere, infidelity is not a subject I shy away from, nor is spousal abandonment or other topics that are generally deemed to be unwelcome in romances, even if it ends in the requisite HEA. I like to bend and twist and see if something good can (or should) be made out of the bad. Think Addison cheating on Derek, Derek cheating on Addison, but Derek and Meredith moving on and getting married and having a beautiful family (before Derek got killed off… karma?). Addison did… something… but I stopped watching Private Practice because my DVR messed up the scheduling and I never got caught up again. Sorry!

(I feel compelled to say that I don’t *endorse* infidelity. Cheating is bad. Period. There are few black-and-white situations in the world, but the damage you do to someone else by making them feel like they aren’t good enough and strapping them with a lifetime of trust issues is inexcusable. And I spend quite a bit of time contemplating how this belief comes into play when I also believe that stories can shape us and influence our behavior and values and how to come to terms with some of the actions my characters take with the impressions that might be taken from them beyond my control. More on that another time, maybe….)

So, what is it I write? Women’s fiction would seem to fit, but as noted in a previous post, I prefer writing explicit sex scenes when sex scenes become necessary to the story. Drama? If there’s a way to categorize this in fiction — as in, if there are literary agents who take “drama” — please let me know, because I have yet to find it/any. Fiction? That feels way too broad and serious for the Festival of Smut and Feelings that I write. Romance? Kinda…. It’s not YA, because the characters are definitely not teenagers and they definitely have more sex than is typical in YA fiction (although BookTube assures me there are a few out there that pack it in out of nowhere). New Adult? This title is hotly contested and it remains to be seen whether it will be fairly accepted as a viable option, and without viability….

To Wrap It Up: How do you choose your genre? How do film and television influence your storytelling and the stories you like to tell? What level of importance do they play, and how does that measure up to the books you like to read and their influence? Who are your favorite writers in film, television, and literature, and why? Do you see their influence in your work, or do you wish it was there and strive for that?

P.S. I saw this gif when I was 15, and it hasn’t lost its charm for me. It was meant to express outrage at her, and my shipper heart certainly embraced the scorn. Personally, I now write by it – if you’re not making people feel something, you’re not creating characters they’re emotionally invested in. 

[bangtansadnyeondan-blog]

Roses

chapter one / chapter two / chapter three / chapter four / chapter five / chapter six / chapter seven / chapter eight / chapter nine / chapter ten / chapter eleven/ chapter twelve / chapter thirteen

genre: angstxfluff

pairing: yoongixjungkook

Chapter Five

Yoongi woke up the next day and gathered himself as well as he could for the meeting he was going to have in a bit more than an hour. He freshened up at his own pace, taking his time to make sure he looked professional. Decked up in his suit and tie, he seemed himself ready for the meeting which he was sure would drag on for hours. His body would probably want to give in as soon as possible after they were done with the meeting but Yoongi had promised himself, he thought as he heard Rose purr while drinking her milk, that he would meet Jungkook no matter how fatigued he was. He was his doctor and he had to have at least that much sense of responsibility, if he wanted his patient to trust him and eventually get better.

As he drove to the hospital, he mulled over the words that he would use, what could be the possible counter arguments and if he had enough facts and evidence to support his claims. Soon enough he found himself parking in front of the glass doors, realising that enough evidence or not, he was facing this meeting now. It was 7:15 AM, which meant he had only a quarter of an hour before his meeting and arriving early always did wonders but his feet took him directly to Jungkook's room, knocking on it before he could order his body to walk away.

Jungkook was sleeping peacefully as the door opened. The earphones still playing the same song as yesterday, the phone somehow survived that on the battery. Jungkook didn't notice Yoongi walking into his room. He was peacefully asleep.

Yoongi was glad he was the one who had entered, and not the nurses or the doctor in charge. Kneeling by Jungkook's bed, he gently pat his shoulder, trying to pull him away from his blissfully unconscious state.

"Jungkook-ah... Wake up, the doctors will be here soon..." He popped a earphone out, chuckling at the childlike expression Jungkook held. Jungkook rubbed his eyes as he looked right into Yoongi's eyes. Jungkook blinked a couple times.

"H-hyung?" Jungkook asked, he didn't expect Yoongi to walk in. He didn't take in exactly what Yoongi said.

"Y-yes," he mumbled as he stood up. Yoongi smiled and pulled away from him.

"The doctors will come in soon and you don't want them confiscating the phone or the earphones, right?" Yoongi gestured to the earphones that were still dangling from Jungkook's form.

"Anyways, I have my meeting now, so I'll take my leave but I just wanted to see you before I went in I guess," Yoongi chuckled at his own behaviour as he stood up.

"O-oh, y-yes," Jungkook mumbled as he hid the phone and earphones in the pocket of the sweater that they bought together yesterday. "G-good l-luck," he wished Yoongi who walked out chuckling. Jungkook sat down on the bed again. Sinking into his thoughts.

Yoongi left for his meeting, his spirits high. The management was really a bunch of old folks he gathered, as they nodded along to his demands, writing them down and signing it almost immediately by majority. And by the end of their four hour meeting, which with breaks had extended to five, Yoongi was told that his suggestions would be put to action by the next day and that they want only the best for the patients but the doctors never tell them anything and so they don't know anything. Yoongi smiled amiably and left the room.

Jungkook did cooperate respectfully with the doctor that gave him his medicines and checked his weight. He didn't gain a lot, which Jungkook didn't expect, but he gained 0.3KG in the two days he had eaten more than regular. The doctor smiled at him, she was a middle aged woman Jungkook hadn't met before, Doctor Jung. She went through the daily routine and left again, leaving Jungkook alone with his notebooks. Drawing roses and flowers. He ended up drawing Yoongi surrounded by roses. He didn't even notice it until he was finished. He smiled as he took his pencils. He carefully colored the shades of Yoongi's face a nude and the shaded sides of the roses red. He ended up drawing in the smaller corner a JJ, Jeon Jungkook.

Yoongi walked through the hallways, his step sluggish but his feet determined. He spoke to whoever he could about the changes and everyone seemed satisfied but he was still puzzled why no one had brought it up if the management was this obliging. He knocked on Jungkook's door again after half an hour of shuffling in the halls, entering Jungkook's room again after more than six hours and a lot of mental strain. He was tempted to go lie down on the bed but this was his patient's room. He was supposed to be professional, or he was expected to be so instead he just leaned against the wall.

"Jungkook, how was the day?" He asked quietly, clearly tired. Jungkook closed the page with the drawing as soon as Yoongi walked in. Jungkook looked at the elder who leaned in against the wall.

"G-good, h-how did y-yours g-go?" Jungkook smiled. He looked at the cover of his notebook.

Yoongi sighed deeply, letting a lazy smile grace his features, "the changes we want, especially the food, they're gonna work on it starting from tomorrow. I know a nutritionist so she will be coming in to help. I'll also contact a few NGOs with the painting and they've said okay to do whatever."

Jungkook smiled at Yoongi, "that's great." Jungkook opened the notebook, right on the page with the drawing of Yoongi. Jungkook cursed himself and flipped the pages hoping Yoongi didn't see it. But even though Jungkook knew that Yoongi paid attention to a lot of things.

"C-can I h-help with the p-paintings?" Jungkook asked to change the subject hoping that Yoongi wasn't going to talk about the drawing.

Yoongi pursed his lips and sighed deeply through his nose. "How do I know you're good enough? I mean yeah you love art but I gotta see for myself first, you know?" And keeping his eyes on Jungkook, he walks closer, plopping down on the bed right next to him.

"Y-you s-saw my d-drawings t-the f-first d-day," Jungkook stuttered nervously taking the pencil in his hands, his fingers shaking as he drew a  rose. The lines didn't turn out well, the shading was rushed and it turned out looking bad.

"You don't have to be nervous... It's just me. Oh by the way, speaking of roses, Rose is doing well by the way." Yoongi pulled out his phone, pulling up a picture of the cat he'd taken that morning, impressed by how clean she looked. He really just wanted Jungkook to relax again and he thought about this being the best way he could calm him down. Jungkook smiled as he saw the picture of Rose, She looked a lot better than yesterday, Jungkook hoped he could visit her soon.

"Y-yes, of c-course," Jungkook tried to put out a smile again as he turned the page of the drawing from Yoongi again. "T-this is w-what I d-drew t-today," He mumbled softly showing the drawing to Yoongi. Yoongi couldn't keep his smile off his face. He was sure he looked better in the drawing than he did in real life.

"Wow, this... Jungkook this is great. Were you worried I wouldn't like being drawn? Wow the roses... I'm... I'm tired so my vocabulary is not the best right now but this is great. Thank you Jungkook." It wasn't the first time one of his patients had drawn him but this was definitely the first time he was so drawn to his own face.

Jungkook turned red with Yoongi giving him those compliments. "T-thank you," he blushed as he looked at the drawing again. Jungkook smiled nervously while he felt hunger coming up in his stomach. He ignored it and looked at Yoongi again who looked at his drawing with admiration.

"D-do y-you really l-like it?" Jungkook asked with slight hesitation in his voice, he didn't fully believe Yoongi, what if he just said it to make him happy, he had that before, then to hear that person talking about how they didn't like Jungkook's drawings behind his back. Although he knew that when he asked that question, nobody would answer truthful.

"I mean what I say Jungkook and I want you to remember this. As your doctor and as your friend, I will never lie. Now whether you believe me or not is up to you but personally I think I look better in your drawing than I looked in the mirror this morning." Yoongi said and ruffled Jungkook's hair. Jungkook's eyes were wide, scared. Yoongi wished for Jungkook to relax more around him but he didn't suppose that would happen so quickly. Jungkook knew that. Yoongi had told him before. But still he couldn't trust nor believe it fully. He had enough people in his life who told him they wouldn't tell him lies, but all of them broke that promise.

"O-okay," Jungkook mumbled looking down again.

Yoongi smiled wistfully at Jungkook's response. "You don't believe me... I wonder what exactly your life was like before this... And I'm sorry it was the way it was. But I promise to make it better." Yoongi squeezed Jungkook's shoulder reassuringly.

"Y-you s-should g-go," Jungkook mumbled as he stood up. He didn't want to talk about this anymore. He stood up without a word, opened his medicine cupboard, took the daily afternoon medicines, hoping Yoongi would leave out of himself. He didn't. "P-please H-hyung," Jungkook begged so he didn't have to cry in front of Yoongi. He didn't want this.

Yoongi sat firm. If anything, Jungkook needed to talk about this and he was constantly cowering away from that. It had been a short while since they met but it has been quite a while since Jungkook was cooped up here.

"I'm not going anywhere Jungkook and neither are you. We're talking this one out." Yoongi took a breath and continued with a gentler tone, "Jungkook, I want to try and get you out of here and back into art school as soon as possible, okay? But if you're going to keep running away like this from your problems, it won't help. And you're not letting me help either, which is the sole purpose of me being in your life." Yoongi wondered if he sounded exasperated, and maybe almost desperate. It would be good if he did.

"I-I-I just n-not t-today," Jungkook stuttered as he looked at Yoongi, knowing that Yoongi wouldn't let it go. "W-we c-can d-do t-this tomorrow?" Jungkook asked Yoongi pushing out a smile, failing hardly. Jungkook walked to his bed again as he felt a tear rolling over his cheek. He fell on the bed his face into the pillow.

"Tomorrow then. Have you had your meals since morning? I still have a box of sandwiches, if you want." Yoongi said, reaching for his discarded bag on the floor. It wasn't the first time his patient had burst into tears and it wasn't going to be the last so why would he relent now when he had never relented before.

"I-I haven't," Jungkook mumbled as he looked up from the pillow, tears still on his face. "P-please, c-can I-I h-have o-one?" Jungkook asked.

"Please have all. I'm pretty sure you won't eat dinner either since it's not McDonald's. Or should I come back a few hours later? With more food?" Yoongi was back to his phone. It was only afternoon. He was tired but he could go home, sleep and since he was in charge of cooking for himself and Jimin today, he could very well cook for Jungkook as well, if he wanted it.

"P-please," Jungkook said as he looked at his hyung. Who cared so much about him even though Jungkook whined a lot and was probably annoying and not helpful for his own way out of the hospital.

"Okay then, I'll see you in a few hours then. Keep the box, I'll take it back with me after bringing dinner, okay?" Yoongi stood up and pocketed his phone. "Anything else before I leave?"

"N-no," Jungkook mumbled happy to have a moment for himself soon again. He waiting until Yoongi left with crying. A ton of tears streamed down his face as he tried to eat the sandwiches. Everything just took  short moment to flashback into his life. The moments with Taehyung, they way he left him for Jimin, Jungkook had always known he wasn't good enough, he wasn't even good enough for his parents.

Yoongi drove home in a stupor, not really registering much till he opened the door to his bedroom, finding Jimin and Rose curled up in his bed. Frowning slightly, he just made his way around the room and changed into a pair of comfortable sweatpants and a t-shirt before slipping under the covers next to his roommate and cat. He was surprised to see Jimin wasn't in his own bed but he guessed he must have felt lonely so he didn't prod his sleeping friend, deciding to sleep and follow Jimin's footsteps.

Jungkook sat in his room, tears on the floor and his sandwiches next to him. He didn't know what to do, he wanted Yoongi back, he shouldn't have let Yoongi leave. He could hit himself against the head when he took the phone out finding out that he could actually call phone numbers. Finding Yoongi's number, he called it.

Yoongi felt his phone buzz right next to Rose and not wanting to wake either of the two next to him up, he picked the call up and pressed it against his ear. "Hello?" He answered dubiously, his voice low and almost as loud as a whisper.

"Y-yoongi," Jungkook said, tears still in his eyes, his voice was broken. "I-I'm s-sorry," He whispered to the elder on the other side of the line. "I-I Don't know what h-happened to me," he continued as tears fell down his face again.

He gently pushed off Jimin's hand which was slowly latching onto his t-shirt as he watched his roommate's eyes open. Excusing himself, he went out to the living room, sitting on the couch before he could continue the conversation. "Hey, slow down... What are you sorry about?"

"S-Sending y-you away," Jungkook mumbled as he walked into his bathroom to look into the mirror. He walked back into the room and back into the bathroom, again and again.

"It's okay Jungkook, I was pushing you and you pushed back. There's nothing wrong you did. And I'm coming back, aren't I? I'm going to come back in the evening with your dinner." Yoongi said it all slowly, he could hear the shallow breaths Jungkook was taking in. "Jungkook, don't worry about it... Focus on your breathing please."

"I-I- J-J- H- T-This whole p-place just f-feels too s-small but I-I c-can't go t-to t-the r-rose garden," Jungkook mumbled as he tried to breath in and out slowly, not going successfully.

"Okay, Jungkook, can you sit down on your bed for me?" Yoongi prompted, ready to help Jungkook through this little panic attack he seemed to be having.

"Y-yes," Jungkook stuttered as he walked towards his bed.

"Good, that's a good start. Now, slowly breathe in and out. 3 seconds in and 5 seconds out."

"Y-yes," Jungkook took a breath in. 1, 2, 3. He counted in his head. Breath out. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. It went with shocking breaths. But as he repeated the breathing exercise it went better. Jungkook listened to Yoongi's breathing he heard through the phone which helped.

"Yes, you're doing well. Keep your eyes closed and try to match your breathing with mine, okay?" Yoongi prompted again, feeling Rose curl around his feet while the couch dipped with weight, which meant Jimin was also up and by his side. "Let's work through this together, Jungkook-ah."

"Y-yes," Jungkook said as he tried to breath at the same pace as Yoongi's breath through the phone. Yoongi could hear Jungkook's breathing gain a steady pace slowly, his ragged breaths evening out slowly.

"That's good, you're doing well." Yoongi splayed his arm across Jimin's chest who had decided to rest on Yoongi's lap and was slowly falling asleep as he too followed the breathing exercise. "Continue just like that. You better now?"

"A-a B-bit," Jungkook stuttered over the phone as he sat down in a cross-legged position on the bed. He straightened his back and continued to breath in and out slowly counting the seconds.

"I'm glad, let's keep going. After this do you think you can go to sleep? If not, you can go to the garden before the Rose garden if you want to..."

"Y-yes I d-don't know, I will t-try."

"Good good, that's enough. I'll be going to bed soon, do you want me to keep the phone on?" At times Yoongi found it easy pretending his friend was right there, just by hearing him breathe through the phone. He couldn't explicitly state it to Jungkook but he hoped it would help.

"Y-yes,' Jungkook said as he laid down on the bed, the phone next to his head as he rested in the pillow. Breathing in and out slowly on a calm pace. He fell asleep not long after, which wasn't strange considering he only slept for 3 hours that night. Yoongi looked down at Jimin who had curled up comfortably, his head still in his lap. He smiled softly and played with his hair, his phone still pressed to his ear to make sure Jungkook was asleep and wasn't having a tough time.

At one point Jungkook's breath changed. The pace got faster and irregular. "P-please, j-just l-let m-me," Jungkook mumbled in his sleep as he saw flashes of his memories in his dreams. Yoongi was tempted to call out for his patient when he heard his breathing get irregular again but he bit his lip and decided to listen to him a bit more.

Jungkook turned around in his bed. "Just let me jump Taehyung," Jungkook repeated the dialogue from his dreams out loud. "I don't deserve being here." He turned around in his bed again almost dropping the phone on the floor.

"Jungkook?" Yoongi's voice was loud and stern. He had heard enough for him to know it was time to stop.

Jungkook didn't wake up. "Taehyung let go of me," Jungkook continued in his dream. His breathing got faster by the second. Yoongi quickly hung up and called the same number again, hoping that at least the ringtone would wake Jungkook up from his nightmare. A soft tone broke Jungkook out of the biggest part of his dream. He moved his hand over the green button by accident in order to stop the sound. But still he could see Taehyung in front of him. Holding his hand as he was ready to jump from their apartment building.

"You don't want me, nobody wants me Taehyung, why am I here?" Jungkook mumbled.

"Jungkook?" Yoongi prodded still. It was really not possible for him to go over to the hospital, not when he had other things to do at home. Jungkook heard Yoongi's voice now clear. He woke up. Tears fell down his face onto the phone, into the microphone. You could hear the drops.

"P-please c-come s-soon," Jungkook begged his hyung on the other side of the phone line.

"I'll be there soon Jungkook, don't worry... Will you be okay with just takeout for dinner? I can come faster that way." Yoongi asked as he gently put Jimin back on the couch, watching him curl up again.

"Y-yes, j-just b-bring a-a l-lot, b-bring c-company, s-somebody w-we c-can p-play s-some g-games w-with," Jungkook cried through the phone as he realized he didn't want to talk about this. Not today. He didn't want to think about this moment ever again. He didn't want to confront this feeling ever again.

"Should I bring Jimin? Will you be okay with that?" Perhaps he shouldn't have asked that, not when Jimin and Jungkook's relationship had turned bitter because of the one person they had in common in the past. Jungkook thought about it, but he wanted to get over his past, and Jimin never did anything wrong to him. So he had to befriend Jimin. After all he was Yoongi's roommate.

"Y-yes," Jungkook said with hesitation.

"Okay, I'll bring him along then. We'll go to the lounge, alright?" Yoongi said as he woke Jimin up, signaling to him to dress up which he did reluctantly as he walked away from the living room.

"I-I'd r-rather s-stay i-in t-the g-garden, t-the g-grass f-field," Jungkook mumbled. He wanted to sit there. He put down the phone on his desk and pulled off his t-shirt, pulling on the sweater that Yoongi had given to him the first day and one of the sweatpants that Yoongi had bought for him. Everything he owned was from Yoongi so far. He couldn't keep it, he shouldn't depend on Yoongi this much. But for now he had to.

Yoongi stood up and putting his phone on speaker he kept it on his bed before heading off to his closet, he changed out of his sweatpants to his trusty pair of denim and put on a hoodie, knowing that he would be allowed in as the doctor as long his id matched.

Jungkook waited for the door to open. He had waited hours enough. This time couldn't pass that slow. He had waited one and a half year before a little more improvement came. He waited again.

Yoongi and Jimin were driving to the hospital now, after having made a pitstop at a Thai food place. After reaching, Yoongi had directed Jimin to the garden and promised to meet him again in fifteen minutes. In those fifteen minutes, he headed to Jungkook's room.

Jungkook looked up as he heard the door open. He tried to wipe away the leftover tears in his eyes, which didn't help. His eyes were still red and his voice was still broken and stuttering. He couldn't forget the memories he saw in his dream today.

"I-I'm s-sorry f-for c-causing t-trouble," Jungkook mumbled, adding in a short comment, "again."

"You're not trouble Jungkook, not to me at least, okay? If I thought I was being burdened, I'd tell you." Yoongi told him shrugging nonchalantly. "Let's act like you look and sound fine and go out in the garden, okay? We brought blankets too so we can sit on them."

"Y-yes," Jungkook said as he stood up. Putting the hood of his hoodie over his head. Walking out of the room into the hallways. Walking to the gardens in a fast pace.

Yoongi smiled at the patients who looked at his new attire with interest. He dismissed the nurses and met Jimin and Jungkook outside. Jimin was waving Jungkook over with his usual smile on his face. If he had seen the tear streaks on Jungkook's face, he didn't let it show on his expressions and Yoongi was glad.

"Feels like a little family picnic, doesn't it? You're the grandfather and we're your grandsons." Jimin commented with a shit eating grin as Yoongi approached them.

"I-I'm the weird cousin," Jungkook mumbled joking, trying hard not to stutter. "Y-you two a-are more familiar w-with each other," Jungkook added after the first comment while he looked at the food. He wanted to lay down against something. The first thing there was Yoongi. But he couldn't do that. But his body didn't want to sit straight up. There wasn't enough energy left.

"Whether you're a cousin or not still makes you a grandson to Yoongi~ by the way, Rose looks good, did hyung show you? You should come home soon. You know, leave this place completely." Jimin said as he started to lay the food out for all of them.

"Come home?" Yoongi asked as he watched Jimin do what he did best, organise.

"Yeah, he can come sleep in my room. Your room is too clean anyways." Jimin said shrugging as he put plates in front of the two boys putting one in front of himself.

"I don't think you thought so when you slept in my bed Minnie, did you?" Yoongi teased as he distributed the chopsticks.

Jungkook smiled genuinely at the two roommates talking about their rooms. "I-if Yoongi h-helps me I think I-I'll g-get out s-soon enough," Jungkook mumbled with a smile taking one of the plates filling it with food he wanted to eat.

"And I'm going to do my best to," Yoongi added. "Yeah but I hope you do it soon enough. I don't wanna be alone." Yoongi discreetly pinched Jimin to shut him up when he mentioned that, hoping Jungkook wouldn't want to know more.

"A-alone?" Jungkook asked.

Jimin swallowed the piece of kimchi he had decided to chew on after his comment before explaining himself, "Y-yeah... Yoongi goes off a lot for seminars and such. He gives guest lectures and at times also randomly flies away to Seoul. To meet his parents."

Yoongi nodded along slowly, "well, work is work. But yeah, Jungkook, if you make it out quickly then you can stay with us. We have more than enough room, you've seen already."

"O-okay," Jungkook said nodding slowly as he took a bite from his food. He slowly chewed the food and swallowed it.

"So what was your experience before Yoongi like, Jungkook?" Jimin softly asked, leaning against Yoongi as he ate.

"A-a L-loop of t-twenty four hours," Jungkook mumbled into his food as he took another bite.

"and now?" Jimin asked, leaning towards Jungkook with interest, nudging Yoongi unnoticeably. Yoongi rolled his eyes at Jimin and continued to eat.

"I-it's o-only b-been t-three days," Jungkook mumbled looking up, straight into Jimin's eyes. He looked away immediately into his food again taking a big bite.

"Whoa your eyes are pretty Jungkook." Jimin commented as he pulled back to sit comfortably again. "You answered smartly Jungkook, thank you," Yoongi mumbled appreciatively.

"H-huh?" Jungkook replied to Yoongi turning fully red as he looked up and turned back into his food again filling his mouth so he didn't have to answer questions.

"Nothing, just know you helped me escape Jimin." Yoongi said smiling as he went back to his food. Jungkook nodded with his mouth full of food chewing slowly. Yoongi laughed quietly at Jungkook's face.

"You can eat slowly, you know? We can always get more food for you." Yoongi pointed out as Jimin giggled, muttering a 'cute' under his breath. Jungkook nodded again. He just didn't want to talk a lot. He tried to smile, but that ended up him dropping his food over the blanket.

Yoongi pat his back. "Eat slowly Jungkook, it's alright. We're right here. Chew slowly and swallow, okay?"

"Y-yes," Jungkook said as he looked at Jimin who just smiled. Jungkook had to give in that Jimin was pretty. He swallowed the food and looked at Yoongi. Yoongi was chewing on his food when he felt Jungkook's stare.

"You don't sleep well, do you Jungkook?" Yoongi asked after swallowing.

"N-not r-really," Jungkook mumbled as he laid his head onto Yoongi's shoulder.

Yoongi nodded slowly as he continued to eat slowly. "What do you think would make you sleep better...?" He asked as he thought of possible solutions to his sleeplessness.

Somebody who loved me, You. Jungkook thought to himself as he looked down. "I don't know." He said in replace of his thought.

"Not even the music helped yesterday?" Yoongi asked softly, laying his cheek on Jungkook's head.

"A bit," Jungkook mumbled. The music reminded Jungkook of Yoongi. Yoongi was Jungkook's happy thoughts lately. But he couldn't say that, Yoongi would have to leave.

"Don't forget to put the phone on charge," Yoongi warned as he remembered how long they had stayed on phone earlier today. "Then I guess continue with the music now. And of course, you can draw now too. Oh, Jimin, you know, one day you'll probably have to manage Jungkook's art exhibition. He draws so fucking well. He sketched my face and I looked so much better? You would be surprised." Yoongi said proudly.

Jimin laughed lightly, "it's not easy to make you look good. I'm sure Jungkook is really good though, I have been told that a lot actually."

"I'm not that good," Jungkook mumbled as he looked at Yoongi

"With time you will be. When you come out you'll join that art school right? Or maybe another? You'll do great Jungkook, I think so at least." Jimin said with a genuine smile.

"He can recognise talents now that he's worked with them for a few years," Yoongi said, agreeing with Jimin. "You are really good and you'll only get better now right?" Yoongi said, putting his hand on Jungkook's cheek to pull his head back on his shoulder.

"Probably," Jungkook mumbled as he smiled to Yoongi and Jimin.

Jimin cheered before he pulled out cans of soft drinks. "Alcohol is illegal here so let's celebrate with this instead~" Jimin said as he popped his can open.

"Celebrate what?" Yoongi asked puzzled.

"Jungkook getting better! It's a bit early, but it's never too early to celebrate~" Jimin added as he proceeded to sip at his drink.

"I-I haven't improved a lot," Jungkook mumbled softly as he sipped the drink.

Yoongi resisted his urge to shrug. "It's because we've not delved deeper to problems we should be discussing but we'll get there soon. I'm sure of it Jungkook,'' he gently reassured him reaching out to pat his thigh.

"O-okay," Jungkook mumbled as he smiled, laying his head back on Yoongi's shoulder. "When will we do that?" Jungkook wondered out loud.

'When you let me,' thought Yoongi as he remembered earlier but he replied instead with, "Tomorrow. We agreed on that, didn't we?" He felt the curious gaze of Jimin's and he knew he was caught by his roommate.

"O-oh y-yes," Jungkook said with a smile towards Yoongi. Jungkook put his head down on Yoongi's lap. Yoongi smiled down at Jungkook and let his hand thread through Jungkook's hair as he set his food aside.

"You'll fall asleep if you let Yoongi stroke your hair Jungkook. It never fails," Jimin said from his spot, leaning forward to feed Yoongi, his hand extending towards his roommate.

"Mhmpf," Jungkook brought out into Yoongi's shirt. He relaxed his muscles as he slowly felt himself getting more sleepy. He already was tired, but now with Yoongi playing with his hair it got worse. He didn't notice it but he fell asleep. His breath in a calm pace as he peacefully slept on the blanket in the garden of the hospital. Yoongi smiled at how easily Jungkook slept on his lap. It was almost like he never had trouble falling asleep.

"I wonder if you can do this every night?" Jimin asked softly as he shifted so he could look at Jungkook's sleeping face, cooing at it.

"Isn't that a bit too much?" Yoongi asked, looking at his friend.

"I don't know~" Jimin said before he fed Yoongi again. A drop of the sauce fell on Jungkook's forehead as he rubbed the sauce away, going back into his unconscious state. Yoongi giggled and decided he had had enough and asked Jimin to clean up. He rubbed the sauce off of Jungkook's forehead and gently shook him awake.

"Let's go back to your room. You can't stay out here all night. You can sleep on my lap again once we get there, hmm? We'll get Jimin to clean up here."

"Mhm please," Jungkook mumbled still half asleep. He got pulled up by Yoongi's arm as he was a little dizzy on his feet, almost falling on the ground. He woke up that moment. Still tired. Jungkook and Yoongi walked through the white halls and arriving back at the familiar door again. They walked in and Jungkook immediately sat down on the bed hoping he could lie down on Yoongi's lap again. Yoongi took his shoes off, sitting against the wall, close to where his pillow lay so when he had to leave he could transfer Jungkook's head to the pillow from his lap.

"Come lie down Jungkook-ah..." Yoongi said as he saw Jungkook's head droop with tiredness. Jungkook laid his head in Yoongi's lap and forgot about everything around him as Yoongi started to play with Jungkook's hair. He forgot about the bad things that happened today and a long time ago. Just for a moment, he was genuinely happy, lying there with his head in Yoongi's lap.

Yoongi leaned against the headboard and smiled at the boy whose face looked like that of a child's as he slept. He kept playing with his hair and realised that within these three days, Jungkook seemed to have made a lot of progress with him looking much neater, which was a blatant sign of depression.

Jungkook shut his eyes as he calmed down his breath and smiled a bit feeling Yoongi's hands through his hair. Jungkook's breathing slowed down again and again he fell asleep on Yoongi's lap. Protected from all bad things that were there when he was awake.

Yoongi raked his hands through his hair, smiling at his patient? He wasn't even sure anymore. He didn't know what he considered Jungkook to be but that didn't really matter to him. All that matters to him was Jungkook's well-being and if that meant he'd have to put him to sleep, he would do it. His fingers slipped down from his hair, skimming along the lines of his face, his eyebrows frowning slightly when he saw his unhealthy skin tone.

Yoongi hoped Jungkook would somehow get better soon so he could leave the city in peace, leaving Jungkook with Jimin. He put Jungkook's head on the pillow and shifted so he was sitting by the edge of the bed. When he realised Jungkook was indeed deep in sleep, he left the room, having plugged in the phone for charging (they had a hidden point in case the doctors needed it for anything) and called his phone from the phone with Jungkook, so he could hear Jungkook in case he woke up or had a nightmare again. It was just like taking care of a baby, Yoongi mused to himself before excusing himself from the room. He once again told the nurses his patient was asleep, meaning they didn't need to check on him.

He was greeted by a smiling Jimin waiting inside his car. "Are you attached to Jungkook already?" He asked, his tone slightly amused.

"What makes you think so?" Yoongi asked, incredulous.

"Nothing, I think I saw something that tells me that. But don't mind me." Jimin quipped before facing forward again. Yoongi sighed and drove back silently, finding himself in the company of the cat they had picked up. He swiftly changed back and went to bed, his phone beside him, the call still ongoing.