#Apparently Year of the Dragon is always a leap year

[toasts-httyd-hyperfixation]

YALL ITS GONNA BE HIS FUCKING YEAR

[tobiasdrake]

Haven't had a chance to talk much about the Ginyus yet, so here we go. Talking about the Ginyu Tokusentai/Ginyu Force/Dairy Special Forces requires putting them into context with the greater Dragon Ball universe around them.

Something that has always been incredibly limiting for Dragon Ball's worldbuilding is that, despite much of the brand being about presenting Goku with new ladders to climb, Goku doesn't climb ladders. He leaps from ladder-top to ladder-top.

What this means is, Toriyama had a tendency to be hyperbolic with the challenges Goku was presented. Toriyama doesn't pit Goku against powerful foes. He pits Goku against the most powerful foe, then has to sit back and figure out another arena for Goku to go fight the champion of.

This creates issues of perspective. We don't get to see a lot of development of the worlds Toriyama creates because Goku only shows up to fight the Very Most Powerful Guy and then leaves. And this also means we don't get to see what being the Very Most Powerful Guy means relative to people who are not.

If you followed Dragon Ball Super, you might have noticed that issue with the Tournament of Power. The way the story leaps straight from "Multiple universes exist" to "Goku vs. The Strongest in Universe 6" and then to "Goku vs. The Strongest Guy in the MULTIVERSE!" without even stopping to breathe.

What is that universe even about? Who knows? But this guy sure is their STRONGEST GUY. And that's something that's been with Dragon Ball... honestly, since all the way back at the 21st Tenkaichi Budokai when his second arc adversary was the Earth's legendary ultimate martial arts master.

The whole concept of aliens enters the Dragon Ball universe by way of Raditz introducing the Strongest Alien Race in the Universe.

Shortly after that, Goku is fighting the Strongest Saiyan, who is technically referred to as Strongest in the Universe... right up until a retcon introduces the Planet Trade Organization and Goku fights Frieza, the Actual Strongest in the Universe For Realsies.

So. Yeah. It's hard to get a sense of perspective for how powerful our guys are when they leave Earth because they only ever brush elbows with outlier titans.

But to give some idea, we already know that Earthlings are considered to be a pretty weak species.

Raditz's arrival retroactively explains Goku's destructive Oozaru transformations. This thing?

This is the Doom of the Earth. The planet-killer meant to exterminate every last human being on this planet. Boy, sure would be fun to be in the ring with that, huh?

It's also clearly touching down outside of the ring so I don't know why this wasn't a ringout. Since when is the waiting room's rooftop considered part of the stage? But I digress.

When Goku was three years old, his Oozaru was measured to be sufficient to slaughter this world. That is how weak Earth is on the scale. By contrast, Namek is considered to be one of the more powerful worlds. Vegeta describes Namekian fighters as "extraordinary".

That's something we get to see for ourselves, when Extraordinary Namekian Fighters happen to Frieza Force soldiers like a typhoon.

This is what's considered extraordinary on a standard galactic scale. These are three warriors from one of the stronger races in the universe tearing apart soldiers whose job is to exterminate races. Once they start fighting, Dodoria reads their battle powers as 3,000.

For comparison, Raditz was said to be equivalent to a Saibaman at 1,200. We never got a read on Nappa but he found the idea of Kakarot being at 5,000 unbelievable enough to go into denial, and he shit himself over 8,000.

So, with that in mind, we can understand that these nameless Namekian nobodies are pretty fucking tough, well within the realm of Saiyan ability. They're also familiar with advanced martial arts concepts like ki suppression that the Planet Trade doesn't understand.

There's probably a reason why, despite Namek apparently being well known to the Planet Trade, nobody's seen fit to gentrify this one yet. This is a fight Frieza's more elite forces can win, to be sure. But also, there are easier pickings to be had.

And then we have the Saiyans, said to be the most powerful race in the universe. Raditz, a loser scrub who doesn't know a thing about martial arts, is able to thoroughly humiliate Goku and Piccolo in terms of sheer stats, even after Goku's been trained by Popo.

This guy is the Saiyan equivalent of Appule. Goku's been personally trained by God's right-hand attendant, and Piccolo is the reincarnation of God's evil counterpart; These are not humans of this planet, but two guys who demonstrated five years ago that they're in a realm beyond the humans.

And this loser is still doing this to them. This is what a low-rate Saiyan looks like.

And this is what a Saiyan elite looks like:

Like I said, we're never given an official reading on Nappa but he found 5,000 BP to be ridiculous for Goku to have and 8,000 to be unthinkably terrifying. The Daizenshuu pegs him at 4,000, but they also peg Piccolo at 3,500 which would mean Piccolo and Nappa are closely matched.

I don't know about you but I don't see it. But that may just be me.

In any case, this gives us a general understanding of how powerful the races of the universe are. Earthlings weak. Namekians strong. Saiyans strongest. And then there's outliers.

Throughout the universe, there are... mutants. On rare occasions, an individual is born to a race who have vastly, unbelievably, ridiculously, stupidly tremendous ki.

The Planet Trade employs these mutants for their upper staff. Zarbon and Dodoria are mutants, as are the Ginyus and even Frieza himself. Especially Frieza. The reason we've never gotten elaboration on Frieza's race is because Toriyama didn't want Frieza's traits to be taken as indicative of a whole people.

According to interview, Cold was born with abnormally high power and cruelty for his race, and these traits were passed down to his son Frieza. Whatever species they came from, it is nothing like them.

They're not the only ones. The Planet Trade collects and employs these uniquely ultra-powerful mutants for its elite forces. The Saiyans are the strongest race in the universe, but these mutants are the strongest individuals in the universe.

To grasp how powerful these guys are relative to the rest of the universe, we need to talk Saiyans again for a moment. Raditz? Raditz was the yardstick for what the bottom-tier of Saiyans was. He made Earthlings look like trash, but he would have been eaten alive by those unnamed Namekian warriors.

However, a Saiyan's true strength lies in the Oozaru. Goku as an Oozaru was meant to be able to reduce the standing population of the Earth to 0. Raditz, as an Oozaru? Would still have gotten his teeth kicked in by Vegeta, the Saiyan super-elite. He is so ridiculous, he could win a straight fight with the planet-killing Oozaru.

...I mean, not after being beaten within an inch of his life and taking a Genki-Dama to the face, he can't. But if Vegeta were still at the top of his game, this would be a very different fight.

Meanwhile, the Ginyu Force.

So. Yeah. By the time we get to them, we are far beyond the ordinary limits of the universe. Saiyans are the strongest race, and Vegeta's pressing up against the limit of Saiyan ability. He's one Zenkai away from breaking through the Saiyan ceiling. Goku already has.

And these mutants they're up against are the most powerful freak aberrations of unexplained super-ki ever to have occurred anywhere in space.

IIRC it's never directly stated but for reference, Broly would probably be considered a mutant. Whether he is or isn't, he makes as a pretty solid equivalence. These guys are to their respective races what Broly is to Saiyans. What Uub is to humans.

This is all vital context for understanding the way the Ginyu Force fights.

Because.

Like.

You need to understand.

These guys suck.

On purpose.

From a technical standpoint, they're not good fighters. They're sloppy. Poorly trained around big showy moves that are meant to look cool. Style over substance.

This is because they can get away with it. They are the most powerful beings in the universe; Powerful on a scale that is an order of magnitude beyond everybody else that exists. Even the Saiyans look like shit next to these mutants.

Saiyan super-elite hits Recoome with everything he's got right in the face at point-blank range.

And the mutant takes it like a fucking champ. Vegeta's about to be killed by a man who keeps pausing to do this.

The Ginyu Force is badly trained on purpose. Which isn't to say that they're trained to lose fights, but rather that they aren't trained to compete with an equivalent rival. They can afford a martial style focused entirely on showmanship because there is no competition for them. They're too powerful to ever lose fights. Nobody else in the known universe even compares to their mutant might.

Which, as previously noted, is something Frieza is also afflicted by, in different ways. There is no reason for the Ginyus to hone their skills the way the Earthlings do because. Like. Who's going to challenge them? They're naturally born into being top of the field by a wide margin. They're going to auto-win every fight they ever involve themselves in, so their idea of self-improvement is centered instead on looking as cool as possible while they do it.

This is precisely what the Muten-Roshi worked so hard to prevent Goku from becoming.

Something else I mentioned before is that Trunks demonstrates his serious goal-oriented nature by never naming any of his techniques. He has some distinct and identifiable moves, but none of them have a formal name that he shouts out when firing them. He's here to get the job done, not to show off.

The Ginyus are in the opposite boat. They know they can't lose fights, so they are absolutely, 100% here to show off. They name the shit out of their techniques.

Flying knee? Nah, bro. That is a Recoome Kick.

Running in and throwing a punch? Nuh-uh. Recoome Mach Attack.

Lobbing a ki blast at the opponent? Crusher Ball.

These basic attacks are given huge, flashy names. And, I need to specify, they're English names. Moves like the Kamehameha or Taiyoken or Sokidan or Makankosappo also have names but they tend to be Japanese names with descriptive meanings.

Turtle Destruction Wave, signature move of the Turtle School of martial arts.

Fist of the Sun, an intense blinding art.

Winding Ki Bullet, a remote-operated bullet of ki that Yamcha can manipulate how he likes.

Demon Piercing and Killing Light Gun, a Mazoku technique that pierces and kills.

This is not the same thing. These guys are screaming exotic English words to look cool while throwing hands. "RECOOME KICK!!!" Recoome screams in English as he throws a kick.

There is only one other character in Dragon Ball who fights like this.

That's right. Recoome Kick is the same kind of thing as Satan Miracle Special Ultra Super Megaton Punch. All shouted in English as well. The Ginyu Force is what Mr. Satan would be if he was as formidable as the world believes he is.

They're showmen, even moreso than the Earthling martial artists who were born for a tournament stage. Hell, some of Recoome's moves are inspired by pro wrestling.

They are the ultimate demonstration, both of the unquestionable might of the Planet Trade's human resources, and of the absolute waste that is the Planet Trade's capitalist philosophy towards martial arts. The PTO doesn't train warriors; They scout the strongest guys their money can buy and give them marching orders of "Get 'em." Their super-elites are no exception.

Except the Captain.

Much like Vegeta was with Nappa, Ginyu is the only one who gets it. He sees Goku's reading and immediately assesses that Goku's suppressing his ki. Ginyu knows his shit. He's just never drilled this kind of information into his soldiers, opting instead for cool-looking battle poses.

It makes sense that he understands ki suppression. He's Frieza's highest-ranking officer, and Frieza is the universe's unparalleled master at ki suppression. The lengths Frieza has gone to for the sake of suppressing ki....

But he hasn't taught it to his men. They're learning flashy modeling poses instead of martial arts.

I guess I can see the logic. Powerful as they are, why would it matter? Those three extraordinary warriors earlier were also suppressing their ki, but a range of 1k to haha actually 3k doesn't mean shit to the Ginyu Force. If nobody's true strength can match them then why waste time on tactical study?

But unlike his soldiers, Ginyu himself has the spirit of a martial artist. He doesn't waste time on battle poses or scream "GINYU FLYING PUNCH" in English when he throws a punch or do elaborate two-minute windups for his signature moves.

He's even pretty good at reading people. Ginyu lowballs Goku at 60k before the fight, but reassesses after he's traded blows with Goku a few times and estimates 85k instead.

Goku's official non-suppressed Battle Power at this point in time is 90k. So 85k is a pretty fucking good estimate for a guy who can't sense ki. Ginyu knows his shit. He's as reliant on tech as the rest of the PTO but he's experienced enough to have a strong understanding of what various levels fight like.

This is especially impressive when you remember that he's never fought someone at 90k before. Remember, further up, when he first judged Goku as 60k? He was getting excited about his lowball 60k estimate and saying he's never had a chance like this before.

If he's never fought 60k, he's certainly never fought 85k. He just. Knows enough about how lower levels fight that he can apply that knowledge and extrapolate to higher levels. It's an impressive estimation that demonstrates his experience. Ginyu isn't just the second-most powerful guy in the Planet Trade. He's the best martial artist in the Planet Trade, bar none.

He's also got a... theoretically cool ultimate technique that utterly sucks in practice: Body Change.

He may be the best martial artist in the Planet Trade but he's got nothing on martial arts master and analytical counter-fighter Son Goku. It takes Goku no time at all to realize that Ginyu's technique sucks. He doesn't know how to fight with Goku's ki.

Ginyu-Goku thinks this body will give him 180k BP because that's what he read on the Scouter when Goku used the Kaio-ken. But not only does Ginyu not know how to perform Kaio-ken, he doesn't even know how to use Goku's ki at all. It's not his. It doesn't work the same way. In Goku's body, Ginyu's reduced to a distressing 23k BP when Jeice reads him.

He's not just failing to put out Kaio-ken power. He's getting his teeth kicked in by Krillin. It's embarrassing.

I've heard the theory go around that Ginyu started out weak and worked his way up via Body Changing anyone that was ever stronger than him, but I'm not convinced that's the case. Because this right here? This seems like a critical flaw. It's hard to believe he'd be entirely ignorant of this drawback if he's ever seriously used this technique before.

Ginyu being incompatible with a Body Changed host's ki doesn't seem like something an experienced Body Changer would need Goku to explain to him. In practice, the hypothetically awesome technique is bad for reasons Ginyu wasn't able to foresee, not unlike when Tenshinhan brought Shishin no Ken/Multiform to the 23rd Tenkaichi Budokai. Or Goku's first time attempting Super Saiyan 3 in a living body. Cool in theory but a massive fucking oversight costs him the entire fight.

This seems more likely to be something Ginyu, the only real martial artist in his crew, developed in his own time and showed off to his men. Something he's never actually stress tested, that he's been sitting on and waiting for an opportunity to use in the field.

Whatever the case, it pins an unexpected and interesting capstone on the Ginyu Force. They're a group of clowns who can get away with clownishness because they were born into unparalleled privilege. And they're led by a shockingly well-educated and capable martial artist who's never worked the kinks out of his ultimate technique for lack of adequate competition in a universe that could rarely hope to ever challenge even his weakest man.

[elizmanderson]

queerness in The Remarkable Retirement of Edna Fisher

book description

when you’re an old woman armed with nothing but gumption and knitting needles, stopping a sorcerer from wiping out an entire dragon-fighting organization is a tall order. no one understands why 83-year-old Edna Fisher is the Chosen One, destined to save the Knights from a dragon-riding sorcerer bent on their destruction. after all, Edna has never handled a magical weapon, faced down a dragon, or cast a spell. and everyone knows the Council of Wizards always chooses a teenager—like the vengeful girl ready to snatch Edna’s destiny from under her nose.

still, Edna leaps at the chance to leave the nursing home. with a son long dead in the Knights’ service, she’s determined to save dragon-fighters like him & ensure other mothers don’t suffer the same loss she did. but as Edna learns about the abuse in the ranks & the sorcerer’s history, she questions if it’s really the sorcerer that needs stopping—or the Knights she’s trying to save.

find it here

okay let's talk about queerness in this book

did a thread on twitter in which I said "cishet" five hundred thousand times so will probably get banned lmao but anyway I wanted to share it here too

especially since it's late in Pride Month and I have yet to post anything anywhere about it BEING Pride Month and me being queer and my books being queer, bc I've been burnt out af. so what energy I've had has gone toward planning and writing

anyway

I say "queerness in" rather than "queer characters in" because I want to talk about queerness in the book more broadly, not least bc I'm a queer creator & this is a queer book, but I've had a lot of impostor syndrome about both those things.

I figured out I was queer later in life & am a woman-presenting person w/a male-presenting partner. I've questioned my gender & sexuality repeatedly & ID'd differently over time, which is why I like "queer." I don't have to re-explain myself a dozen times. I'm queer. that's that.

but having figured out my queerness later, and having a relationship that presents as cishet, it took a long time for me to overcome feelings of ~not being queer enough~ (and sometimes I still struggle with them).

similarly, my MC is an apparently* cishet woman, unlike the MCs of many books that appear on queer book lists at this time of year. just like I took a long time to start really engaging with my community bc I worried I wasn't ~queer enough,~ for a long time, I didn't call this a queer book bc I worried it wasn't ~queer enough~. if people asked if the book was queer, I'd reply with a laundry list of explicitly queer characters rather than saying yes

fuck that though lmao. this is a queer book. let me count the ways

1. found family

as found family is so important to many queer people - by connecting us to our community, by welcoming us when bio family casts us off - found family is central to REMARKABLE RETIREMENT. while there are queer romantic arcs, the found family is the most important relationship in the book.

2. queer labels

some characters get explicit labels. Benjamin is gay. Clem is ace. queer labels are important bc they give us the ability to describe our identities and experiences! however...

3. undefined queerness

while labels are important, queerness isn't about fitting into new boxes. it's about smashing the boxes apart.

even if characters don't have specific labels applied on-page, they're queer. they don't need to claim a specific label for that to be true.*

*caveat that some media avoids using labels to pander to queer audiences w/implied queerness without ~alienating~ cishets by stating "this character is Not Cishet"**

that's not what I mean

I mean e.g. in OFMD queerness is inherent even if WORDS like queer/ace/etc aren't used. OMitB is another example (specifically Mabel) and Good Omens is yet another.

**caveat to my caveat that some media is queer-coded & avoids queer labels rather than being explicitly queer because network execs or whoever won't allow explicit queerness.

this is not the fault of the creators. sometimes it can be hard to tell the difference.

but anyway.

in REMARKABLE RETIREMENT, several queer characters are queer without using specific labels.

in some cases this is bc it doesn't come up or isn't important to them to express in the moment. like Clem is bi, but she's not worried about being bi. she's worried about being ace, because she's still kind of questioning that about herself, and she's worried it might cause problems down the road if her crush is >:[ about her not wanting to have sex. so she uses the word "ace" to describe herself in this scene but not "bi," even though she's both.

in other cases it's bc they don't have the language. Kiernan's sense of attraction and desire is described in a way that seems graysexual or demisexual (or both), and Red's sense of desire is described in a way that seems ace-spec, but neither of them use those terms, because neither of them know those terms. despite the lack of terminology, many ace readers have identified multiple ace characters based on description or experience. the lack of a specific label doesn't make those characters less queer.

similarly, some characters have not yet had this realization about themselves. which leads us to...

4. questioning

okay, back to my first asterisk of the post.

Edna is by all appearances an old cishet woman.

for most of the story, that's how she seems. that's what SHE thinks, even. she's a cishet old grandma adopting every queer young person she can find.

BUT THEN

Clem explains aceness to her

and Edna has a brief crisis bc wait a minute this sounds like her??

ultimately, Edna has too much to worry about right now to spend time questioning whether, at the age of 83, she might be somewhere on the ace spectrum

so it doesn't come up again

but that moment of crisis is THERE, & that too is queer

5. queernormativity*

I write queernorm worlds, largely bc I viscerally hate coming out lmao

it doesn't mean everyone's a queer scholar

like Clem has to explain "ace" to Edna, bc Edna thinks blankly of a deck of cards & doesn't understand what that has to do with sex

but it DOES mean queer folks get to just be and do

*caveat that this is not remotely to imply that a story is less queer if its world ISN'T queernorm

it's just a way in which MY story is queer

6. all the queer characters

not gonna do a list (even though my original idea for Pride Month when I was young and optimistic and thought I'd have energy to do it way back when was a list of queer characters), but virtually every character in this book is queer in one way or another

on twitter this is where I ended because 6 seemed like a good number for Pride since June is the sixth month, but tumblr gets a bonus

7. the author is queer

happy pride, buy my queer book

[duhragonball]

Dragon Ball Super 115

Tonight’s Episode: Kefla Whoops Goku’s ass!

Last time, Goku had defeated Caulifla and Kale, but they had a secret weapon up their sleeves!  Well, I think Caulifla was keeping hers in her belt/sash thing, really.  Turns out Champa gave them Potara Earrings before the tournament started, with instructions to put them on late in the tournament.  So now we’ve got Kefla, and if she’s anything like Vegito, then Goku is in deep trouble.

Kefla’s only real weakness seems to be that it takes her a bit to get used to how overwhelmingly powerful she is.  When she leaps at Goku, she overshoots him, for instance.  But it doesn’t take her long to get used to her body.  Come to think of it, Vegito had a similar period of adjustment. 

Although... when Vegito returned in Episode 66, he was ready to rock right out of the gate.  I guess that only makes sense, seeing as it was the second time Goku and Vegeta fused.  Still, it’s kind of weird to think about how Vegito remembers being two different guys, then being Vegito, then separating again, then being Vegito again after a number of years.  I guess it’s no different from all the times Gotenks has shown up, but I’m used to thinking of Gotenks as a temporary thing.  Vegito is too, apparently, but I still think of him as this one-and-for-all deal that just happened to cancel out. 

Anyway, Kefla’s putting the boots to Goku, and she’s only in base form. 

What’s she doing--?  AW SHIT!  IT’S THE GIANT SWING!

Okay, so she does have the hair tie from Kale.  I’ve seen fan artists draw Kefla with her hair “down” and I never understood what they were getting that from.  Anyway, the audience is counting the swings.  Goku’s dizzy as hell right now! 

Arrgh! The centrifugal force!  Chris Jericho tapped out to this once.  But Goku won’t because he’s not fighting Cell this time he knows Universe 7 is counting on him!

She just keeps swinging his ass!   While we’re waiting, here’s KISS with the hit song, “She”. 

Meanwhile, Beerus complains about the use of Potara being illegal.  Champa doesn’t see the problem, and the Grand Zenos think it’s cool, so that makes it legal. 

So Beerus demands to use Potara earrings himself, and mugs Shin. Whis points out that there’s a risk to this.  If Androids 17 and 18 fuse, for example, they might get an incredible warrior out of it (Shin calls this “Android 35″).  However, if that fused fighter makes a mistake and gets eliminated, then they lose two fighters in one stroke. 

Meanwhile, Vegeta is still fighting Top, and he keeps getting distracted by how powerful Kefla is.  Top offers to eliminate him so he can watch the action from the bench, and then he puts the squeeeeeeeeze on Vegeta, which is nice, because it’s always fun to see him get worked over.

Meanwhile... yuck!  Gohan and Piccolo are fighting U6′s Namekians, and Pilina does the long-arm bit, and Gohan just stomps right through it!  That’s messed up!

I mean, he can grow it back, of course.  They’re just like the U7 Namekians.  Really, the only awkward thing is that Pilina wears gloves, which means he has to go find his severed arm and get the glove.  Well, maybe he Clothes Beamed himself a new glove.  All we really see is him putting it on. 

Meanwhile, while Universes 3, 4, 7, and 11 aren’t interested in exploiting fusion, Universe 2 decides to give it a shot, and Helles tosses Potara earrings to Zarbuto and Rabanra.  Things immediately look bad when Zarbuto can’t get his on because he’s too dumb to remove his helmet. 

Then Kefla charges through them while fighting Goku, and the Potara are shattered.  Easy come, easy go, Helles concludes.

Meanwhile, 18 has an owie, and Catopesra shows up to capitalize.

But 17 shows up to bail her out.  Aww...

Meanwhile, Goku finally manages to reach Super Saiyan Blue.  As before, this is probably something he wasn’t quite ready to try yet.  Remember, Jiren kicked Goku’s ass in Episode 110 and he’s been fighting Caulifla and Kale to try to get back in the groove as he recovers. So he’s not just sandbagging in lower forms to drag this fight out.  He probably couldn’t turn Blue until somewhere around this moment. 

But Kefla turns Super Saiyan, so Goku’s probably still at a disadvantage here.  That’s the power of fusion.  Speaking of fusion, the dub keeps referring to it as “merging” in this episode, which seems odd to me, since they called it “fusion” almost exclusively before.  It’s like there was some directive from Toei about it, but I can’t imagine why.  Maybe someone wanted to restrict “fusion” to the Fusion Dance as opposed to the Potara thing.

Not a whole lot for me to say here.  They shoot rapid fire ki blasts and go to town on each other...

Vegeta finally manages to overpower Top, but he doesn’t eliminate him, so either he knows Top’s still got a lot left in him, or he’s too distracted by Super Kefla to think straight.

Eventually, Goku has to use Kaio-ken to keep up, but he still keeps up.  At one point he does an Instant Transmission to fake Kefla out, then reappears in the same spot to land a blow.  Nice twist on the technique after Caulifla had his usual tactics scouted. 

But ultimately, Kefla gets the better of him, and lands a heavy kick to the side of Goku’s head. 

He’s down.  Kefla congratulates him for putting up such a great fight, but it’s over, and all that’s left is to throw him out of the ring.

Or.... not.  Goku rises to his feet and says he won’t give up.  He’s still got some fight left in him.  So Kefla throws some more ki blasts at him and...

Uh-oh!

Uh-ohhhhhh!

Uh-ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

[nexgenforge]

From Riches to Richer: Navigating My Bold Leap Into Affluence 2.0

In the wild, wild world of dating, they say you have to kiss a few frogs before you find your prince. But what if, after years of searching, you didn't find a frog, a prince, or even a mildly aristocratic toad, but instead, stumbled upon a veritable dragon hoarding unimaginable wealth? Would you run screaming back to the moat, or would you saddle up with a fireproof suit and embark on a journey to love, adorned with more gold than a pirate’s dreams? Ladies and gentlemen, buckle up as I share my hilarious encore in the game of affluence – moving on from one affluent love to embark on a romantic odyssey with Affluence 2.0. Realizing the Bar Has Been Raised... And It’s Made of Solid Gold Once upon a time, I was content with the lavish displays of affection that come with dating someone wealthy. Helicopter dates? Check. Private island picnics? Double-check. But once you've had your first quantum leap into luxury, there's no going back. You see, after our amicable parting of ways (because when you date the affluent, you don’t break up, you "strategically re-align"), I realized that my next love affair needed something more... something richer. The Mating Dance of the Affluently Unattached Enter the world of Affluence 2.0 dating – a realm where last season’s Gucci is a mortal sin, and your arrival vehicle better be manufactured in Germany, Italy, or better yet, not of this Earth. Strapping on my bravest Louboutins, I set out on a quest, armed with nothing but my wit and a suddenly inadequate credit score. The dating scene had evolved. Dinners consisted of dishes I couldn't pronounce, paired with wines older than my lineage. I learned to smile and nod at art auctions, with a paddle that somehow always seemed to autonomously bid on abstract pieces that resembled my toddler niece's refrigerator art. Love in the Time of Compound Interest Then it happened. Amid the frivolity and the soirées, I found them – my Affluence 2.0. With a carbon footprint smaller than my apartment (because apparently, green is the new gold), and a penchant for philanthropy that would make a saint blush, this was the wealth redefined. The kind of person who says, “Let's take the jet,” and means an electric one. Our courtship was a whirlwind of sustainability and opulence. We adopted endangered animals instead of buying pets. We didn't just travel; we "invested in global economies." It was like finding a four-leaf clover, but instead of luck, it bestowed tax deductions. My New Affluent Love – An Emerald Among Diamonds Amidst this uproariously extravagant lifestyle, I learned a few things. First, that the real joy in life doesn't come from the material (though, let's be honest, it doesn't exactly hurt). And second, that moving from one affluent love to another isn't about finding someone with deeper pockets, but about finding someone with whom you can build a richer life – in all the ways that truly matter. As I pen this tale from my zero-emissions, solar-powered yacht (because apparently those exist now), I can't help but chuckle at the absurdity of it all. Love, whether draped in silk or sustainability, is a wonderfully ridiculous adventure. And as for Affluence 2.0? They’re not just my new love. They’re my new chapter in a forever expanding story of life, love, and the pursuit of eco-conscious opulence. So, here's to moving on, trading up, and discovering that sometimes, the best way to find true wealth is to simply follow the laughter echoing through the halls of your heart. Or, you know, check your latest love interest’s stock portfolio. Either way, you're bound for an adventure. Read the full article

[stopcallingmethesacrificiallamb]

I’m ignoring like, big fics that are well known (I THINK) in the fandom like 91w and, and this your living kiss and stuff like that bc i assume you know them already but also bc i have read way too many aus and don’t want to send a thousand.

Impression by Tiamatv:

When Dean and Castiel were children, they swore that they would both be dragonriders. They’d stand together on the sands for the Impression ceremony. They'd live in adjacent rooms in the Rookery, where all the baby dragons grew up. They’d fly together in the same Wing, taking down the demons that spilled from the Hellgates—the same demons that had killed Dean’s mother. And when Sam got old enough, he’d join them.

Dean believed Castiel when Castiel said he could hear Novak, his mother’s dragon, talking—even though that was impossible. And Castiel didn’t care that Winchester, Dean’s family dragon, had a bad wing.

It wasn't much of a plan, but it was their plan. It should have been so simple.

But falling hopelessly in love with his best friend had never been part of Castiel's plan.

Moving Mountains by Tiamatv:

Marshall Robert Singer has one hand resting on his hip, the other gripping the discarded practice pole. Castiel thinks he looks tired. That said, with how the kaiju have been crawling with increasing frequency out of the Breach with every passing week and decimating the cities lining the Pacific, no one can blame the man for that.

Castiel knows there aren't enough Jaegers or Jaeger pilots left to defend the coastline against the monsters—but with his history, he's not getting back into harness. He's never joining his mind with anyone else's. Not again.

“Congratulations. You boys done dancing yet?” Singer demands, thumping the butt of the staff on the ground with blunt, percussive force.

“We got work to do.”

“Work?” Castiel asks, frowning.

“Congratulations?” Dean finishes.

“Well, yeah.” The Marshall of North America's last battle-center looks back and forth between them, clearly questioning their intelligence. His lip curls just slightly under his beard—no doubt at their blank expressions. “You’re obviously Drift-compatible, ya idjits.”

 “What?” 

“What?”

(A Pacific Rim AU)

Happily Alone by violue:

When Dean used to imagine being a rock star, he pictured enjoying it more than this. 

The Leap by FriendofCarlotta:

1961: Sixteen years after the end of World War II, Berlin remains occupied by the Allied Forces — America, Britain, France and the Soviet Union. Castiel Krushnic is a police officer in Soviet-occupied East Berlin. He is also gay, in a city where that’s a dangerous thing to be. One night, he meets Dean Winchester, a mechanic from the American sector. Their mutual attraction is instant, and a convenient hookup quickly turns into a passionate love affair that defies all rules and expectations.

But Cold War Berlin is a troubled place, and as more and more residents flee Soviet-occupied territory for the West, Castiel’s superiors begin to make plans to build a wall. The wall would cut off East Berlin from the rest of the city — and leave Dean and Castiel on opposite sides.

Ergative/Absolutive by glassedplants:

He really shouldn’t be thinking thoughts like this about his best friend who literally just broke up with his girlfriend, but he knows he’ll blame it on sleepiness in the morning. He always does. 

A Midsummer Night in Las Vegas by whelvenwings:

Dean is a Prince, and even in the 21st century he’s expected to make a good match (unfortunately for Castiel, marrying your local librarian and best friend apparently doesn’t count). The announcement of Dean’s upcoming arranged marriage to someone he doesn’t even know hits Castiel hard.

But late in the night during his bachelor party in Las Vegas, Dean leans over to Castiel and asks him a question. Castiel knows he should say no. But the next morning, Dean and Castiel wake up with matching rings on their fingers.

With an international incident only one mistake away, Dean and Castiel begin trying to get an annulment in secret - but slowly realise that neither of them wants to spend the rest of their lives apart.

Qualia by imogenbynight:

When Sam & Jess move into a smart home, Dean finds an unlikely match in the AI that keeps it running. 

And because I couldn’t not:

The whole of Not Part of the Plan by Annie D (scaramouche) as a series:

Castiel's spent most of his adult life keeping his head down and staying out of trouble. This is a deliberate choice on his part, because as a cousin of the King, he'd rather stay unimportant and forgotten. This changes abruptly when King Michael decides that he has a better use for Castiel: he is to be wed to a noble member of the neighboring Republic, as part of an agreement between their two nations.

Castiel knows he has to obey, but that doesn't mean he won't rebel in what small ways he can. Unexpectedly, his actions end up having far-reaching consequences.

I need fic recs help, throw any aus at me

[zaenaris]

Chapter 269 spoilers

So, I guess this is the first of a series of chapters that will explain the original timeline and how Shin time traveled.

 It hurts to see Manjiro like that, little Baji, Haru and Senju crying for their friend and Shin, that always felt the burden to be the older one and became a father figure for his siblings, feeling guilty for the situation

Shin doesn't seem to be mad at his dad even if he knew he cheated on his mom and had Emma. I guess feelings are complicated. Maybe he was genuinely a good dad for him he wanted Mikey and Emma to feel the same kind of love from a father, since neither of them really experienced it?

Did Sakurako die in the original timeline as well? We know she dies from illiness, not an accident that could be prevented. Unless the illness itself is, just like dark impulses, a consequence of timeleaping??? idk man...

As many already pointed out, being Mikey basically brain dead, prevented him to know many of the people became so important in his life and Toman was never created.

I wonder if we will see the other character of the story. For example, Kazutora and Baji didn’t meet because of Toman, maybe, Kazutora was still a victim of domestic abuse. Idk how Baji grew up to be, but they could have met anyway. Same for Hakkai and Mitsuya, they were childwood friends before Toman. Ditto with Draken and Mitsuya. But of course, Black Dragon as we know wouldn’t have been like we know it. Will Inupi and Koko appear? The fire apparently has no correlation with all this, so maybe things unfold the same way for them? But then again?? What about Takemichi in this timeline? The reason why he can’t remember his dream has something to do with the OG timeline? EDIT: where is Izana in all of this??? I’m digressing and it’s useless, there are too many “what if?”

Anyway, we know that Manjiro had been in comatose state for at least 4 years. I wonder if in the next chapter we will see more characters and if we will learn more about the rules od time leaping. Because at some point Shin will come back

What I was wondering is, why the hell in our “current” timeline, Manjiro still plays with the damn air plane? 

Of course it’s dangerous! Looking at this panel now, holy shit. 

But I wonder why Shin didn’t do everything in his power to avoid buying it in the first place, knowing the problems it would have cause??

The more I think about it, the more it seems there’s no way out from this time leaping mess. Every media/story since the beginning of time that deals with time travel always says you don’t mess with time, otherwise terrible things will happen. The entirety of Tokyo Revengers seems to be the perfect example

And Manila!Mikey had a point. He had always suffered, no matter the timeline.

In the last panel of the chapter, is it me or Shin is wearing a nurse uniform? Or is he just visiting Manjiro? 

Idk, idk, once again too many questions. I guess we will have to be patient and look all of this mess unfold.

Let’s pretend the chapter was only the original Black Dragon having fun with little Manjiro 🥹

[bonknigirlinthehood]

What he needs to understand

About: Zhongli was about to go to work when you suddenly throw a tantrum at him, forcing him to stay.

Pairings: Dad!Zhongli x GN!Child!reader

Tags/Warnings: Family Dynamics, father-child dynamics, gender neutral reader, Fluff.

A/N: Another Zhongli and his child fluff. Idk how tf i write this in between his smut fic, and somehow i finished this at 4 am in the morning.

Zhongli had fostered many children under his care throughout his years of living, growing them into an adult that will benefit Liyue. And so, he really was thought it will no different from raising you, his biological child, and yet it turns out to be way more, and more difficult, to raise his own child than foster children as he did back then.

It was a fine morning in Liyue Harbor. Zhongli, a Consultant from Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, already prepared to go to work. On the dining table there's food ready to eat, but not for him, It's for his child who apparently just wake up when he was about to leave. You opened the door to the dining room, still sleepy, only to find your father already done wearing his shoes.

"Good morning, dear. Breakfast is ready, you should eat first, Ms.Lianyi will come shortly after" He notices your presence and smiles warmly, but there seems to be something with you because he also noticed your sour expression.

"My dear, is there something wrong?, Are you sick?" He asks worriedly, he immediately took off his shoes again to approach you.

"Why didn't you wake me up before you had breakfast, daddy?" You pout at him, your little dragon tail swinging behind you with upset. "You always like this, I want to have breakfast with you too!"

"I thought you still wanted to sleep?, You seem tired so i thought you need more rest" Zhongli wipes your face and stroke your messy hair, He can see that you are pretty upset, but he cannot understand why, considering usually you have no problem with him letting you sleep more. In fact, he thought all children like to sleep more in the morning, so he is a bit confused on why you are upset.

Zhongli was about to ask you when you suddenly hoofed onto him and hug him tight.

"Don't go to work daddy" 

He is even more confused upon hearing it. Why you act like this all of a sudden?, He doesn't understand.

"Dear, why are you suddenly like this?, You know I have to go to work today. I can't stay, besides, your caretaker is about to arrive in few minutes, you should wash and prepare to study" 

"I don't want to study!, I don't want to be with Miss Lianyi today!, I want to be with you today!" Suddenly, you start throwing tantrum and whining at him, making him frown in disapproval. 

"Y/n, you shouldn't act like this, daddy doesn't like it if you keep throwing tantrum"

Honestly, you almost stop when he said that, but you decided you don't want to stop.

"No!, I don't want you to go to work!, I don't want I don't want I don't want!" You start thrashing on his chest, hitting him with your little fist, much to his dislike.

"Y/n, if you don't stop I will be mad. I was already late, I can't have you throwing tantrum this early in the morning-" Zhongli stops, realizing his harsh tone. He cursed himself mentally and continue talking with lower voice, "..tell me what's wrong, my child"

You stop thrashing, burying your face in his chest, sobbing. 

"...don't go daddy..." 

Your father sigh, he really doesn't understand what is happening with you today. Usually you are such a good and obedient kid, eating breakfast with your caretaker and either studying or playing for the rest of the day. Is this matter related to him somehow?, Did he do something wrong yesterday to cause you so much upset?.

He was about to ask you another question about it when a knock can be heard from the front door. Realizing who is it, Zhongli immediately picks you up and opens the door. Your Caretaker is here and her greeting smile suddenly turns into worry when she sees you clinging to Zhongli and he hasn’t gone to work yet.

“Did something happen, Mr. Zhongli? Is little bao sick?” she asks worriedly. Zhongli shakes his head, he then invites her to come inside and explain what had happened.

“I...So little baobao won’t let you go to work, and has been clinging to you this whole time?” 

Zhongli nodded, despite you still clinging tightly to his neck, his hand also didn't stop supporting your body so you won’t fall.

“That’s right...and I honestly have no idea what wrong I did to her to make her this upset...Do you perhaps have any idea, Miss Lianyi?” He asks, He looks a bit sad and confused mixed, but his strong facade almost made it impossible to notice.

“I...I probably have an idea why little Y/n acting like this” she said, not so sure. But Zhongli immediately snaps his head to face her with a curious expression. "May I hear it, Miss Lianyi?, I think as her caretaker, you may know things I, her father don't" there's a bit of glimmer in Zhongli's eyes, eager to know. 

"U-uh...well, Mr. Zhongli, for the times I've been taking care of little bao, I've noticed sometimes, they will always waiting near the window…,waiting for you"

"Waiting for me?" Zhongli raises his eyebrows.

"Yes, I think they were feeling pretty lonely because you rarely at home. You see, you always go to work very early in the morning and go home pretty late at night, causing you two to barely have any conversation. And I think it's pretty normal behavior for children to want their parents to spend more time with them. Little bao must be missed you so much" 

Lianyi was done answering, while Zhongli was still trying to digest the newfound information. Throughout his life, every child he had fostered acted very differently, but neither of them ever had such feelings for him. They are always such obedient kids, always eager to learn and be useful for the world. What was the difference?Is it because you are his biological child?So the bond between you two is different?Zhongli needs to understand this or else he won't be able to understand you more. And as a father, it is his responsibility to be able to take care and understand his own child like the back of his hand.

"...Thank you for the information, Ms. Lianyi, I didn't know Y/n was feeling like that this entire time. I should be more cautious about it." He sighs and looks back at you, who are now sleeping again on his shoulder, probably too tired after all the crying. He puts you back to your bed, and after having a brief talk with Lianyi, your caretaker goes back home, leaving you and Zhongli alone. Your father writes some letter for Hu Tao, notifying her he wouldn't be able to go to work that day and asking her to reschedule all of his appointments. 

It's already noon when you finally wake up, and the first thing that goes into your head is if you are alone again. You jump out of the bed and run to the living room, but your father is nowhere to be seen. You let out a sulky pout and grumble, but then the door to Zhongli's room opens and the man steps out. He is still using his usual attire, just without the coat. Upon seeing him, you feel so happy because he is finally at home with you, but when you just about to leap into him you immediately feel embarrassed and awkward, knowing he was here because you threw a tantrum earlier that day, causing him to be unable to go to work and being forced to stay at home with you.

When he noticed you didn't come to him and just stay still, he approached you with a worried expression, asking what was wrong.

"My dear…,is there something wrong?Are you still mad at me?Do you want to eat something?" 

You fidget your fingers behind your back, your tail hidden between the legs. You didn't dare to look at him, still feeling embarrassed and all despite knowing how soft and kind your father was towards you. And after a few minutes you finally gaining courage to talk to him.

"Daddy..?” you whisper slowly.

“Yes, dear?” 

“I-i’m sorry...i didn’t mean to be a bad kid today...i just..i just…” You cannot continue your words, somehow feel too embarrassed to say it. But Zhongli, being as sharp as he is, quickly catch what you meant and smiles softly. 

“It’s alright, i understand” He caresses your head, his ungloved hand feels warm and soft to the touch. “I’m sorry, I should understand your needs more. I’ll try to make more time to spend with you together in the future”.

You can feel your cheek feel warmer, mix of embarrassment and happiness. Your plump cheeks are now as red as peach fruit. Zhongli pulls you into a hug, feeling the warmth of your body, and the comfortable feeling of the part of his soul being so close to him, heart to heart. He now understands why his late wife was so nervous and scared to leave their only child in his hand despite knowing how old and cultivated he is. She was scared this kind of thing will happen someday, because raising his foster children in fact, are different from raising his own blood and flesh. You are just almost as stubborn as him and she is probably afraid the two of you won’t get along nicely. But as always, Zhongli finds his ways to solve problems.

“Let’s eat dinner at Wanmin Restaurant tonight” He says, and you smile wide, your tail wiggling happily. “Yes, papa!” you giggles, your father can’t help but feel ticklish in the heart at how sweet your smile is. Right, he swore to protect that smile ever since you were a baby.

“But you need a bath first” He clears his throat, and without waiting for your reactions he just scoops you out from the floor and brings you to the bathroom. You whine and just resigned to the situation as Zhongli scrubs your body (especially your tail) to wash you clean. He always told you that young dragons need to scrub their body a lot because they are constantly renewing their skin to make it thicker and stronger, so you need to take a bath everyday and scrub your whole body to clean out the older skin so it won’t pile up. And Zhongli always likes it whenever he is just done bathing you. Your skin looks brighter and smoother, and your tail looks shinier, much to his liking. 

Not to mention how proud he is whenever he gets the chance to show you off to the people of Liyue. They always praise you at how cute and how much you resemble your father, but whenever someone tries to pinch your cheeks he is always quick to hold you back close to him. He sure doesn’t want to let anyone touch his one and only child.

With every passing days, Zhongli always learns something new about you. And even though your little self likes the attention your father gives you, in the future you probably will start hating it, and Zhongli will need another solution to solve your adolescence and puberty. But surely, surely he always enjoys seeing you growing up under his care.

[onceuponanaromantic]

the great sage (avoiding the horses’ plague)

(written for @flashfictionfridayofficial​‘s prompt: FFF167: Leap of Faith. Not related to anything else I’m working on, but a resurrection of a very old story idea I never finished! Title, quite literally, Sun Wukong’s. Enjoy!)

While there is rather less green and quite a bit more grey, he could see why the humans called cities concrete jungles.

             He cackled, throwing himself into a backflip off the streetlamp steel to land on a windowsill. The lamps cast his shadow upon the pavement as he flew, the remaining leaves rustling off branches as he flew. Autumn had always been his favourite time of year, more so now that the Jade Court had bigger things to worry about than his eminent self.

             Wukong had thought they had forgotten him, to his indignation. What a horror, to be forgotten! Him, the great monkey god! He had angrily climbed a taller specimen of those buildings the humans had constructed in his absence, only to reach the garden to loud shrieks. It rather turned out that they hadn’t forgotten him, but rather were struggling with bigger issues. Such as getting humans to believe in them again.

             He hadn’t quite got their meaning, but apparently, in his absence, there had been a deep erasure of their existence in favour of some other god. He gathered it had been violent and rather miserable, judging by the exhaustion in the farmer’s eyes and the shudder in the tails of the animal spirits he had come across. The forests fluttered sadly to him, the great peach trees of his home mountain reaching joyfully, if fearfully towards him. He had searched, almost frantically, for his old compatriots, the great monkeys of the Mountain, the great rulers of the hill in his absence.

             He felt the fear grip his heart, and he understood why they no longer worried about him.

             He had found the daughter of a daughter of one of his old advisors. She looked upon his face, fingers reaching gingerly to his staff and the family marks upon his fur. He remembered the way her great-grandmother laughed arrogantly as she threw gods out from the mountain for daring to disturb her rest, and his voice shuddered as he asked her where the rest of them were.

             “They hide.”

             He had felt a surge of revulsion. What was there to hide from that the mountain could not protect his own? But she had only nodded solemnly, her fingers clenching the same way her ancestor’s had.

             “I stayed here to wait.”

             And so she told him the story of how the monkeys had gone out, mischief used to defend their forests using mist and the warm waters of streams flowing out from the rivers. But the rivers had dried and the forests burned, and one by one, they had stopped responding to her messages. The forest itself poisoned and the rivers stinging where they once soothed, she told him the story of how her family had been chosen to remain as the strongest and wisest.

             The waters of time had long since taught him not to rush off impulsively as the anger, fear, and grief warred in his heart. If he had been younger, he would have drawn his staff immediately, surged off in a burst of wind to the forests to seek out his monkeys. But age had told him to wait and research. To learn more about this new world, to listen to the spells the human now cast, the whispers of the forests until he learnt how best to help those he considered his.

             It hadn’t been all gloom. She told him proudly of her younger sister picking the freshest apples from the conqueror’s banquet, throwing them into the air and disappearing in a laugh. She told him of her partner’s twisting the river to throw the humans off balance as they tried to sail down it, calling the current to his will. She told him about her own visit, leaving her young daughter in charge, to the Dragon of the East River.

             “Does his palace still miss its pillar?” He asked, laughingly.

           “He remembers you. And so does his palace.” Hetao said, responding with a smile of her own.

             And he had talked the night away, staying and resting for weeks until he had been ready to reenter the city.

             It helped, of course, that he had always been drawn to mischief. He looked at the arching neon sprays of paint across school walls and added rude points of his own. He stole important documents from offices, folding them into flowers and scattering them in mounds across the ground. He threw himself into the air, again and again, seeking the same joy he had once felt in it. He shifted form, bird, fly, mosquito, lion, human, and then monkey again, tricking swans as he dove into lakes as a fish before taking flight.

             Wukong sought out the warriors of this time, his staff in hand as he kicked and slashed through fights. He bowed after, of course he did, and he always held back his strength, but it was always just a little bit not enough for him.

             He tricked other spirits and demons, but it was no fun.

             And all this, he did while he waited, while he learned how to craft an identity for himself to live in this world as he did his research. He learned the new mediums for trickery, shifting himself as easily as he did while alive. It was a fascinating experience, as he remembered fondly how he first learned to shift between forms, as he applied those same lessons to learning new things.

             No one believed in his name, but it was no bother. They invoked him casually, teenagers bored out of their minds while stuck in their homes. He deigned to respond sometimes, sparks of magic that shorted out the capillaries of electricity to their places, sudden colour changes to plain facades. But he had learned to listen, and so he did.

             What use is constantly leaping, after all, if you don’t know what you’re jumping into?

[pillage-and-lute]

How about-Hanahaki disease? Gerald/Jaskier? Happy ending please!

Nonny! Darling you read my mind, I’m an ‘angst with a happy ending’ kinda gal. Just so we’re clear, I know nothing of flower meanings and I didn’t research.

TW: Gore

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

Jaskier first coughed up a flower at age three.

Poets loved Hanahaki, it was considered romantic, and those prone to it were tragic beauties, destined to languish, delicately spitting blood and rose petals into a silk handkerchief. No one really wrote about how it could be brought on by deeply unrequited platonic love.

Jaskier coughed a violet into his little fist and brought it to his mother, who turned him away.

Fifteen years down the line and having graduated Oxenfurt with honors, Jaskier was old hat at taking care of Hanahaki. His feelings, although often unrequited, were also often fleeting. A night spent coughing tulips into a bowl and a sore throat the next mroning, but rarely more than that.

If it persisted for a week or more there was tea. Any apothecary in even a mid sized city carried it. It was putrid and thick and slid down the throat like a cup of slugs, but in the morning there were no petals, and after two or three days of the stuff, the disease was gone. 

He was almost thankful for being so prone to Hanahaki, it was romantic and lended much to his chosen profession. People gave him sympathetic looks and free drinks if he sang a sad song and discreetly spat a rose petal into a handkerchief. Most of the time he simply didn’t mind it, and considered himself twice blessed with his mobile heart.

Sometimes he had nightmares of what would happen if he found true love.

The notions of true love itself was romantic, but everyone knew that your true love, the one you were fated to, if they didn’t love you in return no tea would save you.

He’d watched a friend, a grad student at Oxenfurt, die of it. It was no delicate coughing into handkerchiefs, no poetic languishing. He’d held her hair back as she threw up petals and blood, crying as she clutched the bucket with skeletal hands because she could no longer force food down a torn throat. 

It had been so slow, she’d said between pulling thorned stems from her mouth. More than a decade of loving the boy she’d had a crush on in her small town village. She’d lived through it all, only occassionally throwing up flowers. Always snow white roses, for him, apparently. It would have been wonderfully artistic if Jaskier didn’t know how they looked covered in blood.

Then she’d gone to his wedding to the baker’s daughter and two weeks later he watched her cough out roots wrapped around a chunk of lung and screamed for a doctor knowing it was too late. The blood stain never washed fully out of the floor.

And she’d said it was worth it. That she wouldn’t have stopped loving him for the world, even as she said it through a throat full of thorns. 

Jaskier never understood it, leaping from town to town, avoiding long term connections while knowing all the while that if fate wanted him to fall in love he would. Denying Destiny only made things nastier, he knew. And then, in a tevern in Posada, with bread in his pants and a hole in his boot, his eyes met pure gold. 

It took a split second, less probably, for him to realize that, although he didn’t love the man yet, for love at first sight truly is a poet’s myth, he could love this man. And if he died for this man, maybe the love would be worth it after all.

The man was a witcher, who punched him in the gut and stank of onion and talked to his horse. Jaskier followed him anyway.

He followed him and coughed up flowers, different blossoms for different people, and he began to fall deeper in love. He wondered sometimes what flowers he would cough, as the bouquets turned into only one kind. 

What flower would represent Geralt? Not buttercups or dandelions, certainly. Perhaps if someone else were to catch Hanahaki for Jaskier those would be for him. Geralt wasn’t a dandelion. He was grumpy and spiky and after ten years wouldn’t even call Jaskier a friend. 

In the dead of night Jaskier feared it would be white roses, like he’d seen once before.

And then Geralt died in a collapsing building only to be alive and fucking a purple-eyed sorceress after nearly killing Jaskier with a djinn. Jaskier vomited flowers not twelve hours after vomiting blood.

Snow drops, tiny and delicate. And from that point forth he never coughed up any other kind.

It didn’t progress so quickly though. Jaskier had expected to die within a month of Geralt meeting Yennefer. He didn’t. Love and sex weren’t the same thing, and his love didn’t go totally unrequited either. It wasn’t the same sort of love, but in the quiet moments just after dawn it was enough. 

Then Geralt made a choice.

He wouldn’t kill dragons, he didn’t hunt sapient creatures, he wanted nothing to do with the dragon hunt, until he caught sight of Yennefer.

And that left Geralt and Jaskier, on top of a mountain, as Geralt screamed into the wind that Jaskier meant nothing to him. Jaskier felt the roots set in.

He wasn’t going to get the story from the others. He could barely breathe, the pain was so sharp and intense and he could feel it growing, feel the flowers growing. Little snowdrops had no right to be so painful.

He wasn’t going to make it off the mountain.

Jaskier took a different trail down, and then wandered into the forest a little way, coughing blood and stems the whole way. He collapsed under a tree, blood staining his doublet. He wished he had a friend to clutch his hand, hold his hair back and rub his back like he’d done more than twenty years ago. 

There wouldn’t be a funeral though. No one would know what had happened to Jaskier the bard. Worse, no one would know what happened to Julian, the person, the man. As he threw up a clump of flowers and blood he felt very much like the scared little boy who threw up a flower for the first time. 

It hurt. It burned and shredded his throat and he wanted a friend and he didn’t have any. He’d thrown all his eggs in one basket twenty years ago and Geralt had kicked that basket off the mountain. 

Jaskier leaned his lute up against the tree. It’d be such a shame to get blood on the lovely girl. He curled up next to it, in a fetal position on his side as the coughs wracked his whole body. 

His friend had lasted two weeks, he thought. But her rejection was a wedding. Not her best friend and the love of her life telling her never to see him again. That he was a burden. That if life or Destiny could give him one blessing it would be to take Jaskier off his hands. And Destiny was going to deliver. She had made Jaskier love Geralt, and she would kill him by it. 

Still, Jaskier would have given anything for the comfort of his friend right now. He began to cry, snot and tears and blood and petals all mixing. He couldn’t even breathe, his lungs burned so bad. 

His vision was blurry.

He could hear noises, tromping through the forest and who knew what awful creatures lurked here. Just like Dame Destiny to have him disembowled while dying of Hanahaki.

It was dark, but it had been noon on the mountain. Black clouds swirled and closed in his vision.

A strangled noise.

No monster made that noise. That was a man-made noise. It sounded very much how Jaskier had felt on the mountaintop. He retched up a flower and tasted pollen and iron.

“Jaskier!”

He didn’t remember hallucinations being part of the final stages, but the brain played funny tricks.

“Jaskier!” There it was again, and he was being bundled up tight to a chest that was not at all comfortable and smelled of horse and leather and sweat and onion. A buckle of Geralt’s armor dug into his cheek. Jaskier’s mouth was full of stems and roots.

GLoved fingers dug in, pulling snowdrops from between his lips and then Geralt kissed him. It was entirely awful and unsatisfying. 

Dimly Jaskier came to the realization that it was not supposed to a kiss, but Geralt trying to blow air into his flowering lungs. A nice gesture but unhelpful.

He lolled his head to the side to throw up another clump of root, not wanting to throw up directly into Geralt’s mouth. 

A shudder ran through the chest he was pressed against, like a tremor before an earthquake. Then a sob.

It was quiet. The worst sobs are. 

Geralt lay Jaskier down on the floor, one hand cupped beneath his head, gently cradling. Then the witcher curled next to him, face pressed against a pale neck streaked with blood, and cried.

Jaskier wanted to comfort him, to stroke a hand through soft white hair one last time and thank him for not letting him die alone. He just didn’t have the strength.

Another wretched, tiny sob, then, “I’m sorry, Jaskier. I’m so sorry.” Oh that wasn’t fair. A tear leaked from Jaskier’s eye.

“I’m sorry,” Geralt continued, face pressed into Jaskier’s collarbone. “I didn’t mean it, I was angry and tired and I’ve hurt you but please,” the voice faded to barely a whisper. “Please don’t leave me, I didn’t mean it, I love you don’t leave me here alone.”

Don’t leave him here alone. Jaskier though. Destiny owed him, owed them both for all she’d put them through. Don’t make him lonely, he prayed. I don’t want to leave him alone.

Geralt held Jaskier tighter, pressing even closer like he was trying to meld them into one. “I love you,” he said. “I’m sorry, Jaskier. I love you.”

The world went white.

Jaskier blinked his eyes open with blood in his mouth. It didn’t seem to deter Geralt, who kissed him so thoroughly his head felt light. Then Geralt pulled him upright. There was blood on the ground around them, some even streaked into Geralt’s hair. 

There were no stems though.

The forest floor had been carpeted for ten feet all around them with snowdrops, planted firmly in earth instead of lungs. They were so close together it looked like a sudden snowfall, trailing to fewer and farther between at the edges of their little pool of white. 

“I...” Jaskier said, letting Geralt pull him to his feet. He wasn’t sure what to say but it turns out he needn’t say anything. Geralt was clutching him like a lifeline and tucking a snowdrop into his hair.

“I smelled blood,” he said, lips brushing into Jaskier’s brown fringe. “I smelled blood and was so afraid. I haven’t been truly afraid in so long and then I found those wretched flowers.” Geralt took a shaky breath. 

“I truly thought it was too late.” He pulled back and looked into Jaskier’s eyes. Geralt’s own yellow ones were dry but the emotion was clear. “I thought I had lost you, my love.” A gloved hand, only slightly bloody stroked Jaskier’s cheek. “I thought I had lost you, my life’s greatest gift. And I wanted to lay down beside you and die as well.”

Jaskier chuckled wetly. “You overdramatic sod,” he said between watery sniffles. “What a ridiculous notion. And I can’t believe it takes me dying to turn you into a romantic.”

“Almost dying,” Geralt said firmly. There was panic written plain across his face, as if he was terrified that time would slam into reverse just to take Jaskier from him. Another embrace, just this side of bone crushing. “Almost dying, my love.”

“Not dead, my love,” Jaskier responded. 

As they made their way down the mountain snowdrops bloomed in their footsteps, but they were too busy looking at each other to notice.

[sirowsky]

Driving Mr. Tovar

Chapter 34 - A Rose by Any Other Name

Description: Going to the fund-raiser generates some unexpected results, and not just in terms of bringing you closer to finding the mysterious bow.

Rating: Mature 18+ONLY Warnings: Pero x female reader, cursing, allusions to past domestic violence, mysticism, inaccurate history references, obnoxious rich people, fluff and sweetness. Word count: 14,025 (3235 words added) Masterlist (this story) Author’s Masterlist

   To say that Pero Tovar “cleaned up nice” was such an understatement that it was actually closer to an insult.    You’d always found him gorgeous and kind of delicious looking, with an absolutely beautiful soul to top it all off. But as you rounded that ledge, and saw him standing there, trimmed, brushed and elegantly dressed, it all took on a different meaning.

   Not that this was who he could be, if he’d make an effort, but that in your eyes, this was who he already was.    This was everything you’d always seen when you looked at him, just brought out of his soul and laid out on his sleeves for everyone to see.    This was your Pero, your Spaniard, your dragon, in all his tremendous glory and it made your heart leap.

   But then his legs wobbled, bursting the bubble and making you automatically reach towards him, suddenly worried that this would be too much for him.    The worry quickly subsided, though, when his strong hands found your waist and pulled you close, and he breathed you in with open eyes, less than an inch away from yours, before his lips claimed you. Not hungrily or possessively, but with immense gratitude.    As if he still couldn’t believe that he got to kiss you.

   Then someone cleared their throat somewhere, bringing you back to the room and the people around you.    You’d somehow completely forgotten that anyone else was present, which was saying something, because it really was all of them.    Even Hero and Shaggy were there in the background.

   You smiled apologetically while twisting your head towards them, but Pero still didn’t seem to notice them and he still had an iron grip on your waist, keeping you locked against him.    Thankfully, Sam noticed, and decided to help you bring him back to the present.    He put a hand on his brother’s arm, just holding it there, to anchor him as he brought him back from whatever wonderland he’d gotten stuck in.

   “You’re a lucky man, Tov,” he warmly complimented, and hearing his voice along with the touch, seemed to gradually break into Pero’s mind.

   It seemed to happen in slow motion, but after a few seconds he finally tore his gaze away from you to meet Sam’s eyes.

   “Hm… What?” he dreamily mumbled, and his confusion apparently amused everyone present.

   They all laughed light-heartedly, and you couldn’t help but join in, because he really was in a completely different world for a while there, and it was just adorable.    Sam was beaming at his brother, clearly almost indescribably happy that the man that had refused to allow himself to be happy or enjoy anything at all, for twenty long years, was now completely drunk on happiness.

   “I’m sorry, brother, but it’s time to go,” the younger man announced, and after another few seconds and several confused blinks, your partner remembered.

   “Oh. The thing,” he recalled, and Rose nodded.

   But Pero still had your body trapped against his, so you brushed a few fingers over his cheek to bring his attention back to you.    Then you smiled at him, and he instantly got lost again.

   “Honey, I need my waist back if I’m gonna walk to the car,” you chuckled, and he frowned before reluctantly letting go of you, but only enough that he could keep one arm around your back.

   And still, his eyes remained halfway… somewhere else, and halfway right there in the hall, and you knew what he felt.    You knew what that place was, the dream that he couldn’t quite let go, but you weren’t letting yourself get lost in there with him yet, even though you wanted to, almost more than anything.

   Because if you did, neither of you would be going anywhere tonight, and you needed answers.    About the bow, the magic and especially about whatever power you possessed, and you weren’t willing to wait for the next lead because given how little even a man like Sam had been able to uncover, it was entirely likely that it could take years to find another clue.

   So, with Pero glued to your side you followed Rose down the steps, to the completely black Rolls Royce Phantom that Coulson had parked there for you.    He was holding the rear-door open as you got to it, while Sam just climbed into the front passenger seat on his own.    Everyone had stepped out onto the front steps to see you off, so before you got in, you turned and waved at them, before theatrically returning the kiss that Johnny blew at you.

   Pero wasn’t used to this kind of elegant behavior, and sort of eyed the butler a bit suspiciously while you got in and took your seat.    But Coulson just shot him his most boyish grin in return, so he gritted his teeth and moved back to allow the older man to close the door, while Pero rounded the car to get in on the other side.

   He reached for your hand as soon as he was in and buckled up, and you were fairly certain that he never even noticed Coulson taking the driver’s seat or getting you to the airstrip.    He seemed genuinely surprised when his brother spoke around twenty minutes later, only then realizing that the car had come to a stop and that it was time to get out.

   “AIVA’s waiting for us. Good,” Sam observed as he was taking his seatbelt off and saw the side door of the plane open. “I think we’re on perfect track for ‘fashionably late’.    Thank you, Coulson, I’ll let you know when we need that pick-up.”

   “Very good, sir. I hope you’ll have a pleasant evening,” the butler offered, and you caught Rose glancing back at the two of you before he answered.

   “Oh, I’m certain it’ll be interesting. One way or another,” he said while winking at Coulson, who just smiled in return.

   You all got out of the car then, with Coulson once again holding the door for you, earning another suspicious expression from your partner, as though there was some hidden insult to the act of just holding a door open.    But the butler was as resilient as ever, probably merely amused by the man’s odd behavior, nodding cheekily at him as he took your waist again and led you towards the strange aircraft.

   “Hey, AIVA. Are we ready to go?” Sam asked before even stepping into the plane, and the machine answered loud and clear, making you think that there had to be speakers either in the doorframe or somewhere on the outside of the craft.

   “Good evening, Mr. Rose. Yes, as soon as all passengers are strapped in.”

   Pero sent you in ahead of himself, and you had to keep your eyes on the few steps that led up to the door, to avoid getting tangled in the skirt of the dress, but once you’d climbed in, you had to stop and look around for a second.

   “Is… Is this a different plane?” you asked Sam, who was already taking his seat.

   “No, it’s just very adaptable,” he replied, gesturing casually to the interior.

   “You don’t say…”

   The last time you’d set foot in it, the whole body of the plane had seemed like one big cargo-hold, mostly vacant to the naked eye.    There had been five chairs against each of the curiously sleek walls, with little to nothing else of significance filling the available space, despite the impressive size of it.

   You’d realized, the longer you’d been on it last week, that it had lots of equipment hidden away in practically invisible compartments, not just in the floor but in all the walls as well.    Also, there was clearly a lot more advanced technology incorporated into it than what could be seen behind what had been a spartan but elegant interior.    Now though, it was hard to believe that this was even the same plane.

   Because in just one week, it had apparently gone from an almost empty space, into what could’ve been a luxury hotel room, complete with sofas, armchairs and a large TV, a fully stocked pantry and refrigerator and even a shower.    It was more than twice the size of those private jets you always saw in movies, in both length, width and height, making it actually feel more like a room than an aircraft, but it still felt like it should’ve been impossible to change it so radically without a complete rebuild.

   Now that you couldn’t see the ramp at the rear from the inside anymore, and the transparent wall between the cockpit and the body of the plane was no longer transparent, it really was mindboggling that you were standing inside something that could fly.    And you found it strangely alien now that you couldn’t see the machine that operated it anymore. Seeing into the cockpit before had somehow made the fact that there was no human pilot onboard, seem more manageable.

   But you knew that you were safe, you had at least accumulated that much trust in the AI during your last encounter, so you took a seat in one of the armchairs and almost groaned when you felt how comfortable it was, before buckling up.    Naturally, Pero chose the seat next to you, again taking your hand as soon as his own were available, as though he feared that you might float away if he didn’t hold on to you.

   The moment you’d all strapped in, AIVA took off without any additional prompting, opting for a vertical lift-off this time, and you settled in for the short flight.

   The interior lights were bright and practical, and you took the opportunity to study Pero’s tux a little closer.    It was dark navy blue and at first glance it looked perfectly smooth and plain. But when you really looked at it, a pattern of eight-pointed stars appeared in the fabric. They were in the same color but just a hint shinier and had been discreetly woven into the material.

   That small detail, not even noticeable from more than three feet away, somehow made the whole thing come alive and look fluid and soft in a way that reminded you of water.    The lapels and buttons were just smooth silk, though. And when he’d opened the jacket to sit down, you’d noticed that the vest was silk too, but with the same pattern embroidered into it with black thread, which was slightly more visible but only when the jacket was open.

   And when it was, you could see something else on the inside breast pocket.    A serpentine dragon, twisted and curled around the body of a Pegasus in flight. Also embroidered, also discreet, just a barely noticeable shift in the color of the fabric, which was also silk.    And the same image, but much smaller, had been engraved into the silver cufflinks.

   You looked at Sam, sitting across from you, but staring out the windows, lost in thought.    Both the suit and the dress were tailored, you were certain of that, although you didn’t really wanna think about how any tailor could’ve gotten your measurements.    But you suddenly couldn’t shake the feeling that today was about more than just this man finding a way of giving you a night to shine.

   Yesterday, you’d seriously considered if it could be a part of some bet that he’d made, or maybe just a way to get to see Pero in a suit before he died.    But obviously these clothes would’ve taken more than three days to make. Which told you that this was something else, something that Sam must’ve planned weeks in advance, and you wondered if perhaps it had originally been meant as his way of saying goodbye to you.

   Whatever his reasons, you decided that you wouldn’t ask him about it. He clearly wanted to do whatever this was in his own way, and you were more than willing to give him that.

   Then Pero’s lips gently pressing into your bare shoulder, slowly brought your full attention back to him.    Turning your head to look at him, you were met with large brown eyes that were still trying to drink you in, but still somehow failing.    He didn’t say anything, but you could tell that he saw your brain working and knew that you were puzzling over something.

   You just smiled back to reassure him that it wasn’t anything bad, and as soon as he saw that it was genuine and that he had nothing to worry about, his eyes drifted again, into that other place where all that existed was your love and happiness.    And you allowed yourself to get lost in there with him for a while, which was why it startled you when AIVA suddenly spoke again.

   “We have arrived at your destination. Please prepare for rapid descent.”

   “What does that mean?” you asked, looking at Sam, who just planted his feet against the floor and grabbed the edges of the armrests on his chair.

   “Generally: queasiness,” was all he offered, and before you could even react to that, you found out exactly what he’d meant.

   Because he wasn’t kidding or exaggerating.    The plane dropped, you had no idea how many feet, or how quickly, but it was enough to make you feel weightless for a brief moment, before it suddenly eased down, and then it was over.

   “Ugh, I hate that,” Pero groaned, and for the first time since you’d walked down those stairs, he voluntarily looked away from you, closing his eyes while swallowing a few times.

   “Ah, welcome back to reality, Tov,” Sam teased, seemingly unbothered by the rollercoaster effect and you were quite certain that you could be forgiven for thinking that he was actually having the time of his life.

   It wasn’t an obvious enjoyment, though. He wasn’t giddy or grinning widely at every given opportunity, it was much more subtle than that.    But it also somehow didn’t feel like he was holding back. It was more like this was all special to him for some very personal reason that lived so deeply within him that it just wasn’t all that visible on him externally.

   “I would rather keep dreaming,” your partner grumbled, still fighting not to puke, and his brother sounded only understanding when he replied.

   “I don’t doubt it, my friend. But we do have some work to do here, and I will need you to be sharp, despite the apparent leisure of our current circumstances.”

   Pero just huffed at that, but after a few seconds, he still made an effort to focus a little less on only you, because the man wasn’t wrong.

   Sam led the way as you all disembarked and stepped right out onto a rooftop, overlooking some high-end business district in a big city, but you had no idea which one.    Normally, a 40-minute flight wasn’t enough to take you very far, but after your trip to Africa, you’d learned that Rose’s technology was somewhat more advanced than even you, a person living surrounded by it, had realized.

   It hadn’t occurred to you at the time, what with you and Pero being in severe disagreement throughout both the flight there and back, but any other plane would’ve needed more than twice the time that this craft had needed, to cover that distance.    Which had to mean that Rose’s skillset wasn’t limited to computers, but incorporated a highly complex understanding of engineering as well, if he’d managed to develop a completely new type of jet-engine.

   As soon as you were clear, the side-door closed automatically and the aircraft took off again, probably about as fast as it had dropped, heading straight up into the clouds, and then disappeared.    Sam led you to a door with an electronic lock in the form of a keypad and card-reader, which took about two seconds for him to bypass, and then you walked inside.

   A trip down in a freight-elevator landed you in the building’s underground parking lot, where you approached a black Mercedes Maybach, with completely blacked out windows.    It unlocked and started its engine as soon as you got within a few feet of it, and instead of getting in, Sam headed for the rear door and then courteously opened before offering you a hand to get in.

   Curiously, Pero didn’t react at all to his brother doing that, so perhaps his reaction to Coulson had simply been because it had intruded on his dreamworld, which he was now dutifully steering clear of.

   You climbed in to discover that there was no driver behind the wheel, so you assumed that Rose would be driving, which was why you were surprised when he instead took a seat on the front passenger side, in front of you.    So clearly, this vehicle had to be automated, which was confirmed a mere moment later, after Pero got in next to you and the car then started driving itself through the mazelike garage and out onto the street.

   It then preceded to simply circle the building before it came to a stop at the front entrance, where a red carpet and surly-looking men in identical suits welcomed an eclectic blend of expensively dressed people into the fund-raiser.

   “Didn’t we just leave this building?” you asked, and Sam turned back to look at you with a sly smile on his face, which momentarily distracted you because you were struck by how this little adventure really seemed to have given him new energy.

   “Only crooks and criminals walk in through the backdoor uninvited,” he winked, but then Pero scoffed, drawing your attention to him just in time to see him dramatically roll his eyes.

   “And only a rich genius would make a simple entrance this complicated,” he observed, which made Sam’s smile morph into a sneer, and you bemusedly shook your head at them both.

   “Alright, now just follow my lead,” your former employer advised, before he got out to once again hold the door for you while the Spaniard rounded the car and came right back to your side as soon as you were on your feet.

   You’d never walked a red carpet before, not even a cheap one, and you were surprised at how nervous it made you.    There was a thick red rope hung on poles along the carpet on either side, and there were photographers, reporters and journalists lined up behind practically every inch of those ropes.

   That part hadn’t even crossed your mind. It only now occurred to you that this was a public event, meaning anyone that could afford a ticket was welcome.    But since the price was steep, only the rich and famous could, which meant that you were about to mingle with some pretty high-profile figures. The kinds of people that the media never left alone.

   Thankfully, Sam was perfectly at ease, clearly used to this kind of thing, while Pero just couldn’t care less.    And seeing his signature scowl had a calming effect on you with how normal that was to you, while the arm that snaked around your waist from the moment you left the car, and held you steady the whole way, helped you feel safe.

   Microphones were held out towards Rose and questions were shouted at him, but he just kept walking at a moderate pace, politely smiling at the cameras.    But when they realized that he wasn’t gonna give them anything, and that your partner was decidedly unapproachable, those microphones quickly turned to you instead.    You followed Rose’s lead, and tried to ignore it, but it wasn’t nearly as easy as he made it look, especially when the questions turned rude in their efforts to provoke a response.

   As a result, you were almost trembling with relief when you got to the front steps, which were cordoned off from everyone but guests, and Pero felt it.

   “Easy, Belleza, remember to breathe,” he calmly whispered in your ear, and when you did start thinking about your breathing, you realized that you’d been taking really short and shallow breaths while making your way towards the entrance.

   “I’ve suddenly decided that I don’t like carpets…” you announced, and he responded by squeezing you a little tighter into his side, which made you automatically relax because he was just so solid.

   When you walked into the entryway leading to the grand front hall of the building, you were met by a woman standing by a lectern, shadowed by two more security guards, checking that everyone that entered had a ticket.    And behind them, there was a metal-detector and another two guards.

   “Good evening. May I see your tickets, please?” the woman said while smiling, and you were a bit surprised to notice that this person, while certainly looking the part of merely being a gorgeous face to greet guests, was clearly also very tough.

   You got the feeling that she could and would happily put any guest that stepped out of line, right back in their place.

   “Certainly,” Sam politely smiled back, while reaching into his breast pocket to retrieve something that looked like a receipt, which the woman then scanned using an iPad.

   “Mr. Rose, and Mr. & Mrs. Tovar?” she asked, making sure that she had the right names in her system.

   “Correct,” Sam nodded, and the woman reciprocated, while you worked hard on not showing your surprise at the names.

   “Excellent. Then I’ll just need your IDs to confirm.”

   Something kind of sprightly and warm spread through you as you heard yourself referred to as Mrs. Tovar, and you glanced at Pero to see him proudly stretch his neck while he too was trying not to reveal the lie.    But as much as you enjoyed that, you were puzzled as to why Rose would refrain from using your actual name.

   He could have any one of a dozen reasons, but if it was an effort to actually conceal your identity, he would’ve chosen something that couldn’t be tracked back to you, whereas this name certainly could.    Whatever he was up to, the simple fact was that you had no form of identification which could confirm that you were in fact Mrs. Tovar, and that made you nervous.

   But Sam just held out three cards to her, all of which were scanned too and all of which were approved.    You resisted the urge to shake your head at yourself, because of course he’d made sure that nothing would interfere with his plans that evening.    And with his level of skills, a fake ID was probably something that he could do with his eyes closed.

   “Welcome. I hope you’ll enjoy your evening with us,” the woman announced, and gestured towards the metal detector.

   “Thank you,” Rose offered in return, and then stepped aside to let you and Pero pass through the detector first, before he followed you.

   For a moment, you worried that your partner might have some concealed blade somewhere that would alert the machine, but you all passed without problems.

   Once inside, you were led towards a huge open area, the gallery, where various pieces of art, jewelry, antiques and artifacts were on display along the walls.    The floor closest to the walls was therefore empty, to give people the space to move around and enjoy the exhibit, which created an uneven flow of movement, as people walked and then stopped to randomly admire and chat.

   But towards the center of the room, there were around fifty café-tables with chairs, and next to that was a small podium where an orchestra was seated, playing soft pieces of classical music.    The gallery was so big that even with the entertainment and the seats taking up the middle, the surrounding section of empty floor still would’ve been enough to have a pony-race on.

   “Okay. I’m gonna try and find Mr. Weiss,” Sam discreetly declared once you’d joined the crowd. “If anyone here knows anything about our bow, it’s him.    In the meantime, you two just enjoy yourselves. The champagne is free.”

   With that, he quickly disappeared into the moving mass of people, and you could feel Pero starting to tense up.

   “He’ll be okay. After all, this is his crowd,” you tried, but your partner’s expression only hardened.

   “Sam has never socialized with these kinds of people. He’s done business with them when there’s been some need to, but even in these circles, he is a recluse and a mystery.    This is why all the people outside were so excited to see him here. He rarely appears in places like this. It doesn’t appeal to him.”

   “That makes sense, I guess. He’s nothing if not private,” you pondered, watching as he kept scanning the crowd and getting more and more anxious.

   To try and get his mind on a different track, you started tugging on his arm, pulling him along to take a look at some of the art. You’d never been particularly interested in art, but since you were here and it was on display…    Also, moving seemed to help keep your Spaniard from losing his patience with the situation, if only just.

   Still, he kept surveying the room, and even though it wasn’t particularly visible on him, you could tell that he was getting increasingly antsy with each failed attempt to locate his mark.    And a tense Pero was a dangerous one.    You’d just stopped to admire a beautiful sculpture of a cherry tree, with a phoenix emerging from its blossoms, when a voice right by your ear made you flinch.

   “Hi, there. I’m Barbara, pleasure to meet you,” a platinum-blonde woman announced, having already thoroughly invaded your personal space.

   She was wearing a bright pink body-sock that wrapped her up like a sausage from her chest to her knees, on stilettos so high that you wouldn’t even call them shoes, and everything about her behavior suggested that you were old friends meeting up for a chat.    Except for the complete lack of any genuine emotion in either her face or voice.    Unsurprisingly, she gave you no chance to even attempt a polite reply, before barreling straight into her real reason for approaching you.

   “So, was that Samuel Rose I saw you arriving with?    Gosh, he’s such a piece, isn’t he? I’d give anything for a night in his castle, know what I’m saying? I love guys like that, all mystery and intrigue.    Oh, shoot, listen to me prattling on like a beauty queen. Hah!    But sweetie, I just gotta know; how do you know him?”

   God, these people were not discreet.    Then again, neither was Pero.

   He did not like Barbara, and if she’d even bothered to glance at him, she’d have known just how close she was getting to being forcibly removed from your personal space.    But she acted like he wasn’t even there, like you were engaged in some kind of ‘girl-talk’ and he was just an unfortunate obstacle to her access to you.    Which was just one of the reasons why you decided that you didn’t like Barbara either.

   “I know him,” you sternly replied. “But I don’t know you, and thus far, you’ve given me no reason to think that I’d ever want to.    So why don’t you go look for some other poor schmuck to try and not-so-discreetly pump for information.”

   Her fake smile was quickly replaced by very real contempt, and she was just about to retort, when Pero had enough, and allowed some of his pent-up frustration to fall on her.    He didn’t move beyond angling himself slightly more towards her, but you felt his energy shift and his anger fill the air around you to the point where even Barbara couldn’t miss it.    You saw her mouth open, preparing to deliver some acidic comment, no doubt, but then something drew her eyes to the side, and whatever she’d intended to say was lost.

   Because what she found there was a man that didn’t even know how to fake emotions, and would never bother to even if he did.    Where her contempt was certainly dramatic, it was no deeper than the layer of makeup that attempted to conceal her wrinkles, whereas his was profound and uncompromising.    A shudder went through her as her reptile brain recognized the very real threat that he posed, and she disappeared into the crowd quicker than you would’ve thought those shoes would allow anyone to move.

   As soon as she was gone, Pero closed his eyes and ran a hand over his face.

   “This is not a good place for me to be,” he grumbled, clearly starting to feel like he might seriously lose control of himself.

   “I don’t think that’s true,” you countered softly, and he tugged a little at the collar of his shirt while his eyes found yours.

   The anger had already faded, he was plagued now only by the same tension that had become so familiar to you in these past few days.

   “It’s not the place, or the people, that’s doing this to you.    It’s your own heart, love. Direct it at me instead, and I promise you’ll feel better,” you suggested, and saw his shoulders drop several centimeters as he listened.

   He slowly turned until he was facing you, letting his forehead rest against yours for a moment, while he breathed deeply a few times.    And just then, the music shifted from a soft Chopin into something more modern that you didn’t recognize, but which had a lovely sort of quietly optimistic tone and a natural rhythm, rising and falling in intensity much like rain in the wind.

   None of which you would’ve paid any attention to, if not for the fact that as the music changed, Pero’s hand on your waist pulled you closer, and his other one found yours and lifted it to the side, before he gently started moving you.    One step, and then another, falling into the rhythm of the song just as you realized that he was dancing with you.

   It wasn’t any dance that had a name, it was just something that he found within the delicate strings of the orchestra, as they reached into his heart and created a harmony there, chasing away the tension and giving him a moment of calm.    But somehow, you had no problem falling into his steps, knowing where he’d go and how he’d turn without even trying.

   He pulled back to look at you, and you could see that he was falling away into that other place again, dragging you into the dream with him, to where it was just the two of you, huddled in the bubble of affection and comfort and security that your shared souls had built for you.    There was no longer any exhibition or annoying people around you, no bow or other worries that poked at your minds. All that existed in that one moment, was love.

   It was the first time that you’d danced at all, since that last time for the cartel, the night that the FBI had finally managed to bring them down.    You hadn’t even gone to a club since then. Not so much as a joyous little shake of your booty had passed through your body since that night, and yet, none of that managed to taint the present.

   None of it even found its way into your conscious mind as he slowly weaved you along the floor, unaware that there was even anyone else there anymore, yet somehow managing not to bump into a single guest.    It felt completely natural, familiar even. As though your body had been waiting for something to wake it back up to the feeling of the music in your bones and muscles.

   But then the music faded, and the bubble started to crack, forcing you both back to that gallery, where you were surprised to see that all the people had suddenly stopped moving.    There was a pause filled with deafening silence as you stood there, looking at all those strangers that had apparently stopped to admire your private little turn about the room.

   However, just as that pause was about to blossom into awkwardness, everyone spontaneously started to applaud for just a few seconds while they returned to the exhibit, and their gossip.    And once their attention was no longer on you, Sam was suddenly right next to you again, smiling and shaking his head.

   “Of all the things I thought I’d never get to see…” he said with a wide grin and nearly tear-filled eyes, and even though the entire crowd hadn’t been enough to make Pero feel uncomfortable, he was abruptly very concerned about straightening a crease on your dress.

   “It was just… a distraction,” he mumbled, but Sam was genuinely overjoyed.

   “You’re actually wearing a 15,000$ tux, while attending a fund-raiser intended for rich people to feel good about themselves, and now you’re dancing?    I had no idea you even know how to.”

   “I don’t. I just…” Pero sighed with frustration, unable to describe what had just happened, and you couldn’t help him there, because you didn’t have any words for it either.

   But Rose just kept smiling happily at you both, until Pero gave up, and changed the subject.

   “Did you find him?” he asked, and the younger man’s mood shifted as the happy sparkle in his eyes was snuffed out, replaced by the controlled and mostly unreadable expression that was his normal state.

   It saddened you to watch him reel himself in like that, because you knew that it was rare for him to ever let anyone see his emotions without his usual filters in place, but he was tonight.    For whatever reason, this event meant something to him, and it had nothing to do with any bow. But you were still there to try and find it, and he was still determined to help you.

   “I did. And it would seem we have a problem,” he said, bringing all of you back into the seriousness of the evening.

   He settled into a slow, leisurely walk, feigning indifference to perfection, while he started to explain what he’d learned.

   “Mr. Weiss is a cautious man, and I knew that trying to pry information from him would be difficult, especially without revealing my interest in a specific item, which would undoubtedly only increase his own curiosity about it.    And I’m certain that finding it will depend heavily on managing to keep the significance of said item a secret.    Now, what I did manage to read into his replies, was that I’m right about the digital records of this company being incomplete, but what I also learned, is that the physical records most likely aren’t, and that they’re right here, below our feet.”

   Following his train of thought led you to only one possible conclusion.

   “You wanna break into those records,” you guessed, just as Pero reached the same deduction and stopped walking, grabbing Sam’s arm to halt him too.

   “You knew,” he growled at his brother. “Before you even brought this to us, you knew that this was where it would lead. That’s why you wanted us here.”

   “I suspected, yes,” Rose confirmed, which made your partner frown at him. “If I was wrong, you’d just have a nice evening out together, and I’d get to spend some valuable time with you. And if I was right, we might get one step closer to solving this riddle.”

   “I have no weapons. I can’t protect you both like this,” Pero insistently whispered, but his brother remained steadfast.

   “Well, obviously all three of us can’t go down there, if we’re discovered that would be a bit tricky to explain.    But two people quite clearly in love, sneaking away to try and find a quiet place…” he suggestively trailed off, and the Spaniard’s frown graduated into a full scowl.

   “Ay, pequeña mierda,” Pero all but spat at him.

   “I know, I’m sorry,” Sam offered. “But this is the only play we’ve got.    I’ll stay here in full view of everyone and mingle, while I keep you off of any cameras and make sure that any door you get to is open.    Ready to create a distraction if necessary.”

-=¤=-=¤=-=¤=-=¤=-=¤=-=¤=-

   Pero was fuming, but his anger was mostly aimed at himself, for failing to realize that his brother had played him, even if it was with the best intentions.    But you didn’t share his point of view. You agreed with Rose, that any lead was worth the risk, and he struggled to understand how you could feel that way. How you could be willing to risk your life just to solve this mystery.

   Even so, he took your hand and led you through the crowd, aiming for the door that Sam had directed you towards.    And he did that specifically because he didn’t understand.    Because you seemed to need to follow this through, even though he knew how scared you were of all this magic stuff, and how much you just wanted your life to be safe and comfortable.

   That had to mean that there was more to this than what he was able to grasp.    There had to be something driving you that he couldn’t see or possibly even understand. Something in your heart or soul that wouldn’t let you walk away from this, and whatever that was, he had no right to ignore it, no matter how much he might want to.    Because what affected you would inevitably also affect him.

   There was only one guard by the door, so he pulled you closer, turning you around so that he could nuzzle your neck, while he kept moving towards the guy, making it look as though he was just on his way to find a private spot and having no idea where he was going.    And you played along perfectly, until you were close enough to the door to get the guard’s full attention, prompting him to take a step forward as he started telling you that the area was off limits.

   Pero knocked him out before he could finish the sentence, and then quickly reached for the door, finding it open, and lifting the guard into the hallway on the other side.    The movement was fast and smooth enough that no one noticed the altercation, and then the door closed and locked behind you.    He found an office further into the corridor, and dragged the unconscious guard in there, making sure that the door locked itself as he left.

   He had no idea exactly how Sam was controlling the doors for you, but he knew that so long as the locks were electronically controlled, you’d have no problems getting through them.    In his head, he went over the simple instructions that Rose had given him about the structure of the building, and where they needed to go to get to the archives.    But thankfully, the route wasn’t complicated.

   They quickly located the elevator that would take them down the three floors into the basement, and straight into the last corridor of their journey, which turned out to be empty.    It seemed that this company relied on their camera-surveillance enough not to feel the need for human eyes to guard their records. Though he was certain that their vault, where all the treasures were kept, would be a completely different matter.

   The door to the archive had a lock with a red and green light to indicate the status of the lock, and it shifted to green just as you approached, letting you sneak inside without pausing.    It looked like any archive would, he supposed. Rows and rows of filing cabinets in neatly organized lines, filling a room the size of a tennis-court. The only problem now being that you wouldn’t have time to look through all of it, so you had to figure out where to start.

   “Do we look for weapons, or bows specifically?” he asked, but right then, a computer next to the door pinged, and the screen lit up, so you moved around him to look at it.

   “Perfect. There aren’t any actual records on here, but a full list of what all these cabinets contain, complete with a search-function.    So… let’s start with bow,” you said, quickly typing in the one word, to which the system gave you a result of nearly 200 files pertaining to it. “Shit. We don’t have time to look through that many, we need to narrow this down.”

   He waited patiently, trying not to think too much about the way that your back curved, or how your ass looked, when you stood leaned down over the desk while you went through various searches.    Including medieval bow, bow and arrow, ancient archery, coming up with various results each time until you felt like you had a good idea of just what this archive contained, in the category of old weapons.

   “Okay, follow me, I think I know where to look,” you finally announced, before leading him to the back of the room.

   Once there, you trailed your fingers along three cabinets, scanning the numbers that indicated what batch of files were inside, until you found the one you were looking for.    Each cabinet had three large drawers, and you pulled out the middle one, starting to leaf through the files inside, looking at their titles, until you found one called ‘Weaponry of the Wall’.

   You pulled it out and quickly scanned the pages, but after just seconds decided that it wasn’t what you were looking for, so you put it back and kept going.    You repeated this process about a dozen times, while directing Pero to check even more drawers in the meantime, but without finding anything of interest.    Until, while his back was to you, he suddenly heard you gasp.

   He turned towards you to find you holding a photo in both hands, staring at it with a shocked but otherwise blank expression.

   “This is it… it’s the… the actual bow,” you said, and your voice was oddly strangled, almost as though you were frightened.

   He was about to ask you how you knew for sure, but then he too looked at the picture over your shoulder, and something went through him. Something creeping and snaking and knowing.    Even if he hadn’t recognized it from the cave, he still would’ve been sure.    He grabbed the file that you’d picked it out of, starting to read the research attached to it, but it was mostly just speculation.

   It was thought that the bow was used by an outlander on the wall, and there were references to a battle, but no one seemed to know who the opposing army had been or even who won.    But they’d kept finding references to this bow, making them think that it was significant, and most likely that it had been used to win the war, so they’d kept looking for it.

   The file was fairly thick, containing every scrap of information they’d found that had even tentatively hinted at this weapon, but the threads were few and thin, and they’d had to guess at most of it.    So, how could they have a picture of it?    Nowhere in the file did it mention anything close to an actual discovery, and yet, someone must’ve found the thing for there to be high-resolution pictures of it.

   He’d expected you to get excited upon finding a tangible lead, but you just kept staring at it, as though the picture could somehow bring you all the answers that you still lacked.

   “The file says nothing about how or where it was found, or where it might be now. Just guesses about why it was important and from what time-period,” he said, but you gave no indication that you’d even heard him.

   “Belleza?” he tried then, but he still got no reaction at all.

   It was as though the image had put a spell on you, and he suddenly felt uneasy.    He snatched the picture from your hands and put it back in the file, closing it and dropping it on the floor, before he put his hands on your cheeks and gently shook your head.

   “Angel, snap out of it. Do you hear me?” he demanded, and you slowly came around, blinking several times, looking disoriented for a moment before your eyes widened with understanding.

   “Oh, fuck…” you breathed, and your voice was trembling.

   “What? What is it?” he asked, keeping his hands on your cheeks even as yours came up to hold his wrists, trying to anchor yourself.

   “The damned bow is magical too. It showed me, Pero. It showed me the battle, as if I’d been an arrow swooping over it.    There were thousands of those things… maybe millions.    Jesus…” you closed your eyes and tears spilled down over his fingers, but he willed his thoughts to remain on searching for clues, otherwise this was all for nothing.

   “Did you see any people?” he prodded, while simultaneously wondering how he didn’t even question that a mere image of the bow had somehow connected you to it.

   “No, only from afar. It was just flashes, really.    But this is the one, honey. We need to find it,” you urged, breaking out of his hold and turning back to the cabinets to resume your search.

   He picked up the file and dropped it back into its slot in the drawer, and he was just about to close it when he noticed that the name on the file wasn’t anything to do with any weapons.

   “Angel… what made you pick up this file?” he asked, and you stopped working to think about it, with confusion bothering your brows.

   “Uh… I’m not sure. Why?” you finally answered, and he pointed to the white strip at the top of the folder.

   “Because the name on it is ‘The Irishman’. That didn’t come up in your search,” he recalled, and your confusion deepened as you stared at the open drawer.

   “No, it didn’t. Did it say anything about an Irishman?” you asked, having not actually looked at the pages yourself, only the picture.

   “Not that I saw,” he shrugged, starting to feel like a rat in a maze. “What’s going on here?”

   “I don’t know, but I think we’ve been here long enough,” you decided after a glance at the clock on your phone.

   Together you made sure that everything looked untouched, and then scrubbed the search-history on the computer, before leaving the archives and heading back towards the elevator.    Back upstairs, Pero’s phone rang just as you stepped out of the lift, but there was no caller ID, just a blank screen.    He answered it, but then didn’t get a single word out before the caller spoke, having somehow activated the speaker function without him even touching the screen.

   “Do not proceed to the main gallery.”

   “AIVA?” Pero asked, but it wasn’t so much a question of who, more of why it was calling him, and it understood his tone and preceded to explain.

   “Mr. Rose has been detained by security. He has instructed me to escort you to safety. Please, take your first right.”

   He was certain that his expression mirrored your suddenly very worried one. Not out of any fear you had for your own safety in that moment, but for Sam’s.

   “What? How did they know?” he pressed, needing to understand exactly what was happening.

   “The security guard that you incapacitated was found only minutes later. He described you to the head of security, who recognized you from Mr. Rose’s party.    They’re searching for you right now, but I’m controlling their camera-feeds to keep you out of sight.    Please, take your first right.”

   He stared at you, as torn as he’d been only two weeks ago, when he’d been in the same situation, with your life in one hand, and Sam’s in the other.    These people weren’t likely to kill him, but if they had any proof of wrongdoing, they could certainly make his life miserable for a time, and given how little time the man had left, there was every chance that he might spend his last scrap of time in this world locked up.

   Pero would rather die than let that happen, but if he went to find him, just like that night, you’d follow.    And while you might not be visible on any cameras, your fingerprints would be all over that archive, meaning it wouldn’t be hard to prove that you’d broken in, even if AIVA managed to hide its intrusion into the system.

   Breaking into the archives without stealing anything wasn’t likely to generate any serious repercussions, but then again, he knew what rich people could do when they decided to make an example out of someone.    And he couldn’t risk anyone turning you into some cautionary tale about keeping your hands out of other people’s cookie-jars.    He took your hand and turned to the right, but you held him back, forcing him to stop.

   “No. We’re not leaving him,” you insisted, and there was a fear in your eyes that he couldn’t place, but which he assumed was something similar to his own.

   “They won’t hurt him, Belleza,” he countered. “They only want to be sure that nothing has been stolen. I doubt they can even prove that he was involved since AIVA probably did all the work. And once they see that nothing’s been taken, they will have no choice but to let him go.    But if we go after him, then we confirm that he was the one pulling the strings, and that will give them all the cause they need to start a full investigation.”

   “I don’t care. We have to go to him, Pero. I know we do,” you persisted, and he slumped a little as he recognized that fear in your eyes now.

   The fear of the unknown, tugging at you with invisible strings and whispering secrets in your ears that you could only barely perceive.

   “Your gut is telling you this, yes?” he asked, and you nodded, somehow looking defeated.

   “AIVA, get us to Sam as quickly as possible,” you ordered, and the machine obeyed.

   “Your fastest option is to proceed to the main gallery. Security will escort you to the same location.    For a covert option, step back into the elevator and head two floors up.”

   There was no doubt or hesitation in your body as you stepped towards the gallery, while Pero was suddenly fighting panic.    He did trust that you somehow just knew things from time to time, he’d seen it enough times to be convinced, but that didn’t make it any less frightening to let you hurl yourself into danger, just because your midriff said you had to.

   You emerged from the back of the large exhibition hall, quickly locating the closest guard, who wasted no time in alerting all of security that you’d been found.    He did look suspicious when neither of you made any attempt to evade or escape him, and just stood perfectly still while he waited for back-up, so that the two of you could be quietly escorted off the main floor.

   No need to disrupt what would surely be a lucrative evening, just because of a couple of trespassers and a little assault…

   You were brought to a different part of the building, a wing that stood out to the south of the main body of the structure, separating it not just from the guests, but from everything else as well, including the archive and the vault.    And you had to pass through reinforced doors to get there, meaning that this section could probably be cordoned off completely from the rest of the building, if need be. Like a giant panic room.

   The three guards that were escorting you had zip-tied your hands in front of you as soon as you were out of sight of the other guests, and Pero heard those heavy doors close shortly after you’d passed through them.    Locking you in would seem to suggest that they weren’t going to settle for a simple conversation and then let you go, given that nothing was taken, so he took note of everything he passed in the hallways that could be used to cut the ties open. Just in case.

   From there you were taken to what looked more like a conference room than anything else, and aside from another two security guards, there were two men in suits sitting on one side of the fairly large table.    And right across from them was Sam, unharmed but zip-tied, and not at all happy to see you two.

   You were directed to sit down next to him, and as you took your seats, one of the suits started talking.

   “Okay, let’s get started.    I obviously know who you are, Mr. Rose, by name at least, as I’m sure my partner does too. But aside from the short conversation we had earlier, I’ve never heard of you showing any interest towards the fine arts, or artifacts of history, or indeed anything at all that companies like ours specialize in.”

   Mr. Weiss, apparently. He was taller than everyone else, even sitting down, broad-shouldered and boasting an overall impressive physique for a man in his sixties, but he looked… really bored. Like he couldn’t stand these types of functions, and just wanted to get this whole night over with.

   “So, I suppose what I’m wondering is, what’s going on here?    Who are these annoyingly beautiful people in your party, and why did they assault our security, only to seemingly not do anything else harmful whatsoever?    As far as we can tell, nothing’s been taken or moved, and now your people have even surrendered without a fuss.    So, what are you after?” Mr. Weiss questioned, and Sam opened his mouth to respond, but you beat him to it.

   “The Irishman,” you said, pronouncing the title clearly and with conviction, as if you suddenly knew exactly what you were talking about.

   Both Mr. Weiss and his partner flinched as they heard that, and their eyes snapped over to you while they actually physically leaned away from the table, as though they suddenly thought that you had the ability to spontaneously combust.    Sam met Pero’s eyes behind your back, with a question in his brow, but Pero just shrugged. He really had no idea what you were doing.

   Mr. Weiss had to swallow a few times before he could find his voice again, which he then used to order all the security out of the room. Something that would ordinarily prompt Pero to execute an escape, but he held off for now, because he knew that you weren’t done.    The tall man stood up from his chair and moved to the head of the table, where he stopped and just trampled nervously on the spot for a few seconds.

   “How do you know about that?” he asked you, staring at you with the look of a man that had just witnessed Elvis rise from the dead.

   “He fought on The Great Wall, in The Nameless War, helping to secure victory against an unknown enemy.    We’re looking for his bow, that’s why we’re here,” you calmly explained, and now it was Pero’s turn to feel his eyebrows rise questioningly as he stared at you.

   Because none of that had been in the file, and yet you’d spoken with absolute conviction. You weren’t bluffing or making this up, you somehow just knew, and it sent a chill along the length of his spine.    Both the men seemed to experience the same thing, only ten times stronger than what he felt. So, whatever this was, they’d clearly uncovered something that they were completely terrified of.    You, on the other hand, seemed only mildly anxious, with the need to find answers.

   “You have a picture of it, but where’s the actual bow?” you pressed, apparently not at all concerned about the fact that these men had you trapped. “Please… I need to find it.”

   Your sincerity was palpable, though, and it made the two men relax a little.    But Mr. Weiss needed a minute, and turned his back to the whole table, rubbing his neck while his partner tried to explain what they knew.

   “We… don’t know where it is,” his partner started, and you leaned forwards, putting your tied up hands on the table, with an incredulous or perhaps slightly hopeless tinge to your expression.

   “You lost it?”

   “No,” the guy instantly countered, but he looked terribly confused. “No, we… uhm…… We found it at a completely unrelated dig in Germany. A burial-ground discovered by accident by a farmer.    If not for the small imprint of a seal embedded into the handle, we never would’ve known it was that bow.”

   “An Asian tiger,” you nodded, and the man reciprocated.

   “Yes. That particular seal doesn’t belong to any known army or leader, but we kept finding small evidence of it, here and there around The Wall.    And now we’d found it on an unassuming bow, belonging to an Irishman that died in Germany,” he said, almost whispering now with how intimidating he apparently found this subject.

   But Mr. Weiss had recovered by then, and he turned around to place his hands down flat on the table, leaning heavily on them while his eyes found yours again.

   “We brought it here for analysis, and that picture you saw was all we managed to get, because the second after we took it… the bow was gone.    And by that, I mean it vanished before our eyes.    But no one other than myself and Mr. Palmer, know anything about this. We control our digs, no one else is allowed access to them, or anything that we find, until we’re ready to have our findings scrutinized by other professionals.    And seen as how we were quite convinced that we’d either gone mad, or suffered some kind of hallucination, we never talked about it again. No one knew about the bow. Not one other person.    So, how can you know any of this?” he questioned, but he still sounded more desperate than accusing.

   Pero hadn’t known much in the way of amazement, in any form, before meeting you.    But the magic that you’d shown him, even before he’d realized that you were magic for real, had opened his eyes and his soul to a world full of wonder and possibility far beyond what his former self could’ve ever even dreamed of.    And still, you kept becoming more and more amazing every day.

   He was sitting right there next to you, looking right at you, when it happened.    If you hadn’t already shown him the mysticism of the world… if he, like the other three men in the room, had never experienced your power, he might’ve reacted like they did.    He might’ve yelped and thrown himself backwards, like Weiss and Palmer, or simply found himself frozen in place, trying to absorb the full force of the unknown spreading out before him, like Sam did.

   But he had seen it before. He had felt it, been engulfed by it, freed by it, and thus, had no fear of it.

   He saw your fingers flex and your hands move on their own to accommodate the handle that suddenly filled them as the weapon appeared, drawn from nowhere, and yet heavy and solid and devastatingly real.    And just like when he saw the picture, that knowing feeling settled into him, because this was the one.

   The bow that had been so perfectly carved into the wall of the cave that didn’t exist, that he could recognize every blemish on it, even though he’d never seen it before.    The thing you needed to complete the mystery, and finish what the ghost had started, was suddenly right there, in your hands.

   Surprised by the sudden weight, you dropped it and it fell on its side, slamming against the polished wood of the table, making everyone jump at the sound, which seemed unnaturally loud after the incredibly forced silence that had preceded it.

   “How… that’s not pos… How did you…?” Weiss stammered, almost in a panic, still trying to deny what his eyes were showing him, needing to cling to his perception of reality, not to lose his mind.

   But to Pero’s utter surprise, you just winked at him.

   “Just a touch of magic, gentlemen,” you said with a prize-winning smile that could’ve charmed even the poorest man into giving you his last penny.

   Pero had no idea why you were suddenly playing it like an act, as though they hadn’t just seen you do the impossible.    Until he saw Weiss begin to calm down as his mind started to cling to that preferrable explanation. Building on it until he’d turned it into something he could actually believe.    Because after all, magicians did the seemingly impossible all the time.

   Nevertheless, both men were extremely uncomfortable with the entire situation, and before you knew it, they’d ordered their security to cut your hands free and escort you from the premises.    And no one even attempted to suggest trying to take the bow from you.

   How you’d known that that playfulness was exactly what had been needed to make the men decide to just let you go, Pero would never understand, but it was also irrelevant right then.    He held his arm around your waist while you were escorted to the nearest exit, under what was a seriously tense silence, still ready to attack if it should come to that.

   At the end of the long hall there was an emergency fire-escape with the same type of blast-proof doors as they’d passed through earlier, which one of the guards opened for you.    Pero was quite relieved to see the Maybach come to a slow stop at the curb right in front of you, just as you stepped outside, and the doors closed behind you.    You all got in, and the car set off on its own, heading east.

   “AIVA, let’s use the secondary landing site this time,” Sam announced to the computer as soon as everyone was inside.

   “Yes, sir. ETA is 29 minutes,” it confirmed, and then Rose twisted in his seat, so that he could see you, and the bow, and his eyes were alight, positively glowing with imagination.

   “I won’t ask you how you did it, because I could tell that you weren’t even aware of it, but my god, Peg… Hearing about it, and seeing it, are two very different beasts,” he said, almost breathless with wonder.

   You handed him the bow, and he took it almost reverently, while you suddenly seemed mostly relieved to be rid of it.

   “I’m glad you enjoyed the show, but it freaks me the hell out,” you answered with a shudder.

   Pero reached for your hand, and you took it and held it tightly between both of yours, almost as if you were falling and he was a rope.    You really had no control over this, and while he’d been able to see how much it scared you before, this was the first time that it really sunk in that you were effectively powerless against your own power.    And suddenly your fear took on a different meaning, and a much greater weight.

   “At least we have it. This is why you were so determined to come here, it makes sense now,” he pondered, and you nodded, but there was sadness within the movement.

   “Yeah. I just wish I understood it better, then maybe it wouldn’t be so frightening.    Maybe I’d be able to anticipate this kinda stuff and at least know why I’m being drawn to something,” you sighed and lifted one hand to rub your temple. “I mean, why here?    If I can conjure things out of thin air then why did I specifically have to be here, and why couldn’t I make it happen until that particular moment?    If that place was magical, in the same way that we think the forest was, then why couldn’t I find it the second that I walked in?”

   “Because you weren’t ready,” Pero suggested, thinking back to your time lost in the woods. “Remember, you didn’t find the swords until we had already been in that place for twenty hours.    You seem to need something, some specific trigger to know how, or maybe where to reach, to find what you’re looking for.”

   “Could be. Or it could just be that my magic is a drama-queen that needs the right moment just for effect,” you scoffed, but right then, something occurred to him.

   “Wait, Angel… When you found the swords, it was through me. Through my connection to them.    These men might not be directly connected to the bow, but they are the last people to handle it. The latest connection to it,” he said, and watched you consider that with a mostly resigned look in your eyes.

   “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.    But that still doesn’t help us find whoever it actually belongs to,” you concluded, while putting your elbow up against the door so that you could rest your head on your arm.

   “Mm. Perhaps the bow itself will know,” he tried, looking for the silver lining that you didn’t seem to see.

   “I can only hope.”

   You turned your head away then, looking out of the window on your side, at the bustling city as it passed around you, but he knew that you didn’t see it.    He knew that something was hurting inside you, something that he couldn’t fix or heal for you. But he squeezed your hand anyway, to make sure you knew that he would have, if he could.

   “I need this to be the last of it, Pero. Once we find this person… and hand over the bow… I need this to stop,” you said, still staring outside, and your voice was small, which was something that he wasn’t used to hearing from you, and truly disliked. “I know this mystical stuff is amazing in its own right, and that it’s really special. But I don’t wanna do this for the rest of my life.    I don’t wanna live with this constant uncertainty.”

   There was no answer he could give, no words of reassurance, because all of this was completely unknown. There were no answers.    But it was the tinge of hopelessness behind your words that really got to him.    You were a goddess of hope, the strongest person he’d ever met, and yet… this magic, the thing that he’d always believed to be the thing that made you that strong, he now realized was perhaps the one thing that really could rob you of that hope.

   “Peg, look at me,” he urged, and you did.

   And while your eyes were dry, they were also hurting, and he needed to try and at least soothe that pain in your soul, if only a little bit.

   “Not that long ago, when you were fighting against the darkness in your soul, and the fear of loving someone as much as you love me, I told you something that was perhaps the truest thing I have ever said.    ‘Your heart is my blood, your soul is my purpose, your mind is my pleasure, and your body is my privilege.’    And right now, I need you to know that no matter what happens, that will never stop being true. I will never let you lose that hope that has woken me from my grave more times than I can count, and showed me what real courage is.    So, no matter what happens, Belleza, we will be okay,” he declared, and when he fell silent, your eyes were no longer dry and no longer hurting.

   You leaned towards him, letting your head rest against his chin, and he kissed your forehead softly.

   “You need to stop saying that you’re terrible with words, because you’re fucking amazing at finding the perfect ones,” you lovingly admonished, and he smiled against your warm skin. “There’s nothing I could possibly add to that, except to just once again tell you how much I love you, which seems kinda small in comparison.”

   “It’s not, Angel. Those words will never be small to me,” he finished, and finally felt you relax into him, soothing him as much as he soothed you.

   Once you’d all boarded the plane and the Maybach had driven away, presumably to some expertly concealed hide-out that only its maker knew, AIVA took off.    And when the calm settled in around you, Sam stopped trying to keep up the façade that he was healthy, since there was no one there that he needed to hide his condition from.    He slumped in his chair, suddenly looking ten years older and just generally unwell.

   The effort it had to have taken to keep up that mask must’ve been tremendous, but he was paying for it now, and Pero suspected that he would for several more days.    He got up and moved over to sit next to his brother for a bit. The man was having trouble keeping his eyes open, and he just wanted to reassure his friend that he wasn’t alone, and that they’d take care of him.

   But then Rose turned his head to look at him, and there was a smile on his lips. Something mischievous and almost childishly excited, albeit somewhat less energetic.

   “What are you smiling about, hm?” Pero quietly asked, and his smile widened.

   “Oh… just wondering how you liked your first formal event?” Sam inquired, and while his speech was a bit slow with fatigue, and he kept having to force his eyes back open, the grin remained firmly in place.

   “Considering how it ended up, I’m only glad it wasn’t worse,” your partner replied, which only made the man huff a small but thoroughly bemused laugh.

   “Oh, come on. I’m talking about the part before that… You actually danced, Tov.”

   Pero glanced at you then, and you made no effort to hide your smile at the memory.

   “Okay, that part was very nice, yes. And I get the whole thing about the dress,” he admitted, unable to keep a joyous grin from spearing through his own features. “I do need to thank you for this.”

   “Told you so,” Sam happily reminded him, and he reached over to take the man’s hand for a moment.

   “You did, hermano,” he agreed, expecting his brother to fall asleep any second now.

   But apparently, he wasn’t quite ready to leave this evening just yet, because he lifted his head to meet Pero’s eyes, and he still looked so childishly excited, even through all that fatigue.

   “So… wanna make it official?” the man asked, leaving the Spaniard completely stumped as to what he was talking about.

   “Make what official?” he countered, but then Sam reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a folded-up piece of paper that he handed Pero, without another word.

   He opened it, and his entire body kind of stilled the moment that he recognized what it was. He didn’t freeze, it was a comfortable kind of stillness that made him feel soft in a way that he never had before.    His eyes drifted to you and then back to Sam, who was making the effort to keep his open in order to gauge Pero’s reaction.

   “Sam… is this…? Did you plan this, all along?”

   “Maybe. Maybe I wanted to be a part of it… while I can.    It’s not perfect, I know. But at least you’re properly dressed. And you fucking danced…    I mean… if that’s not fate, I don’t know what is,” Rose slowly explained, grinning through every word, and all Pero could do was simply smile back, because he couldn’t think of anything to say in that moment.

   “Well, don’t look at me…” his brother winked. “It’s not my signature you need.”

   Your partner looked at you then, and suddenly there was a lump in his throat. Not that he had anything to worry about, you’d already had this conversation.    Still, there it was, reminding him that very few things were truly certain and sowing seeds of doubt in the outskirts of his mind, that even though they were small, still terrified him.    You could see that something was up, and smiled a little nervously at him.

   “I take it that means me, then. So, what am I signing?    Nothing else involving missiles, I hope,” you joked, and he actually had to swallow a few times before he managed to answer you.

   Why the fuck was it so nerve-wracking? He already knew what your answer would be, you’d told him weeks ago.

   “Uhm… No, no missiles. Just, uh…” he croaked, genuinely struggling to find enough of his voice to squeeze out the final word, “… m-marriage.”

   The curious expression in your face was instantly replaced by something that Pero simply couldn’t decipher, and suddenly his blood turned ice cold with fear.    He just kept telling himself that you’d already accepted, and that he had no reason to suspect that you’d changed your mind since then, while he reached over the table between you, and handed you the piece of paper.    The marriage license.

   You took it, and almost hunched over it slightly as you read it, making your expression even harder to read, and now he was closing in on fucking panicking.    But surely, he was overreacting. There was nothing to worry about, of course you’d want this every bit as much as he did.    Right…?

   His own thoughts were screaming in disarray and doubt, begging you to please just say something! Anything!    He was going stir crazy, somehow feeling like an hour had gone by already, even though it was probably less than two seconds since he’d handed you the paper.    He had to say something. He had to make you say something, or he’d lose his damned mind.

   “I-I mean, if… if you still want to?” he managed to say, and your head slowly raised, but you only looked at him for a moment, before your eyes moved over to Sam, and there were so many questions in them.

   “You never thought we’d find anything, did you?    I kept wondering what you’d actually prepared all this for. The amount of time it takes to make tailored clothes of this quality… it just didn’t add up.    But the fund-raiser was just a happy coincidence, wasn’t it? This… this was the original plan. It was never about the bow, you just wanted to give us a wedding,” you pondered, with a tone that could’ve been either mildly angry, or possibly incredulously impressed.

   “Yes. I’ve been planning this for a lot longer than you’d believe,” Sam confessed, puzzling you both, but he kept going. “Those papers are fully legitimate; all you need to do is sign. I’m ordained, so this is all above board.    And I gotta say… I hadn’t expected you to play along so well, even though you weren’t aware of it. You jumbled the traditional order up a little bit, but I think you got most of it in there.    The whole family in attendance, though only for the kiss, but you got the first dance and even the vows covered too, in the car just now. It was so much more than I’d hoped for, considering that I wasn’t all that confident that I’d even get Tov to put on the suit.”

   Pero was momentarily stunned out of the crippling panic as he listened.    Sam knew that the two of you would never have allowed him to throw you a big expensive wedding, but being the unique person that he was, he’d found a way to give you one anyway.    Christ, even the tickets had said Mr. and Mrs. Tovar.

   You weren’t done with him yet, though.

   “Oh, god… Even the damned tux should’ve clued me into it.    The pictured monogram on the cuffs and the inside pocket, even the eight-pointed stars are symbols of hope and infinity.    You clever little shit…” you accused, but your voice was warm and you were clearly touched by the effort he’d put in.

   Pero had been so focused on how much he’d hated the suit, as Andrew had helped him get into it, that he hadn’t really paid much attention to it. And ever since you’d appeared before him, he hadn’t been able to see much else.    But now that he truly looked at it, he saw the details that you’d mentioned, and they brought tears to his eyes.

   Because it was perfect.    His brother had made every detail of this evening about the two of you, about celebrating your love for one another.    The Spaniard didn’t even know how Sam knew about the dragon, and he didn’t care.    Everything was perfect.

   “Gracias amado hermano,” he whispered, unable to coax any more power out of his voice, and as Rose turned his gaze back to him, the tears spilled.

   There was a small nod in his friend’s neck, and an overwhelming amount of emotion behind his tired eyes, but he bit it back.    And Pero suspected that the man would break into a thousand pieces if he didn’t.

   “Not to be particular… but I would like to actually make it official,” Sam smiled, reaching into his pocket to pull out a pen, which he then held out to you, and suddenly Pero was holding his breath, somehow terrified again.

   And it did nothing to help ease his fears, when you didn’t take it.    You sat there for a moment, staring at Rose with that same fucking enigma of an expression in your face, unknowingly driving your partner to the brink of his sanity once more.    And then you suddenly got up and rounded the table before kneeling next to Sam and throwing your arms around his neck.

   He heard your heavy breaths as you held his brother close, as well as Sam’s now practically desperate attempts not to succumb to the pain in his heart as he held onto you.    But you didn’t say anything.    You just held him, until you found the strength to let him go.    Then you took the pen from him, stood up, and bent down over the table to neatly place your signature on the designated line.

   The breath that escaped Pero as he watched you make that decision, was more than just relief that you hadn’t changed your mind. It was gratitude and hope and love and everything that he wanted to share with you for the rest of his life.    You handed him the pen before sitting back down in your own seat, and he signed without a second thought.

   Sam held his hand out for the papers then, so he handed them to him and saw him put them back in his inside breast pocket.

   “Good. I’ll send them in first thing in the morning,” he said, and then all but passed out, still with a smile snaking through his entire being.

   Pero had noticed that he hadn’t recognized either of the names of the witnesses, but considering that there was no one else present, he assumed that Sam had somehow forged that part in a way that would still make the license valid.    He was just about to sit down next to you again, when AIVA announced that it was time to strap in for the landing, and he was somewhat shocked to realize that this conversation had occupied the whole length of the flight.

   Back home, Coulson was waiting, leaned against the front bumper of the Phantom, but he quickly sprang into action when he saw that Pero was actually carrying Rose out of the aircraft, as the evening’s excitement had finally wrung the last of his strength from him.    It was around midnight when you got back to the estate, so everyone else would be asleep, which was why the men did their best to be quiet when they carried Sam into the house and over to his room.

   He and Coulson then helped him get out of his suit and tucked him into bed, while you respectfully waited outside.    Even though Rose hadn’t told the rest of the staff about his condition, Pero could tell that the butler knew, but neither of them commented on it. They just quietly left the room and said goodnight as they parted ways outside the front entrance.

   The two of you returned to your house, and Pero wondered if you felt as strange about the entirety of this evening as he did.    But he didn’t get a chance to ask, because you walked straight into the bedroom and opened up his armory, where you hung the bow among his weapons and then quickly closed the hidden door, as though you were relieved to no longer have to handle it.

   However, in that moment, back home with you in the place you shared and where your journey would forever have begun, Pero no longer cared about the bow.    Having you to himself again, all those things he’d felt as he’d seen you come down those stairs, came flooding back through him, and he wanted you to feel them too.    He wanted to show you exactly how lost he was in you, and he wanted you to disappear into that place with him.

   You sighed and then reached your arms up so you could start pulling pins out of your hair, dropping them on the nightstand with tiny tingling sounds, while he shrugged his jacket off and moved up behind you.    He let his lips be the first thing that touched you, gently kissing the nape of your neck, before his hands found your hips.

   You kept working on freeing your hair and he didn’t disturb you, since he wanted you to be comfortable when you would be pressed into the mattress underneath him later.    And he could feel your body respond to him when he kept trailing kisses along your neck and shoulders, and letting his hands explore the texture of the dress as it clung to your form, so he knew that you weren’t brushing him off.    You kept on calmly removing all discomforts because you knew that he would wait.

   When he’d woken up earlier that morning, the first thing he’d seen had been the garment-bag that had held his suit, and it had filled him with discomfort and nervousness because he’d been afraid that he’d make a fool of both himself and you.    But now that he knew what it actually was, what it represented in your shared story going forwards, he realized that it would henceforth only ever fill him with pride.

   There were very few things in this world or in his own life, that Pero was truly proud over.    But being your husband, protector and partner in all things, would never fail to make him puff up his chest and fill him with the strangely humble vanity that being chosen and loved cultivated.    So, when you were done, and placed your warm hands over his, now resting softly over your abdomen, silently giving him permission to claim you, once and for all, it was with pride that he undressed you, kissed you, lavished your body with his fullest attention.

   And while your wedding night passed in the haze of pleasure, not a single moment wasted as you repeatedly reached for each other, constantly needing more, he suddenly felt completely certain that this had all been written in the stars, ages ago.     A new day was dawning when you finally fell asleep, tangled together and much too tired to care about the limbs that would ache and complain with the awkward positions that they’d been left in.

   The rising sun brought golden morning light into the room, and with it, Pero felt like something more than just a new day had begun.    Something else was starting too, and whatever it was, he knew that it would shape the future of your lives together.    For better or worse.

>>>>>>>>>> <<<<<<<<<<

Link to Chapter 35

Thank you for reading, and if you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging. I would dearly appreciate it <3

@tacticalsparkles @tanzthompson @sarahjkl82-blog  @marydjarin @idreamofboobear  @annathewitch @agingerindenial  @tiffanyleen @winter-fox-queen @elegantduckturtle  @lovefreylove @shadowolf993  @callsigncatfish @hounding-around @cannedsoupsucks @startrekkingaroundasgard  @thisshipwillsail316 @ellie-darling @likes-good-reblogs-even-better @nakhudanyx @dihra-vesa @tobealostwanderer @ophelialoveshandsomemen @deadhumourist @spideysimpossiblegirl @toomanystoriessolittletime  @tintinn16 @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @nolanell

[inkingtwice]

Apparently it’s my weekend for wordy meta: sorry. 🤷 This is what happens when I take a break from job #2 and rediscover the concept of free time, I guess: I reread craft books and analyze the crap out of my favorite stories. Maybe I should take up knitting?

Anyhoo.

Jeff Gerke proposed something in Plot vs. Character that has stuck with me since I first read it, which is that every protagonist has a primary inner hang-up they’re constantly tripping over on their way to their goals. This doesn’t have to be some earth-shattering thing, as long as it’s significant to the character. They don’t even have to be aware of it. (Often, I think, they’re not: they discover it somewhere between catalyst and climax—usually closer to the latter—after barking up at many perfectly innocent trees on their way to the truth.) Gerke called this the knot, which is a nicely catchy term.

Hardly an original thought, and it applies to a specific approach to story structure, but I think it’s useful not only for writing but for reading/watching fiction.

And yeah, it’s formulaic, as a lot of general writing advice tends to be…but in this case, I find the simplicity appealing. Advice on characterization can get insanely specific, and after incoherent mumble years of studying the art of storytelling in its written and theatrical forms, the firmest conclusion I’ve come to is that I don’t think it really needs to be. Pin the big character stuff down, shove ‘em into a story, and let the plot do the work of revealing the character’s essence: that’s what plots are for. Too much detail in the prep phase can be as limiting as too little.

Which may seem like an odd thing to say coming from a nerd who likes to outline her long-form fiction in Excel and then graph it to the major elements of the Plot Mountain, but, dammit (janet): discovery is as much fun in creation as it is in consumption.

Basically, what this-all speaks to is internal conflict.

Conflict in plot is another thing where there are doorstoppers of advice on the shelves and online, some of it tedious and some of it great, but what it pretty much boils down to is desire + opposition, yes? The external stuff—character vs. character, -vs. society, -vs. nature, etc.—drives action. The internal stuff—character vs. self—drives character development. It's not that simple, of course: they do interact. The action grinds away the outer layers of the character, revealing the essential self and forcing personal change. That change pushes the action forward as the character tries new avenues around/over/through the obstacles between them and their goals.

Conflicting values, blind spots, guilt, shame, shit coping mechanisms, obsessions, fears, heavy secrets…the internal conflict is always psychological, and unless it’s confronted, everything the character does to leap the hurdles of external opposition is likely to fail, or at least to resolve incompletely. They can face down all the dragons they want, but they won’t get out of their own way until they face themselves. This is Gerke’s Knot.

What I love about Hwang Si-mok as a character—okay, yes, one of the things I love—is that Lee Soo-yeon pulled quite the bait-and-switch on the audience with his internal conflict. The side-effects of his brain surgery create major conflict, so significant to character development and action that it justifies a prologue sequence to set it up and various moments of exposition in the first half of the season to establish the details. Look, all of this explanation says: here is his knot, his central conflict, given to you right from the first scene. How will he overcome this?

Except that’s not actually it.

It’s external, despite its physical location within his brain. It was done to him; whether by his choice or not, we don’t know. External forces can cause a knot, but by definition they aren’t internal conflict. This was gloriously clear by the time Si-mok faced his reflection in the interrogation room with Yoon Se-won to reject aloud the idea that his condition and the effects of its treatment made him inherently dangerous, something he’d carried and possibly believed all season, and presumably ever since he was a child. He was judging Yoon Se-won’s choices, yes: but he was also saying We are not the same, you and I. Your choices are not mine. This is not who I am.

This is why I love Lee Soo-yeon's writing. It's so smart.

This is also why I love complex characters so much: so many layers. Si-mok sheds several of his in season one, and each subtraction reveals new facets of his character: to the audience, to the other characters, and to himself. He achieves a more complete understanding of himself and brings that with him into the next season.

Has his true internal conflict been revealed? I don’t think so, which is one reason I am still, in the absence of any news confirming it, confident that a third season was at least planned. There have been some lovely, subtle hints at what that internal conflict is, and god knows my headcanon for it is locked and loaded, but the arc of character growth isn’t yet complete: he still has miles to go.

Fingers crossed we’ll get to learn about it in 2022.

[random-imagines-blog]

Post Red Part ii {Viktor Krum x Reader Oneshot}

Sequel to : Post Red Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 2385 Summary: When you go to Hogwarts to support your school in the Triwizard Tournament, an unfortunate familiar face makes an appearance. More than once.

Your first glimpse of Hogwarts was spectacular. The ship erupted above the water, and you were finally able to see where it was that you were going to be staying. The glorious castle managed to look beautiful, even through the foggy September morning. You looked towards Viktor, who was sitting beside you, leaning his head to try to look out of your window. “Can you believe this is going to be home for the next year? I’m so glad that my parents let me come with you rather than stay alone at Durmstrang,” You spoke to him in your home tongue. Though you would be having to get used to speaking English more and more regularly, with all of the English students. You looked out the window again, your heart leaping in your chest. This was almost as exciting as going to the World Cup had been.

“It is a little small,” Viktor said, arms crossed in front of him. His loyalty was obviously to Durmstrang, and its own towering peaks. But you were used to his gruff behavior and just ignored him, focusing instead on the sights that were around.

You had no plans of entering the Triwizard Tournament. You were just there as a part of reaching out to other schools, building a sense of community, making friends, trying to see things from another’s perspective. So you did not go in with the dramatics of the seventh year boys, but rather lingered and stepped in after the displays, making yourself at home at a table with a Snake motif. It’s not as if you and the others were going to be noticed once Viktor had come in at your headmaster’s side. All eyes were on him, and conversation immediately erupted upon seeing his face. That grouchy Viktor face.

He slipped in across from you as the Beauxbatons students came through, and immediately started to put food on his plate. There hadn’t been a wide variety of food available on the ship that brought you here, so you were starving, loading your own plate up high. But you paused when you saw that Viktor had. He was looking down the table with a glare in those dark eyes. “Is that-?” He questioned with a motion of his head.

You looked down in the direction that he was staring at and it became very apparent just whom he was glaring at. Draco Malfoy. How could you forget that name when he had drilled it into your head during the World Cup? You couldn’t forget that head of silver hair either. You wrinkled your nose and nodded a yes. It was. Viktor started to stand, but you reached out and grabbed hold of his arm, fork dropping onto the table with a clattering sound. It had happened just as the Headmaster of Hogwarts had paused in his speech, and many eyes went to you and to the Quidditch Star. Or at least the ones that weren’t there already. You smiled uneasily and took your hand off of Viktor’s arm. “Not here,” You muttered.

“He disrespected you, he deserves to be punished,” He said, still standing, still glaring, despite all of the attention on him. Draco, on the other end of the table, looked like he was about to jump out of his skin. It almost seemed worth letting Viktor go, to see that expression on his face when he would come hulking over. The young boy must have put two and two together. He recognized you, and that’s why there was that fear. “Y/N...”

The teachers were looking at you as well. Only Karkaroff would be able to understand what you were both saying, since it was still in your native tongue. He looked furious that you two were causing such a ruckus, and it made your cheeks redden in shame. “Please. Later.”

Viktor finally seemed to notice all of the eyes on him, still standing, fists down on the table. He held a hand up to excuse himself and sunk back down onto the bench. You let out a breath of relief, and Dumbledore continued on with his speech about unity. All Viktor was thinking about was uniting his fist with Draco Malfoy’s face, no doubt. While you focused on uniting this amazing food with your stomach.

-

Viktor had been chosen as Durmstrang’s Representative in the Triwizard Tournament. You were both proud and deeply worried about him, but promised that you would help him along every step of the way. The first task was dragons, as he had found out from Karkaroff. He was growing distracted with trying to figure out ways of defeating a dragon, fighting a dragon, winning over a dragon, that he had nearly forgotten about Draco Malfoy. But Draco Malfoy had not forgotten about you. How you had turned him down, humiliated him in front of his father and the Minister of Magic. And he managed to catch you alone as you were heading back to the Durmstrang dormitories after a study session in the library.

“No bodyguard to protect you this time,” He said with a smirk, pushing himself away from the wall that he had been leaning against. There was no reason for him to be in this hallway, so far as you knew. So this crazy kid must have been waiting for you. He made you feel extremely uncomfortable for the second time in months.

“I do not need a bodyguard,” You said, in slow and careful English. “I need to get to my room.”

“Let’s go then,” Draco said, standing beside you. “I’ll go with you. I’m still waiting on that apology.”

“An apology? I’m waiting on one too, from you. You have been a pest since the World Cup. I would hate to have to report you to Karkaroff.”

You could have sworn that he grew a little paler, not that you thought it was possible with how white his skin already was. That made you feel a little better. Your headmaster as an intimidating man. “You won’t be getting any apologies from me, when you have been the little tease-”

“You’re one to talk about little, fourth year,” You taunted, since clearly being polite, and being avoidant wasn’t working. So you had to make sure that he wanted nothing to do with you. “If you do not leave me alone, I will tell Viktor, and the rest of Durmstrang, and Karkaroff - and they will all believe me about the annoying gnat you are. And then the word will get to Beauxbatons. Do you really want those pretty ladies laughing at you? If not, then you better back off.”

Malfoy took three steps back and you let out a breath in satisfaction. You hurried forward, slipping into the shadows of the castles to make your way back to your dorm. Once you were safe in there, you decided to write a letter to Viktor and tell him what had happened. Malfoy seemed like the sort of boy who liked to retaliate, and you wanted to be prepared in case he got any ideas. Maybe you did have a bodyguard after all.

-

Viktor started going with you everywhere, even after he was chosen as the Durmstrang Champion. It really was almost like being at your own school, and things were normal. Viktor was the person in this world that you were closest to, even more so than your parents. Nobody from Durmstrang batted an eye when you say beside each other at meals, or went for jogs together or went to the library. There was some people from Hogwarts and Beauxbatons who wanted to know about your relationship with the handsome Quidditch star; Viktor always answered them by putting his arm around your shoulders and grunting. He wasn’t a man of very many words, this Viktor Krum.

Whenever Malfoy was around, Viktor went in full shark mode, like he had when you were taken to the bottom of the lake and he had to rescue you as one of the tasks. He snarled and bared his teeth at the boy, and you usually ended up having to drag him away before he would put the blonde in the hospital wing. You always told him that he wasn’t worth it, and that after Viktor would win the Tournament, they would go back to Bulgaria and would never have to think of that rat-faced bastard again.

English slang was really starting to rub off on you.

When the Yule Ball was announced, you thought that perhaps Viktor was going to ask the cute, brunette fourth year that was always in the library, but he hadn’t. He asked you. And you, of course, had said yes. Not only just because him being around you had scared off any other potential suitors, but because you knew you would be comfortable enough around him to actually dance and have fun. Just another day, but he would be letting loose in front of other people as well.

You dressed up. And so did he. Though he definitely looked good - most Quidditch Players did, it was in their fitness regiment, he looked especially great tonight. And by the smile on his face, you thought you must have made a pretty picture yourself.

“Are you prepared to dance, Mr. Krum?” You asked in your native tongue, slipping in beside him and walked towards the winter-wonderland that the Great Hall had turned into. You waved and smiled at your friends, none of them surprised at who you were with. In fact, bets had been taken for who was going to ask who. Very few people lost a few galleons that night. “Because I am so ready.”

The Ball was a blur of fun, punch and music. Your feet were sore from all of the dancing. As were Viktor’s, because he did most of his sport above the ground. You definitely wore out your dancing shoes, and would have to awkwardly tell your parents that you needed a new pair for formal events. Once you explained that it was because of Viktor, you were sure you would have no problem getting more.

But the ending of the night wasn’t as fun, and it was because of that Ferret, Malfoy. He was pushing every last button that you had, which meant that he was poking at Viktor’s as well. All it took was one smug comment to his friends about how you had been ‘all over him’, trying to get all cozy during the World Cup, and Viktor saw red. You hadn’t seen that kind of anger in him before.

He went straight after Malfoy the way that a bull went after a matador. Nose blowing smoke. If he had horns, Malfoy would have been pinned to the wall by them, without a doubt. But as it were, all Viktor had was his brute strength - he didn’t even think about magic. Straight in with a punch to that self-approving face. Malfoy went down like an under-inflated balloon, sinking under the weight of that hit. But that didn’t stop Viktor - and neither did the other fourth year Slytherins trying to have their friends back. You even got involved, trying to pull Viktor out of the developing dog-pile.

It didn’t take long for the chaparones to notice that there was a fight going on, and you were all torn apart from each other by magic. You were now against the wall, feeling like someone had just cast petrificus-totalis on you. Your eyes rolled to find Viktor, only to see that he was beside you, with a bruise developing over one eye. One of those boys must have got him good. You wished you could see how they had come out of the fight. Viktor was sure to have given out twice as good as he got.

“What is the meaning of this?” Professor McGonagall, one of the teachers here at Hogwarts, demanded to know. “A champion? Taking part in a physical altercation?” She looked between you and Viktor, and then to the three Slytherins.

“My fault,” You said, giving up on the struggle against the magic. “I - tripped - fell on boy - Viktor defend me.”

Your English was still a bit rough, but that seemed to be working in your favor. You didn’t have to use as many words if they thought you didn’t know them. But obviously you were going to jump in and lie so that Viktor wouldn’t get in trouble. This tournament meant as much to him, if not more, than Quidditch did. You weren’t going to let him get kicked out just because of some rat-faced boy.

“Well,” McGonagall said, fixing her robes. Your mood perked just a little. She wasn’t even going to ask for the boy’s side of the story? She barely even looked at him now, except to give a hard stare. “20 points from Slytherin.”

“But Professor-”

“And be thankful that it isn’t more!” She said, and with a wave of your wand you were all set free. “I suggest you spend your time on different sides of the Ball this evening.”

“We will, thank you,” You said with a nod, taking Viktor’s hand and pulling him to the left side of the room. “You need to learn how to control your temper, or you  might get kicked out of the tournament. What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking he needed to shut up,” Viktor said. All of the good mood had been sucked out of the both of you by the encounter.

“I hope he learned his lesson,” You said. “I hate liars. It should be obvious I would never be all over someone like him.”

“Good,” Viktor said. “He makes me see red.”

“Makes me mad too,” You nodded. “But let’s not think about him, and enjoy the dance. Shall we?”

Viktor nodded and took your hand, bringing you back out to the dance  floor to dance those emotions away, and forget that anyone else - especially a boy named Draco Malfoy - ever entered into your lives.

[sunshineandbnha]

Back Then - Bakugou x female reader

Word count: 3,831 Minor warnings: little boys being a tad rude, a little bit of angst A/n: I had this idea when I watched a few episodes of Anohana, and I happened to finish it around his birthday. I really like this and I hope you will too.

~

The water trickled over the stones. Leaves rustled in the wind. And sometimes these sounds were completely drowned out with laughs and the voices of children. Children who had nothing better to do than run play in the forest. Then to run back home and hear the sounds of each one’s respective parent call them inside for dinner.

Those were the sounds of your childhood.

Playing hero in the woods with the little boy named Bakugou and the rest of his friends.

“A girl can’t join!” The boy with longer brown hair had said.

You stood before them. Having just asked if you could play with them. Upon receiving such a response, you began to retract in on yourself.

“We need strong brave heroes,” the boy with dragon-like wings added excitedly.

You stood still and bit your lip. Feeling unwanted for something you couldn’t control. The boy with green hair shyly began to open his mouth as if to protest.

Bakugou held out his hand to quiet them. He looked directly at you. “You can join us if you prove yourself. We’ll have a test of courage.” He pointed off in a certain direction. “In the forest, across the log over a stream, are two trees in an X. At night you’ll go grab a bucket on the rock under those trees and bring it in the morning.”

Your eyes stayed locked on his. Yours wavered in uncertainty, until you gave a nod and made the strongest face you could.

-

That night you snuck out when no one was looking. Unfortunately you had forgotten to bring a flashlight and the world was covered in darkness. However, you weren’t going to risk being caught by having to leave your home a second time. You walked through the lit up town. The only lights for miles shined artificially. You prayed the clouds covering the moon would go away.

You were feeling much more nervous than you were expecting and wanted to turn back so badly. But you weren’t a coward. You weren’t a useless girl that couldn’t be strong or brave. That could be left out. You couldn’t come back without that bucket.

It became much harder once you were at the entrance to the forest. The one that spiky blond haired boy had shown you. The streetlights faded away as you walked deeper in. You walked very slowly. You didn’t want to trip. Your heart pounded in your chest. You had to keep going.

In the end you decided to go down and step over the stream rather than cross on the log. Your prayers must have been answered, because the moon peeked through the clouds. When you looked up, you noticed that the majority of the clouds had moved on. By then your eyes had adjusted somewhat and the moonlight helped, but it was still difficult. Thankfully, the two trees weren’t far from the log. If Bakugou hadn’t told you which direction to go, you might have missed them in the dark. What helped were some shiny rocks in the moonlight, where it reflected and caught your eye. 

You walked closer, the light extra bit of light the rocks appeared to give off prompted you to move more quickly. The grass was soft under your feet. The two trees that formed the X seemed to have started to fall some time ago, but were caught by the other trees standing around them. And right where he said it would be, was a bucket sitting on a large piece of stone.

You ran to the bucket and picked it up, hugging it close to you. Then you looked back. You were on a slight hill and you thought you could see some of the lights from outside the forest. You almost dreaded going back. In the beginning, you had treated it like it would all be done as soon as you got the bucket, but you quickly realized that was only half the journey.

With a small sigh, you began to walk back. Though, you briefly stopped to scoop up one of the shiny stones and slipped it into your pocket. It was pretty, and you liked it. It was like they were placed in the moonlight just for you. And you were grateful for it. 

You weaved through the trees. Your eyes drifting between the ground and your target.

A sudden noise caused you to jump. Rustling in a nearby bush. Assuming the worst, you gripped your hand around the rock in your pocket, and raised it, prepared to throw in case some wild animal leaped out at you. You pulled your lips into a thin line and tried to make a brave face while you trembled.

It was coming out. You were preparing yourself to throw, your muscle tensing and fear running through you. Until you noticed it was a person. Someone your age. You could feel his eyes regard you.

“So you got it,” Bakugou, whose name you had yet to learn at the time, said.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding in. “What are you doing here?” you asked gently holding the bucket close to you and dropping the stone back in your pocket.

“I didn’t feel like staying home, I thought I’d come too and make sure you did it.”

You nodded, shifting on your feet. There was a pause of silence. The lights in the distance illuminated the horizon like an artificial sunrise or cluster of clouds. The only sound present were the crickets and running water if you listened hard enough. You turned back towards the way home. Bakugou lifted up a flashlight he had with him and flicked it on.

The bright light made you blink as it illuminated the world in front of you. The light partly shown on his face, with his back still in the dark. It made him somehow look different than when he was fully bathed in sunlight. You didn’t know why, and you didn’t know why it seemed to give you a strange emotion.

“You didn’t bring a flashlight?” he asked as you had both started walking downhill.

“I forgot,” you said quietly.

He laughed, “Dummy.”

“Hey!” But something about the smirk playing on his face made you know he was joking and forgive him immediately. You even found yourself laugh too.

-

Eventually you were found out and got into some trouble when they realized you left the home alone at night. But in your eyes, it was worth it. You were able to bring the bucket to show the other kids. Ever since that you would explore and play hero in the forest. Typically, Bakugou was the main hero or even had his own agency. There were sometimes when you would play as the citizen in need of rescuing, but you also got your share of playing hero too. You spent so much time memorizing those trees and the countless things they could be. A tower, a base, a bank.

The grass became your carpet. The forest became your home. And it and your friends became your world.

Those were the most fun memories of your childhood.

And then it ended.

“Hey, Kacchan!” one of the little boys said, after resting from running around.

“What?” Bakugou raised an eyebrow.

“Do you like (Y/n)?”

It was a small question. But it felt like an earthquake. And years later it would feel like the Earth breaking in two.

Bakugou only paused for a few seconds, his eyes wide, before his face twisted into anger and he exploded. “No, dummy! Why would I like an ugly girl like her—!?” He immediately stopped when he remembered you, only a few feet away.

Everyone stared at you to see your response.

You stared at the ground, which helped to hide your shocked face. Feeling their eyes on you, you looked up to meet their gaze and put on a big smile. An uncharacteristically big smile.

Your happy attitude for the rest of the day felt fake and exaggerated. Once, when no one was paying attention and you thought no one would notice, you snuck off. You wandered through your playground. As you walked, your disguise slowly fell. It became harder and hardly to see clearly and your lip quivered. You didn’t know where you were going, but you knew once you saw it.

You stumbled down by the stream and sat yourself under the log you would walk across with the others. Somehow it felt safe. Being nestled under there with your legs pulled up to your chest. You hoped you weren’t getting your dress too dirty. Your face contorted with sadness as tears poured down your face and you struggled to contain your sobs.

You didn’t even understand why you felt this way. Why the words were repeating. Why your chest was hurting. You wouldn’t understand until you got older.

You stayed out there until it started raining. It started off with a few pitter patters until heavy sheets started coming down. The others had probably left and gotten back to their homes. Safe and dry. You on the other hand were so distraught that you didn’t even consider getting back through the rain. If you waited much longer, you might worry your parents. You had no choice but to walk through it.

You flinched at the cool water at first, but quickly got used to it after you were drenched. You weren’t in a hurry. You didn’t feel like running. So you wandered back home. You were quickly rushed to and dried off once you got back with a brief scolding. But they could seem to tell you were out of it and tired, so they let you off the hook.

-

The next day you woke up sick. Your little self hadn’t been expecting that since it had been warm earlier in the day, but apparently the rain was colder than you realized. You had to stay inside until you got better. They said that you needed all of your energy to recover and make sure it didn’t get worse.

Then just as you were starting to recover, you learned that you would be moving away.

“But what about my friends?” You had asked. Your arms and hands were pulled close to you.

“Don’t worry. You can always call and write letters,” you were told. But that’s not what happened.

Those words that forever repeated in your mind would become the last thing you heard Bakugou say.

 -

It felt strange to be back. Part of you almost wished you weren’t. All of your old memories were now bittersweet. And it was strange how it looked the same, but so many details were different. A lot of your memories from the past had blurred, though you wondered if you’d still be able to find your way around the forest.

Your family decided to visit some relatives who lived near your old home. They missed seeing you, and for the most part you didn’t get much say in the visit. So you had packed your things and prepared yourself for any heavy feelings that may hit you upon coming back.

Though, as you were walking down the familiar road, you noticed something was off.

“This isn’t the way to their house,” you commented, confident you still remembered he way to your relatives house.

“I know. We decided to see the Bakugou family.”

“What?” You nearly dropped your bag and nervous feelings danced in your stomach.

“It’s been a long time since we’ve seen Mitsuki. And you can spend time with little Katsuki again! It’s his birthday you know.”

You were aware that your parents would occasionally talk with Bakugou’s parents and had some sort of friendship because of your friendship with Bakugou. But you hadn’t imagined it would be strong enough for them to want to meet up again years later. Or for them to even consider your old friend's birthday.

“He probably isn’t little anymore. Neither of us are! We’re in high school. And we haven’t seen each other in years. About… eleven or twelve years.”

“All the more reason to see each other again and catch up.

You sighed. There was no fighting it and you just walked along.

Arriving at the Bakugou residence was a strange combination of pleasant and awkward. The parents greeted you warmly. You stayed to the side as much as possible. They started talking with each other, leaving you feeling like you were stuck in a room with a TV but no remote, and the show on wasn’t one you cared for. Bakugou didn’t seem to be fairing much better and had his arms crossed as he stayed away from them.

At dinner, they purposefully set you next to him. Your muscles kept involuntarily tensing up. Neither of you talked during the meal. In fact, he seemed to completely ignore your existence.

To be perfectly honest, you had started to forget what he looked like. The details of his face in your mind became more and more blurred over time. He had grown a lot more handsome since the last time you’d seen him. And for some reason it infuriated you. You began to shovel rice into your mouth.

Dinner ended, and you thought that would be the end of your anti-climactic reunion. Apparently the universe had other plans.

“Why don’t you two go out and catch up,” your parent suggested.

“What?” you and Bakugou said simultaneously.

And with that, you were practically pushed out the door. You both stood there for a moment before awkwardly deciding to just walk on the street. There were a few people out that you would walk around. It was a nice enough day, not too hot, not too cold. The sun ducked in and out from behind clouds during the day, but currently it was shining down.

You stood side by side with Bakugou. The tense silence poked you like needles. He walked with his hands in his pockets. Just like the rest of the day, he ignored you. He hadn’t even made eye contact with you since you both agreed to just walk around.

No matter how much you wanted to resist having a conversation with him, you preferred that to that agonizing silence. You awkwardly glanced around for a conversation topic. You caught some TVs on display playing the news.

“So I heard villain attacks are on the rise or something. Or was that just where I live?” you started, already feeling as if you failed, but kept going. “What if a villain jumps out here and attacks us?” you joked.

“Haven’t you heard? I’m going to be the number one hero. I would take them down before they could even get to you,” he replied, not even glancing at you.

You froze. Feeling like you had been plunged into ice water as a memory resurfaced. That night when you and him walked back from the forest.

You had been walking through the town with him next to you. You still clutched the bucket as you glanced around. It hadn’t occurred to you until then, but you remembered your mom saying villain attacks were more likely at night. When you first came out, all you could think about was getting the bucket. But now that you already had it…

You had tugged on the hem of little Bakugou’s shirt to get his attention. “I heard that there’s villains around here. What if one comes out and hurts us?” You shivered and sunk into your shoulders in fear. Your imagination wasted no time in showing you every possible kind of villain jumping out from any dark corner.

“They won’t.” He turned his head back to the path before him.

“How do you know?”

“Because I’m going to be a hero. And I would take them down before they got anywhere near you,” he said confidently, though never looking at you.

“(Y/n). Why’d you stop?” a voice dragged you back. Teenage Bakugou glared you down, annoyance evident in his expression. There were also subtle signs of curious along with it, but you didn’t notice.

The sudden rush of the memory was too much. You didn’t know what you were doing, but you just knew you wanted to leave. You wanted to be alone. You began dashing off. If he called after you, you didn’t hear. Why? Why were you hurting again? Why did it feel like your chest was being torn to pieces over memories that took place over a decade ago?

Everything was a blur around you. You had no idea where you were even heading to. You were simply met with the choices of whether to turn left, right, or straight, and decide in the moment. It didn’t even occur to you that you were running into a forest until several seconds after you did.

You ran, and ran. And you ended up back at that stream with the log. The same water trickling over rocks. The same rise of land that allowed for passage under the log. Somehow, after all of these years, you still subconsciously remembered where it was. It felt a lot smaller.

Without even thinking about it, you sat under that log. You curled in on yourself and stared at the water. Flowing over the small rocks, creating ridges in the clear liquid as the stones interrupted the flow.

You sat and stared. You didn’t even care, and pretended not to notice, when Bakugou slowly walked up and sat beside you. He didn't look at you. You did look at him. Neither of you made eye contact. Like the other was a ghost. But there was a strange mutual understanding that you acknowledged the other. That the silence and emotional distance was out of respect.

After all of this time, you were there again. Like you were kids once more. It was strange how, in a way, that forest raised you. You had certainly become more bold afterwards.

“What was that all about?” he said. But quietly.

You didn’t answer, opting for curling in further on yourself.

He paused. Hesitant on how to handle your silence. "I asked you a question."

"Nothing." Your voice was barely louder than a whisper.

"Don't run off because of nothing! Idiot. I had to follow you all the way here." 

Birds filled the silence. Chirping songs to one another. Trees rustled in the breeze. It all created as harmony you were too familiar with. One you were both too familiar with.

"It's been a while since we were here," you said.

He nodded with a grunt.

You shifted your knees closer to yourself once more. But as you did so, you felt something slip out of your pocket. In brief confusion, you looked down. The blond followed your gaze.

Ever since that night, when you got the bucket, you kept that stone with you. It had perfectly been there when you needed it. And ever since you put it in your pocket that night, it hasn't left your side. It had been a good luck charm for you. A piece of your childhood. A sign that maybe someone out there was looking out for you.

“That’s… I—!” Bakugou’s eyes widened, but he stopped himself. He turned away as his face went pink.

“That’s what?” you asked confused.

“I… nothing. Just it looks like one of the rocks from around here.”

“Yeah. I'm not sure how you can tell that just by looking, but it is. To be more specific, it was one from the night I did that Test of Courage. I was actually pretty nervous. It was dark and I was stupid enough to forget a flashlight,” you softly laughed at yourself. “And… those rocks were there. It was a miracle that they were, otherwise it would have been a lot harder for me to find the bucket. I dunno, it’s weird, but for some reason, the way they were placed in the moonlight made me feel like someone out there was looking out for me.” Why were you even saying this? He probably didn’t care.

You looked over and saw him staring at the stream. His guard still seemed to be up, but his facial expressions looked softer for some reason.

 You exhaled. "God, I missed it here." Then the memory resurfaced again. "But…" Tears started to well up again.

He looked at you with confusion, and concern? If you weren't mistaken.

"What is it this time?"

"Nothing, just." Your lies seem to only strengthen the flow of tears. "I'm sorry. I thought I was over this. Why am I crying again? Sorry. It’s stupid."

"What is?!"

"You called me ugly! Is it true?" You didn't mean to say that. You didn’t even want to know the answer… actually, that wasn't true. You did want to know the answer. You were just afraid of what it would be.

"No!"

You blinked. "I'm not?"

"No, of course you aren't," he grumbled and looked away from you.

"Are you talking about now or back then?"

"Back then--" he suddenly stopped himself, his eyes suddenly wide, like he was saying something he wasn't supposed to. "And now too."

"Wait." You sat up. "But if I wasn't? Why did you say that?"

He quickly looked away. "No reason."

"What? No, it’s not. Tell me." You turned your body to face him, inching slightly closer.

"It's none of your business!"

"Is it because you thought I was ugly then? Are you lying so I don't feel bad--?"

"NO! IT'S BECAUSE I LIKED YOU!"  He slammed his fists on the ground.

Your heart sped up when you realized how close you were. His face burned pink when he realized the same thing. He backed up and looked away.

"Idiot."

You thought for a few seconds.. "So… do you still--?"

"Don't even ask that."

You let out a breath of a laugh. "You know, maybe sometime you can show me what you've been learning at U.A." You tried to say lightheartedly.

"Maybe."

You thought back to when you'd play in the woods. "I bet you're a great hero."

"Of course I am."

You rested your head on your knees. You tapped a finger against your arm until you had an idea. You got your phone out, pulled up a 'create contact' page and handed it to him.

"Here."

He stared at it for a second. Letting out a snort, he turned his head away. You gently set your phone down next to him. He ignored it for the first few seconds. With a "tch" he picked it up and started typing.

"Why are the keys so small?!"

You laughed.

"There." He shoved it back to you.

"Thank you," you said as you tucked your phone away.

It was quiet. But the comfortable kind. You both sat there. Enjoying yourselves and the moment. You took a breath in and savored it. You already knew what you would text when you'd have to leave.

"It was nice seeing you again."

[mellowdreamer]

HOLDING OUT FOR A HERO VERSE.

this is a modern bending vigilante/hero au featuring zukka, mailee, yueki and a lot of hijinks!

the gaang are all 16-19 here, because while bruce wayne apparently has no problem with it, i’m not comfortable with having vigilantes who haven’t yet gone through puberty.

the avatar world is just one big city, and each of the nations/cities are different suburbs of the city.

kyoshi island, ember island, and boiling rock are small islands off of the city, similar to singapore’s sentosa island.

the city (republic city? i dunno, get back to me on this one) is full of heroes, vigilantes and villains alike. the fire nation is a criminal empire intent on taking over the city. the avatar is a hero who works to keep the balance of heroes and villains in the city, and stop the entire city from becoming a war zone. 

however, the avatar disappeared 100 years ago, and no one was chosen to take up the mantle since. in the avatar’s absence, the fire nation was able to begin its quest to take over the city.

the heroes of the southern water tribe that were left after the various raids have left the southern water suburb on a mission to defeat the fire nation or die.

hakoda, alias chief, left his two young children in charge of their territory, despite them being a) children and b) relatively untrained.

katara, alias painted lady, is the only waterbender left in the southern water tribe. sokka, alias captain boomerang, is the only trained combat hero left in the southern water tribe. all those remaining are either children or incapable of fighting.

side tangent: when sokka does well, he calls himself “grand marshal boomerang” and when he does badly, he calls himself “private boomerang”. thank you to the crimily for coming up with this one!!

one night, when katara and sokka are out on patrol, they get chased by fire nation goons into the ice off of the southern harbour. there, they get into a fight over sokka’s sexist remarks and katara’s yelling having attracted the fire nation goons, and katara’s waterbending gets out of control. she breaks open an iceberg, only to find someone in there.

the two siblings approach the iceberg and break the person out. they are shocked to find a young boy in the unmistakable uniform of the avatar, resting next to a creature they’ve never seen before.

they wake the boy up, to find that his name is aang and he’s the next avatar. and that he has no idea of the fire nation’s quest to conquer the entire city, or the fact that the air nomads – heroes that didn’t resign to just one area of the city – hadn’t been seen for the same hundred years that he must’ve spent in the iceberg.

katara and a reluctant sokka take aang back to the apartment building where the remaining southern water suburb residents have been living and introduce him to everyone.

later that night, the three go out on patrol together. it’s a quiet night, and sokka thinks they might actually get through it without any incidents, until they find a woman being mugged.

sokka and katara are about to intervene, but aang takes down both thugs in a matter of seconds. aang, ignoring the slack jawed shock of his friends, asks if they could go penguin sledding. katara goes to agree, but is cut off by the shout of “MY HONOUR” from a nearby rooftop.

zuko, alias dragon prince, runs from the rooftop before they could find him. his father ozai, alias firelord, had sent him and his uncle iroh – formerly dragon of the west, now retired – to find the avatar. zuko had been banished from the fire nation territory years ago, after speaking up about a plan that would’ve cost them a whole division of goons and refusing to fight his father in an agni kai.

the kyoshi warriors are similar to the birds of prey or the amazons; they’re an all-female crime-fighting unit not directly associated with any of the kingdoms or nations. suki is their leader, and they don’t have secret identities like the other heroes.

iroh, bumi, piandao, jeong-jeong and p*kku are all retired heroes and a part of the order of the white lotus.

toph is the blind bandit and a hero, albeit a less morally structured and ‘good’ hero than the avatar, the painted lady, and captain boomerang. she was a part of the underground fighting ring ‘earth rumble’ when the gaang infiltrated the ring looking for intel and convinced her that her powers could be used for something better than beating bitches blue and making bank while doing it.

azula is firebolt, and she is as brilliant as she is terrifying. she’s arguably more feared than the firelord, mainly because she’s the one who frequents other areas and actually goes on missions. ozai just sits on his stupid throne and yells at people and manipulates his children like the little bitch he is.

mai and ty lee are azula’s sidekicks, and are known as blade and tightrope respectively. also: they’re lesbians, harold.

yue is a part of the northern water tribe’s group of heroes, alongside her family. they tried to marry her off to hahn and have her trained in healing instead of fighting, but she rebelled and threatened to go out on her own, so they relented. yue’s hero alias is tui, but she will be called sailor moon at least three times.

jet and his freedom fighters are a group of anti-heroes who aren’t afraid to hurt innocent people in their pursue of ‘justice’.

zhao is a villain who works for the firelord, under the alias admiral, and he’s an asshole. using the yuyan archers, he manages to capture aang and takes him to a fire nation stronghold. zuko finds out about this, and not wanting admiral asshole to get the upper hand, dresses as the blue spirit for the first time to rescue aang.

during the siege of the north, zhao “kills” yue. she fakes her own death and disappears into hiding until the final battle, in which she kills zhao because it’s what she deserves.

the gaang know that yue is alive, because she’s nice enough to not do them like that, but they have to keep up appearances. because of this, sokka amps up the heartbreak and clings to suki a lot. that’s why a lot of outsiders begin to think that sokka dated yue and is dating suki, though in reality yue and suki are dating each other.

zuko and iroh, after the siege of the north and a trap set by azula, disappear into hiding and decide to take refuge in ba sing se, knowing that the fire nation wouldn’t think to look for them there.

ba sing se is a section of the city that has been fenced off in order to prevent an influx of heroes and villains. the dai li, who keep a tight grip on the suburb and ensure that the residents don’t know of the war raging outside the walls, are a group of “heroes”.

of course, the fence does nothing to prevent zuko and iroh, the gaang, and later azula, mai and ty lee from entering ba sing se and turning it into their own warzone.

iroh fulfils his dream of finally owning a tea shop and zuko, when not working in the tea shop, spends his nights lingering in the shadows of ba sing se as the blue spirit.

sokka, desperate for a warm drink and something to do while the others do their bending training, wanders into the jasmine dragon one afternoon and is served by “lee”.

neither know the other’s civilian identity, so there’s no shady business, just pining over the cute customer/server. sokka strikes a conversion and the two begin flirting chatting. it’s going really well, and you can almost see the romance blooming.

and then in walks azula, flanked by mai and ty lee, all in costume.

sokka and zuko both leap up from their seats and into fighting stances. both are confused as to why the other jumped up, and then azula calls zuko brother and it clicks in sokka’s mind.

he starts yelling at zuko for a lot of things, including yue’s “death” which is how zuko realises who he is. zuko starts yelling back because he’s only once met a fight he didn’t like. in the background of this argument, iroh is trying to fight azula, mai and ty lee to varying degrees of success.

it’s funny that i say degrees, because this is when azula sets fire to the jasmine dragon. iroh grabs the two dumbass arguing teens and shoves them outside as he too runs, telling zuko to meet at their rendezvous point at sunrise.

azula, mai and ty lee chase after zuko and sokka (who are still arguing as they run from the three girls). mai and ty lee don’t want to chase them, because zuko has always been better to them than azula, but defying azula would be a death sentence.

sokka pulls zuko into a building for coverage, and because azula is azula, she summons the dai li and has them surround the building. there would be no leaving without confronting the dai li, and thus zuko and sokka are trapped.

sokka confronts zuko and basically asks how he could justify the fire nation’s villainy, how he could support a monster who’s killing hundreds of people. zuko defends his father blindly because he’s been raised to believe that his father is right, that his father has to be right, and this southern water scum is wrong. but zuko’s losing his grip on the argument and is becoming more and more hysterical but sokka is so calm, so sure of himself, and the dam finally breaks.

zuko crumples to the ground in tears, and now sokka’s gotta deal with this because ozai is a shitface and has been brainwashing his son for years and wow fuck the fire nation.

mai and ty lee, having taken down the dai li, burst in to find zuko crying his eyes out in sokka’s arms. they teasingly ask if they’re interrupting something and laugh as zuko next to sprints out of the building, sokka hot on his heels.

this is the last straw for zuko, who defects from the fire nation, hangs up his dragon prince uniform and fully becomes the blue spirit, a hero who works with the gaang to eventually take down the fire nation.

also, at some stage zuko rescues a turtleduck that got stuck up a tree. don’t ask me how this happens.

[natromanxoff]

Queen live at National Bowl in Milton Keynes, UK - June 5, 1982 (Part-1)

(x)

It was originally intended for the band to play this concert at Arsenal Stadium in Highbury, but it was moved to Milton Keynes for the same reason the Leeds show wasn't played at the famed Old Trafford. It's also worth noting that the band wanted to play at London's famous Royal Albert Hall as well, but the plan was never orchestrated as there was much fear that the weight of Queen's lighting rig would make the ceiling cave in. An early tour itinerary listed two London shows (June 4 and 5) on the agenda. The Teardrop Explodes were among the bands (the same line-up as last week in Leeds) who opened for Queen at this show. Their guitarist, Julian Cope, stood before about 40 thousand Queen fans and introduced the next song as being probably the best song they had ever heard, prompting someone near the stage to throw a toilet seat at him, which missed (people are known to bring cameras and certain substances to concerts, but toilet seats?). Lemonade bottles were then thrown at the guitarist which he tossed back into the audience. The complete Queen concert was filmed. A shortened video was shown on UK TV on a show called "The Tube" in January 1983 (omitting Action This Day, the bit of Las Palabras de Amor, Back Chat, Get Down Make Love, part of the guitar solo, Crazy Little Thing Called Love, Another One Bites The Dust, and Sheer Heart Attack), and on MTV in the US in August 1983 (the latter was a simulcast, with the audio being broadcast on FM radio in stereo, on the west coast, at least). The video was edited by Gavin Taylor, who was later invited by the band to direct the now famous video at Wembley Stadium in 1986. An even shorter version (about 50 minutes long) of the Milton Keynes video was shown on UK TV in 2001 (and many times since). Both the Milton Keynes and Wembley shows would eventually be released on DVD uncut. The 2004 official release of this show (both on CD and DVD) is called "Queen On Fire: Live At The Bowl". The DVD is a beautiful document of Queen's show at the time, packed full of classic Queen moments. There are also extras from 1982 shows in Vienna and Tokyo. After a great version of Play The Game, Freddie essentially apologizes to the audience for much of the latest album's content: "Now most of you know that we've got some new songs out in the last week. For what it's worth we're gonna do a few songs in the funk/black category, whatever you call it. That doesn't mean we've lost our rock and roll feel, okay? I mean it's only a bloody record. People get so excited about these things! We just wanna try out a few songs. This is Staying Power." For some reason part of the speech was removed for the CD release of "Live At The Bowl." Without a doubt this is his definitive live delivery of the song, pulling off all of the stops. Mercury is at his peak tonight. Somebody To Love has been a vocal adventure of Freddie's for the past couple years. His intro is different every night, as is his solo spot towards the end. The version captured here on film is surely one of his best. Before launching into the familiar piano theme, he asks the audience in a moment for the ages, "Are you ready?" And in excitement, "Huh? Are you ready brothers and sisters?" Part way through his vocal exchange with the audience in Now I'm Here, Freddie says, "C'mon, we're gonna make you sing like Aretha Franklin." At the end of the successful duel, he jokingly says, "Right, you can join the band!" The r&b influence is never more evident than it is here, and it makes for a classic version of the song. Brian breaks a string just before his guitar solo in Dragon Attack. While he switches to a Red Special copy, John Deacon gets to play the bass solo as it's heard on the record - the one and only time he has the chance to do it. It's on the fly, and he nails it note for note. "Las Palabras de Amor" was released as a single a few days ago, and Brian plays a small bit of it on his 12-string acoustic before Love Of My Life. He then mentions how the band won't be playing their "song of peace" tonight, as he calls it. This remains the only show where the Hot Space ballad would be referenced. Brian's guitar briefly cuts out during his solo spot, a moment that was edited out of the 1983 TV broadcasts (and slightly edited on the CD release) but seen uncut on the DVD. Brian's guitar tech is seen rushing on and off stage within seconds, having quickly resolved the issue (it was likely a sticky pickup switch). About half way through Sheer Heart Attack, Brian sneaks in the riff from I Go Crazy an octave up, and much faster, to match the tempo of the energetic News Of The World rocker. The song would be dropped from the set after this show, only to emerge again late in the pending North American tour. This would be Morgan Fisher's last show with the band as the touring keyboardist. A number of theories abound about his departure, including butting heads with Mercury's personal manager Paul Prenter or his apparent fear of flying, but it was simply a case of him moving on to other gigs (Fisher confirmed in a 2009 interview that he has never been afraid of airplanes). The CD and DVD releases would be patched up a bit, most notably in the third verse of Fat Bottomed Girls where Freddie's voice cracked badly on "locality," as well as for "now I'm here, now I'm there." Roger's timing with the guitar delays at the end of May's solo spot was bit off at the show, but this is fixed up as well. The sound quality as a whole is much better than the broadcasts, but there are a couple differences in the mix - some of Brian's backing vocals (particularly at the end of Somebody To Love) can be clearly heard in the broadcast mix but were brought down for the official releases, and compression has been added to Roger's snare drum, giving it a much fatter sound compared to Queen Rock Montreal. Brian May and Roger Taylor are interviewed before the show, as shown on the Bowl DVD and the original TV broadcasts. Brian reveals that he really enjoys playing Play The Game. He explains, "You've done your leaping about, and you've made your statement on your entry. And then you can settle down and start really playing something." Roger says his current favourite is Under Pressure. On the day before this show Freddie's boyfriend at the time had bitten him between his thumb and forefinger during a fight, causing it to bleed profusely and require stitches. On the DVD, Freddie is seen tossing the bandage around just before coming on stage. The sixth picture was submitted by Fabio Minero, and the eighth is from Alessio Rizzitelli. The second set was taken by Brenski.

(x)

Fan Stories

“At the time, I was living on the Mull Of Kintyre on the West coast of Scotland. I remember being elated at getting tickets for the last gig of the UK tour. I always tried to get 'last night' tickets, because the band were famous for always going a little more 'over the top' on each of their tour's final nights. So, we drove down from Scotland, which took an eternity with fuel and meal stops, and stayed at the in-law's on the south coast of England. The next day we set for the 'new-town' of Milton Keynes, about 100 miles or so, away. We got there quite early before the gates opened and the weather was unsettled, lightly raining for about five minutes nearly every other hour. The support bands for the day were 'Teardrop Explodes', who had a fairly big hit with a song called 'Reward'. I quite liked Julian Cope and his band, but this WAS a rock gig, and the audience weren't generally as receptive to this brass backed 'new romantic' style of music. The customary sea of lemonade bottles headed towards the stage ensued. Now it was over twenty years ago, and the memory starts to fade a bit after a while, so I'm not sure whether 'Heart' were next on, or 'Joan Jett and the Blackhearts'. Either way, both bands played well, and were most enjoyable. Joan Jett had recently had a very big hit with 'I Love Rock'n'Roll' (very recently covered by Britney Spears), and the crowd loved that one. This was prior to 'Heart' having a major hit in the UK, but they were at that time an established and well known band. Looking at the stage, there were these items that looked like little vehicles hanging from the gantry, we later found out that these were individual self contained lighting platforms with a guy sat in each directing three spotlights wherever they were required to do so. The Queen set itself started with an extended backing tape from the intro of Flash Gordon. Most of you will have seen the video of this gig, so I won't labour on about what they played too much. Only that the crowd, as a whole, weren't into the 'Hot Space' numbers that much. Personally, I was watching my favourite band, so I didn't really care what they played, as long as it was theirs. The bits cut out of the video, included an intro to 'Las Palabras De Amor' from Brian, (just before 'Love Of My Life'), though they never actually played the whole song, Brian announced that they were not doing their song of peace tonight. Brian's two-day guitar solo was edited out, as was 'Fat Bottomed Girls', the intro harmonies on this did come across as pretty iffy, and of all songs, they also edited out 'Crazy Little Thing Called Love', much to my disappointment, as I'd heckled Freddie about his ability as a guitarist, and 'stone me', he only went and answered me. Knebworth '86 was a much better show, but I know I'm lucky enough to have had the honour to be able to compare them.”  - Steve_C/Kes

Part-2

Part-3