#I got achievement for all of them surviving until dawn at first try and I am so fuckin happy

[capaldofilcumbergirl]

I will never get all achievements in Until Dawn because there is no possibility that I will handle playing the game in a way that kills them all before dawn.

Like, I know they're fictional but they're my babies and I will never play this game with intent to harm them, wtf devs? XD

[mianavs]

hunting a treasure pt. 2

part 12 of Cathexis

a/n: eeeep i’m back with another update! it took forever to write bc it contains more action than i’ve ever written and im still not sure about it but oh well. apologies in advance for...well you’ll see

tw: gore

wc: 5.4k+

Cathexis

As much as you wanted to chase after the blue-haired, yellow-needled stranger that had unnerved you in the way only Illumi did, there were hundreds of millions of Jenny at stake, so you drove the peculiar looking person from your thoughts and gave Bisky your undivided attention.

“We have until sunset to prepare before the beasts come out and the armistice between the parties ends,” Bisky explained before handing you a list of the treasured items. “We’ll be traveling to the northernmost island before circling around to the rest of them.

You glanced around and found that a couple of groups still remained and were discussing tactics, while the majority had already set off to begin their hunt. It was the first time you’d participated in a hunt like this, and with the prize as high as it was, you couldn’t help but feel a tad nervous. Bisky seemed to notice your apprehension and led you away from the others.

“Do you trust me, Y/N?” Her lips curled into a confident smile that eased your worries.

“Of course, Master.”

“Good. Now, let’s go!” She exclaimed and darted off in a flash. Reminded of your trainee days, you grinned before setting off after her, your nervousness transforming into excitement.

With the wind running through your hair and heart racing in your chest, the adrenaline rush that only came from hunting coursed through your veins. Your senses heightened as your aura naturally seeped out and you absorbed the sounds carried by the wind. From the largest beast asleep in it’s lair to the smallest insect buzzing around your ear, you picked up on their steady breathing as they slept and the beating of their wings. They were animals that sounded familiar yet vastly different all at the same time.

“They weren’t kidding about these beasts only being native to this area.” You commented as you expertly avoided massive roots, holes, and questionable-looking flora in your path. Bisky threw a cursory glance back at you before slowing her pace until it matched yours.

“I see you took my advice regarding your ability,” Bisky remarked with a sly grin that only increased when she met your gaze. The conversation you had years ago during your training with her came to mind and you remembered her advice on using the wind your aura molded into to examine vibrations in the air that eventually became sounds. The thought that she might’ve planned this better than you originally thought crossed your mind, and if that was the case then perhaps the two of you had a better shot at winning the competition than you’d initially thought.

By the time sunset arrived, the two of you had landed on the shore of the northernmost Ochima isle that looked almost identical to the one you’d left except for it’s pink sand. As you dragged the small boat you’d used to cross the narrow stretch of sea through the beautiful beach, you turned to Bisky to get some clarification regarding your next objective.

“So, what now?”

“First, we have to hide this boat and our supplies for our next trip,” she replied and led you to a large pit located at the edge of the thick jungle. “Then, we’ll set off to find my prize!”

You didn’t miss the sparkle in her eyes as she gushed over her gem while you covered the boat, oars, and supplies bag under layers of dead leaves, sticks, and other junk lying around.

“Do you know where on the island it’s located?”

At your question, Bisky let out a laugh. “Now, Y/N, wouldn’t that be too easy?”

“I guess,” you huffed. “But how are we supposed to search an entire island for a gem?”

Bisky dusted off her hands. “The ‘World of Ammolite’ is a gem unlike any other in that it doesn’t just change color but also emits a humming noise when sealed away from oxygen. And lucky for us, it just so happens to be inside a chest.”

You shook your head in disbelief at how thoroughly Bisky had planned this over the course of a few years. It wouldn’t have surprised you if somehow she’d been behind the shipwreck as well.

“I don’t know whether to be impressed or perturbed.” You admitted, fixing the child-like woman with a stare that she shrugged off.

“Just think about the six-hundred million Jenny that will be in your account if everything goes well.” With that, Bisky set off to the jungle while you followed her lead.

“Now to make this work, you’ll need to use your ability to locate the gem while also being aware of the beasts around us. If you sense any of the big ones within a couple hundred meter’s radius, let me know. I’ll cover you while you track down the gem. Deal?”

“Deal!” you agreed and let your aura seep out as far as it could go while you walked deeper into the noisy jungle as the last rays of the sun painted the horizon orange and navy blue took over the rest of the sky.

The deeper into the jungle the two of you traveled, the faster you realized just how difficult locating the gem would actually be. Filtering out the noises proved to be a laborious task that required total concentration that was difficult to achieve when jungle beasts and flying pests were drawn to the two of you like moths to a flame--only these moths wanted to extinguish that flame.

After what seemed like an hour, you sent a nen-infused kick to a feline beast with feathers instead of fur and helped Bisky fight off a bat the size of an eagle before seeking cover in an oversized bush.

Despite the darkness, you didn’t need to use Gyo to feel the weight behind Bisky’s gaze. Steadying your breath, you focused your nen and filtered out the sounds you’d already identified. It was then that you could make out the vibrations of a sound you hadn’t come across yet. Whereas the vibrations of life were imperfect and sporadic at times, this sound had vibrations that were periodic but consistent. The sound they produced didn’t come from an animal or any other living thing, the source was alien.

Your head snapped in the direction of the source. You focused all your aura on the vibrations. A tug at your sleeve reminded you of Bisky’s presence, and you turned to her.

“Did you find it?”

“I think so,” you replied with a nod. “It’s unlike any other sound in this place.”

“Lead the way then,” Bisky said. You nodded before rising from your hiding spot and breaking into a sprint after the source of the otherworldly sound.

At the speed the two of you were running, you were able to maintain a steady concentration on the vibrations while Bisky fought off the faster animals that chased after you. The closer you got to the source, the more intense the vibrations grew along with your anticipation.

It was then that another set of vibrations captured your attention, and you stopped dead in your tracks. They too came from the direction you were traveling to, and your blood went cold. You opened your mouth to address what you’d just picked up on, but the beast beat you to the punch.

A blood-curdling roar shook the earth and ripped across the air like thunder. The trees swayed from the onslaught of the sound before the sheer force slapped you in the face and made your ears ring. Doubling over from the impact, you were shell-shocked as Bisky frantically shook your shoulders and yelled words you couldn’t hear. Like clockwork, your survival instincts kicked in and worked in tandem with your Nen, focusing it on your ears to aid your hearing.

“-you hear me?! How far is it?!”

“Thousand meters--no, less now,” you replied, relaxing your muscles. “It’s coming from the direction of the gem and it’s ten-times bigger than anything we’ve encountered.”

“The plan still stands,” Bisky stated and darted off in it’s direction. “Though I might need your help along the way.”

“Got it!”

You followed her and picked up on the gem’s vibrations while doing your best to ignore the beast that was tearing through the jungle to hunt you down. The gem’s vibrations were getting stronger to the point that even Bisky seemed to hear them from the excited glance she threw back at you. The beast growled again and this time it’s monstrous form was within eyesight.

It could only be described as a gruesome hybrid of sorts that was larger than any beast you’d ever seen. It’s torso resembled that of an ancient dinosaur only covered in eyeballs that varied in sizes. It’s head was that of an ant with a set of antenna atop it’s head and bright green saliva dripping from the mouth. The legs were that of a feline with claws that carved up the red earth beneath it and sent it flying behind the running monster.

“Go NOW!” Bisky shrieked before she launched an attack on the beast. You bounded around it believing you were beyond it’s reach only to get thrown into the air by it’s paw. The impact slammed you against a nearby tree that split in half and fell down beside you. His claws had managed to cut through your aura, and three gashes marred your arm while blood soaked the ribbons of cloth that remained of your sleeve. With the wind knocked out of you, rising to your feet proved to be challenging, but you managed to do it before the monster could try finishing you off.

The longer you ran, the louder the humming became until you could even feel the earth shaking from the powerful vibrations of the gem. Darting your head around, you caught eye of a small black chest within a large alcove that you only could have guessed housed the beast that was currently preoccupied with Bisky. You rushed inside and opened the chest to find the gem Bisky had worked so hard to obtain. Another deafening roar echoed in the air and you closed the chest before shoving it into the rucksack you’d brought. It was then that you noticed the blood had trailed down to your hand, so you ripped off your other sleeve and tied it around the wound before setting off to help Bisky defeat the monster.

It wasn’t until dawn that the headless beast staggered a couple of steps before toppling onto the mess of dead plants, shrubbery, and upturned red soil with a massive thud that sent squawking birds flying into the air.

With your hands on your knees and your chest heaving, the adrenaline that’d coursed through your body dissipated and the pain from your injury came back full-force. The cloth you’d tied around your arm was drenched in blood as well and it spilled down, another layer of tacky blood covering your forearm and hand.

“That looks bad,” Bisky remarked, before reverting back to her child form. “Let’s get back to the beach so we can treat it.”

You said nothing, too exhausted to form words, and only nodded once. Bisky seemed to understand and started the trek back to the beach at a relaxed pace with you just barely keeping up. You tried focusing on anything but the encounter with the monster, but your mind kept taking you back to that moment. You went over it and wondered what you could’ve done differently to avoid getting hurt. The more you revisited it the angrier you became with yourself for being so careless. It ate at you and until the anger cleared the way for terror to settle into your bones.

“Y/N!”

Bisky’s voice startled you out of your daze enough for you to realize you’d made it back to the pink beach that shined under the morning sun.

“You did well! This was the hardest treasure to find. I promise you that the others will be much easier.” Bisky assured you before proceeding to dig out the boat and supplies. You let out a ragged breath and did your best to help her with your good arm. Once cleared of dead leaves and sticks, the two of you sat in the boat as Bisky lathered disinfectant over your wounds.

“Do you know where the others are?” You asked, your voice labored from the burning sensation on your arm.

“They’re along the rest of the islands,” Bisky replied before summoning Cookie. The masseuse then went to work stitching you up before giving you one of her fatigue relieving massages.

“And what if the other groups have already gotten them?” The pessimistic inquiry left your lips before you could stop it. If Bisky was surprised at your little flare-up, she didn’t show it and responded to your heated question with a level-headed answer.

“Then we’ll just have to hunt them down to get what we want.”

It was such a simple solution yet at that moment it sounded like a refreshing and novel answer amidst the complicated situation you’d just been through. You couldn’t help but chuckle at Bisky’s answer and all of the fear and tension that had been building since defeating the monster melted away.

“Of course.”

Everything after that monster was easier, and after three days, Bisky and you had gathered ten of the original twenty treasures while also eliminating two other groups. Even still, you were behind in time and had only gathered half of the items, so you decided to split up on one of the smaller isles to cover more territory in less time. At the time, it seemed like a good idea, especially after you managed to find the vial of poison that was on the list of items

Yet, that sentiment vanished the moment you sensed another group in the same premises. You instantly concealed your presence and took cover behind the massive trunk of a towering tree. Letting your aura seep out, you analyzed the group.

There were a total of four people: two petite women, one large man, and a smaller man. They were all well-versed in Nen, and from their steady breathing, they still had most of their energy in-tact. Taking all four of them one wasn’t an option, so you decided to wait them out before returning to your meeting spot with Bisky.

That had been your plan until an oversized snake emerged from the ground and lunged itself at you, effectively blowing your cover. You responded instantly and hacked the animal into pieces using blades of wind before darting off in the opposite direction of the group to place as much distance between you as possible.

The sound of thin chains rattling followed by gunshots echoed in the air. You just managed to avoid any fatal injuries; the bullets missing you entirely or just grazing your skin. In a spur of the moment decision, you made a beeline away from the path you’d been on to flee your attackers. Just when you thought you lost them, however, you found yourself falling head first onto the ground.

The blow to your head blurred your vision with splotches of black. Eventually the black faded out but your vision was still blurry while a pulsating pain overwhelmed your senses. For a couple of moments, all you knew was pain and all you could hear was a sharp ringing in your ears.

The first coherent thought that broke through the crippling pain in your skull was that the ground seemed to be moving under you. It wasn’t until you pressed your palms against the red soil that you realized you were the one that was moving—getting dragged, to be precise. You mustered enough strength to turn over and saw the thin shimmering thread that wrapped around your calf and extended tautly behind you.

A harsh tug on your leg sent you toppling back onto your stomach, a groan escaping you. The thread tightened painfully around your leg and you started moving faster than before. You tried struggling against the thread, which you eventually realized was aura, but it proved to be useless and you resigned yourself to being captured like an animal.

When you eventually stopped moving, a sultry feminine voice spoke.

“So...it really was you.”

More threads materialized around you. Thesy bound your legs together and wrapped around your torso and arms. Completely covered in mud and scratches, you shifted around on the ground to face the woman while a wave of nausea washed over you. Yet even with blurred vision, you still managed to make out a familiar mop of pink hair on the petite woman.

“Y-you...Hisoka...at Heaven’s Arena,” you muttered, blinking in an attempt to focus on her and the other three in her group.

“I see you also recognize me,” Machi replied, with a hint of amusement. “How unfortunate that this is how we meet again.”

“You...weren’t there at the start of the competition. How are you--?”

“We’re only here for the items.” She interjected, sauntering over to you and crouching down until she was eye-level with you. “And you have one, don’t you?”

Her sky blue eyes zeroed in on the pack around your waist. You tried breaking the thread using force and your aura, but it only tightened, digging painfully and stopping your blood flow. Amusement flashed across her face as she watched you glower at her and struggle against your binds.

“I have no intention of eliminating you but that can always change.”

The threat didn’t fall on death ears, and you reluctantly stopped your struggle. Her lips twitched into a barely-there smile before she turned her attention to the rest of her party. Your eyes followed her gaze to a giant of a man with earlobes that sagged to his shoulders, a woman with short black hair and glasses, and a short man with a messy mane of grey hair that covered his face.

“The item is inside her pack,” Machi announced. “I’d take it myself but she’d definitely break free if these leave my fingers.”

“I’ll get it,” the woman stated and crouched next to Machi, going through your pack and taking out the vial of poison. “Oh, she had a good one.”

“What should we do with her now, Machi?” The imposing man stepped forward and the ground trembled with each step. He regarded you like one does a pesky pest before turning to his team mate.

“She’s been obedient,” Machi mused. “How about knocking her out?”

“On it,” the giant replied instantly and dealt you a blow to the back of your head.

Small hands shook you awake with a misplaced force. Once you opened your eyes, an overwhelming wave of nausea had you retching on the ground next to you. If there'd been any doubt prior to getting knocked out by the giant-like man, you now knew you'd suffered at least one concussion.

“What happened to you!?” Bisky asked in a frantic tone that was unlike her.

You wiped away the leftover bile on your lips. “I was ambushed by another group and they took the poison I'd found...but I’m fine.”

The disbelief was obvious on Bisky’s face, but she didn’t challenge you on your decision and you were grateful for that. Following your encounter with the monster and Machi’s group, the need to win the competition was greater than ever before. There was no way you’d leave the Ochima islands empty-handed after teetering on the edge of death.

Determination coursed through your veins and subdued your throbbing headache. You rose to your feet with shaky arms and legs but did it without supporting yourself on Bisky’s outstretched hand.

“We’re winning this competition,” you declared, dusting off your hands. “So let’s go get the rest of the items.”

Bisky regarded you for a moment before nodding once. “I found the fluorescent fossil but nothing else on this island.”

She pulled out the fossil with a lime green aura that surrounded it and showed it to you. “We should move on to the next island before time runs out.”

“Right,” you agreed and she put away the fossil before heading to the beach to retrieve your boat.

Once you reached the beach, Bisky broke the comfortable silence you’d been fostering.

“You know, I’m surprised they only knocked you out instead of eliminating you altogether.” Her words were blunt but you expected nothing less from your former master who wasn’t one to beat around the bush.

“I convinced them that I wasn’t a threat,” you answered without a moment’s hesitation.

“I see.”

Whether Bisky believed you or not, she didn’t pursue the topic further and started going over the rest of the treasured items as you dug out the boat and your sack of treasures.

After pushing off the shore, you hopped onto the boat with Bisky. She went through the items you’d found one by one before putting them back into the bag you were storing them in.

“Besides the poison, there are eight other items to find.” She commented, as she rowed. “But considering we have eleven of the total twenty, we’re definitely in the lead.”

“Then let’s continue that lead until the very end.” You replied with a grin that Bisky returned.

“Let’s.”

When the fifth day arrived, you and Bisky arrived on the island where the competition had started with fourteen of the twenty treasures. With your win all but secured, the worry that’d been weighing you down since the start slid off your shoulders the closer you got to the group of people already there.

It was a miniscule group compared to the crowd five days ago. In fact, the only other person you recognized from that crowd was the blue-haired stranger that seemed to have a power over you.

Their red eyes locked on yours and the feeling of being pulled in returned until you found yourself beside them. You searched their eyes and face for any indication that they recognized you, but there was none. The person merely watched you closely with lifeless eyes.

A pinch on your arm drew a hiss from your lips and you turned to a confused Bisky.

"Do you know that person?" She mouthed.

The denial was on the tip of your tongue but you decided to be honest with her.

"I don't know."

It wasn’t the answer she wanted and it showed on her face as she glanced between you and the stranger. Bisky opened her mouth to say something, but before she could, another person beat her to the punch.

“Congratulations on making it to the end!”

A man in a black suit drew your attention to the front. He was different from the one that had explained the competition to you, yet there wasn’t much that differentiated him from the other suited people behind him and the ones from five days ago. You had an inkling as to who they were exactly that was proven correctly when an elaborately dressed man stepped forward. He had an air about him that was unlike anyone you’d ever met and you knew in an instant that he was the Kakin noble.

“Gittarackur,” the Kakin noble’s bodyguard stated, addressing the stranger next to you. “You may present the treasured items you have found.”

The individual addressed as Gittarackur pulled out a sack and held it out. A female bodyguard stepped forward and took it from Gittarackur before counting the items with the help of another guard.

“Gittarackur has collected a total of five items!” The female declared before laying them out on a table they’d set up behind them.

If Gittarackur was upset by their lackluster total, they didn’t show it and merely turned to meet your curious gaze. The overwhelming desire to talk to them despite your better instincts won out.

“H-hey do I--”

“Bisky and Y/N, you may present the treasured items you have found.”

The sound of your name drew your attention away from Gittarackur and to the noble and his guards. Bisky nudged your arm and the two of you held out your sacks that each held seven items.

Two different guards stepped forward and each took a sack. With the help of the previous guards, the items were counted and placed on the table next to the other five. Each item that was laid out built up your excitement at finally being declared the winners.

“Bisky and Y/N have collected a total of fourteen items. They are the official winners of the competition!”

Bisky and you shared a high-five while the bodyguards gave you a round of applause. You turned to the Kakin noble, who offered you a smile before approaching the two of you.

In that fraction of a second, you sensed the presence of four other people on the island and instantly activated your ability. A shudder went down your spine when you recognized the four people as Machi and her group.

Before you could act on that information, Gittarackur lunged forward and murdered the Kakin noble and his guards right before your eyes. Heads were cut cleanly from their necks and toppled onto the sandy beach. Blood spurted out of the decapitated necks and covered the sand below with scarlet blood.

The familiar faint rattling of chains broke through your shock at the slaughter and you pulled Bisky into the thick jungle before the onslaught of bullets hit the beach. Hiding from the chaos, the two of you concealed your presence, and you watched as the four who had attacked you just days prior approached Gittarackur and his blood bath.

Bisky shifted, and you tore your eyes from the dangerous scene before you. One look at her and you knew what she was asking despite not saying a word.

Are those the ones that attacked you?

You nodded your response before turning away.

“Franklin,” Machi addressed the large male. “In the jungle.”

He grunted and aimed his fingers that had turned into guns a couple of meters from your hiding spot. What you now recognized as Nen bullets shot out of his fingers but completely missed the two of you. Realizing that it wouldn't be long before Franklin shot in your direction, you prepared yourself for the moment you would need to completely divert his attack to protect Bisky and yourself. Then just as you were mulling over your options, a single name from Machi’s lips sent your concentration to hell.

“So you’re also here, Illumi.”

You watched in horror as the person you’d known as Gittarackur raised their arms with jerky movements to their face and started pulling out the yellow pinned needles. Facial muscles contorted in a disturbing manner that left you stunned while that blue tuft of hair shot up in the air and became longer almost instantly. The transformation lasted a couple seconds, but by the end of it, Illumi with his flowing black hair, large black orbs, and delicate features stood where the awkward and freakish Gittarackur had been.

A sharp intake of breath from your mouth garnered Franklin’s attention and he aimed his fingers to the area next to Bisky before shooting once again. Machi, Illumi, and the other two members of her group waited to see the aftermath of Franklin’s attack, and when it was apparent that he’d missed once again, Machi turned her attention back to Illumi.

“Are you sure it’s okay to reveal your identity in front of your betrothed?”

Her question disarmed you entirely. That split second you'd dropped In was enough for Franklin to zero in on your location and release a shower of bullets. Gunshots snapped you out of your stupor, and the best you could do with your aura was shape it into a cone-shaped shield in front of you. As a result, the bullets were sucked into your billowing winds and sent in various directions all around you and Bisky.

Amidst the cacophony of birds, squawking, leaves rustling, and animals screeching, your eyes darted to Illumi as if compelled only to find him immobilized by Machi's threads. He stood too still for someone who’d been apprehended and the thought that they were in it as a team crossed your mind only to be shot down by the darkened expression on his face as he watched his captor.

No, it seemed as if their personal relationship had nothing to do with it. This was strictly business.

“Shizuku, Kortopi, how’s it going?” Machi turned to the other woman and smaller man.

“Almost done,” Kortopi replied and you tore your gaze from Illumi to see what exactly was almost done.

Sometime between their arrival and that moment, Shizuku had conjured up a vacuum cleaner that she used to clean up the massacre Illumi had left behind before approaching the table of the treasured items where Kortopi stood. You watched as the smaller being placed his left hand on the fluorescent fossil and an exact replica was conjured up in his right. Once the replica was complete, Kortopi picked up the fossil and dropped it into a large sack they’d brought.

It was only then that you remembered hearing about a group of criminals that plundered treasures and killed anyone that got in their way. Just as Franklin released another round of Nen bullets, you realized the four people before you were members of the infamous Phantom Troupe and a heavy pit set into your stomach.

 Kortopi placed the last item into the sack and Shizuku aimed her vacuum at it before sucking it up in its entirety. With the fake items on the table and the real ones in their possession, the vacuum disappeared and Shizuku turned to Machi and Franklin.

“Let’s go.”

Franklin, in the middle of preparing another round of bullets, lowered his arms with a grunt before turning his heel and lumbering to where Shizuku and Kortopi waited. Your eyes drifted over to Machi and Illumi just in time to see her whisper something into his ear. She pulled back and gave him the same small smile she’d given you days ago. Inexplicable anger surged through you that caused you to shift only to be held back by Bisky’s iron grip. Biting down in frustration, you watched dumbfounded as Machi completely retracted her threads, setting Illumi free.

But instead of effortlessly killing her and the other troupe members the way you’d seen him do to others many times before, Illumi collapsed on the ground. Machi and the rest of the Phantom Troupe members then boarded a docked ship with the emblem of the Kakin empire that departed after terrified screams and another round of bullets rang through the air.

Bisky’s grip on you loosened and you wasted no time in hurtling over to Illumi, falling to your knees next to him.

His eyes were tightly closed and his entire body shivered. Where Machi’s threads had wrapped around him, there were trails of unnaturally dark blood that trailed down his arms and soaked his ripped clothing. A sheen of sweat covered his face and even just by hovering your hand over his brow you could tell he was burning up with a fever.

An inexplicable panic that started in your stomach swelled within you. It lodged itself in your throat making it hard to draw breath. It caused your heart to thunder within your chest. It sent your body into a frenzied state and your hands trembled as they continued to hover over his form unsure of what to do. Your mouth opened and closed as you desperately tried to find your voice.

“I-I-Illumi just...what d-did she do?”

“He was poisoned.”

You snapped your head to find Bisky already kneeled next to you and examining Illumi’s fissures.

“T-that’s not possible,” you muttered, remembering Killua’s words about the Zoldyck siblings’ upbringing. “H-he’s been taking p-poison his entire life.”

“He might be immune to known poisons but this poison isn’t from the known world.”

The implication behind her words wasn't lost on you, and the vial of poison you'd lost to the Phantom Troupe flashed in your mind. You fell back on your haunches as dread seeped into your bones.

“No...this can't...he can't…”

For the first time in the couple of years you’d known of Illumi’s existence, the thought of a world without him sprung to mind, and the immense loneliness that came with it broke you down. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t speak. All you could do was sit there, a trembling mess as tears cascaded down your cheeks onto your lap.

[just2bubbly]

Sometimes Love Stays

Masterlist

TLC Ship Week 2021!

*written for tlcshipweek2021- kaider for the prompt 'In another life'

@kaiderforever

Summary

"Hmm.."

"Do you?"

"Wish you happiness? Yeah, Kai, I do- with all my heart."

"I wish you were happiness!"

Sometimes love becomes stronger overcoming the obstacles thrown along your path, but when the obstacles never end and you become tired enough to want to stop, will 'Love' help overcome the new problem or would it be succumbed to obstacle?

When their future doesn't play out as they want to, will they dare to take a chance or lose everything without trying?

Reading an article, Cinder is thrown back into the past, trying to figure out if the choices she made were right.

A look at Kai and Cinder's relationship through newspaper article fragments.

--

Ship: Kaider

Words: 3.2k

Genre: Angst

Prompt: 'In Another Life'

Note: A Canon Divergence AU from Winter- major character/ relationship reflection. Bold contexts are newspaper articles!

Cinder's Perspective:

"Sometimes love stays."

The article read and Cinder could not bring it upon herself to understand the implications of those three words. She considered it was the most preposterous sentence to start a piece of news informing about a break-up. Her mind could only fathom that a hopeless romantic had written this article, one who most certainly believed in unrequited love and stuff- That she could be sure from the very first line. "Many times love seems to not reside in a relationship as the lovers struggle to continue to live together after years of togetherness, but this does not appear to be the case in the infamous royal courtship that lasted for over 10 years but was suddenly called off 2 years ago- Yes, we are talking about no one but The Emperor of Eastern Commonwealth and The Queen of Luna- " Cinder seemed to convince herself that she was only reading it because it was the most trending news on Earth. Yet it was no new news to her or even anyone on Earth and the saint forsaken rock Luna as well. The article had become famous only for its illustrating language and artistic words that seemed to give the entire ordeal a new look. Hence, after having ignored, overlooked and unseen the article, its rumours and the stink eye that her aristocrats sent along her way. She finally decided to read it and fucking get over it- just like she got over him. It was fucking simple until it was not. "The infamous break-up of The Emperor of EC and the Queen of Luna happens to be no news to us. It has been two years since the two royals called off their relationship in the name of diplomatic and personal reasons. However, it appears that the years apart have done no good to their awkward and unresolved heartfelt tension." She wondered which newbie journalist had decided to write about this- about them, the two lovers madly in love with each other, stubborn enough to put others above themselves and naive enough to let it all go. She could feel her body going stiff as she tried to muster up the courage to continue reading. Her mind going numb just like it always did when thoughts of Kai resurfaced. The memories and the murmurs, their banters, his adoration all seemed to drown her with misery- one where she could not shed a single tear but only carry the overwhelming weight of the past of what they had- of what they had lost. It had been good- going at first with the frequent comms in their free time, flying kisses from literally two different worlds, exchanging gifts thanks to the Rampion, jumping at the first chance to meet each other. They were happy and yet they were not. With near to 10 years into being the Queen of Luna, she had thought that maybe she had given her bit to the moon, and now she could step down from her role and convert Luna into a republican state. She had planned her future, their future, the future of thousands of people and had acted accordingly to liberate Luna from the clutches of a single person, forgetting about what the people would have to say about it? Apparently, Lunars loved royalty more than equal representation! Consequently, when she had put the matters of 'abolition of monarchy' to vote she had been made a fool in her own court with the outcome - her vote against all of them. When she had demanded an explanation out of Iko for such a bizarre scenario. She had acknowledged, "They seem to like you as their Queen. It is clear they don't want you to step down!?" "But what about equal representation?" "Cinder you are already giving it to them!" "And what about the aristocrats- Don't they want more say in the administration?" "They do want it but not with the responsibility. Thus they have started preaching about royalty and stuff..." she trailed. Dumbstruck, she had thought how can one gift someone freedom when they don't want it? That's where things started looking down. This made all her plans go downhill. Because hadn't she planned that she would step down, abolish the monarchy and turn it into a Republican government? Hadn't she decided she would be free to live her own life on Earth?

Hadn't she wondered how she would travel with Thorne on Rampion- be truly free for once in her life before having to settle down? Before having to go to New Beijing.

Hadn't they planned that they would stay together- and with every passing day weren't they coming near to achieving their intention to constantly stay together and make up for all the physical affection they had been deprived of over the years? Wasn't it what their future was going to be off? With this new hurdle, plans had to be changed and when she had mentioned this to Kai, he was grief-stricken. Even then, they came up with alternatives, for at that time it was clear- they wanted to spend the rest of their together. They had discussed spending their time between Earth and Luna, tackling the barriers of distance and royalty. It's not like they did not try, it's just that every time they strived harder to stay together- fate made it impossible to. A year later, the realization dawned upon her. It had really taken a long time but it had finally crashed- the full reality of their long-distance engagement relationship, that maybe it was taking a toll on them. That maybe they would not survive through all the distance separating them. She had been avoiding thinking about it lately but she knew even if they tried it was not going to work out, that sooner or later they would have to call it off. 'Call what off?' She had asked herself, wondering how things were going to change. 'All of it' a tiny voice in her mind replied. The engagement, the relationship. Everything. That night she decided against comming Kai, instead, she confronted Iko speaking of her troubling thoughts aloud and from the dark blue, somewhat grey colours of her eyes, Cinder understood how truly sorry she was.

She sat in the arms of Iko, wanting to whine, yell and cry. However, the cruel fate left her with a throbbing sensation in her head and an itchy feeling in the throat. She wanted to see Kai, but she had not the heart to tell him the truth. She presumed he already knew what was troubling her- troubling them. She had not the courage to see the sorrow on his face, so she pretended that everything was fine even when it was not. She smiled and teased him at all the opportunities she could possibly get knowing very well that one day that they would have to stop. One day he would have someone else do that to him. Therefore the next time she had gone on Earth she had confessed it to him. He had listened patiently without a word and had calmly accepted it. The unforgettable silence that followed would haunt Cinder forever. She thought they had fooled themselves enough trying to make the impossible happen, justifying their actions as a result of love. In the end, he had sighed, tears reflecting in his copper-brown orbs and croaked, "I guess this is the end?" She had nodded failing to meet his eyes. "Sorry, Kai", she had uttered, feeling every ounce guilty and sorrowful. They had stood like that for a long time, feet shuffling- gazes never meeting each other until he was called. He did not shed a single tear before her. On her last night at the Palace, she felt a sort of Deja-Vu for all the things around her. Her thoughts roamed around only a single thing- 'After today, this place would no longer be home'. He had come to her room that night and once they had gotten over the awkward small talk of the breakup, he had launched at her and hugged her till her bones crushed. "I love you," he whimpered. "Don't forget it- don't forget it, Cinder. Even when you go to that fucking rock in the sky." And Cinder could feel something warm- not inside her but on her shoulders.

Kai's tears had been falling on her shoulders and she had chanted sorry all the time they stayed like that.

'What do you do to calm two heartbroken souls?'

He was in her arms hearing her speak, though her words were not soothing, they did not reduce his grief like they ought to. They were bitter truth of their future, their fate. They were apologies for what they had lost. Her words were not comforting. She was not going to tell him how they will be fine when she knew they would not. There was no point lying- telling him nicely painted lies of their future when their present was broken like that. She had no idea how but they fell asleep together, a mess of tumbled limbs on the carpet for the last time. And when the streaks of sunlight fell over their sleeping forms, it was not out of hope.

"It seems that it's over for the two royals, one of them the Queen of Luna and the other The Emperor of Eastern Commonwealth. Queen Selene, 26 and Emperor Kaito, 28 called off their relationship yesterday. Emperor Kaito in his latest press speech stated that "Myself and Queen Selene are no longer together- we have parted ways on good terms. However, we are no longer involved," when one of the reporters asked if there was any wedding to be expected soon. The Queen of Luna also addressed this in one of her official posts, saying "It's been great 10 years with Kai but we can no longer stay together," with a bittersweet smile. The two refuse to brief about this. It just seems like just yesterday they were THE happier and attractive couple dancing at the Annual Peace Ball and -well now they are not, we are sure their fans all around must be heartbroken but worry not you can catch up on their relationship through the years-" Two months later, they formally announced their break-up. They called off everything- all of it just like she had thought. The world did not know- they did not know how Kai had gone down on his knees and she had said yes before he could even ask. How she had pieces of her never- going to happen wedding vows drafted somewhere in her brain. It was only them, Torin, Iko and their friends who knew the disaster of grief they had unrolled in their life. He had refused to take the ring back, "Keep it to remember me by." He had insisted and she had not-so jokingly replied, "I don't need jewels to remember you by." Returning to Luna had been the harder task, She-They had cut off all ties except maybe friendship (?) but things were going to be different- they are different.

It felt hollow for months later, she drowned herself in work to forget about the messy-haired boy, to forget that there was no one waiting for her comms now, that she did not have someone to whisper 'I love you's too', to kiss him and be found by someone, no reason for Thorne to shout 'Get a room.'

She had for the first few days been hopeless- locking herself up, both metaphorically and literally only to realize that Kai had been an integral part of her daily schedule and world even from thousands of miles away. The breaks that she once looked forward too, taunted her of what she had lost- so she was hell-bent on working the day without breaks. She forced her mind to not stray around to the boy on Earth. The only moment she had let her guard down was when Thorne was visiting- because he was her BFF and wasn't he the one who teased her all along about Kai and his heavenly copper-brown eyes? Wasn't he going to be her rock where she had lost her anchor? At the sight of his friend's dark circles, thinner than the usual frame, Thorne and Cress had bear-hugged her and the only thing that she felt was it felt good to be embraced by someone other than Iko. 'I'm so sorry, Cinder', Thorne had said and she had croaked, "Don't be sorry." She had cracked that day.

"I DON'T WANT PITY THORNE, I DON'T WANT TO HEAR HOW PEOPLE THOUGHT WE WOULD GET MARRIED AND LIVE HAPPILY EVER AFTER. I DON'T WANT THE MEDIA TO TELL ME HOW WE LOOKED GOOD TOGETHER. I FUCKING HATE LUNARS TELLING ME THAT THEY HOPE I FEEL BETTER. AM I NOT IN THIS CONDITION BECAUSE THEY CHOOSE TO BE SELFISH? THORNE, I WANT TO CRY AND MY STUPID CYBERNETICS WOULD NOT EVEN ALLOW BE TO CRY FOR MY EX-FIANCEE." She might have been a bit tipsy to blow up like that but she was past caring. She had been pretending that everything was fine while she was falling apart inside. "What sort of cruel joke is this? Haven't I already endured enough? I don't want anyone's fucking apologies. I don't want that crap, I- I want K-Kai."

She yelled as her face echoed pain. "Do I not deserve love, Thorne?" She had demanded, looking very vulnerable. She never said a word after that. The next big blow came when she had attended the world leader summit. Thankfully, it was a virtual thing or she could not have gone through the entire ceremony without a mental breakdown. She had felt the air knock out of her lungs at the sight of Kai after six whole months. He looked paler than normal, his always messed up hair looked neatly fixed in place with layers of hair gel. And his ever blinding grin present at even stupid meetings like this was now merely his lips pressed together in a thin line.

How was Kai who was her joy in human form suddenly became the picture of grief? She wondered how she looked to him if even he was out of breath at the sight of her- realizing how she was drifting away from the main reason she was attending the summit, she forced herself to look at anywhere but him. That night she slept thinking about how she was not the only one suffering. "-The Emperor of EC starts a new journey in his life at 30. However, there are no wedding bells in the air as of now, making the world and the EC anticipate the future of their Emperor and their nation. At 30, the Emperor not committed to anyone nor having any living heir had caused multiple questions to be unanswered about the legacy after him. Hopefully, he will find his partner to secure their future until then we wish him a Very Happy Birthday!" Marriage. Wedding. Love. Hadn't it been what they had lost? She knew this was going to happen. Then why did she feel like drowning all over again? Why did her heart shatter yet again? He was no longer hers to worry about...Was he even part of her world anymore? She knew it very well that he was supposed to marry someone. He must marry someone and have an heir to the Commonwealth. Cinder was asked to do the very same thing. They were monarchs who had to keep their legacies alive. The next time she was invited for the Annual Peace Ball, Kai had cornered and said, "They want me to get married." "Tell me you are saying this because you want the ring back." She had jokingly said, swallowing the sadness and jealously that threatened to submerge her. Her mind asked if he would go down on his knees at the Ball just like he had done for Levana. But that was just her stupidity, misery and desperation mixed together. How was her tyrant aunt going to manage her marriage with Kai by living on Luna along with her sinister motives?! "Cinder" "Kai", she pleaded, underlying the please without saying it. She averted her eyes and nonchalantly asked," Have someone in mind?" "No", he replied without a beat, making her at ease but what he said next crushed her healing heart again. "But I have someone in my heart." She could not stand around him without wanting to kiss him senseless. Therefore, she said, "I wish you happiness, Kai." And tried to walk away until he questioned, "Do you?" "Hmm.." she replied, looking back at him. "Do you?" He repeated. "Wish you happiness? Yeah, Kai, I do- with all my heart." "I wish you were happiness!" Looking at his lean frame dressed in the colours of EC she dared to speak, "I wish that too." She had not returned after that episode but maybe she would have to. Soon. "The Emperor has been sighted with Chen Daiyu, daughter of Chen Zian, the Chief Commandant of Light Chariot, she is an activist working towards the liberation of perils faced by cyborgs in modern society, along with being a psychotherapist by service. It's not the first time that they have been seen together making people hope that it's not the last. There are rumours about their courting with no confirmation from any one of the two-It appears the Emperor has finally moved on from his last date with Queen Selene. Only time will tell if the Emperor has found his Empress or not." She could not blame anyone. They were just pressing time trying to avoid some inescapable future- yet why did her mind ask if he had learned Chen Daiyu's favourite flowers? or Did he hold her as he had held her once? Wondered if he explained to her why there was a cyborg's foot in his room? She was cursing goddamn every star because it was not just him but even she was looking into suitors!? She had gone on dates with a few, noticing how one of them grinned like Kai with a dimple on his left cheek, how someone scratched their necks when they were flustered or how some of them had a struggle keeping their hair in place- without wanting to she was searching for Kai everywhere in them. None of the two was married yet. It was okay to imagine about him for a while. It was okay for grief to overwhelm her. Maybe that's what she needed to

move on from her past.

Had they moved on? Had they stopped loving each other? 'NO!'- she shook her head violently to no one in particular.

She loved him even now. There will always be some part of her mind that will love him. Maybe it was treasuring their memories while making new ones. Two years later reading an article about them, she thought if maybe she had tried harder, would they be together? Alas, there was no point fantasizing when both time and distance had separated them? Could they start from where they had left? Or would they be two broken pieces no longer fitting?

"Sometimes love stays," The article read again. "But lover's don't." Maybe if distance, time and qualms of royalty were not preventing them then things could have been different, their lives could have been different. Perhaps in a life with different circumstances, they would have been together unlike this one- where they had briefly touched, in another life possibly their tale could have had a happy ending. Maybe if she was Cinder and not Queen Selene Channary Jannali Blackburn of Luna, and if he was just Kai and not Emperor Kaito of the Eastern Commonwealth then they would have made it till the end.

But they were not and that's what mattered. __

A/N: We are done! :)

I know you would likely want to hit me right now since I promised certain someone that there would be no angsty fics for at least a few months and yet HERE I AM!

I have kinda portrayed Iko in this really bad, so sorry about that! And you have no idea how much frustrated I was that Cinder could not cry, like crying is such a essential part of human behavior and having to describe her grief without tears was certainly a challenge. I hope I did her character well- You guys have no idea how much break-up articles I have read just to get the news articles right. I might as well do a course on journalism later ;)

Was that a bit too much angst? and yeah in this fic they are secretly engaged!

This was written for the TLC Ship Week, the word prompt for this one was 'In Another Life'. However, I had already planned it beforehand with no idea of  how the ship-week was going to give me the perfect opportunity to post this. I know I'm cruel right?

This idea had been going a lot in my mind since I made @salt-warrior write her fic 'Anyone Else', and read the fic 'After' on AO3, along with 'Once' by @/betaluz. I just thought that maybe Cinder failed to get past the boundaries of royalty on Luna and converting it into a Republican, wondering if that happened what would happen to her relationship with Kai. Hence, this sudden angsty take.

Tell me which is your favorite part from this?

And don't worry I have more angst lined up for you! <3

Taglist: @cinderswrench @gingerale2017 @linhcinder686 @shellyseashell @ladyvesuvia @shelbylmkaider @levanariddle @cindersassasin @kaider-is-my-otp (Tell me if you wanna be added/removed)

[juniorgman187]

The Boy Next Door (Spencer Reid Imagine)

gif credits @toyboxboy​ Summary: The boy next door falls in love with the girl next door. Need I say more? Category: Fluff, Angst Couple: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid  Content Warning: Death, unrequited love, heartbreak Word Count: 10.4k A/N: POV switches from Spencer to Reader indicated by “᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

Ground coffee, dates, and greek yogurt, all neatly encased in a brown paper bag. 

Those were the things I was holding the day I first met you.

(You should know that I wouldn’t tamper with any of the moments that I’ve been so fortunate to have with you - I’ve watched enough “Dr. Who” to know that tampering with the past, even changing the smallest thing, could drastically affect the future). But if I could, I would probably change the precarious position you found me in that day. 

When you exited your apartment, I had my knee hiked up embarrassingly high to support the weight of my groceries from underneath, leaving me to balance on one leg while the bag wobbled on my thigh as I ransacked my pocket for my keys. By the time you came out, I had been like this for the past few minutes, and if the task wasn’t already harder than it should’ve been to accomplish, you didn’t make it any better.

You walked out of the door in that wispy skirt and a denim jacket that swallowed your torso whole; your unwieldy boots clunked against the wood floors of our hallway. You even didn’t bother locking your door behind you after leaving - that’s how trusting you were. While I must admit, I found the action, or lack thereof, to be quite naive, it was endearing, too. 

I, for one, am a firm believer that actions are indicative of character and from what I gathered: you trust easily, and at times, in a misguided manner.

After several seconds of being in your gravity, I figured you earnestly hadn’t seen me, given the fact that not once had you looked up from your phone to acknowledge my presence. Not to mention, your headphones were buried in your ears, blocking out any noise I could’ve been making with my unsteady stance or seemingly unfindable keys that would’ve, otherwise, made you known of my existence. Your music was so loud I could hear it from where I stood, clear as day. 

Still don’t know how you haven’t gone deaf yet, (y/n). One of life’s greatest mysteries, I suppose. 

It would be a gross understatement to claim that I couldn’t take my eyes off you. It was more than that. I felt entranced by you, like I was under your spell. Your perfume was poison, wafting through the hallway as you walked past me to descend the flight of stairs. I was in raptures from the way your wired earbuds got tangled with your hair. Normally, I couldn’t bear the thought of sharing headphones with someone, but I’d do it in a heartbeat with you. 

I’d do a lot of things with you, actually.

I had to stop myself from trailing your movements when you reached a space in the hall directly behind me, and even then, my actions only ceased because my head couldn’t physically turn that far to watch you. 

It was then that I recalled owls and how they’ve evolved into creatures that can turn their head a complete 180 degrees. Of course, that’s a trait meant for survival, merely an adaptation that allows them to detect danger or predators, but I wasn’t watching a predator, and I suppose that’s precisely why I wasn’t given the ability to turn my head so far. Because it was you I was watching - the girl next door (literally and figuratively) - nothing remotely close to a threat. I’d never been jealous of owls before, but in that moment, I wished nothing more than to be one just so I could get another look at you. 

I forced myself to resume my unfinished task out of fear that you might finally notice me and become alarmed by my prolonged staring. Once more, I was sorting through the pocket of my pants for the key to unlock my door. Behind me, your foot was about to land on the next step of the stairwell, but instead, it quickly retreated at the sound of my groceries hitting the floor.

If there was ever a doubt in your head that you caused the collapse of my paper bag’s contents, there shouldn’t be.

It was you. It was all you.

I was too distracted by your poisonous scent and chunky boots to even notice my groceries struggling to balance on the precipice.

When I ascertained the mess I had made - the mess I knew you could hear even through your cacophonous music - I wanted nothing more than to find my keys and disappear into my apartment to mask the immediate shame I was feeling. My mind spun into a panic, my body incapacitated from the shock, and the first thing I could think to do was abandon my spilled groceries in the hall so you might not see me before I fled, but you were too quick. Your heart of gold made it impossible for that to be achieved.

“Oh my goodness, here! Let me help you.”

You knelt to the ground before I could even register your sudden presence and the lack of distance between us, let alone comprehend that your warm voice was speaking words meant for me.

“You don’t have to do that. I’ve got it.”

If you thought I was pushing you away, you should know that those weren’t my intentions. I was only emphasizing my ability to do it alone so that you might leave me to my devices - a state of conditions where I could actually think. With you so close, I simply couldn’t do that. Even now, it’s still an uphill battle to talk to you with a clear head.

“No, please. I insist. I’ve got plenty of time.” You assured me, tucking back strands of your hair that got in the way of your sight. I wondered then what it’d be like to do that to you myself. The vision ended there. 

“A Teenager In Love” by Dion and the Belmonts cut into my thoughts. That’s the song that was playing on your headphones. And that’s exactly what I felt like.

A teenager in love.

It was also the song you paused to give your undivided attention to me.

“I’m (y/n), by the way. I live right next door. 3B.” You informed me, as if I hadn’t just come to that same conclusion when I observed you walk out of that door only moments ago. You extended your hand into the air between us for a handshake. I wasted no time returning it.

“Spencer.”

You batted your eyelashes and looked up at me with those unassuming doe eyes. 

God, were you doing that on purpose? Were you trying to kill me?

When our hands interlocked, I couldn’t help but notice how yours fit so perfectly in mine, like it was made-to-measure. It led me to the belief that my hands were specifically fashioned for the particular use of holding yours. The shake lingered for a second longer than necessary, and I saw it in the way your eyes flickered down to where our bodies met, wondering why it was taking me so long to pull away.

“It’s nice to meet you, Spencer.” 

I’ve never liked my name so much until I heard it on your tongue. It made me forget all about the mess and the shame and the fear of disturbing you. That is until I saw you sliding the last of my groceries back into the paper bag.

“I’ll see you later then?”

You had stood up before I could ask you not to go, wiping your knees of any dust they might’ve collected on the floor where you knelt in front of me.

“Yeah. I’ll see you later.” I dumbly answered back, watching you descend the stairs from a distance once more.

“Have a nice night, Spencer!” I heard you say before you disappeared below the ground that I stood on. You already had your headphones back in and were long gone before I could return the sentiment. I did want you to have a nice night, though. Even if I didn’t say it in time. 

Then again, I guess there was a lot I didn’t say in time - right, (y/n)?

Two days went by before I saw you again. 

You weren’t alone.

I was reading when I heard the sound of footsteps outside my door, unintentionally giving me full liberty to hear the conversation partaking as well.

“What’s his name?” Your friend asked you.

Originally, I was adamant about not purposefully eavesdropping - no matter how tempting it was or how amply I could hear. You deserved better than that ...  but how could I help myself when I heard you answer your friend, “Spencer.”

It was the sound of my own moniker that lured me to the door, where I pressed my ear against it.

“Is he cute?”

“Very.” You gushed to her, my own heart swelling two sizes too big for my poor chest to contain.

“Do you want to fuck him?” Your friend giggled. You hesitated to speak. “Oh my god, have you already fucked?”

“No!” You defensively screeched.

“But you’ve thought about it!”

“Will you lower your voice? He lives right there! What if he hears you?”

I peeked through the peephole to spy on this encounter, brainlessly ducking down when I saw you eyeing my door curiously. After I finally slowed down the cadence of my heart, the realization dawned on me that you couldn’t possibly have been able to see me from the outside view of my peephole, but it still felt like you had; your eyes pierced through my soul, bewitching my body and soul.

Luckily for you - unluckily for me, I suppose - you and your friend vanished into your apartment before I could hear the rest of that conversation. I didn’t need to, though. What I heard was enough to keep me up all night. Had I heard anything more, I’m not sure how many more hours of sleep I would’ve lost just thinking about you. 

Hours I could’ve spent reading. Hours I could’ve spent writing. Hours I could’ve spent, but time that I would never take back. Not for anything in the world.

Our next interaction took place the following week. 

It was 5 a.m and Hotch had called us all in early, so I was already out the door before the sun was up, but evidently, not before you were up. Because when I left my apartment, there you were, lingering in the doorway, leaning against - what I had to assume was - your very much unlocked front door. 

“Oh!” You flinched and gasped, while ripping the headphones out of your ears. “You scared me, Spencer.”

“Good morning to you, too, (y/n).” I quipped, puckering my lips slightly to reduce the immense size of my zealous smile before grinning back at you again, this time with a much smaller smile - one much less discouraging. 

You were exactly what I needed to see to make my morning better, and your hair in a ponytail and your black leggings only made the view that much sweeter.

“What are you doing up so early?” You had asked me inquisitively.

“I got called into work.”

“Oh.” 

You sounded so disappointed, and I couldn’t help but feel that I’d just let you down. The pout of your lips and deflation of your shoulders only solidified that.

It was then where I should’ve left you alone and gone to work, which I was already considerably late for, but I couldn’t help myself. I would’ve worried about you all day if I hadn’t asked, “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” You tried to wave me away down the staircase, but I knew better than to leave. You understood my maintained foothold as a silent communication that I wouldn’t walk away unless you told me what was bothering you so you reluctantly gave in.

“Well, honestly, I’ve been standing out here since like 4:30, trying to convince myself to go on a run, but ... I’m actually kind of scared to. I just, I don’t know if I feel safe running alone in the dark.” 

You never met my eyes, they were only fixated on the earbud cord you were rolling between your fingers to make brief circles in the air. 

“You know what?”

From those words alone, you perked back up. 

“I’m already late, so I can ... I’ll run with you. If you want.”

In seven little words, I managed to gain all your trust. That’s all it took for you to never be ashamed of your feelings in front of me. You trusted me to always respond to your vulnerability like this, and I knew then, what the weight of having your trust felt like. I could never wish to break it.

Your joy was so uncontainable to the point where you were emboldened enough to show me your appreciation through a hug so big that I couldn’t understand how your petite body was capable of supporting something of its size. You wrapped your arms around my neck, pulling me down to your height despite already balancing on the tips of your toes. I had to remind myself not to indulge in your embrace too much, otherwise I might never have let you go.

Your hair smelled like a certain flower my mother used to put in a vase on our dining table. It’s the same flower that she grows in the garden of her assisted living home at present. It’s such a distinct scent - magnolias - I’ll never forget. But now whenever I pass those beloved magnolias during my visitations, the flowers from my childhood dining room won’t be what I associate it with anymore. 

You’ll be what I think of.

I was met with the cruel reminder of what I’d agreed to when you left my arms. There’s not much I dislike in this world as much as exercise, but for you - I’d run to the ends of the earth. I mean that.

“You’re my hero!” You exclaimed when we reached our apartments again after that treacherous run, which felt more like a marathon and a half to me.

I would’ve said something back, but I was still trying to catch my breath, even folding over my bent knees to stop myself from panting so hard. For a moment there, I was sincerely upset that you weren’t nearly as breathless as I was. Were you just that perfect in every conceivable way? Not even a semblance of windedness from the miles and miles we just ran? 

How unfair. Have pity on my poor soul.

“I had so much fun. We should do that again sometime.” You added.

Again, I would’ve responded to your exclamation, but I was still very much out of breath. You didn’t seem to mind, though. You even offered me a sip of your water. I politely declined, which I meant as no insult. I only refused because I would not have been able to handle the effects of tasting you on it.

Thankfully, I’d caught my breath before the next time we encountered each other. This time I could actually speak. 

It was two in the morning and I’d just come home from an exhausting case, feeling more ready to sink into the depths of my bed than ever. Almost the entire way up the stairs, I was lethargically dragging my feet up each step to get to my apartment ... until I saw you. 

“Hey, it’s you! 2B.” 

Like a siren singing to a ship of sailors, your voice called out to me from the top stair, shocking me when I came around the corner - a most welcome surprise. 

“Hey.” I cooed back softly.

Despite my mind firing impulses to run to you, my feet weren’t listening. I was stopped in my tracks by the mere sight of you.

It wasn’t lost on me that the bags under my eyes were probably heavier and darker than they ever had been before, and that my hair was in complete shambles from where I’d run my fingers through them in distress one too many times, and that my loosened tie that hung from the collar of my skirt looked disheveled, but you? You were still a radiant view to behold, even at 2 a.m. especially at 2 a.m. The sight of you shocked my onerous heart like a defibrillator on bare skin, reigniting my entire being. 

I could finally breathe again. 

My posture straightened, my head raised, and my smile returned. You looked just as excited to see me as I was to see you and it was such a warm feeling.

“So where have you been at this hour, young man? Your girlfriend’s?” 

I should’ve noticed then the way you slurred your words together, but I think I was blinded by the bliss of being able to see right through you for the first time. 

I could see that you were compensating. You wanted to look happy for me in the event that I did have a girlfriend, but underneath, you were morbidly curious, desperately hoping that I didn’t. For you, I chose the more merciful option - giving into your clandestine concern so as not to torture you any longer with the fear that I was in a relationship.

“I -” My own mirthless chuckle cut into my sentence. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

And I saw it - I saw the look of relief on your face.

“I was at work,” I honestly told you, my feet resuming their climb up the stairs. “So, why are you still up?”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

By the time you answered, I’d reached the top step where you were perched, wearing that big flannel. It devoured your figure, the collar of the shirt hanging off your shoulders, the cuffs of the sleeves stretching way past your hands, the hem of the shirt falling at your thighs. That’s all you were wearing for pajamas, just a big shirt, not even shoes or socks to cover your feet from the shiny Merbau floors. It took all of me not to fasten one more of the flannel’s buttons to protect your modesty, but really, who was I protecting you from? Guys just as perverse and impure as me? 

My jaw tensed as a reminder to myself not to wonder about what was underneath the flannel, or what wasn’t. 

You shifted from the middle of the stair to the side, making room for me to sit beside you. Our proximity enabled me to notice your usual scent of magnolias was replaced with something much less agreeable - a scent that didn’t suit you.

Liquor.

At the exact moment I looked down at your face to locate the signs of intoxication, you’d taken it upon yourself to rest your head on my shoulder, blocking my view. I knew it wasn’t your intention to hide your face from me, but it was hard to believe that you were doing this just to get closer to me. Was it the alcohol that stole your inhibitions and unearthed the confidence to touch me further? Was this what you had wanted to do all this time but couldn’t without liquid courage? And I wonder, even with a calmer disposition created by liquor, were you still feeling first time nerves? Or were you the luckier of the two of us, fortunately avoiding the agony of a racing heart?

“So what’s keeping you up?” My voice croaked, trying to maintain a nonchalant attitude to your otherwise intimidating actions.

“This stupid guy.”

At first, I was sure that you were talking about someone else, and I prepared my weary heart to listen to you pour your soul out about ‘this stupid guy’ to me, but then I got smarter and recalled the conversation that took place not too long ago, the one that kept me up all night.

Was I the ‘stupid guy?’

“Tell me about him.”

“He’s ... he’s so tall.” You had laughed. “And he’s got this great smile. He’s super nice, too. But he’s the kind of guy that you can’t really figure out, but you want to, you know what I mean?”

I trained my eyes to stay forward and not look at you so that your resting head might not be disturbed by the action, but I wanted to look at you. I wanted to see those micro-expressions and read your face. I needed to know if you were talking about me.

“Yeah, I know what you mean.”

“If he were any other guy, I’d be upfront with him, but this guy ... he’s different. He scares me, and his rejection scares me even more,” You went quiet for longer than a second and this time I actually did have to move my head to check on you in case you’d suddenly passed out. But when I went to look down at you, I was met with the shocking view of those batted eyelashes and big doe eyes again.

“What do you think I should do, 2B?”

I knew it. Those eyes can’t lie to me.

You were talking about me.

“I think you should tell him how you feel. You might be surprised.”

“Yeah …” Your voice faded out when you replaced your head on my shoulder. “Maybe.”

“He might feel the same way.” I whispered.

“You think so?”

“I do.”

“How do you know?”

It took me a moment to gather the right answer, but even with as extensive a vocabulary as I was equipped with, every single word in it was failing me. Though ultimately unsatisfactory, the only thing I could manage to say that was honest and quaint was, “He’d be crazy if he didn’t.”

The air was still. Not a word from either of us. Not even a peep, until the sounds of your snores revealed the true cause of the silence - you’d fallen asleep, and most likely before I had found it in me to confess my feelings. I smiled still, though. At least you’d finally gone to sleep.

Without another thought, I slid my hand under your knees with the other hand at the small of your back to lift you off the stairwell and carry you back to your apartment. And no surprise to me when all I had to do was press my arm against the door to open it.

You never do lock that thing, do you?

As I entered your apartment, I did my best not to gape at the surroundings, for it felt like an invasion of privacy without your verbal consent willingly granting me the permission to do so. I quickly located the bedroom using only the profound knowledge of my own apartment’s configuration that, for obvious reasons, identically matched yours. I made sure to sit you upright against your pillows in the event that you choked on your vomit, but I held high hopes that you weren’t so inebriated as to have that come into fruition.

When it came time to leave you, I had to slip my hands out from under your body. I attempted to perform this action with the utmost caution, but I think the coarseness of my hands gliding against your velvet skin made it impossible not to feel. You shivered at my touch, waking ever so slightly. 

“Spencer?” You asked in your sleep. 

“Shh, it’s okay. Go back to sleep.” I spoke softly, stroking your hair so it might soothe you back to sleep. This alone felt like a pure moment, but it was much sweeter when your small hand wrapped around my wrist while you placed your other one on top of mine. You leaned your face into my palm and gently shut your eyes, trying to maximize your ability to feel my touch. I even saw a smile come upon your face. 

“Will you stay with me?” You whispered against my skin. 

I couldn’t say no, sweet girl. 

I stayed with you for two hours while you slept. I wanted to ensure that you were safe, but I knew that I shouldn’t stay the night. Not because I couldn’t trust myself, but because I was worried that you wouldn’t remember asking me to stay the night before. Honestly, I preferred that you woke up with no recollection of that night. Because while watching you sleep to fulfill your request, I was also experiencing the deepest regret of my life.

If I told you how I felt a second sooner, maybe you would’ve heard me and that night would’ve ended very differently.

I suppose that was our ‘missed chance #1.’

To be quite honest, that night did discourage me, and I made a conscious effort to avoid you in days to follow. I wish I could rationalize my behavior here, but I doubt that any explanation will suffice so I’ll settle for the truth.

I thought avoiding you would make the regret go away, and I hoped my feelings would leave with it. But if anything, the longing I felt to see you again, the urge for fate bring us back together, only made my infatuation greater.

As luck would have it, not even my most extravagant attempts to avoid you would work.

I had heard it from the first floor where I was getting my mail, a strangely familiar sound - the sound of knocking. It was growing more and more desperate with each step I took up the stairs and once I finally reached the top, I found the cause of this noise at last. It was you - knocking at my door.

“(Y/n)?”

You turned over your shoulder; your furrowed brows and disgruntled appearance faded at the sight of me.

“2B! I was wondering where you were. Where have you been? I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

It had only been 9 days, (y/n), but yes, I suppose it did feel like forever.

I responded with an answer I always seemed to give you, an answer you seemed to already anticipate. 

“Work.”

“Mmm, it always is work, isn’t it?” 

“Yeah …” I sheepishly agreed, looking down to avoid your scrutinizing gaze. It was easier to let you believe work is what kept me away from you, and not the insatiable craving to be with you, but I could feel you sensing my lie.

“Well, I hope you’re not busy on December 21st.”

“What’s December 21st?”

“My going away party.”

My stomach dropped; my heart stopped, and I think I could actually feel the lump in my throat solidify into a pit.

“Going away party?”

“Yeah, I’m going home for the holidays, back to Oregon so I can visit my dad for a while and um …” 

I saw the same look on your face that I saw all those days ago when you admitted you didn’t feel safe running alone. The fearful one, where you knew you had to gather the courage to be vulnerable. When you looked back up at me, I wish I would’ve seen those doe eyes, but no. Your eyes were bloodshot and filled with tears. 

“I think, I think it might be his last Christmas, so I, I got an open-ended ticket just so I can -”

I didn’t want you to explain any more to me if you couldn’t bear it. “Of course. That makes perfect sense.” 

“I’m not really sure when I’m coming back, so I wanted to have a little get together with my friends before I leave. And I was really hoping you’d be able to come. If you’re not busy with work, of course.”

How could I say no?

“I’ll be there.”

You sighed in relief and smiled at me in thanks. “Perfect. Thank you.”

You turned on your heels and vanished into your unlocked apartment before I could offer a hug, but I think even if I did have the chance, it wouldn’t have been enough to heal the hurt that penetrated deep within your soul. That was a pain, I couldn’t fix - no one could.

December 21st came faster than I imagined, and in no time at all, I was standing outside your unlocked door, trying to gather the confidence to enter.

I wore my best suit and tie specifically to impress you, but even if I was decorated with the finest silks, I still wouldn’t have looked as golden as you. Your neck, ears, and fingers were embellished with gold jewelry that sparkled ever so slightly under the pale yellow light of your apartment. You had styled your hair differently than I’d ever seen it, and I felt like I was seeing you for the first time all over again.

“You look …” Heavenly. Dazzling. Magnificent. “Breathtaking.”

“You’re not too bad yourself, 2B.” You drew closer, filling my senses with your poisonous perfume. 

“I especially like this tie.”

God help me when you walked your fingers up my tie. It took everything not to shudder at the sensation. I gulped to replenish my dry mouth while I stared into your eyes. Don’t ask me how I did it, but I found the willpower to break away from your hypnotizing gaze. 

“So,” I cleared my throat. “Where’s everyone else?” With these words, I walked away to catch my breath by your dining table, unintentionally abandoning you in the living room. In response, you sort of laughed, which made me concerned. 

“I actually asked you to come an hour earlier than everyone else.” To my quizzical brow, you answered, “I told my friends about you.”

You can imagine the butterflies in my stomach from the joy of you telling me that. “You did?”

“They had a bunch of questions for me, but I told them to save them for tonight since you were coming. I just thought we could have, like, a pre-party-run-through of what to say.”

“Got it.”

You were shocked at my willingness. “You don’t think I’m crazy?”

The only person that I think is crazy, is the person that doesn’t admire you as deeply as I do, (y/n). 

In no time at all, we were sitting on your couch, facing each other, while playing a speed round of 21 questions. 

Here, we discovered our shared hobby of reading, you unearthed my job as a profiler (not without asking a million questions about it after), and I came to the realization of just how hopelessly devoted to you I was after a three-word question.

“Future baby names?” You casually asked. To say that that one caught me off guard would be the understatement of the year. 

“Future baby names?” I repeated; my cheeks flushed while I felt you anxiously waiting for an answer. Your eyes were expectant and the large gulp I took was just a means to stall time until I finally whispered, “Harper.”

You were silent for a second and I felt the need to explain myself. “I don’t know why, probably because of Harper Lee, but I just like the name.”

The biggest grin crept its way onto your face. “Shut up.” 

“What?”

“Shut up because that name is literally on my list!” You squealed delightfully. 

Truthfully, ever since that faithful first day I met you, I deliberately refused to let myself imagine a future with you, but after December 21st - that’s all I could do. All thanks to your “baby names” question. Would you believe that the first time we ever truly hung out, you were reading off all your favorite baby names and giving me a thorough description of why you liked each one? That seems like only a thing we’d do - after all almost every experience we had together was unconventional to some degree. 

That one hour of private bonding came and went, and soon enough, I was surrounded by the closest people in your life. And somehow, your boundless love made me feel like I was part of that close circle, too - like I always had been. 

First to greet me was April, your roommate in college. I recognized her voice instantly, recalling it as the one I heard outside my door all those nights ago. I tried not to smile at the memory of her crude question, “Do you wanna fuck him?” 

Arriving only seconds after her was Marty, short for Martin, and he’s Drew’s boyfriend. Drew worked with you at the grocery store, which was your first real job during college. 

After Drew and Marty, came Jillian and Janelle, twin sisters you met in your “Introduction to Psychology” class, a class you thought you would end up hating, but you actually ended up loving. 

“So, Spencer, what’s up with you and (y/n)?” 

I knew the question was bound to come up, and it came as no surprise to me that April was the one to be asking it. After the conversation I overheard weeks ago, I came to the discovery that she is someone who is all but forthright. Given the fact that this was the singular opportunity to catch me alone, since I was practically attached at your hip the entire night, April wasted no time in jumping at the opportunity to back me into a corner at my most vulnerable.

“We’re just friends.” I said through a cheeky smile that surely gave me away. The lie stung my tongue as it passed through my teeth, and I knew it was impossible to have fooled her.

“(Y/n) would kill me if she knew I told you this, but I’ve known her since she was 17, and I have never seen her light up the way she did when she was talking about you. Sometimes I catch her just smiling out of nowhere, and I have to think that you’re the reason why.” 

At the moment, my expressions were a completely separate entity from my mind because I could not control the grin that crept onto my face and I had no control over the minimization of it either. No matter how hard I tried to reduce it, it was impossible.

“Ever since her dad got sick, she’s been a different girl. But tonight, I think I finally have my old friend back again ... Thank you.” 

April’s pursed lip smile, in any other exigence, could be seen as insincere or facetious, but here, I knew it was a smile of gratitude and thanks. As April left my gravity, you were simultaneously entering it with a sly grin on your face. 

“What were you two talking about?” 

“You.” 

“Me?” Your voice heightened in pitch as you pretended to be shocked. “What about me?”

“Just about how much we both really like you.” 

“Oh, is that so?” 

“Indeed, it is so.” 

You came closer, wrapping your arms around my waist to draw me in nearer. You had your head cocked all the way up to look at me with those once again, batted eyelashes and doe eyes. 

“Well, I really like you too, 2B. And so do all of my friends.” 

A genuine laugh escaped me as I pushed you away from me and nudged you backward so we could integrate with the rest of the party again. It was all a charade to get you to look away from my visible joy. In the back of my mind lied the thought about what April said about your dad and how different you became following his diagnosis, but I knew better than to bring that up here, right now.

Once we immersed ourselves back into the group, I found you being even touchier with me. You would lock your arm around mine, or lie your head on my shoulder. Even while we were sitting on the couch, you were practically on my lap. I don’t think you were intentionally being so coquettish, but if you were - it was pure evil. Especially, when you left my lap to answer a call in the other room. 

I deliberately tried not to stare into the room you wandered in so that I could look as present in the moment with your friends as possible, for it would’ve been rude both to ignore them and to invade your privacy, but I could see your body language even in the poorly lit space. 

Something was wrong. 

In a one minute and fifty-three second phone call, December 21st went from the best night of my life, to the worst night of yours. 

I saw the way you came back into the living room with your eyes blankly staring into space. You were a walking ghost, a shell of a woman. 

“That was Adriana, my dad’s nurse,” You told us, commandeering the entire room’s attention. And somehow, we all knew what was to follow. 

“My dad just died.”

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

“I’ll take care of her, I promise.” I heard Spencer whisper to April as he walked her out. 

I felt terrible for letting him walk out all the guests I invited, while I simply sat on my couch staring into the nothingness. I should’ve said goodbye to them, but I was paralyzed even when he came back into the living room.

“I know this is a dumb question, but - you okay?” I could see the way his eyes ran over my face to examine me. Were you profiling me, Doctor?

“It’s weird,” I admitted. “It hasn’t hit me, yet. That he’s dead.” 

Even as the word left my mouth, my brain still couldn’t register it. 

“That’s not weird at all. Statistically speaking, after the death of a loved one, 32% of people reported that they stayed in the first stage of grief the longest.”

I wasn’t familiar with what he was referring to, which was something I’d have to get used to considering I was talking to a provable genius after all. “What’s the first stage of grief?”

“Denial.” 

And that was true, I was in denial. Even hours before my flight home, I was still in stage one. I was packing the last of my things when Spencer called to make sure I had everything I needed. 

“Wallet?” 

“Check.” 

“Passport?” 

“Check.”

“Ticket?” 

“Check.”

“Door?”

“Door?” I repeated. “What do you mean door?”

“Have you locked your door?”

“I never lock my door.” I scoffed, partially recognizing my own naiveté. 

“Yeah, I know you don’t. But will you please lock it for me when you leave?” 

“Okay, okay, fine. I’ll lock it on my way out.” 

Following my own promise, I hauled my suitcase through my apartment and turned the doorknob to exit, but I quickly stopped when I saw Spencer standing right outside. 

“Spencer? What are you doing here? I thought you were at work.” Soon after my statement, I ended our phone call considering there was no need to be on the phone with Spencer since he was standing right there in front of me. 

“I, um, I needed you to lock your door after you left because I won’t be around to do it myself when you’re in Oregon.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m coming with you.”

All the anxiety and stress left my body at once and there was nothing for me to do but show him my deepest appreciation by engulfing him in a hug. 

“You’re coming with me?” I nearly cried. 

“I couldn’t let you do this alone. And April practically threatened that if I didn’t buy a ticket, she’d kill me.” 

I chuckled mirthlessly in recognition of April’s tendency to be harsh in pursuit of something she wanted. I was so pleased to hear she wanted him to be with me in Oregon as badly as I wanted him to come. Her approval meant the world to me, and to know that she brought us that much closer together, even under these circumstances, truly showed her support of us.

In the hug, my head was hanging over Spencer’s shoulder giving me the opportunity to see his hidden luggage that if I had noticed earlier, would’ve revealed this little surprise, but I was glad I was blind to it. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have felt the sweetest relief imaginable, it would’ve only been a combination of diluted relief and satisfaction of confirmed suspicion - a mixture not half so rewarding. 

“Thank you.” I whispered.

. . . 

There’s something about driving through your hometown after years and years of being gone. It’s like listening to a song you used to play over and over again, after not hearing it for a while. Both are like little time capsules that simultaneously preserve those memories while also transporting you to them. Whether that was a good or bad thing was still undetermined. 

“Home sweet home.” I sighed, the weight of everything coming down on me the minute I stepped foot in the doorway. 

I could actually smell the interior of the house and it brought back so many memories. I lived here for so long and never once could I smell a scent so distinct as this one, but now, with how long I’ve been gone - I could distinguish it, as if it were just another person’s house, and not my own from childhood. 

“(Y/n), is that you?” Adriana’s voice wavered as she ran towards me, embracing me with a warm hug. “I haven’t seen you in so long. Lemme look at you.” Adriana pulled back to stare at me in my entirety, and there was something about the look on her face. It was full of pride and sorrow - pride to see me in my full transformation into a woman but sorrow to be seeing me for these reasons. 

“Your dad would’ve been so proud to see the woman you’ve grown up to be.” 

Her teary eyes only brought on my own flood of tears. I hadn’t cried yet, but that was probably only because I was so distant from everything, but now, here in my childhood home, I was right in the middle of it. 

Adriana inhaled sharply after realizing how long our hug had lingered and the fact that she hadn’t yet greeted Spencer. “Oh forgive me for being so rude, I’m Adriana. I was (y/n)’s father’s nurse.”

“Spencer Reid.” He kindly greeted. “How are you, Adriana?” He asked her, a question I realized I should’ve asked myself. Somehow I’d forgotten that this couldn’t have been easier for her either. 

Walking through even just the front of the house was enough to overwhelm me with a plethora of memories. I was far too busy gaping at how much it hadn’t changed over the years to insert myself into Spencer and Adriana’s conversation.

“Well, right now, I’m just working on cleaning up the house. For when it goes on sale.” I heard Adriana tell Spencer.

I turned quickly over my shoulder in shock. “On sale?” 

“Your father figured you would sell this house. He left it for you, but he didn’t think you’d want it.” 

I should note that: here is where the seed was planted. The seed of doubt. 

Should I keep the house and move back to Oregon?

“Oh and before I forget,” Adriana tapped her pockets until she found what she was looking for. “He wanted me to give you this. He wrote it for you a couple days before he ...” She couldn’t even bring herself to say, ‘died’.

It was an envelope with what appeared to be a letter inside of it. I never knew my father to be a writer, so I opened it with such passionate fervor that I nearly gave myself a paper cut. Adriana and Spencer must’ve recognized my overwhelming eagerness to read it because they disappeared into the kitchen to give me the privacy to do so. 

To my dearest (y/n), 

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you I was getting worse. 

But what I’m not sorry about is not asking you to come home. I made a lotta mistakes when you were growing up, but I think the smartest thing I ever did was not ask you to come back home, because ever since I was diagnosed four years ago, you were ready to run home at the drop of a hat and rush back here in no time at all. That’s no way to live. You can’t just put your life on hold for my imminent death - and that’s certainly not what I want you to do when I actually am dead. 

I want you to live your life, (y/n). 

Never press pause. Keep going. 

Live a long and happy life ... for me, alright, kiddo?

Love,  your old man

All at once, I departed from the first stage of grief and straight into the second. 

Anger.

I hurled the note with as much force as I could, screaming at the top of my lungs with an earsplitting shrill. After seeing the letter fall onto the entryway table, I took my outer arm and swept every single thing on the table off of it out of anger that his letter didn’t go far enough. I could still read the words - I could still hear his voice. I watched in dignity as I let the decor, lamp, and picture frames fall where they may. The lamp landed on its side, clattering beside fallen decor and the picture frames’ glass split in two. I saw the remnants of the mess I created, and I was even angrier at myself. I only created more destruction for me to fix later. My face felt fiery hot and my skin was burning. I was fuming with rage when I finally looked into the mirror and saw the person I hated the most. 

Myself.

I was consumed by a deep loathing of the woman staring back at my in the reflection. 

How could she? How could she not visit dad until now? How could she let Adriana take care of him instead of taking care of him herself? How could she not check in every day? How could she spend years away from him?

How could she not know he was going to die? 

“I hate you!”

The anger took over my body and in one swift motion, my fist collided with the glass, shattering the dead center of the mirror. I cried out in immediate anguish as I felt my wrist go limp and a shooting pain going up and down my arm. Horror must’ve filled my eyes when I saw tiny shards of glass piercing my fist. I think I might’ve actually blacked out from the pain because all I could remember next was waking up in a hospital bed with my arm in a cast that extended all the way to my elbow. I blinked slowly to readjust to the glare, but thankfully, Spencer’s hovering face shielded my eyes from the bright florescent light.

“You know, for someone so small, you pack a pretty good punch,” Spencer chuckled mirthlessly. “You managed to dislocate your wrist, shatter a bone in your forearm, and fracture your elbow. Remind me to never get into a fist fight with you.” He kidded, making the joke just to see me smile, which it did, but he wouldn’t stop there. He had to actually see me laugh again. 

“Well, I think it’s safe to say you’re in the second stage of grief now, huh?” 

A soft giggle escaped me, and he knew his plan had worked. 

“But seriously, how are you feeling?” 

His question was accompanied with the delicate stroking of my hair out of my face, and I was transported to all those nights ago when I asked him to stay the night. I couldn’t remember much from that night either, but I could remember this feeling. The feeling of his touch. 

I felt so loved.

I shut my eyes in an effort to hide the tears that were glossing them, but that only made them stream down my cheeks. 

“Oh, (y/n),” Spencer frowned, replacing his stroking hand to the back of my head to bring my forehead closer to his lips where he would place a chaste kiss on it. “I can’t even begin to imagine what you’re feeling right now, but I am going to be right there for you - through every single emotion.”

His warm words only made me sob harder. I didn’t deserve his good heart. 

“If I could take your pain away and experience it myself, I would. In a heartbeat.” 

Only his words I could trust wholeheartedly. 

I was discharged from the hospital several hours later, the loopiness I was experiencing from the anesthesia just barely wearing off, and I was forced to face the consequences of my previous actions in the form of a shower. 

Yes, you heard that correctly - a shower. 

“How do I even shower with a cast on?” I asked out loud to myself after turning the water on. My question was quickly followed with two knocks on the door and a, “Need any help in there?” from Spencer. 

There was a quick moment of contemplation which ultimately led to a bashful, “Yes, I do.”

My timidity fell away shortly after seeing Spencer fumble into the bathroom with his hand over his eyes. 

“I won’t look, I promise.” 

My laughter erupted in the room at the sheer amusement I got from his sinless actions. “I’m not naked! You don’t have to cover your eyes.” 

He made a gap between his middle and ring finger for his eyes to peek through just enough to register if I was really telling the truth and upon the discovery that I was, he removed his hand from his face. Afterwards, he left me with careful instructions to not wet my cast and carry on with the rest of my shower routine as normal. 

My shower, though mildly inconvenient because of my cast, was just like any other - ending in me shuffling from the bathroom to my bedroom with just a towel to cover me and collect the water from my sopping body. It was after I shut my bedroom door behind me I was met with yet another daunting task - putting on clothes. 

Unfortunately, my short temper didn’t bode well with my struggle to put pants on followed by my complete inability to find a shirt that had sleeves big enough to fit my cast through without excessively stretching the fabric. This resulted in the downright termination of the act after minutes of trying. I’d been rummaging through my luggage for minutes, but it wasn’t like I was planning to end up in a cast, so naturally - I didn’t bring clothes fit for such an occasion. And anything that was left in my closet were clothes that hadn’t fit me since high school. 

“(Y/n)?” I heard Spencer knock gently then saw him opening the door with painfully slow caution.

“Down here.”

His eyes followed as my words told him, and there he found me, lying on the floor with my towel still wrapped around my upper body.

“What are you doing down there?”

I should add that, along with his playfully spoken question, he got down on the floor to further lie on his back, too. It was a simple thing really, but it meant more to me than he knew. He wanted to join me as I rested on the carpet; he didn’t want to be standing above me, talking down to me. He saw me as his equal and he was going to lie with me on the floor, too - no hesitation whatsoever. He was more than content to follow along with my peculiar schemes, to humor my weirdness.

How many people in your life can you say that about? There’s not very many in mine who will go along with whatever I do or say just to make me happy, and for that, I thanked my lucky stars for giving me Spencer.

“I’ve been trying to put on a shirt, but none of them would fit around my cast and I just got frustrated and gave up.” I bluntly told him. 

“I can see that.” He jestingly noted, his eyes skimming over the mess in the room that I created trying to find a shirt that would fit. I could see the gears in his head turning for a solution to my problem. 

“What if I give you mine? Do you think it’ll fit?” 

He disappeared out of my bedroom and in less than a minute, he came back into the room with a worn Caltech shirt, and of course, it was a perfect fit. Almost made-to-measure.

After my content finding of a proper shirt, we resumed our position on the floor, lying side by side.

“I really like your room, by the way. I especially like your stars.” He pointed at my ceiling that was spotted with glow-in-the-dark stickers in the shape of stars and planets that I’d put up there as a child. 

I tried not to laugh as to not insult his admiration of them, but I couldn’t contain the slight giggle that left me from the amusement of his childlike wonder.

“Why?” I had to ask.

“I dunno, it’s just nice to look at. It’s kinda like we’re stargazing.”

“Hmm, I guess we kinda are.”

“Oh look!” He quickly motioned to a different sticker than the one he’d pointed to before. “There’s a shooting star! Make a wish.”

“Shut up!” I childishly giggled, reaching across my body to shove him with my good arm.

“Come on it’s a shooting star - you have to make a wish!”

In the same way that he humored my silly antics, I knew I had to indulge his. 

“Alright, I wish -”

“No, you have to close your eyes!” He insisted. “Your wish won’t come true unless you close your eyes.” To my furrowed brows and deadpan stare, he responded, “I don’t make the rules! You just have to!” 

I played along and shut my eyes all while inhaling deeply in preparation to make a wish. 

In that same breath, Spencer leaned over me, letting his face hang above mine for just a second to look at me. Even though I couldn’t look at him back, he didn’t mind.

“I wish . . .”

I parted my mouth to say something in addition, but my words were cut short when he placed his lips on mine.

The stars were aligning.

It was a shy kiss, just as I always dreamt it would be. He didn’t move his lips; he only puckered them against mine, and I could feel him begin to pull away. Before he could, I raised my head to follow his mouth, drawing him in closer with my one good hand on his cheek.

That was the only thing stopping him from kissing me harder before. He needed to know that I wanted it just as much as he did. And I did. I really did.

Now with more encouragement, he snaked his hand under my neck, supporting the back of my head, tangling his fingers in my still-damp hair. He cocked his head to the side, sharply inhaling so my own mouth would be forced to open, too, creating an entryway just big enough for his tongue to slip in.

I started seeing stars, and not the ones on my ceiling.

The moment was too quick and ended before I wanted it to, like all moments I had with him. He placed one small chaste kiss to give me solace, our lips clinging together briefly, bouncing back into place when ours faces were fully apart, making a small pop noise from the moist separation.

“Your hair smells like magnolias.” He drawled, seemingly in a daze when his eyes fluttered open.

It sent me into a fit of giggles - a sound he couldn’t resist. I noticed him eyeing me as I laughed and I tried not to let it get to my head, but God, if looks could kill. I wish I could see me the way he saw me. He looked at me like I was a galaxy full of stars, even if I felt like a dark abyss that would swallow him whole.

“I can’t believe it.” He dreamily whispered in awe.

“You can’t believe what?”

“When I first met you, I couldn’t get over how beautiful you were. And now, I’m smelling your shampoo while you’re wearing my clothes, kissing me under the stars?”

I’d never seen someone look so grateful. It was the purest vision.

I never did finish saying my wish, but if I had, it would’ve been to stay in this moment forever. But like all our moments together, this one, too, was gone in the blink of an eye. 

Soon enough, all this would just be a memory of the past. Another moment locked in time, never to occur again.

. . .

The week later we buried my father. 

I’d somehow skipped stage three and four - bargaining and depression - and was well on my way to stage five - acceptance. But it wasn’t really the acceptance of his death, more so the acceptance of what I had to do in the wake of it. 

I heeded my father’s words of not pressing pause on my life, but what I did next wasn’t really pressing pause, just rewinding a bit. 

I did say that whether coming to my hometown after years of not being here was a good thing or bad thing was still undetermined, and I think this was me realizing that it still is undetermined, and I wouldn’t be able to figure it out if I left. And really, I couldn’t leave. Not again. Not when Adriana needed me most to upkeep the house. Not after I’d purposefully bought an open-ended ticket to stay here for longer. 

I was meant to stay here, and consequently, I knew what that meant for me and Spencer.

We were on our way home from the funeral when Spencer parked the car in the driveway and shut it off. The rain was pelting the windshield as the window wipers robotically swept from side to side. We’d been listening to the sound of rain and automated windshield wipers for the entire duration of the time we sat there. He was waiting for me to say what he already knew. 

I wasn’t coming back to Virginia. 

The loud silence was broken with my words, “I’ve never felt this way for anyone before.” 

It almost seemed like he didn’t hear me because of the way he kept looking straightforward instead of at me, but I feel that it might’ve been so I wouldn’t see the tears in his eyes. 

“Spencer, I love you.” I honestly confessed, the simultaneous feeling of weight being lifted off my shoulders and a new weight being placed onto them coming over me. 

For the first time, he swiveled his head to the side, giving me full view of his crestfallen expression. I almost wish he hadn’t. 

“I love you, too.” His voice croaked. 

“But it wouldn’t be fair to start a relationship with you like this.”

“That’s what I was afraid you would say.” He whimpered. 

I needed to take care of Adriana, look after the house, and recover from my dad’s death, and it would be so easy to escape all that if I went back to Virginia. But if I honestly wanted to grow from this, I had to accept the responsibilities I had waiting for me here. Nothing needed me in Virginia - nothing but Spencer.

And if I knew him as well as I thought I did, he would understand that I couldn’t come back just yet. 

And he wouldn’t ask me to. 

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

It’s been five months now, and somewhere around month two I got the sneaking suspicion that you were lying when you said you loved me. Because why wouldn’t you fight for us if you really did? 

But you knew if you told me that a long-distance relationship was too much to handle on top of everything else you had going on, I would’ve offered to move to Oregon with you, but you didn’t want that. You didn’t want me to uproot my life for you, and you knew that’s exactly what I would’ve done. 

So after three more months of that thought brewing, I’ve come to the realization that you weren’t lying. No, you loved me too much. Too much to make me choose between you and my life in Virginia, but I’m telling you right now - if you asked me to, I’d choose you. Over and over and over again. 

I’d choose you. 

But that’s just it - you wouldn’t let me choose you, and you didn’t. That’s why you didn’t ask. I’m mad you never gave me the option, but I know that you only did that out of love. 

And I guess if that’s your way of saying “I love you,” then this letter is mine. 

I only wrote this instead of telling you it in person, because I think, for the first time, I want to trust the world as much as you trust the world. 

I want to have as much blind faith in something as you have in that unlocked door of yours. 

I want to trust that when you come back to Virginia and find this letter, whenever that may be, we’ll be different people, and that maybe then we’ll be better for each other. But until that time comes - until that faithful day when you return from Oregon, I will wait. 

I will wait, and I will not forget you - I promise that. 

It’s quite hard to forget someone who gave you so much to remember. 

At this time, you and I haven’t spoken a word to each other since the funeral, so I have virtually no idea what your current state of affairs are, but I should let you know that by this time next week, I will be living in a real house, which also means I am moving out of this apartment at the end of the week. I'm quite disoriented from this to say the least, but I’ve never been more ready or excited to start a new chapter of my life. 

As for us - this isn’t our last chapter. I know it. There’s more for us. 

I have faith. 

And if there’s one last thing I wanted you to know, it’s that:

You have given me a lifetime of happiness, 3B.

Sincerely yours, 2B

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

[why-this-kolaveri-machi]

the wolf should’ve been afraid of me.

Titans 3.04

just under the wire! ... i hope.

like with the previous review, i’m typing this up as i see the episode. here we go!

spoilers ahead.

1. ... well. that was an interesting cold open.

1.25. i don’t know whether to admire this show’s restraint when it comes to gotham and its excesses, particularly arkham asylum. it’d be easy to go hammer and tongs, like suicide squad (2016) did, or any number of bat media did, at a tropey, colourful~~insanity~~ that can be quite damaging, casting mental illness in strangeness and criminality. it definitely shows gotham as... separate from the rest of the country, its own ecosystem of heroes and villains, a sort of rogue state. 

but that ecosystem is still human, with its heroes needing to clip parts of themselves away just to survive, growing old and needing to be recycled, its villains languishing in the same kinds of systems that fail everybody else who needs to be helped. it’s a quieter, tenser sort of wrongness: not strange enough that you can dissociate, but not close enough that you can completely empathise. gotham is its own creature.

1.5. i know that the reasoning behind this is more doylist than anything, but i’m so glad that joker was killed off with little fanfare right at the start of the season. he is the one man in the batverse that’s transcended its confines as this sort of ethereal boogeyman/eternal edgelord and to justify his presence in the series would mean giving him this tired, overblown importance and too much of a stab at colourful, tropey “madness” in this otherwise-subdued series. i wish all batmedia would follow suit and get rid of this fucker.

1.75. so jason is bucking scarecrow’s control! or reminding him of who exactly holds all the cards right now. circling back to what i talked about in the last review, it’s remarkable just how little time it’s been since jason’s “death” and he’s already got ‘minions’ and elaborately set up plans to track, break and kill the titans. just how long has he been planning this? when did he first look at WE weapons prototypes and think that’s something i can use to blow somebody up? and the most unsettling question: did he plan his own death at the hands of the joker just so that he could break batman?

at this point it’s obvious that the scarecrow at least started jason down this path, but it’s frightening just how far he’s travelled already.

1.8. aaagh, less than one minute in! i’ll shut up. 

2. conner washing his hands at the sink reminds me that he was directly in the line of explosion when hank got blown up and he’s probably got atomised hank-bits all over his skin that he’s desperately trying to wash off.

... you’re welcome.

2.25. conner, don’t you speak to gar fucking logan like that, sir, no!

2.3. if anything it’s the lex part of him that gave him the knowhow to recognise the weapon and build a de-activator for it. 

anyway, for that ‘half-breed’ and ‘talking tiger’ comment?

(i wish, tho, that we actually see conner more interested in the superman part of his legacy, like maybe listening to stories from gar, or even better, dick, so we get a better idea of the pressure he’s feeling to live up to that part of him and not the part that’s lex.)

((i talked about conner’s stages of moral development in his introductory episode last season, but i wonder if the next stage of his self-actualisation would be to further integrate the parts of himself and realise that they are only parts and he, conner, is an entirely different person unto himself that can make decisions on how to use what he has and what he knows. his superman abilities can be used to destroy. his lex knowledge can be used to save.))

3. oh dawn :((

3.25. is this the last we see of dawn and hank? i mean, we know donna is coming back; would it be a stretch to think they’ll try to have a go at resurrecting hank as well?

3.5. “deathstroke didn’t make us into killers.” good, because deathstroke didn’t make jason a killer either. there’s a missing step there you need to be looking for, dick. 

3.75. dick did try to break the cycle, step away from gotham, run from the possibility that he could turn into batman. it didn’t help; he couldn’t fully withdraw from his vigilante persona the same time he loathed it, and batman literally haunted him both asleep and awake. but maybe gotham doesn’t have to turn anybody into anything. maybe gotham has nothing to do with it at all. it’s about taking responsibility, realising some sacrifices are pure bullshit, and building an actual family instead of merely a team.

anyway: hugs!

(oh, also? mr “i hate flying”? i mean, there’s perfectly valid reasons to hate flying that’s not related to childhood trauma, but then again, this guy was literally a ‘flying grayson’ once. also also, remember that he also gets sea-sick. must’ve a lot of fun stories to tell.)

4. ooh that gar/kory confrontation was brief but cool!

listen, i have never seen a psychiatrist with that extravagant an office and SIR I WOULD LIKE TO KNOW HOW--

4.5. kory’s so unused to reaching out for help and it’s breaking my heart that HPG likely is some kind of impostor that’s maybe causing her symptoms in the first place. 

kory and dick have mostly been apart this season but it’s remarkable how their journeys have paralleled each other; kory processes her grief, isolation and existential dread into a determination to take care of this new family she has, no matter what it takes; dick does much the same, forging ahead with plans and solutions until he has no fuel left in him and spirals into a massive breakdown.

4.25. listen titans this really is a TERRIBLE continuity error. we aren’t goldfish; we can clearly remember that two minutes ago it was gar’s upper arm that was burned, not his forearm. COME ON.

“sensory deprivation tank” *SNORT*

anyway, gar is the BEST

4.5. i wonder where these visions of experimentation took place. was it on tamaran, or on earth, after she came to hunt down rachel/trigon and before she lost all her memories? is HPG a part of the scientist group that experimented on her? ... god, i hope not. i mean, i think he is, but it would be cool to have some positive therapist representation in media. 

5. you’d think the van transporting a dangerous supervillain that only batman could catch would be more secure but... i’m also not entirely surprised. 

5.15. i love dick gives ZERO shits about hiding himself or even ensuring scarecrow is adequately contained. just turns away after kidnapping him in BROAD DAYLIGHT and says ‘let’s go’. I LOVE THIS DUMBASS

6. lmao gar is having a really really shitty day SOMEONE GIVE THIS MAN A BREAK or just a goddamn story arc of his own

6.5. i’m really confused about the timeline here. so... sometime ago, kory came down to earth to hunt down trigon, yeah? at some further point down the line she and her sister were kidnapped and experimented on. THEN she somehow escapes but... loses her memory? a few months pass and then we see blackfire alive and well and free; she kills faddei, can impersonate other people, and is clearly seeking out kory. but now she’s still in the experiment facility...? what’s going on?

i’m not entirely surprised about the facility being mostly deserted. either the biggest investors in this project gave up on it and it was left to the most fanatic to carry on, or they were deliberately trying to lure kory and get her to free blackfire--expand the environs of the experiment, so to speak.

7. hopefully barbara is going to get something to do other than listen to various men give her Attitude

8. how do you terrorise a terrorist? well:

i love when dick is a scary-competent motherfucker.

8.25. ooooh, the attack on crane at arkham a ploy to get crane to blackgate? nice one dick, i didn’t even think of that. but why though? to protect crane from the titans? to intercept the van to blackgate and “rescue” him? seems likely--red hood was there, except dick got to crane quicker.

9. still reeeallly unclear about the komand’r situation. was komand’r captured after s2? is this all A TRAP?? if so, why are you stepping into the only thing that can contain you, kory????

9.25. so... definite parallels between dick/jason and kory/kom here. i’m just. i’m still. really confused. i’ll shut up now.

10. this may be my favourite dick look yet:

woodsman!dick in a beanie.

10.5. i unironically love how titans has made this bizarrely-devoted-to-his-moniker, toxin-spewing supervillain into a tamer version of hannibal, psychoanalysing his victims into submission. it’s of a piece with how inward looking titans is, the way all of its villains are obsessed with how our protagonists’ minds work, to the point where they would actually spend time inside of them. 

there are no big plots to end the world. no apocalypses or endgames here. these villains collect the titans’ insecurities like infinity stones. the way the titans defeat them is by achieving character growth--literally winning by the power of love. literally “the real superpower is the friends we made along the way”!

10.7. anyway, i’m betting dick is used to this bullshit from crane and is humouring him in the service of getting more information. the story about the wolf? an implicit threat, not to mention dick getting to control what crane knows about him and what methods he would use to manipulate him.

am i giving dick too much credit here? i don’t think so. he’s really impressed me so far this season.

10.75. like. there’s a real unreliable narrator vibe coming off with every person that talks about bruce (much like how the various members of the titans talked about jason’s motivations) and to buy into crane’s talk about bruce being a psychopath is to fall for the same manipulation that jason fell for. dick is the only person who hasn’t really psychoanalysed bruce this season, and i think some part of his detective brain is piecing things together into a bigger picture.

11. i’m glad kory rescued kom but did she have to kill the scientist?

(i mean, yeah, probably - the less people know that kom escaped the less likely they’re going to have the fucking govt on their doorstep, but still.)

11.5. dick’s gonna come back to wayne manor, stare straight at komand’r and go, well which room would you like? because the team might as well adopt ANOTHER person, yeah?

12. oh MAN that red hood/nightwing fight was AMAZING! and he did the thing! the boomerang escrima thing! i’m so delighted!

12.5. the anger and disbelief in dick’s voice when he says you told crane EVERYTHING?! tells me that he knew exactly what he was telling crane himself.

12.75. “everything you are is because of him” - oh that reminds me of halluci!bruce from last season. i hope we see halluci!bruce again--he is so vicious but so entertaining... so much more effective at tearing dick down than crane or jason combined. goes to show that dick’s biggest enemy is own fucking head.

12.8. oh no! dick’s shot! crane is in the wind with red hood! blackfire is now with the titans! i love it!

honestly this season’s pacing is such a big step up from the last couple. gold star, show.

[admelioraii]

Al Andalus III: One of the world's greatest civilizations; The downfall and end, Part 2.

Previous parts:

Al Andalus I: The dawn of one of the world’s greatest civilizations.

Al Andalus II: One of the world’s greatest civilizations; Times of Glory, Part 1.

Al Andalus II: One of the world’s greatest civilizations; Times of Glory, Part 2.

Al Andalus III: One of the world’s greatest civilizations; The Downfall and end, Part 1.

Alhambra, Granada

II. The Nasaries.

The Nasaries.

The country was , as we said before, divided into 7 autonomies, which were; Seville (native Spanish Muslims), Granada (Berber), Córdoba (Arabs, beno Jahwar), Toledo (Berber), Valencia and the east of al Andalus (Arabs, Yemen ), Zaragoza (beni Hud ), Badajos (Berber).

The Nasaries soon realised that to assure their survival they needed a safe stronghold that could keep enemies out. Soon they found the perfect spot with the Sierra Nevada (mountains) on one side and a steep cliff on the other. Extremely difficult for enemies to reach! Here they built a hilltop fortress, with time every ruler came to contribute by building his part of the fortress until “Alhambra” became a palace complex with gardens, palaces, stables, etc.

Alhambra comes from Arabic and means “the red one” . The reason behind the name could be one of two or maybe both, as the earth where Alhambra stands is red, consequently the building itself has a reddish colour. The other reason is that the Berber tribe that ruled from Alhambra was called “al Ahmar”(meaning red in Arabic). The elevation of the palace complex is 738 meters above sea level and the total area is 88.02 km. The name Granada derives from Arabic “Karnata” or “Gharnatah” meaning “hill off strangers”.

Granada, Spain

Muhammad Yusef al Ahmar I.

When Muhammad I and the Nasaries arrived at the Sabina hill, there was already an old settlement there called Elibyrge, from the 5th century b.C.

Another reason this place was chosen was the confluence of four rivers the Darro, the Genil, the Monachil and the Beiro. Thus water in abundance! Alhamra is influenced by Almohad building style. Muhammad the first never saw his palace completed as he died before its finalazation, however his son Muhammad II concluded the construction.

In Muhammad I part of alhamra there are three towers; The broken tower, the Keep and the Watch tower. The Watchtower was used for receiving “mirror signals'' from nearby hills and mountains as an early warning if danger was approaching.

Yusef I.

The part of the palace complexes built by Yusef I is called “ the palace of Comares”. It is without any doubt the most beautiful part of alhamra, it was built to intimidate!

Here is where Yusef would receive Christian emissaries in the hall of ambassadors. What Yusef lacked in military strength he made up for it here intimidating, giving an impression of power.

Yusef's great architectural achievements came to an abrupt end when in October 1354 he was assassinated during his morning prayer, he was only 33 years old.

Court of the lions

Muhammad V.

Later on in the history of the Nasarids, Muhammad V constructed several amazing parts of al hamra but he is most famous for the “patio of the lions”.

He was extremely interested in architecture, as was his christian counterpart; Pedro I.

They had architectural competitions amongst themselves, they were best friends and as long as Pedro I was in power, the Nasarids had nothing to fear.

Nasaries summary:

One important reason the Nasaries cling to power for so long, was their ability to constantly come up with new and fresh strategies as alternatives to military power.

Their creativity reached from secret early warnings by mirror signals, intimidating and giving a false impression of power, to befriending the enemy and sharing their interests.

There were other strategies, not mentioned yet; were diplomatic strategies, confusing the enemies by giving the wrong impression, and possession of information etc.

A new country had emerged in Morocco called Beni Marine. They offered support to Granada in many different ways; military and economic support. This support was essential and prolonged their reign in Granada significantly.

But regrettably, Muhammad VI saw the fall of Alhambra and with it the collapse of the last refuge of the Moorish power in Spain.

The Castilla and Leóns conjugal duo; Isabella and Fernando, had claimed the entire country, and now we enter the aftermath of the fall of al andalus.

Alhambra, Spain

Times of Terror

With the christian advances the Muslims were gradually forced to the south of the country, eventually ending up in Granada. The Christians gave two choices to the Muslims and the Jews in their newly claimed territories, to be killed, or to be exiled. The Nasaries had made many agreements with the Christians, however, each time, the Christians broke their promises and agreements.

At one point, Beni Marine and Beni Ahmar merged their armies, and claimed back a few cities, such as Seville. Unfortunately, these advancements quickly came to an abrupt halt. It was not all futile however, as Yousef Beni Marine took back, and in turn, preserved many of the books in Córdoba, which can be found in a library in Morocco till this day.

The 2nd of February 1492, however, Granada capitulated. Shortly after, the Jews and the Muslims that originated from other countries were exiled; after 800 years they were now considered strangers in their own countries. Many Berber families that returned to Morocco, still have the keys to their forefathers' houses in al Andalus till this day. Their properties and wealth were taken from them.

Alhambra, Granada

The fate of the Moriscos

During the 801 years of Muslim rule, an enormous amount of native Christians had converted to Islam. Their fate was even darker, they were now called “moriscos”; a kind of second degree citizens. As they had nowhere else to go, exile was not an option, leaving them with only death.

A secret police force was set up, similar to Hitlers Gestapo. Their function was to secretly search for any Spanish people that were morisco. The people that were discovered were tortured to death.

They were burned, thrown in boiling water/oil alive, hammered with rusted nails, buried alive, or kept in a black cellar until they got blind, or got their tongues cut out.

Years later, when Napoleon’s army occupied Spain, they said that they were appalled to see how the Spaniards had tortured and killed their own people in such a horrifying way.

As the native Spanish Muslims had nowhere to go, they tried to hide from the secret police.

The terror they must have felt, trying to hide from the secret police in an attempt to avoid being discovered, tortured and killed must have been indescribable.

Many of these moriscos changed their names to “blend in” while trying to escape the horror.

Ex. someone called haddad (arabic for blacksmith), would have called himself Herrero (Castillian spanish for blacksmith). If he were in danger again, he would once more change his name to Ferrer (Catalan for blacksmith). Some of the moriscos that succeeded in escaping retribution, would hide their properties, such as books and identifiable items.

Some of these items have been discovered, while reconstructing old buildings in modern times. As was the case of a lady in Toledo a few years back.

Mosque-Cathedral of Córdoba, Spain

Reflection:

The doors of collectivism and mutual respect had now closed. These doors opened with the arrival of the Moorish 801 years ago.

The doors of a multicultural society with tolerance and acceptance of others. 801 years later, these doors were closed perpetually. Left was mono-cultural, mono-ethnic country. With acceptance of only one religion, a country full of fears with all the limitations brought with it.

The new Spain was looking to finance itself by taxes from the inside, and colonization from the outside. Al Andalus was now dead and Spain crippled.

Nasarís of Granada:

Muhammad I: Muhhamad Yusuf al Ahmar I, Died at 80 years old

(1231-1272)

Muhammed II

(1272-1303)

Isma’il I

(1313-1324)

Yusuf I: died at 33 years old

(1333-1354)

Muhammed V

(1354-1390)

Muhammed VI

(???? -1492)

*Inspiration and information taken from; Egyptian historian Ragheb el sergany, from the “instituto de estudios campogibraltareños”, and from professor Juan Vernet.

[mcu-fan-fics-blog]

The Helping Hand

Summary: Y/N Krast Illegitimate Daughter of Tony Stark. Product of an unwanted teen pregnancy. What would Howard Stark be capable of doing to assure his sons future? What will happen when Tony meets our Beautiful, young, genius, rich philanthropist.

Word Count: 3000 approx

A/N: Sorry for the wait I've been a little busy the last couple of weeks. I hope you enjoy this chapter. Next chapter will be Civil war I hope to upload again soon. In the mean time if you have some ideas or thoughts send them my way.

Tw: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Drug use, Drug addiction, Teen Pregnancy. (If there are any I missed please tell me.)

Ch.7

Chapter 8: Time and Irony Walk Hand in Hand

Ch.9

"Well this is nice…" You say as Natasha drags you along. You see currently you and Natasha are quote on quote shaking a tail. Whatever that means… "Shut up and keep moving." You stop moving and pull your arm away. "Stop Nat we've gone far enough. It was probably just a coincidence we didn't really get that far from the food truck." Finally taking the time to catch your breath. "I think we should get back to the compound. Tony and Bruce must be waiting for me." You say looking around for a cab lucky for you one stopped right before you and you got in.

The ride back to the Compound was quiet. When she's about to make her way in, you stop her. "Nat… I know that didn't go the way either of us wanted it to go but I still had fun. And again what I'm trying to say is that I would like to do things your way, candlelit, waiters, and wine. If you want to of course." You fidget with your fingers waiting for her response. "Y/n I would love to… but I like the way you do things. You're not the Wine and Dine type... I like that." She mentions as she walks back in. You quickly follow suit after she makes a comment about your blatant staring.

Once you stop on the elevator FRIDAY greets you. Telling you that Tony and Bruce are waiting for you in the lab. "Well Nat this is goodbye for now, see you around." You say stepping off of the elevator. Suddenly this weight comes crashing down on you. Remembering what Bruce told you the worry in his eyes. Dread fills your body when you're walking towards the lab. "Guys I'm back… anything good for me?" You state casually trying your hardest not to sound hopeful. "Well yes and no…" Tony states putting the tablet down. "I'm going to be honest with you… your heart is trashed, absolute garbage."

"Way to make a girl feel special." You say with a dry laugh. "But I think we can build something. And with my arc reactor technology we can make it work." He states tapping at his chest. This is where Bruce jumps in "with the help of Dr. Cho we could try and make a new cradle… and use it for its intended purpose this time around. Making a heart powered by the arc reactor." You nod taking all the information in. "Well this is good right? How long would this take." This is where both Tony and Bruce go quiet. "Y/n the process is relatively easy, what's difficult is getting our hands on the Vibranium."

"Which is basically a non existent problem at this point… Bruce is just paranoid, my contact will pan out you'll see." Tony jumps back in clearly annoyed that Bruce was disclosing such trivial issues. "Even if we do get the Vibranium Y/n there's something we don't know… If you'll even survive the transplant." Your eyes meet his and he elaborates. "Your body might not be strong enough to handle it." Suddenly the inevitability of the situation dawns upon you. "Well I'm still doing it… I'm dying anyways. What difference does it make if it's a month from now or five. I'm doing it." 

"Well, let not be hasty alright. We can still look for other alternatives." Bruce tries to argue. "Look, this is Y/n's decision. She's old enough to make her own decisions. Plus the more we work on this the higher survival chances are." Tony argues. You clear your throat when you notice some visitors standing by the door. "How long have they been there?" You ask, trying to mask your anger. Pietro and Steve both give you sheepish smiles that don't quite reach their eyes. "Look Y/n we just wanted to make sure you were okay… and by the looks of it you're not." 

You stand making your way to stand in front of Steve who had just taken a defensive stance. "Well you're right I'm not okay. Now what are you going to do about it Cap… Other than feeling pity every time you look at me." You say pushing your finger on his chest. "This does not leave this room you understand?" You say looking at both Steve and Pietro. "But, My sister…" You nod "Figure it out pretty boy. Now if you could leave the adults have to talk." They both sigh but take their leave. You turn and notice Tony and Bruce staring, not saying anything. You can only laugh at the sight. 

As much as you did want to be mad you couldn't. You were starting to come to terms with the fact that your business was now becoming their business. "I just wanted to watch them squirm." You clarify making Tony laugh. "Well I'd say you achieved that." Bruce mentions. "I'll give them til the end of the day. What do you think?" You say looking at Tony. "How much are you willing to bet, Billionaire to Billionaire?" He asks, challenging you. "50 million dollars." He scoffs. "Don't be a prude, make it Euros." You nod. "Best money there is." You say agreeing with him. "I'll hold you to that Y/n." He says as you leave the lab.

Two days later you were busy. You'd been in contact with Bruce and Pepper. Currently you were looking for someone to mentor. Someone you could leave your legacy with. Logan was an obvious choice but you knew he wouldn't take it. "You wanna give it a break Y/n you're not going to find the perfect candidate in so little time." Logan mentions. When suddenly your secretary enters with more forms. "Ms. Krast these are the applications from Midtown Science High. There's only four. Liz Allan, Ned Leeds, Flash Thompson, and uhh Peter Parker." You sigh with a smile forming on your lips. "They've got to be here my mentee. These kids are geniuses." 

You say as you look through the applications. Slowly crossing off the first two, that Flash kid and Liz. Ned and Peter it was a tough choice until you saw some of yourself in Peter's eyes. "It's him." You say under your breath catching Logan's attention. "Peter Parker… I want him, he will be the future of our company. Make arrangements. I want him to feel welcomed." You say as you start to gather your things. "Send out the acceptance letter today." You say to Logan on your way out. "Will do Boss." He says with a smile growing on his face as he reads the file. Peter didn't have it easy on the contrary he lived through a lot but he still managed to be him.

The next week went by in a blur. Your will and testament were drafted and certified. You were set on that end and now on the other front. You were currently parked outside Midtown High waiting for the bell to ring. When it does a couple of minutes pass when a fresh faced kid is knocking on your window. "Y/n Krast nice to meet you kid." You say rolling down the window. He seems a little nervous. "Come on in Peter. We're going to get to know each other a little before we begin working with the internship." He nods enthusiastically, a small smile forming on his lips. "Tell me about your Peter, I mean outside of what I already know."

"Well I'm what most people would call a nerd. My aunt may always say that's not true but it is." You hum in agreement pulling out of the school parking lot. "Well being popular is overrated anyways." You jump in. "And Ned, my best friend, we're huge fans of you and your work." He says his speed increases as he starts to ramble about how he followed your trajectory as soon as he found out who you were. "Well I'm glad you like what I do Peter but in my eyes were equals. I will teach you my ways and hopefully you'll take over once I'm dead. Keeping my legacy alive long after I'm dead." You say seriously making him settle and quiet down. 

"Ms. Krast you can't be serious." He says giving you an incredulous look. "I was an orphan… I was given a chance. Someone believed in me. I guess what I'm trying to say is that you remind me of me… and I would like to give you that same chance that I was given." You say sincerely. "Y/n that's too generous… Plus I don't think that I'm what you're looking for. I'm clumsy and…" You stop the car making him look at you. "You may not be ready now or tomorrow but if you let me teach you, you will be." You say reassuringly. "Plus I don't plan on dying anytime soon." You say playfully at the end causing Peter to laugh successfully lightening the mood. "Also another plus for you after this year's audit we'll be working hand in hand with Tony Stark."

At the mention of Tony's name he lit up ten times more than you thought possible. It made you laugh a little but you understood him. "That's amazing. Me working for Y/n Krast and Tony Stark, a literal dream come true." You nod at his statement. The day went by incredibly fast. He was a nice kid, respectful and smart, a little naïve but overall sensible. You went to his favorite pizza place and talked, went to Krast Industries and introduced him to Logan. Showed him his dedicated work space. "So here's your badge, don't lose it. Umm… you'll be here every other day after school, and if you have some special dates tell Margaret the secretary and she'll make a schedule around it." You say as you're walking towards the elevator. 

Peter stops abruptly turning to face you. "Thank you really." He then proceeds to rather hastily pull you into a hug. You're shocked initially but hug him back nonetheless. "Don't sweat it kid." You say patting his back. "I'll have one of my drivers give you a lift home alright." He nods. Just before you press the button for the elevator the doors open. Revealing Pepper Potts and Tony Stark. It makes you laugh internally knowing that the young boy beside you just had his world rocked. "Ms. Krast this is real right?" He asks in a high pitched voice. You nod.

"Pepper Tony, I would like you to meet my new mentee Peter Parker." You say nudging him forward. "Hi, you're Tony Stark." He says in a daze. "Yes kid I am Tony stark and you are?" Tony could literally not care less. Until you gave Pepper a look and she nudged Tony. "Alright kid it was nice meeting you." He says overly enthusiastically. Peter takes the compliment either way. "Alright Peter go over to Margaret she'll take you to the driver. We have some urgent business to attend." He nods and waves goodbye shyly and takes his leave. "Right what do you guys need." Pepper clears her throat "Well actually Tony and I wanted to invite you out to lunch." 

"Well, what are we waiting for? Let's get going." You say walking off with Pepper. "You'll be pleased to know that you won our wager. They know..." Tony mentions at the restaurant. You laugh. "Told you!" Pepper gives you a look. "They're worried about you." You sigh. "Pepper, believe me I'm worried too." Tony quickly steps in. "Which you don't need to worry about too much, everything is in place. Everything panned out Dr. Cho was more than willing to help us. So whenever you want." He says again not meeting your gaze. "I was… ummm. Actually thinking we should hold off on that." 

"What… why?" They both ask almost immediately. "I'm okay right now." Tony scoffs. "So you rather wait till you have another episode to undergo the procedure." You hum. "Precisely see you get it." Watching their confusion you continue. "I've got things I have to leave ready. Time that I can't take for granted." Before they could argue with you said. "I need time… I-i drafted my will a couple of days ago." You say burying your head into your hands. "It's funny really… how you get things you're willing to live for. And life just comes along and takes it from you." Your mind drifts off to Viv and David. You wipe your tears and excuse yourself. Just as you're about to leave you remember. 

"Put the money in a college fund for the kid." You grab Peppers shoulder and nod. "We'll keep in touch." You say leaving the restaurant.  

Three weeks later 

Pretty early on you noticed Peter's jumpy behavior. It wasn't long till you found out his little secret. Again smart kid heart of gold even, but too naïve for his own good. You'd had one of your AI robots track him after he'd shown up a little dinged up. Telling him you knew took some time. You didn't know the extent of his capabilities, but you'd seen the kid walk on walls and kick some ass.

As cute as he looked in that makeshift costume you had a better one in mind. "Peter I would like to show you something." You call out from your workstation in the lab. "Ward pull up spider schematics please." You call out. "What do you think?" You say as Peter glances at his new suit. "I-i um… It's awesome but who is at for?" He said quickly. You almost burst out in laughter right then and there but you played along. "Well I was in Queens the other day and there was this mugging and some hero came out of nowhere and stopped the mugging." You say as you deconstruct the specks of the suit. Watching as peter gawks at the hologram. 

"When I noticed his suit wasn't really a suit, I made him one. You think he'll like it?" Peter nods eagerly, you hum in response. "Alright then try it on, see how it fits spider boy." Peter stands there with his mouth hanging open and you could swear saliva came out. "You aren't that good at keeping secrets kid." You say handing him the suit. "I expect you to be careful, kid." Peter starts to ramble trying to explain himself and begs you to not fire him. You physically had to stop him from pacing. "No ones firing anyone. I'm proud of your kid again, just be careful." Emphasizing the last part. "I will" after all that's out of the way you and Peter spent the day testing out the specks in his new suit. Web slingers and all. Yo I didn't leave until he got the hang of it. It took a while but it was well with the wait. 

The next day you wake up to the news seeing a familiar twin on the news. Not good Lagos had gone wrong, the building collapsed and Wanda was to 'blame'. You hurriedly made your way through your morning routine and raced to the compound. As soon as you make it to the common room you can tell something's off. "How is everybody?" You asked Steve who was the first you saw. "I'm assuming you heard about the incident." You don't have the heart to say yes so you just nod. "We're all a little down on morale. Nothing we can't fix." You say, giving you a small smile. You hate that he is down playing this because of your current dilemma. "It wasn't your fault." You say. As you walk off towards Pietro. 

"Are you okay?" You ask this time actually worried Pietro doesn't seem like his usual self. "No...It's Wanda. She hasn't talked to anyone she hasn't eaten she hasn't left her room." He says all in one breath. He finally stopped stirring and slid down to the floor and sat. "Its my fault. I-i could've moved faster, I could've saved them." He says defeatedly. "Maybe… Maybe not" You say bluntly sitting in front of him. "You can't go back now. And I know it's a sour experience. You made the right decision." You sigh. "You made the choice that saved the most lives." He nods letting out a deep breath. "I know… I know but Wanda. If I had saved those people Wanda wouldn't be feeling like this right now." You shake your head. "You fail to realize that if you had done that you would've died along with the other victims. Wanda will come around and let me talk to her." He only nods. "She's in her room."

You knock on her door a couple of times… no answer. So you make yourself comfortable and prepare yourself. Your knock every minute or two and you're constantly yelling in your head. Half an hour goes by and nothing. You go back to mentally yelling, when suddenly you're being dragged by the collar of your shirt into the room with the doors shutting behind you. "You're stubborn like a mule." She says not sparring you a look. "Yeah well I'm dying what are you gonna do about it." You quipped smiling at her. She chuckles. Suddenly the light leaves her face. "I killed people… I put people in danger, I put my own brother I'm danger." You nod. "You also saved hundreds of people. God only knows what that gas would have done. So thank you Wanda. You're my hero." You say sending her a smile.

Right when she's about to say something a certain red friend phases through the wall. "You will never cease to amaze me Vision." You say while looking between him and the wall. "You have very good taste in clothes." You mention as you eye him. He smiles. "Vision. We talked about this, there's a door for a reason." Wanda states. "Yes, well the door was open so I assumed…" He says, explaining himself. "What did you need Vision?" Wanda asks cutting him off. "Well Mr. Stark asked me to come and get both you there is a team meeting. With secretary Ross." 

[kimnjss]

groupie love | jhs

⤑  series: groupie love

⤑ genre: angst, rapper!hoseok x youtuber!reader, idol au.

⤑ rating: pg13.

⤑ word count: 3.1K

⤑ warnings: unresolved problems with a very simple solution.

⤑ A/N: first, hi :( you guuys, there’s only one more update left until the end of this! (this was a mini series, idk if i said that) but oomg, i can’t believe it! im also a tad bit female sick (monthly) so my brain has been all over the place, so real sorry if this chapter follows that example :/ - either way, let me know what you think!! x

A full week had passed since you last spoke to Hoseok. To be completely honest, you had stopped being upset with him... all it really took was for Jimin to make you realize that you were being a tad bit irrational and should've given him a chance to speak. You couldn't see that at the moment, too wrapped in the thought of him leaving for six months right when things were starting to get good between the two of you.

 A relationship barely started and now you were going to put it to the long-distance test? A test that many couples... who have been together longer than the two of you have, did not survive. No matter how much fun he thought it would be, going along with him wasn't an option either.

 Joining him on tour meant abandoning your responsibilities here to trail behind some guy so he could achieve his dream. The fact that he even asked you to do something like that put a sour taste in your mouth... until you were quickly realizing that wasn't his intention at all.

 In realizing that you were quickly seeing that you didn't know him as much as you thought you did. Relationship still so new, there were many things that were left in the dark when it came to each other's personalities and thought processes. So whisking off behind him on a tour... for six months... when you barely knew him?? definitely off the table.

 Long-distance would have been your best bet because there was no way you were going to throw away the whole relationship. Hoseok was different from the other guys that approached you. He saw you in ways you had never imagined and made you feel comfortable being yourself... no way were you going to just give that up. You two haven't even got to the good part yet.

 So, yeah you weren't mad at him anymore... stopped being mad at him literally a few hours after hanging up the call. Why then did a whole week pass since the two of you had last spoken? You had expected him to call you back after you cut the call short, he didn't. And at the moment you didn't want him to.

 But when the anger was disappearing, you were kinda hoping he'd fall into the chase. Give you a call and try to calm you – not as you needed it. Good thing too, because it never came. Chopping it up to him being busy, you went to bed... hoping to wake up to a missed something from him. And when morning came, the only thing lighting up your screen were emails from past subscriptions you always ignored.

 The entire day passed without contact and you hoped that maybe in this hour he would message you, call you... check-in to see if you were alright!? Nothing, absolutely nothing and you felt like you were going insane checking your phone every fifteen minutes.

 Why not just contact him, right? That would be so much easier and save a bit of your sanity, but that's not how it was supposed to work. You were the one that was upset, therefore, he had to contact you and apologize that way you could tell him that it was okay and everything could go back to normal. That was how it should work, right? Right!?

 Wrong.

 To pile on to your many mistakes in the past seven days, you kept your dry phone stress from Jimin. Not intentionally, entirely... he was busy too (mostly with Yoongi) and it didn't really slide into conversation well. If you had told him sooner, he would've been able to explain to you why your theory was crazy and you should probably just call the man instead of waiting around for him to make the first move.

 It wasn't until you two were hanging out and he was able to notice your frantic glance each time your phone lit up. “He probably thinks you need space,” Jimin told you, the idea never dawning on you... was Hoseok waiting for you to call him? Checking his phone every fifteen minutes as you had been? Because he thought it was you that was supposed to make the call?

 So you called him, that night after Jimin was leaving. Hummed along to the dial tone as you waited to hear his soft voice on the other line. “Why are you calling?” It wasn't him, your heart sinking into the pits of your stomach at the sound of the woman's voice on the other line.

 Maybe, he wasn't waiting for your call... maybe he had followed your anger charged advice to find a different groupie to take on tour with him. Maybe you didn't mean anything to him at all.

 “Hello?” The woman repeated, growing impatient with your silence. Half a mind to hang up the phone and never talk to him again, but you needed answers. Needed to know who this lady was but refused to hear it from anyone but him.

 “I need to talk to Hoseok,” You replied plainly.

 “Obviously, this is his phone. What do you need?” Wow, this woman was rude. Did Hobi know that she was so sour? Surely, he couldn't be interested in someone with such a d-list personality, it didn't match his happy.

 “Excuse me, but I-,” Your words were being cut off by the words overlapping yours, a breathless Joon speaking into the phone. “Yn!?” Namjoon was there too!? What? And breathless? Were they... all three of them!? “Where's Hoseok?” Ignoring the surprise in his tone when he first answered the tone. Your patience was wearing thin.

 “Studio, he left his phone in the practice room. I'm walking there right now.” He let out a huff of breath and you heard some shuffling on the other end. “So... where you been? Haven't heard from you for a while,”

 Maybe he was waiting for you to contact him first. If he hadn't been, surely his best friend wouldn't be asking you where you've been... right? “Yeah...” You reply lamely not knowing what else to say. Not really feeling like you owe Joon much of an explanation, especially if your boyfriend hadn't even received on yet.

 There's more shuffling, a murmured conversation being had away from the phone so you can barely make out what they're saying – but you don't doubt that they're talking about you. A minute passes before the phone is being handed off and you're finally hearing Hoseok's voice.

 “Hey,” He did not sound happy to hear from you. “You good?”

 A little caught off guard you spare a moment to think over what he's asking you. Were you good? Had you been 'good' at all this week? Was it possible that you were so not good without hearing from him that just the sound of his voice instantly had-

 “If you're good then...” He's trailing off, obviously impatient with your silence. Wouldn't be the first one today. It was like you couldn't find the right words, only now realizing that this was all your fault and you had no idea how to fix it.

 “No, wait,” Your words are rushed with the fear that he's going to hang up the phone any second. “I...I should've called you. Like before now. But, I want to talk? Is it alright if we meet up to talk?” Maybe if you were able to see him in person, it would be easier to explain yourself... you always felt at ease when you were with him.

 “I'm a bit busy right now but-,”

 “Oh, right! Yeah, you probably have a whole bunch of things to do... I guess, then-” A laugh was slipping through his lips, a sound you had no idea you missed so much until this moment.

 “-But, we can meet up tonight. I'll be done around here at like nine.” So sure he had decided that he didn't want to talk and was using being busy as an excuse... you really had to stop interrupting people. Something to work on. Your heart was fluttering though, at the thought of seeing him again. Being able to touch him, kiss him, talk to him, and see that bright smile on his face.

 If you were able to make him smile... you had a lot of things to work through, but you were hopeful. “Okay, yeah. Tonight works, that's good.”

 “Great, I gotta go... working, you know? But I'll stop by tonight.” You're agreeing, saying goodbye quickly before ending the call.

 Not as horrible as you thought, you were going to get to see him and everything was going to work out. With a quick glance at the time, you were just now realizing that nine was only a few hours away. The need to speed clean your house, getting rid of the evidence of a week worth of moping as quickly as you can.

 You tried to think of all you wanted to say as you cleaned, no idea where to even start... all you knew was you missed him and couldn't wait to see him again.

 You tried to act natural, not put as much weight on seeing Hoseok again as you normally would. Wanted to act like you weren't nervous for his reaction, scared to tell him that you were sorry and the reason why... how childish he might think you after explaining you had ghosted him because you had been waiting for him to contact you first.

 Even despite you wanting to keep your cool, that didn't stop you for getting ready for his arrival as if you were about to be whisked away on some magic date night. After a quick cleaning of your house, you spent the rest of the time waiting for him making sure that you looked good for him.

 You had done your makeup the way you knew he liked, wore something that you were positive would grasp his attention. Your hair was even done to his liking, noting how he preferred when you wore it down more than anything. All of this, done in hopes that he'd be so mesmerized by you that he'd forget how stupid you've been acting for the past seven days. One could only hope.

 It wasn't until there was a sharp knock at your front door that you were putting the finishing touches on your look. Might've even stayed in the mirror longer if it wasn't for him showing up at exactly 9:18.

 With a deep breath, you're making your way to the front door. Hoseok stands on the other side, hands shoved in his pockets and teeth nibbling at his lower lip. Just seeing him and all you want to do is wrap your arms around him and pull him close, not realizing how much you had missed him until this moment.

 His eyes are on you the moment you're pulling the door open, a small smile spreading on his lips. “Hi,” His voice is soft and you return his greeting before moving to let him in. He turns to watch you push the door closed and you feel the awkwardness begins to settle in your chest.

 Were you supposed to talk first? Get out an apology before the time rattled on. How were you even supposed to start this? You knew exactly what you wanted to apologize for, wasting the little time the two of you had left with your petty thoughts. How were you to come out and say it, though? It was like the words were stuck in your throat.

 “Look, so... before you say anything,” His voice was breaking you from your thoughts, eyes lifting to look in his direction. He looked nervous like the roles had been reversed. “I wanted to apologize to you... I wasn't thinking when I asked you to come along with me, you know? I just thought it would be fun, but obviously, I offended you with the offer... so I'm sorry,”

 He was apologizing? He felt bad? There was nothing that he needed to apologize for and there he was because you had been too busy with your inner monologue to get on with your apology. Now you had this boy standing in front of you looking sheepish for no reason at all.

 You had to fix this.

 “No, you don't have to apologize, honestly. It bugged me at the moment, but only because I didn't properly think it over. I know why you asked... and I should've thought more about it instead of blowing up on you like that,” You took careful steps in his direction, taking your time with closing the space between the two of you.

 There was confusion riddled in his features as if he couldn't understand why you were the one that needed to say sorry. He had been so focused on how he had made you felt, he didn't even take the time to think that you might've been in the wrong. The blame game wasn't something he liked to play.

 “I'm also sorry for the way I ghosted you... I was ready to talk to you the day we got off of the phone but I had been waiting for you to contact me first... I know it's stupid, but I just felt like you should've? Since I was the one mad at you... I wanted you to check,” It sounded even more stupid when you were saying it out loud.

 Embarrassed tinted your cheeks pink, but Hoseok didn't seem to notice. Even if he had, he was ignoring it. “You wanted me to call you?” You nodded, avoiding his gaze. No doubt he was pinning you with the same furrowed brow look Jimin had given you when you first told him.

 You're caught off by the laugh that leaves his lips. Gaze lifting to find him shaking his head, shoulders shaking as he lets out laughs. Now it's your turn to look confused, face contorted as you stare at him. “What's funny?” You're asking as he takes deep breaths to calm his laughter.

 “I just... I had been waiting for you to call me. Wanted to give you space or whatever and figured you'd call when you weren't mad anymore... you weren't even mad to begin with, though? That's hilarious to me.” You didn't get it, but he was smiling that pretty smile of his so you had no choice but to agree. His laughter is slowly dying down and he's looking at you, reaching out to grasp your hand. “Come here,”

 Hoseok easily pulls you into his chest, arms wrapping around you in a warm hug. He tried to ignore it, but in the week that he couldn't see you – he had realized how much you started to mean to him. Simple things like holding you close, he was yearning for and not much could make up for it.

 “This fight was stupid,” He's declaring, leaning back so he could get a good look at your face. His hand lifts to push the hair from your forehead, pressing his lips against it afterward. “I'm leaving soon... we shouldn't waste time like this,”

 Arms lifting to wrap around his waist, you're nodding your head, cheek resting against his chest. “God, I missed you so much...” He's trailing off, fingers toying with the ends of your hair.

 You had missed him too, and you tell him. Not being able to mask the sadness in your voice. A whole week passed without seeing each other and you were like this. Would you be able to survive six whole months without him? It hadn't even been long, but he had become such a big part of your life.

 “I think I'm gonna miss you too much when you leave...” He's pulling back at the sound of your words, nodding his head as his hand cradle your face. Hoseok stands there looking at you for a while, taking in your sad eyes and tiny pout. The look squeezing his heart but only making him that much more determined to make things work for you.

 “Be my girlfriend,” The words tumble from his lips so smoothly, you're not even sure you hear him right. He's continuing before you have a chance to answer. “I like you a lot, Yn. And I know the next six months are going to be hard... but I think they might be a little easier if I know I have my girlfriend waiting up for me, don't you think?” He's smiling big and you're sure yours matches his.

 Girlfriend. Not fuck buddy. Sidepiece. Groupie. Hoseok's girlfriend. Which came with so much more. Pushed all your insecurities away, solidified things. Just a label, but it came with such security, something that you had no idea you needed so much until you were entering this situation-ship with this man.

 “I'd love to be your girlfriend,” You were grinning hard now, it is covered by his soft lips. His large hands slipping into your hand, tangling in the loose strands as he held your lips to his. Kissing you softly and slowly, as if you two had all the time in the world to enjoy each other.

 You really wished you did.

 He's pulling away all too quickly, but not before leaning down once more to press a gentle peck to your lips. “Things are going to be really hectic these past few days... but we'll make it work.” He sounded hopeful, you were too. “And I cleared my schedule for tomorrow... might set us back, but I wanted to spend the night with you.”

 Despite having zero knowledge of how this conversation would go, Hoseok held a lot of faith in you... in your blossoming relationship. Felt like things would work out for you if the two of you made sure to work together on things. It would be a bit of a learning process for you, he could tell but he was willing to work at it with you.

 “I'd really like that,” You say, leaning up on your toes to press your lips back onto his. Ready to make the most of tonight, no matter what you did. Just wanted to be with him and make up for lost time.

 Stock up on all the smiles, the hugs, the kisses that you could because in a few weeks. Your six-month challenge would be starting, you needed to memorize what his lips felt like while you still could. Ready to cherish every moment until he was getting on that plane.

– he’s ½ of the famous rap duo, the 94′s. when stumbling upon a pretty youtuber, he’s quick to decide he wants to have her. but one night with her just doesn’t seem like enough.

⬿ masterlist ⤳

taglist: @randomkoalablog @smoljams @dee-ehn @angjeon @moarmynation @diminieshoe @butterflylion @withlovestudyblr @uxwi @hazefilter @honeyoongles @flantasticpr @ratking101 @jinhitwhore @thisistrashperson @hehehehahahohohuhu @jaiuneamesolitaiire @hellotherehoneybee @bangtansonyeondayyyum @okaysoplshelpme @rather-not-sayy @betysotelo18​ @bluefaeriefury @tae165 @kookiesjoonies @bangtansbun​ @koostime​ @justastupidnick​ @ashleyjoyx​ @kooinluv​ @alpaca1612​ @sw33tnight​ @taefect94​ @houseofarmanto​ @flantasticpr​ @amoreguk​ @kim-ji-hyeons-world​ @mochibabycakes @beeeb05 @tommasauras @diorhobii @kimsouthjoon @korkanswers @samros95 @soulstaes @masterpiecejoonie @melonmochi @aizuwusho @marifujioka @elliemeetsevil @thesunisup-theskyisblue @thecityrain​ @alterlovess @leovaldezisfire @pastelpinksunflower​ @xctvme​ @itsrapmonstanotdancemonsta​

A/N: timestamps are important throughout the fic!! if you want to be added to the taglist, send me an ask! also if you asked to be on the taglist and aren’t on there, it’s because tumblr sometimes doesn’t let me tag ppl for some reason.

[torikengel]

Thomas Hewitt x Reader (Part 4)

“I see you already gave breakfast to her.” Luda, Mae smiled. “Is everything alright, m’dear?” She asked with a cheerful tone in her voice. “Yeah, I am okay.” You answered with a forced smile. “Then I will leave you two alone if you need anything just lemme know, darling.” She stated and disappeared in the hallway. You looked back at Thomas and could see how hurt he was by your sudden behavior. Even though he and his family literally kidnapped you, you felt the urge to apologize, so you did. “I am sorry for startling you; I really didn’t mean to. It’s just that I remember yesterdays’ events only partially. I-I think I might’ve hit my head or something…” you stuttered nervously as you could feel his gaze on you. Honestly, you felt incredibly exposed even though you were fully clothed. He kept staring at you without saying a thing. Right, he was mute… so how are you supposed to communicate, you wondered. Well, he could at least answer with yes or no by nodding or shaking his head, you thought. “So… umm…” you mumbled, not knowing where to begin. “I really want to remember everything, so there won’t be any misunderstandings in the future, but please bear with me, you know that this… it’s tough for me.” You tried to explain how you felt the best way you could. He nodded, but then pointed at the plate with breakfast. “R-right, I should eat to gain some energy first… after that, can you help me recall exactly what happened yesterday?” you asked as you took a bite of the bread with a slice of cheese. Thomas just nodded again and sat on the floor, his eyes not looking away from you for a second. 

As you were chewing the dry bread, you realized that they must struggle to buy food, that’s why they are doing all this. You suddenly coughed as the urge to throw up made you choke on the food. Thomas panicked but tried to help you by slapping your back. He was so clumsy when it came to human contact, and he hit you a bit harder than he should have. But it helped you because you stopped coughing in no time, and your attempts to catch breath turned into giggles. You enjoyed this lighthearted and awkward moment in the middle of your miserable situation. Thomas just got more and more confused by everything you did. “I am sorry, I guess I am just trying to laugh at the fact that you eat human meat instead of crying.” You didn’t understand your need to apologize to him and admired your brain for coping with cannibalism in such a way. You were stoked that you could remember something, even though it wasn’t charming this time. After you finished your breakfast and put the plate on the nightstand, you turned to Thomas, who was still exploring your body with his eyes. You took a sip of water to clear your throat and gestured for him to sit next to you on the bed. He hesitantly did what you wanted. “So, I know this might be a bit tricky, but I want to know what happened to me. Please just nod when I say it correctly.” You pleaded and took his hands in yours. He immediately nodded but looked away in embarrassment as he felt your touch. Everything he felt yesterday came back to him.

You calmly started speaking from the very beginning, talking about how you went to Luda’s shop, then about the spike strips that caused the accident, and after that, how Hoyt shot your friends and took all of you to this house. Still, you didn’t know where it was or how the house looked from the outside because you were unconscious until you woke up in the basement. Thomas just nodded as you seemed to recall everything correctly. “Now, it might be difficult…” you said as you tried to remember what happened there. You looked at Thomas’s face and thought about his mask for a while… Chloe and Matt… right, he killed and butchered them, as he did to Emma. “You killed all of them?” you asked, and Thomas looked away while nodding. He was nervous, he didn’t want you to hate him. “I guessed your name…” you looked over to the nightstand, “… and you gave me water when I asked for it.” You exclaimed after seeing the glass of water next to the empty plate. It bothered you because you didn’t understand why he helped you, why were you still alive. “I sang for you, and then Hoyt came into the basement and…” you stammered, “Emma was there because he did stuff with her.” You stopped talking to gather your thoughts, and Thomas just kept nodding. “And then we ate dinner… human meat?” you didn’t remember what happened at the table because of Hoyt. “You took me upstairs; I mean here, and I went to sleep?” You looked at Thomas who was now lost in his own thoughts. He was hoping you’d remember the kiss, so now he was disappointed. But maybe it was for the better. He knew that one day you would have to go, one day he will have to kill you… right? There’s no way you would accept him like this; he was a freak, an animal just like everyone has told him, plus his family was far from normal too. You, on the other hand, were simply perfect. After all, if you had the opportunity to run away now, you would do it without question.

He didn’t realize you were getting closer to him this whole time. You were intrigued by this man, you didn’t know if it was the instinct to survive or the trauma you went through, but you felt like he was the only safe space you had right now. He never mistreated you; he helped you when you needed and did whatever you asked of him. And those eyes, you could stare into his eyes eternally. You felt a familiar tingling in your stomach that made you recall one more thing. “We kissed…” You wanted to think it was the fever, but you couldn’t deny it anymore. There was no logic behind it, only honest feelings. When Thomas realized how close you were, it was too late for him to react in any way as you cupped his cheeks with your hands and desperately kissed him with tears forming in your eyes. Thomas moaned quietly into the kiss as your hands traveled from his cheeks into his hair. Even when you were almost breathless, you didn’t stop hungrily kissing him. Thomas held you tightly around your waist and closed his eyes while he tried to keep up with you. This all was still very unknown to him. You finally parted lips gasping for air. “T-Tommy…” you whimpered, trying to hide your tears. You knew it wasn’t right, and you were beating yourself up for feeling this way, regretting your decision to ever go on this road trip.

Thomas’s heart was pounding so fast as it was about to explode. He was happy, yet hopelessly confused. Did he hurt you? What was he supposed to do? He remembered how you snuggled in his arms last night, so he hugged you and caressed your hair, trying to calm you. Your muffled cried were becoming even more desperate as gruesome flashbacks from yesterday appeared in your mind. He could’ve killed you the same way he killed your companions, yet he chose not to. He spared your life.  “T-thank you…” you sobbed into his shoulder as he kept holding you in his big, muscular arms. You were grateful that he let you live and even felt sorry for his situation to some extent. You could imagine that his life wasn’t easy, and you couldn’t bring yourself to hate or blame him.

But he was even more grateful than you because you were the one who actually saved him. In the moment of inevitable death, you showed him humanity and kindness. His whole life, everyone called him a monster, an animal, so he became one. You treated him like a human without prejudice or disgust, and by doing that, you managed to save that sad, pained boy deep inside him. You took him back to his childhood and his teen years when he didn’t resent every single human except his family. In those days, he still had hope that someday he would have a normal life. He had his dreams and achievements he wanted to accomplish. He lost all of those the day he snapped. After each kill, it became easier, especially as his victims fought back with more nasty words, and Hoyt just fueled his hatred. However, now, with you in his arms, he felt like he could take on the whole world. He still wasn’t sure about all this, and he didn’t trust you yet as everything he was taught telling him to kill you, but his heart warmed when you were next to him, so as long as you didn’t try to run away, it would be alright.

When you finally calmed down, you leaned your body against the wall while rubbing your eyes dry. You were embarrassed by being so vulnerable in front of your captor. Even though you just woke up, you were still exhausted, and intrusive thoughts about your situation bugged you to no end.

Then you looked at the man sitting in front of you… this man who you just spent such an intimate moment with. You knew him for one day, yet you felt a sense of familiarity when you were with him. You pushed away the reality of him being a killer and a cannibal at that and settled with a thought that if he didn’t kill and eat you, it was okay. “Thomas?” you raised your eyebrow playfully as you put your hand on his thigh. “Can I please take a shower? And… if it’s possible, get the suitcase from the van? I have some clothes there… Pretty please.” You decided to make the best of your situation, at least until you can escape… plus he wasn’t so bad after all. Thomas still couldn’t process your mood swings very well, but a smile made its way on his lips. That made your heart flutter as this was the first time you saw him smile… he was kind of cute… kind of. Thomas nodded and left the room when he realized that your hand was on his thigh. He still got startled easily when he got personal with you as he was very touch starved and only used to pain coming from encounters with other people. He made his mind up that he would try his best to fulfill your request, however, it wasn’t up to him. You looked after him as he disappeared from the room like he was a mirage never to be seen again, and your heart ached unexplainably.

The reality of your situation dawned on you again as you blankly stared into the hallway. He left you to yourself, and you really didn’t know what to do. “Is he going to do what I asked for?” you started quietly talking to yourself to make yourself less lonely. Am I going to be here every day like this, you wondered? It felt so weird, especially how physically close you got to your captor in one day. “It just felt right at that moment! Don’t beat yourself up over it like it’s your fault! It was probably a onetime thing as well…” you argued with yourself, but then decided to stop acting like a lunatic and stretched your sore body. Your leg was cuffed to the bed, but you could at least stand up. Then you just stared outside from the window, lost in your thoughts. You ignored the passage of time. Loud footsteps that gave you goosebumps echoed in the hallway and made you realize that you’ve been doing nothing for more than an hour. Thomas came into the room with your purse and suitcase, looking defeated. “Oh my god! You actually got my stuff. Thank you so much, Thomas!” you jumped up, ready to look through everything, but your clumsy self, tripped on the rope again and felt on the floor with a big thump. Thomas chuckled under his mask when you tried to stand up again. As you noticed his expression, your face became completely red. So, he’s having fun at your expense, huh? A thought came across your mind, and you fell back on your knees, covering your face with both hands as you started sobbing. Thomas’s smile disappeared, and he rushed over to help you. As he got close enough, you suddenly burst out laughing and grabbed his hand. “Got you!” Your prank irked Thomas, but when he saw your genuine smile, he melted. That was the first time in many years someone laughed together with him and not at him. “Sorry, but that’s what you get for looking at me embarrassing myself like that.” You smirked at him. Talk about being positive in a bad situation you thought for yourself when you looked at his bloody apron. “So, now that we got this out of the way, can you take me to the bathroom, please?” you stood up and looked at Thomas, attempting your best to look as cute as possible. He nodded and uncuffed your ankle. You contemplated if you should just run for it, but he was too used to this, so he grabbed your wrist, almost crushing it. “Ow, ow, ow.” You cried out in pain as his grip was tightening around the abrasion on your wrist. Startled, he completely let go of you and stepped back to the door so that you wouldn’t escape.  “That hurt,” you looked at your bruised wrists. “How about we take it slow?” you sighed, and Thomas grunted. You opened your suitcase and took out a black lace top, white shorts, and clean underwear. “Now,” you stepped closer to Thomas, who guarded the only exit with his big body. “Let’s try this.” You grabbed his hand and teased him, “Don’t let go if you don’t want me to run.” He rolled his eyes and led you to the bathroom, clearly confused about whether to be happy or mad. When he closed the bathroom door behind you, your body finally gave in. You exhaled and felt all your muscles loosen. For the first time in two days, you were free to an extent. The bathroom was far from clean, but you felt happy, finally having some privacy and time alone without being tied up. You stepped into the tub and let the brownish water run down on your hair and body. There was nothing but a bar of soap, so you just used that to clean yourself. When you were done, you dried yourself with what seemed like a clean towel and put on your clothes. You weren’t sure if you felt cleaner, but you definitely felt more like yourself now. You then looked around for anything useful, but then scrapped your silly idea and just opened the door.

Thomas looked you up and down, mesmerized by everything. However, he snapped back to reality and grabbed your hand, so you don’t try anything to escape. He led you back to the bedroom. When you sat on the bed, he kneeled to inspect your wrists and ankles. Maybe he could get his momma to look at your wounds for him? He then loosely cuffed your ankle again so that it wouldn’t deepen your wound, but not that you could slip out of it. He glared at you with a growl, trying to say: Don’t try anything stupid. “Thank you for your concern…” you shook your head a bit. How could he think you’d be able to escape when he had the key? He stood up, prepared to leave as he had work to do, but you stopped him. “Am I going to die anytime soon?” you bluntly asked him as you braced yourself for the worst outcome. He shook his head and looked you in the eyes. There is going to be a time when he would have to get rid of you… He knew it would be hard as he saw you as a human, not a piece of meat. “I am glad to hear that… because you know, despite everything, I want to keep living.” You teared up a bit at the thought of his cleaver next to your skull but quickly wiped your tears off.

Thomas rushed out of the room, closing the door behind him, leaving you confused and alone once again. He wasn’t prepared to face the reality of you being a victim and him being a captor. Him being the one who took your life, not literally, but still. He took away your freedom, family, friends… They won’t ever know what happened to their precious y/n. You made his mundane duty so difficult to carry out by acting the way you did. You didn’t even realize it, but by everything you’ve done so far, you completely changed Thomas’s life. He wasn’t sure if he liked it, because it made everything very hard. All he had to do up until this point was providing for his family without any hope for having a nice future for himself. He just did what had to be done and listened to Hoyt’s commands. Sometimes he thought about having a normal life, a normal face. Everything could’ve been different, and he felt so desperate about being unable to change it. That’s why when he saw that handsome soldier boy, he ended up taking his face… because that guy had everything Thomas could only dream of. He had given up on his dreams after the first kill; he knew he became the monster everyone wanted him to be. However, you made him think about his dreams again.

His thoughts dispersed as he heard Hoyt’s voice. “So, how’s yer bitch doin’?” he snickered. “Why are you even keepin’ her, it’s just ‘nother mouth to feed?” he kept blabbering. “Let him be Charlie, and he can keep ‘er until we run out of meat.” Luda Mae interrupted. “Okay, whatever you say, ma, but maybe I could show him some tricks, so he gets the best outta her.” He teased. Thomas was clearly uncomfortable, even though he was used to the sex talk and knew what it was as he grew up next to Hoyt. This time it wasn’t just a random girl. You had a name. He also realized that even if he tried to touch you in that way, you would probably finally curse him out and look at him with disgust. Hoyt often bragged about how amazing it felt and how Thomas should finally become a man.  Hoyt even offered to show him how it’s done with some victims. Of course, he would love to try it someday, but only with someone who would like touching Thomas, and he was convinced there was no one like that in this world. He didn’t like the faces and sounds the girls were making when Hoyt did it with them. For him, it just tainted the fantasy.

a/n: I swear this was so hard to write, but I am trying my best <3 Thomas is so precious, I just wanna kick everyone who bullied him... and I want you to show him all the love in the world too, but you are still a victim of kidnapping... we are steadily getting there though. Any comments would be highly appreciated.

[fuchsiagrasshopper]

Contending the Flame VI

Author’s Note: Happy Holiday season everyone! Hopefully you are having a better time than I am currently with work and new lockdown restrictions where I live. I already have the next two chapters written, so I plan to upload each within a week of one another. Thanks as always for being awesome!

Vikings Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar x Reader

Word count: 2234

Warnings: Servant dynamic, language.

The coming weeks had slowed as the provisions for the Heathen army continued to dwindle. As the weather closed in around them, so too did the Saxons. Their plight to negotiate for land had gone unheeded by Ivar. Well, it was Ubbe's plan but Hvitserk had gone along with it. Lately, it seemed he was being pulled back and forth between his brothers, his only use being the mediator. He wasn't sure which brother to follow, preferring it better when they all worked in tandem. Right now it was best for him to stay out of their way. 

Ivar had returned to how he had been before, after the misfortune with Margrethe. He was terse with the thralls, and he shunned any prolonged company with women. There were moments, either when he was sitting at a table or alone in a corner, a strange look would pass over his face. Hvitserk was sure he was the only one to notice, but he didn't let on about it. 

If Ivar wondered about the nun, he never said as such, and Audhild had reported that he hadn't come around inquiring about you. On the surface, it seemed whatever had started between you was over, but Hvitserk didn't think so. You were two boats passing in the night, waiting for the other's signal.

Hvitserk had taken it upon himself to keep watch of the nun. He had told Ubbe from the start not to get involved, but now he had thrown himself in headfirst. You no longer seemed to be a danger to yourself, and Audhild had said that you thrived as a healer, though you spoke very few words. It got Hvitserk curious, and he set out to find you.

Until the battle against the Saxons would start, the healers were not so occupied. Audhild had told him where you could be found. It was a courtyard that was led in by an archway, with bushes of purple flowers. At its heart was a statue of a man who Hvitserk wondered about. Christians had these carved monuments of people everywhere. What great deeds had they accomplished that granted them the honor of being captured in stone?

He quit his thoughts as he spotted the nun hunched over by a bed of flowers. It struck him then that he didn't know your name, and the few words he picked up in English would not get him far

"Mary...erm Sister," He called, trying to recall what you had said when you were first claimed by Ivar.

You stood with abruptness from being startled, your guard up as you recognized him. Your sheared hair was now covered in a sage green scarf, twisted and wrapped not unlike the Sami people. Hvitserk could see a black and blue bruise around your left eye, about the size of a fist. "Sister Mary Catharine, and you don't have to call me that."

He was glad you had answered in his language. Though some of your pronunciation was wrong, they would get by well enough on the gist of things. "Why not?"

"I don't think I am a nun anymore, not in the eyes of God. Just Catharine will do."

As Hvitserk took a step forward, you shifted back. The mistrust hung heavy between you both, and he realized he'd have to go slow in order to gain your favor. He stood firm where he was. "What happened there?"

You gingerly touched the mark on your face he had indicated to, a sad smile forming. "I'm not the discarded whore of the crippled bastard, even if some of your men think so. When one took out his cock and tried to relieve himself on me, I fought back."

Hvitserk was disappointed to hear what had happened, though such behavior was unsurprising. His heart sunk for his brother as well. Some of the men still only thought of Ivar as the lesser son of Ragnar, even after he had proven to be a sharp mind with a fierce heart. 

"Do you know who he was?"

The nun shook her head. "No, and I have not seen him again. At least I still have the Lord's mercy."

You made a crossing gesture over your heart that Hvitserk did not understand. He spotted the cloth bandage on your wrist as well. "How's that healing?"

"It's fine," You said as you folded your arms behind your back. "Why does it matter? He didn't send you here, did he?"

The white look of terror on your face was hard to miss. You looked like a hare caught up in a trap. Hvitserk tried to think about the best way to ask his questions in order to get the answers he needed. "My little brother doesn't command me. I just wanted to know why you did it."

"I wanted to spare myself from a worse fate," You said, turning your back to him while you felt at the petals of the flowers. "I didn't want to suffer like the priest."

Hvitserk recalled what an imposing figure Ivar had cut hovering above the Christian man as he poured molten gold down his gullet. "Ivar told you about that?"

"No." You gazed over your shoulder a moment before your eyes flickered down. "I knew he had done something horrible, but it was another slave who told me. She said I should be careful, and that your brother hates all Christians."

Hvitserk took a step towards you without thinking and grabbed you by the shoulders. "What slave?"

"I don't know," You gasped while breaking out of his hold. "She came to clean the room one day. It was the first time I had spoken to anyone else besides Ivar."

"Why would she need to tend to his room when he had you?"

You frowned, seeming to forget your previous grievances for his closeness as you leaned forward. "What do you mean?"

Hvitserk knew from an early age that he was not exceptional. Ubbe is a strong swordsman and scout, Sigurd was musically inclined, and Ivar is a cunning strategist. At best he could survive raids and follow a battle plan, achievements that any of his brothers could do better. But none of them had his gut instincts, and his stomach was wrought with the feeling that a trickster had snuck their way into the camp.

"It's nothing," He said eventually, though not with enough conviction for the nun's liking.

"I don't believe you."

The earnest look on your face would have annoyed him more if not for how undisguised your naivete was. Maybe that was what drew Ivar in.

Hvitserk prepared to say more but was interrupted by a voice calling over his shoulder.

"Brother," Ivar called, followed by the indistinguishable sound of metal steps plodding the ground.

Hvitserk turned, bracing for whatever force Ivar would throw at him. If he was surprised to see the nun, he didn't let on, instead, his face sat stoically as he maneuvered forward with assurance. He was too young to look so miserable. 

Ubbe was with him, peering at the girl who had taken refuge from prying eyes behind Hvitserk's back. His was a face easier to read, both tense and curious at the discovery. Hvitserk knew he would be answering questions later.

"She won't sleep with you brother," Ivar inserted with a cold chuckle. "She's chaste."

Hvitserk scowled at Ivar's attempt to maim with petty insults. "That's not what this is. Audhild sent Catherine to tend to an old injury I sustained from my raid with Bjorn," He lied.

"Catherine," Ubbe said. "Is that her name?"

"No, her name is Ólaug," Ivar interrupted before Hvitserk could speak. "Isn't it, Bride of Christ?"

You refused to rise to his idle taunts. You were as still as the Saxon statue, and your eyes never left Hvitserk's back. 

"I don't know if it's really her name, but it's as she told me. Now what do you want, Ivar?"

"We are leading this army together, yes?" Though it didn't sound as if he meant that. "The Saxons prepare to attack at dawn, and we need you before going over our plan of countermeasures."

"Right," Hvitserk mumbled, turning back to the nun while nearly knocking you back because of how close you stood beside him. "Audhild will be expecting your return. You should go."

Your eyes grew wide with gratitude and you gave a curt nod. You made certain to keep an arm's breadth away from Ivar as you passed, taking the route around Ubbe instead. Ivar watched you leave over his shoulder, his face filling with scorn as his attention snapped back to Hvitserk. 

"What happened to her face?"

"She's a thrall, Ivar. When they disobey, they are punished." His blunt remark had the desired response, as he noticed Ivar's jaw stiffen and grind back and forth. "Forget that for a moment, I think we have a worse problem. There's a spy in our camp working against you little brother."

"What are you talking about?" Ivar sneered, adjusting his stance as his crutch struck the ground.

"I know why she tried to end her life. Another slave told her about what you did to that priest. She didn't let on about it, but I think it was implied to her that she would suffer the same fate, or worse by your hand."

"But I would not have done anything to her," Ivar tried to defend, his face falling into guilt.

"It's not like she would know that, though," said Ubbe. "She's a nun, and sees us as little more than rapists and murderers."

"I was kind to her," Ivar huffed, struggling away from them towards the same flower bush the nun had been eyeing. He pulled on a branch, bringing the blooms close enough to smell.

Hvitserk shared a discreet look with Ubbe, communicating the shared thought of Ivar's favor for his former thrall. "Whoever spoke to her probably knew that, and was trying to get her away from you."

"They probably wanted to catch you alone," Ubbe added. "Your life could be in danger."

Ivar scoffed, releasing the branch back with a snap. He pivoted towards them, his movements were aggressive. "I don't have time to worry about one spy. The Gods would never let me die without honor, alone and asleep without renown. Tomorrow we fight the Saxons, and face victory."

Turning back towards the archway of the garden, he began down the same path the nun had departed prior. His stance was rigid, and his grip tight on the crutches. Hvitserk still held his breath on habit, afraid to watch Ivar stumble knowing that he couldn't offer to help him back up.

"Where are you going, Ivar?" Ubbe called.

"To address the army, and I expect you both to join me," He said, never stopping on his way out to even look at them.

When they were alone, Hvitserk could feel Ubbe eyeing him before even turning his way. "What?"

Ubbe chuckled, "You told me not to get involved, yet here you are jumping in headfirst."

"I'm worried. Ivar has been distracted since giving her away to Audhild, and we need him thinking straight if we're going to beat the Saxons together."

"We should have known Ivar would fall in love with the first woman to show him kindness," said Ubbe, looking pensive at the statue that had transfixed Hvitserk earlier.

"You think he loves her?" Hvitserk exclaimed in surprise.

"Well, he's at least fond of her, but with Ivar, it's difficult to tell." Ubbe ran a hand over his face as if to wipe away the stress he was feeling. “What really happened to her face?”

“One of our men was not kind to her. Ivar still does not hold the favor of every warrior in the army, and she is at risk as a result of that. I’ll tell Audhild to keep a closer eye from here on out.”

Ubbe nodded in agreement. “We’ll continue to try when we can as well, but I don’t know what will happen once we finish here. I don’t think Ivar has plans on remaining in York much longer.”

“I know,” Hvitserk said, feeling resentment towards Ivar for all of the misery he was constantly dragging them into. Even if they were to return to Kattegat next, Hvitserk knew it would be to war with Lagertha and Bjorn. He loved Ivar and would follow him to the four corners of the world, but not at the cost of their family and their father’s legacy.

It felt like they were using you as a buffer for their little brother’s madness, but in the days that Ivar had kept you, he had been more agreeable and even happy. Hvitserk held respect for you even if he hated your Christian God, but if it was your freedom measured against the success of their army, then he would have no trouble giving you back to Ivar in chains. Peace in the time of the sons of Ragnar was more important than one nun. 

"I hope you know what you're doing, getting involved, brother," said Ubbe, disrupting his train of thought.

Hvitserk approached his older brother and gave him a clap on the shoulder. "Of course I don't, that's why I have you. Now come, let's go speak to our army before Ivar gets any more ideas about leading without us."

Taglist

@pomegranates-and-blood​

@siren-queen03

@peachyboneless

@didiintheblog

@soleil-dor

@zuxiezendler

@pieces-by-me

@xbellaxcarolinax

@heavenly1927

@everyartistwas-firstanamateur

@youbloodymadgenius

@xceafh

@shannygoatgruff

@tgrrose

@1950schick

@castielsangelsx

@rose1729

@mlchael-guerin

@strangunddurm

@ladynightshade30

@dangerouspsychicgardenflower

@readsalot73

@ritual-unions-gotme

@lonewolf471

[duhragonball]

Hellsing Liveblog Afterward

So, this is just a place for me to toss in some other Hellsing stuff I wanted to talk about outside the reading of Hellsing itself.

Okay so first off, I wanted to document this cool trivia I noticed about Rip van Winkle, the werewolf(?) with the musket that fires magic bullets.   Her weapon is based on the 19th Century German opera Der Freischütz. The opera is based on a  story published by Johann August Apel in 1811, and this writing was based on German folklore.    The legend involves a marksman who makes a contract with the devil and receives seven magic bullets.   Six will hit whatever the marksman wants, but the seventh is at the sole discretion of the devil himself.   In Hellsing, the Major speaks to Rip about her own musket and reminds her that the opera ends with Zamiel, the devil, coming to claim his due.  This is intended to foreshadow Alucard counterattack on the H.M.S. Eagle, where he plows through Rip’s defenses and kills her in gruesome fashion.

So I went back and counted all the times Rip van Winkle shoots her musket, just to see if there was any special significant to it.    The first was when the old Nazi officers complain to the Major, and Rip shoots the Colonel’s cane before he can strike the Major with it.     At least, I’m pretty sure that was the idea here.  The cane breaks and everyone looks around and Zorin points to the lady with the gun to indicate who just did that.   So that’s one bullet.

After assuming control of the H.M.S. Eagle, Rip van Winkle meets with the Eagle’s first officer, who betrayed the crew to Millennium in exchange for vampire powers.    She then betrays him and his fellow traitors, killing them all with a single shot from her musket.    This is where we first find out what her ability is.   So that’s two.

The British Navy tries to take back the ship by sending a helicopter full of SEALs, but Rip destroys the entire team with another shot from her musket.   So that’s three shots fired.

While Hellsing prepares their own response, the Navy tries again, this time sending a fighter plane to sink the Eagle with missiles, but Rip shoots down the missiles and the plane with one bullet.   Four.

This is where I started to wonder if there was a particular pattern to Rip’s use of the musket.  I’m pretty sure she just uses one bullet and can fire it as many times as she pleases, but she was literally singing songs from the opera and it seemed kind of superfluous to have her foil two separate attack by the Navy.  The first one showed us that conventional forces wouldn’t get the job done, so the second one only makes sense if Kouta Hirano was just trying to add to the count.

Then Alucard arrives aboard a modified SR-71 Blackbird.   At 85,000 ft in the air, he’s out of range, but then he nosedives onto the deck of the ship.    Rip fires again to destroy the Blackbird before it crashes into them.    Five.

Alucard survives the crash and wipes out all of Rip’s soldiers while she has a panic attack.   Cornered, she finally gathers her wits and attacks Alucard.  Her bullet hurts him, but he eventually catches it in his teeth, neutralizing her weapon and leaving her at his mercy.  That’s shot number six.

I was hoping this shot would be the seventh, since the seventh bullet in Der Freischütz belongs to the devil, and Alucard caught this one in his teeth, but no.   Then I remembered that the musket gets fired one last time...

... in London, when Alucard releases the familiars of all the victims he’s consumed over the centuries, including Rip Van Winkle.  She fires the musket once more, but this time it’s Alucard directing the shot into the helicopters of the Ninth Crusade.   Shot number seven is at the discretion of the devil himself, and “Dracula” is a diminutive of “Dracul”, a Romanian word for “devil”.   Neat stuff.

Okay, so now let’s talk about Seras, because that’s kind of my jam.   What’s the deal with this line?  “Her existence is somewhat of a marvel.  You could say it’s somewhat of a joke.  Perhaps she herself has not even noticed yet!!”

That’s the Major discussing Sir Integra and Seras in Volume 5.   He stresses that neither is to be underestimates, and I think he makes a good case for Integra, but with Seras he never actually comes to the point.   So what’s up with that? 

Of course, there’s the truth we saw in the final battle.  Once she finally drank blood of her own volition, Seras became a full-on vampire and one of the most powerful warriors on the field.   She destroyed the Captain quite handily, and he was the strongest guy Millennium had.   But this seems a tad obvious?   Why not just spell it out for Zorin.  “Hey, our intel says she’s weaker than expected because she won’t drink blood, but that could change at a moment’s notice, and she’s still strong enough to take down a lot of our soldiers, so proceed with caution.” 

I’m not saying the Major is wrong.   He told Zorin not to engage, and he made the right call.    I’m just wondering what the “joke” is exactly.  

I think it might be one of two things.   By the end of Hellsing, Seras demonstrates a similar level of ability to Alucard.  Sunlight appears to have no effect on her, she can summon familiars like Alucard, and regenerate her wounds with great alacrity.   I’m pretty sure she’d be about as hard to kill as Alucard himself, which Integra said was a product of Hellsing “enhancements”, rather than natural vampire power.   Except Seras was never “enhanced”, she seems to have just inherited these “super-vampire” powers from Alucard when he turned her.   The Major and Doctor may have anticipated this, and the “joke” was that Seras could completely upset the balance of their plans, except she’s too squeamish to drink the blood that would make this possible.  

Or, the joke might be that Alucard turned Seras at all.   He just sort of did this out of nowhere, and I’m pretty sure no one saw that coming.   Millennium and Walter had been keeping tabs on Hellsing for decades, and not much changed until Alucard decided to add Seras to the group.   The vampires in Millennium’s Last Battalion were all produced through the Doctor’s artificial vampire research, which was based upon intense study of Mina Harker, the last person Alucard turned into a vampire before he met Seras.   

So from that standpoint, Seras represents a superior version of Mina, who represents the ideal that the Doctor was trying to achieve.  At best, his finest artificial vampires could only be as strong as Mina Harker, and Seras got that way in one night by a twist of fate.  

I guess there’s no way to be sure what the Major meant.  I checked the OVA subs and dubs and they basically repeat the same line, so there’s nothing for me to triangulate there.  And maybe it only refers to Seras being a joke in the sense that she was mostly comic relief up to that point.   Even that badass moment she had against Jan Valentine’s ghouls probably didn’t impress anyone at the Millennium office.   

Finally, I checked out Hellsing: The Dawn, and it really wasn’t worth the trouble.   I couldn’t find any official English release, so I sort of gave up on it, but I finally ran across it last week and decided to check it out.   

Basically, it’s only six chapters, and very little actually gets done in those six chapters.   I’m not sure if Kouta Hirano is just running super late on the thing, of if he abandoned it completely, but my guess is he got this far in and decided there really wasn’t any point in continuing.   

Let me break it down for you.

Chapter 1: Walter is sent to the Major’s facility in Warsaw, to destroy the vampire research.   He jumps out of a plane with Alucard’s coffin.

Chapter 2: The Doctor reports on his progress to the Major, and they briefly discuss “She” aka Mina Harker.  From what I gather, Mina is still alive/undead in 1944.   Then Walter crashes into their facility and declares his intentions to kill them all.

Chapter 3: The Major is impressed with Walter’s power and offers him a place in his command.  Walter refuses and the Major leaves him to die at the hands of the Captain.

Chapter 4: Walter fights the Captain, and Alucard finally emerges from his coffin in Girlycard form.

Chapter 5: Walter and Alucard fight the Captain, who now stands revealed as a werewolf.   The Major somehow recognizes Alucard on sight and takes an interest in observing the battle.

Chapter 6: Alucard leaves to go hunt down the Captain’s superiors, leaving Walter to fight alone.  Alucard then encounters Rip van Winkle and defeats her with ease.    He seems like he’s about to kill her when some menacing figures approach from the shadows...

In other words, not a whole lot actually happens that we couldn’t have guessed from the original Hellsing manga.    At the rate he was going, it would have taken Hirano maybe 30 or 40 chapters to actually get to anything truly juicy, and I’m not sure the audience would have wanted to wait around for that.    The main problem is that we already know how this ends.   None of the good guys or bad guys die, because they all show up in Hellsing 55 years later.  The Major will lose badly enough that he has to evacuate the whole operation to Brazil, and that interests me because somehow he has to lose this battle, but not so badly that he can’t escape.  

What disappoints me is that there’s really only three things of interest about this part of the Hellsing mythos: Walter’s decision to betray England, Alucard’s relationship with Walter, and the Major’s relocation from Euope to South America.    The Dawn appears to gloss over all of these.   The Major asks Walter to switch sides in their very first encounter.   Walter refuses, but we know he’ll say yes later, so there doesn’t feel like there’s any conflict to this.  So far, Walter comes off like a little shithead, so if he changes his mind at the end of this story it’ll seem completely capricious.   I’d like to think the Major could say something persuasive to convince him, or Alucard could piss Walter off enough to push him into the Major’s arms, but none of that seems to be happening.  

The Girlycard form is taken completely for granted.   Al shows up and Walter immediately takes offense.  He knows Alucard doesn’t normally look like this and he sees no reason for this new look.   Al just says the same thing he says about it in 1999, that form and appearance mean nothing to him.   Well if it doesn’t mean anything to Alucard or Walter, what’s the point?

The way I always imagined it, the Girlycard form had a lot of emotional baggage for Walter.   I figured he met Alucard in this form, and they spent some time together hunting down the Major.    Walter fell in love with Girlycard, even though he should have known better, and when Alucard finally abandoned the form, he knew that there was no way his feelings would ever be returned.   And this would build resentment within Walter, making him more interested in joining the Major.  

Instead, none of that seems to be happening.    This is just one big long fight in one building.   Hirano already threw his biggest gun at Walter, so there’s no buildup to the Captain.   Alucard won’t fight the Captain, but it’s unclear what else he’s supposed to do instead.  There might be a good story in all of this, but these first six chapters don’t encourage me.    Also, they keep jumping over to check in on Arthur Hellsing in London.   I don’t think this guy is Integra’s father, but maybe her grandfather had the same first name?    He looks cool, but he has nothing to do.   He’s like thousands of miles removed from the action, so anything he says or does just comes back to him talking about how tough and cool Walter is.   So yeah, I think The Dawn is a huge waste of time, and maybe Kouta Hirano reached the same conclusion.  

And... yeah, that’s all I’ve got.   In May, I’ll be liveblogging another comic.   Will it be as successful?   Only time will tell...

[sun-spice]

@themagnuswriters is apparently doing a fic appreciation thing? Have I got that right? I've been busy as fuck lately so I haven't had the energy to properly appreciate the stuff I've been reading, but I do happen to have an old rec list in my drafts that I'd forgotten about. If I have the time I might do another one with some more recent stuff and maybe an additional nsfw reclist :)

List under the cut, word counts and completion statuses are probably out of date.

the sword of damocles by penhaligon | post-160 apocalypse averted, hurt/comfort | 89k, ongoing, T | minor JonMartin

Summary: Martin interrupts Jonah's ritual. That doesn't mean their problems are solved.

Jon, Martin and Basira set off to deal with Jonah once and for all after the ritual is interrupted. To make matters worse for them, however, the Fears now know of said ritual and are each determined to pull it off themselves. Stunning prose in this one, I love how penhaligon builds up small moments of suspense.

-

where there's a will, we will make a way by bubonickitten | S4 time travel fix-it | 107k, ongoing, T | minor JonMartin

Summary: Jon goes back to before the world ended and tries to forge a different path.

Late series time travel fix-it with communication between the characters. Some development on minor characters as well, which I love, and lots of relatable hard conversations <3

-

An Cailleach agus an Fear Sidhe by Drowsy_Salamander | urban fantasy, fae au, witchcraft | 30k, ongoing, T | JonMartin, Martin & Sasha & Tim

Martin moves to join a witch coven consisting of Tim and Sasha. The three of them have to pick up the slack protecting their town, previously lacking witch presence, from the fair folk. Meanwhile there are people in the town who know more than they're letting on.

Loving the dynamic between Martin, Sasha and Tim so far. The exposition and worldbuilding is well delivered and the beginnings of a mystery start to drag you in. What do Jon, Daisy and Basira have to do with everything? What is Jane Prentiss hoping to achieve?

-

A Home For What Loves You by TheWrongShop | canon divergence, hurt/comfort, slow burn romance | 66k, ongoing, T | JonMartin

Summary: Jon and Martin end up investigating Carlos Vittery's basement and finding the entity formerly known as Jane Prentiss together.

Jon and Martin are trapped together in Martin's apartment band later have to live together in the archives. Communication? Among archive staff? More likely than you think.

-

What Once Was Mine by dieanywhereelse | reverse time travel fix-it, dramatic comedy, safehouse fic | 29k, ongoing, T | S1 Polychives, JonMartin, found family

Summary: The Scottish Safe house gets a few visitors from the past. Jon and Martin get a chance to set things right.

In which future Jon and Martin are actually somewhat well adjusted after averting the apocalypse and dealing with Jonah. They get an opportunity to help past versions of themselves and their dead friends to get where they are with (hopefully) less pain. Love this au a whole bunch, it's one of my all-time faves! Really well thought-out with some great character dynamics and some adjusted monster!Jon.

-

Moth Song by Siarven | time travel fix-it, dimension hopping, hurt/comfort, found family | 76k, ongoing, M | minor JonMartin

Jon accidentally travels into the S1 of an alternate universe and tries to set things right. He's a mess, and has a breakdown, but he talks with his friends and together they start to work it out.

-

I'd Be Under the Sea but You Hold Me Above by Write_as_Rain | mer au, hurt/comfort, fast burn romance | 14k, completed, T | JonMartin

Summary: As a fisherman working under Captain Lukas, Martin has learned to keep his head down and fade into the mist. He does his work, walks further down the path Peter has laid before him, and if members of the crew occasionally disappear, Martin has learned not to ask about them. Has learned to stop caring at all.

At least until the crew pull up something strange and wonderful and impossible, tangled in one of the fishing nets. Something that Peter means ill.

No, Martin doesn't... care. But maybe he can save it. Maybe they can save each other.

-

A Few Small Repairs by Mad_Maudlin, shipwreckblue | canon divergence | 138k, completed, M | minor JonMartin

Gertrude shot first, killing Elias and all of the staff of the Magnus Institute who where in the building that day. Jon somehow survives and is taken in by Gertrude, Gerry and Mary at Pinhole Books.

-

Meanwhile, Martin, Sasha and Tim are some of the surviving staff trying to pick up the pieces after the strange 'fire'. But wasn't Gertrude supposed to be dead? What is up with this new Institute director?

the garden of forking paths by bibliocratic | post post-apocalypse, time travel, dimension hopping, angst with a happy ending | 50k, completed, T | JonMartin, minor found family

Summary: Whatever he had predicted might happen, Jon wasn't expecting to survive upon demolishing the Panopticon. He certainly wasn't expecting to be rescued.

Instead, he wakes up in an alternative universe where he's never been the Archivist, and Martin Blackwood doesn't exist.

Martin Blackwood wakes up somewhere else entirely.

Poignant and bittersweet but with a happy ending. Really well written!

-

youth dipped in folly by evanescent_jasmine | pre-canon divergence(?), bittersweet | 27k, completed, M | GerryOliver

Summary: In 2012, Oliver meets Gerard Keay and thinks that maybe, just maybe, he can finally save somebody.

-

He’s wrong.

A Reel for the Watcher by RedCytosine | period drama (early 1900s), fae au | 50k, ongoing, M | JonMartin, minor found family

Summary: Martin Blackwood, in need of employment and out of options, takes a clerical position in Scotland at Castle Magnus, working for the enigmatic Lord Elias Bouchard. He expects it to be glorified paper-shuffling, but what he finds instead is much more sinister. What secrets lurk in the castle library? Who plays the wild music that haunts his dreams? And why does a strange horse wander the lakeshore each morning at dawn?

-

TFW you wake up from a long nap and have no idea where you are by forgetfulmachine | time travel fix-it, fluff, found family | 33k, ongoing, G

Summary: Jon gets sent back to mid season one in the middle of his coma. Tim, Sasha, and Martin help him through his emotions and stopping the Unknowing. There's a lot of fluff along the way.

-

Thistle and Weeds by ajkal2 | time travel hurt/comfort, disability | 6k, ongoing, M

Excerpt: “Jon,” Martin says. “Are you alright?”

Jon’s head lifts, turns toward the sound. He’s shaking. His teeth are bared, a flash of white against his dark skin, but it’s not a smile. There’s something- His eyes, they don’t look right-

His mouth opens, jaw trembling, and he says “Martin?” The bright overhead lights gleam off the blood pouring down his face. His eyes are black, empty sockets.

-

for a firmament by supaslim | two works | canon divergence, transformation horror, recovery | 31k, completed, T

Series summary: There is beauty in destruction. There is art in becoming.

In which Jon becomes the Archive, and the Archive becomes Jon.

Wonderful monster!Jon with some amazing body horror and mental illness recovery themes. Moved me to tears!

-

A Break in the Clouds by Ash_Rabbit | time-travel, fluff and angst, pre-canon | 22k, ongoing, T | Jon & Original Elias

Excerpt: “I’m eight.” the kid sniffs as if eight was any different from four, maybe not an unspeakable horror then, just a regular horror. “And I heard that the Magnus Institute deals with-” his little nose scrunches, cute. “-spooky things.”

“Do you have a-” he cracks a grin, and then rethinks it as small hands tighten against their burden.”-spooky thing to deliver?” gods he hopes not, it’s bad enough when adults walk in and lay out all of their baggage, but for a child-

“There’s a spider in this book.” the kid says solemnly, raising his textbook sized parcel. “It ate Evan Pritchard.” a bloody fucking Leitner. Of course an eight year old would find a murder spider book. “This seemed like the best place to bring it.”

-

Seen, Unseen, Unsung by bluejayblueskies | character undeath, canon divergence, memory loss, End!Tim | 50k, ongoing, M | JonMarTim, Tim & Danny & Sasha

Summary: Tim wakes up from the Unknowing with a blank slate where the Institute had been, Danny sitting at his bedside, and a man with too many eyes haunting his dreams.

[notapaladin]

you just gotta let it go (redux)

What makes a sickfic better? More snarky bitching about being sick, of course! Poor, poor Acatl.

Also on AO3.

Original version here

-

The second day of an illness was the worst.

Granted, the first day had been no garden of roses either. Acatl had gone home at the end of his long working day (two vigils, several hours’ worth of investigations into a nasty murder near the markets, endless accounts to square away) to a hastily-put-together dinner and the comfort of his own mat, but he’d barely lain down for an hour before his guts had begun to cramp and the first swelling of nausea had begun to travel up his throat. He’d thought—hoped—that it would pass. He’d always had a reasonably strong constitution, after all. Perhaps it was merely the heat.

And then he’d started vomiting. Poison had been his first thought, and he’d wiped his mouth and tried to stagger to the door only to faint after a single step. Praise the gods for Ichtaca; the man had heard him groaning as he passed and had leapt into action, sending runners for a healing priest before he could even think about protesting. Not that he’d been doing much thinking by then, honestly—whatever he’d eaten had come back for revenge, and he’d been far too busy trying not to completely disgrace himself.

Or at least trying not to faint. Fatigue had dragged at every limb, threatening to pull him under entirely; he’d collapsed on the floor next to the basin Ichtaca had fetched for him, unable to rise even to his knees as bone-breaking chills had shuddered through him. He’d barely even had the strength to continue throwing up, though his stomach had left him little choice. Dull, twisting pain wormed its way through his guts, and each blink had lasted an eternity. He been so exhausted that he hadn’t wanted to open his eyes again. He might not have if fear hadn’t compelled him, if a cold spike of terror hadn’t whispered if you close your eyes you’ll never open them again, and then where will you be? Do you want so badly for Teomitl to weep for you when you leave him behind?

He’d thought of Teomitl’s smile, Teomitl’s warm words and steady hands, and forced himself to remain conscious. Ichtaca stayed by his side and that helped, but when the man had helped him wipe his mouth—and gods, how humiliating had that been—he’d been sick all over again at the question that hissed through his mind like an arrow. Am I going to die?

He served Mictlantecuhtli with all his heart, but he did not want to meet Him yet. Not with so much left unsaid. The thought that it might be entirely beyond his control had been terrifying; in a brief burst of energy he’d thought of asking Ichtaca to summon Teomitl, but fortunately he’d thrown up again before he could voice it, and that had erased such rank stupidity from his thoughts. It would only make things worse if he survived.

He’d still been retching when the priest of Patecatl had arrived.

At least it wasn’t poison, he’d thought bitterly when he’d gotten the diagnosis. But the sort of illness you got from food that had gone off was downright humiliating, and to make matters worse the only cure was rest and plain meals. Plain. No chili. No other spices. Barely even any salt. If he’d been able to contemplate food without feeling nauseous again, he would have been miserable; as it was, he was waking only to drink water and drag himself to the chamber pot.

Because apparently, even when whatever had been in his guts was now quite comprehensively out of them, it had left its mark behind. He was exhausted. Even his experience with the plague hadn’t left him feeling quite this flattened; each limb felt like the Great Temple had come down on top of it, and he could barely rouse himself from his mat. At least he wasn’t afraid of sleeping anymore. When he spoke, he slurred his words like a base drunkard.

And of course he was forced to speak, because he had visitors.

He was awoken shortly after dawn by the arrival of not one but two more priests of Patecatl. Their cloaks marked them as part of the upper echelons of their temple’s hierarchy, and so he managed not to actually snap at them when they entered. It felt like an achievement just to speak coherently. “Thank you, but I’m feeling much better—”

The older one gave him a stare so full of judgement that he shut his mouth with a pang; it reminded him too much of Ceyaxochitl. “We have to monitor your condition, Acatl-tzin. You are our High Priest for the Dead.”

There were times he truly took pride in being High Priest for the Dead at all hours, whether at a feast or standing by the side of a pyre. This was not one of them. I don’t stop being High Priest for the Dead, no matter how sick I am. He made a face, but grudgingly sat up a little straighter. Or how much I’d rather be left alone.

At least submitting himself to a full examination didn’t require him to do much except be manhandled, and the healing priests were coolly professional and not inclined to make small talk. It still tired him out, and when the younger priest—Cuetzpalli, apparently—began casting a spell to strengthen his stomach, he actually found himself dozing off. The cut-grass smell of Patecatl’s magic was remarkably soothing when you were more than semi-conscious for it.

“Acatl-tzin?”

He blinked awake. Cuetzpalli had stopped chanting and was eyeing him with mild concern as he offered a hand to help him sit up again. He ignored it; he was not so far gone that he couldn’t manage that, even if the motion made his muscles ache. “My apologies. What’s the verdict?”

Cuetzpalli didn’t seem fazed by his curtness. No doubt he’d seen much worse, though he was barely a few years older than Teomitl; healing priests saw people at their very lowest, after all, and an irritated High Priest probably wasn’t even worth noting. “No poison nor magic that we can detect. Your dinner seems to have simply...disagreed with you. You’ll feel...ah, reasonably terrible for a week or so, but you are in no danger.” His face twisted in singularly unhelpful sympathy.

Acatl’s fists clenched in his lap. A week? Duality, I cannot afford to be laid low for that long! Horrible visions of his temple in disarray and the boundaries crumbling like old paper flickered through his mind, and he fought a grimace. No. It would be fine. He would return to his duties tomorrow, suffer through bland food until his guts settled, and everything would be fine. “Hrm.”

“You’ll be alright, young man.” The older priest—Necalli—didn’t smile, but his eyes softened slightly as he looked him over. “Don’t push yourself too hard.”

He couldn’t make any promises, but he was spared from having to lie; their visit apparently being over, Cuetzpalli was packing up their supplies. Soon they had both left, bowing very politely, and he’d collapsed on his mat again. Some vague twinge in his belly suggested he should attempt food, but even fetching one of the bland flatbreads Ichtaca had left for him seemed like a monumental effort. No, he would just lay here for now until he felt...well, not better, but at least more alert. The angle of the sunlight shifted through his one window, and he watched it blankly.

He slept. He woke, found the ache in his stomach had progressed to actual pangs of hunger, and choked down a few mouthfuls of dry flatbread and a cup of water before his gorge rose in protest and he had to set the rest aside. His stomach had been emptier than this for longer. He’d be alright.

He slept again. Time ceased to have meaning. There was only the sunlight moving across his floor, the humid air laying on his skin like a blanket. He lay like a lizard on his back, gently baking in the heat.

And then the entry curtain jingled. “Acatl?”

Oh, gods. Mihmatini’s voice. Groaning, he heaved himself upright, muscles protesting. “Ngghhh...” At some point he’d closed his eyes, and once again it seemed to take real effort to keep them open. Duality, he hoped the healing priests had been right and it was only an ill-chosen meal, and not something more serious. Last night’s panic had faded, but it was far too easy to bring to mind just how very inevitable—how very immediate—his death had felt. Lord Death, he prayed, do not take me into Your arms yet.

She sounded concerned. He was sick of concern. “We brought soup.”

...We…? The thoughts floating through his head were slow to arrange themselves into a semblance of order, but finally he realized that she wasn’t alone and managed to wedge his eyes open properly. There was Mihmatini, brow furrowed, holding a clay jug in both hands. And beside her, face twisted in worry, was Teomitl. “...Oh.” Oh, no. Not you. He felt vaguely nauseous again, and not just from the effort of sitting up.

She didn’t wait for him to invite her in, or even to rise; he watched, still feeling three steps behind reality, as she set the jug down on his table and went looking for spoons. There was a degree of bustling involved that made him dizzy to think about. “I really can’t believe I had to hear from Ichtaca that you were ill, Acatl, really—do you know how worried I’ve been? Food poisoning is nothing to dismiss!”

“It’s passed.” It had. Mostly. He had decided against making any sudden movements.

“Nobody gets over food poisoning that fast.” That was Teomitl, leaning in the doorway and frowning down at him. “You need to take better care of yourself.”

He frowned back, even as some part of his heart felt unaccountably warmed; Teomitl’s concern might be touching, but by the Duality it wasn’t as though he’d tried to get sick. Besides, he was a grown man. He didn’t need to be fussed over, especially not when it might make him start hoping. “...I take care of myself just fine.”

Teomitl turned his face away, glowering at the wall as though it had insulted his honor. Acatl knew by the face he made that he was probably chewing on the inside of his lip plug again; he wondered, not for the first time, if Teomitl had ever realized he only did that when he was agitated. He hoped he didn’t. It was oddly endearing, and he’d miss the sight. “What did the healing priests say?”

He grimaced at the reminder. “Very plain fare. And sleep.”

Mihmatini uncovered the jug, and the odor of plain, hot, and—suddenly most important for his stomach, which growled loudly enough that he blushed—salty turkey broth met his nostrils. “Do you think you could keep this down?”

For his sister, he’d try. Slowly, he nodded. “...Thank you.”

He hadn’t expected them to linger, but—evidently realizing that he absolutely wouldn’t be able to finish all of the soup by himself—they took their own seats at his table. It was pleasant not to eat alone in his own house for once. Teomitl was uncharacteristically quiet and kept glancing at Acatl out of the corner of his eye; before he thought of commenting on it, Mihmatini spoke up. “How is it?”

He looked down at his bowl and realized with a start that he’d nearly finished it. Each lift of the spoon to his mouth had been like trying to move a boulder, but he’d clearly been hungrier than he thought. He briefly had to struggle to remember how to speak; even the muscles in his tongue felt tired. A blink lasted longer than he liked. “...It’s good. Did you make it?”

Mihmatini snorted, shaking her head. “From the palace kitchens. I’m not this good a cook.”

Teomitl huffed, “You’re a wonderful cook.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “And you are a shameless flatterer.”

“I am being perfectly truthful—tell her, Acatl!”

Acatl blinked again, discreetly pinching himself to stay awake. Passing out in his soup bowl wouldn’t convince his family he was hale. True, Mihmatini was a skilled cook—but it was equally true that no priest of Patecatl would prescribe her food for him. It had entirely too much flavor, and the way she made soup would put meat back on the bones of a corpse. “...He’s right. Unfortunately, I’m afraid I’m in no state to appreciate it at the moment.”

She looked supremely unimpressed. He could actually see the moment she swallowed a sharp retort and picked up her spoon again. “I can see that. You look awful.”

He had to admit she had a point; he felt awful. Eating had helped briefly, but as soon as it settled in his stomach he had to battle another spike of nausea. If he stopped leaning on the table, he had a feeling he’d fall over. “Thanks.”

Mihmatini sighed, pushing her now-empty bowl away. “I wish I could stay, but I have to get back to the Duality House.”

“Guardian lessons?”

She made a face. Acatl couldn’t blame her; she hadn’t told him much of what her unexpected ascension to Guardianship had entailed, but what little she’d let slip suggested it was unpleasant. If nothing else, she was having to learn in weeks what took most women years. He did not envy her. “Guardian lessons.”

Teomitl reached over and squeezed her hand. “I’ll see you later.”

Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him, and for a moment Acatl was concerned. Had they had a fight at some point? But then she smiled, warm as always. “You’d better. Remember what we were talking about earlier.”

Teomitl swallowed hard and nodded. “Mm.”

And then she rose gracefully, favoring Acatl with that same narrow-eyed assessing look. “And as for you, you’d better take it easy. Ichtaca told us you collapsed a few times last night.”

It wasn’t like he’d made a habit out of it. Besides, the floor had been comfortable even with that nagging, irrational concern that he might fail to wake up. On a full stomach and with something approximating sleep under his belt, that fear felt ridiculous now. He glared back at her. “I’m not that sick. I’ve no intention of fainting on anyone.”

“Don’t worry.” Teomitl smiled, and the brief flash of radiant warmth made Acatl’s face heat. “I won’t let you.”

She sniffed, unswayed. “Hm. I’ll be back later to check on you.”

And then Mihmatini left, and they were alone. Acatl found, suddenly, that he couldn’t quite manage to look Teomitl in the face. The gods knew Teomitl had seen him injured before—had taken care of him, even, and Acatl knew he’d never forget confident hands bandaging his wounds or strong arms helping him to safety—but battle wounds were an acceptable form of weakness, one that struck down even the greatest warriors. It was entirely different to be ill and run-down in front of Teomitl, who valued strength so highly; a man who thought limits were for the weak surely couldn’t still respect him when he could barely muster the energy to stand. In a moment. In a moment I’ll get up and clear the table. I don’t need a—a nursemaid, Tlaloc’s lightning strike me. He just needed to brace himself and move slowly.

Teomitl beat him to it. He was already on his feet and clearing away the remnants of their meal when Acatl set a hand on the table to heave himself up; when he caught sight of the movement, he shot him a savage glare. “Stay still. I’ll handle it.”

He could force himself to his feet; he’d worked in worse conditions and through much greater pain. Nothing would ever be as bad as the plague had been. But somehow, it didn’t really seem worth it to argue. So he stayed where he was and prayed for patience, staring at the knotted pine grain of the table. It needed a wash. “...So you’re to keep me company, then?”

Teomitl turned to look over his shoulder at him, eyes dark and serious. “Someone should.”

He took a slow breath. Even through his exhaustion, the reminder of his state—that Teomitl looked at him and thought he shouldn’t even be left alone—stung bitterly. Even though he could be weak, came the treacherous thought. Even though Teomitl would let him. Would help him lay down, put his arms around him...no. He shook his head firmly, banishing those thoughts before they could make him remember what had come to him in the dead of last night’s pain. It was still hopeless, and he would not plead his way into Teomitl’s heart. “I’m not an invalid, you know.”

“I know you aren’t.” And then Teomitl smiled, teasingly innocent, and Acatl’s heart skipped a beat even as he continued, “But isn’t it the job of the student to tend to his master’s needs?”

His eyes narrowed. Irritation was starting to revitalize him; in some small part of his mind, he suspected this was Teomitl’s plan. “...And you aren’t my student anymore.” He hasn’t been since...the courtyard? No, before that. It just took me too long to see it. He is my friend, my brother-in-law, and one day he’ll be my Revered Speaker. But he’s not my student, and he shouldn’t have to take care of me even if he was.

The table clean, Teomitl sat down by him within arm’s reach but not touching. Acatl found himself glad for that; he wasn’t sure if he was alert enough not to give in to the absurd urge to lean against him. His former student’s shoulders looked appealingly solid. “And we’re all glad for that. But that doesn’t change the fact that you could use some company, if only for a distraction. I’m good at that.” A smile still tugged at the corners of his lips, warm eyes looking Acatl over. “Please?”

Oh, no. Not the please. It struck him harder than a physical blow, and he had to look away. Duality preserve him, he’d been right. Teomitl would let him be weak. And he’d thought his feelings would fade? That he’d be able to bury them forever? Gods, he was such a fool. It was a terrible time to be proven wrong. I should be stronger than this. “...I won’t...” He yawned, suddenly almost too tired to make his tongue work. The soup had only been a temporary boost after all. “I’m sorry. I won’t be a very good host.”

“...That’s alright.” Teomitl was gazing at him with fond exasperation, and he couldn’t bear it. “Rest, Acatl. I’ll be here when you wake.”

He couldn’t let that pass without comment, no matter how much that same small, treacherous part of him was warmed by the thought of companionship. “You have a job. Your own duties...”

Now Teomitl did reach over, putting a hand gently on his shoulder. It warmed him to his bones. “Over for the day. Lay down.”

He couldn’t do anything but obey. Even the simple act of sitting up and eating had wrung him out like a damp rag; he could have passed out on a bed of obsidian shards. His thin mat was a miracle in comparison, and he managed to keep his eyes open just long enough to watch as Teomitl settled down on his haunches and swept him with a slow, considering look. The thought that slid through his mind like a snake—gods, you could kiss me if you wanted—still wasn’t a match for the tides of dreamless sleep pulling him under.

When he opened his eyes again, the first thing he saw was Teomitl’s back. It was, he thought idly, a very nice back; Teomitl had shed his cloak for the sake of the heat, and so Acatl had an excellent view of the line of his waist and the curve of his spine. There were no scars upon it, for he would never be one to willingly turn his back on a foe. The knowledge lifted his heart with a kind of soft pride. My fearless man. You who will lead Tenochtitlan to glory. I cannot wait to see what kind of Emperor you’ll make.

Then Teomitl stretched, back arching, and the affection curling gently through him sparked into something hotter and darker. Gods, he’d almost forgotten. He could go days now without thinking about the warmth of Teomitl’s voice or the strength of his hands, but here he was being viscerally reminded that they couldn’t be ignored forever. That the feelings which had sustained him through many long nights wouldn’t melt with the dawn. That not even what he’d thought with sharp terror would be his actual death could successfully smother them. Duality curse me.

He must have made a noise, because Teomitl turned to look at him. “Acatl? Ah, you’re awake. Do you need anything?”

His mouth had gone dry at some point. Swallowing didn’t help. “...Water.” If nothing else, it would be cold. He could use the cold.

Teomitl rose to fetch water, and he busied himself with trying to sit up. It took a few attempts as his heavy limbs fought his control, but by the time Teomitl returned he’d managed the disgustingly difficult task of rolling over. Teomitl’s hand between his shoulderblades steadied him as he heaved himself up the rest of the way, and for a long moment he drank in silence. His stomach felt better, but his heart didn’t.

It wasn’t until Teomitl took his hand away and sat down next to him that he found words. “I’m surprised you’re still here.”

Teomitl jerked away, glaring at him; for all that he’d only spoken the truth, Acatl still felt himself flush as he snapped, “Did you think I would leave you alone?!”

“It must be late.” It was. The afternoon sun had turned dim and gold, sinking into Teomitl’s skin and hair. Sunset couldn’t be far behind, and he would be well enough to properly offer blood to the gods again. There was no need for Teomitl to watch over him like a mother jaguar with cubs. But he wants to, because he cares about you, whispered his mind, and he took another sip of water to cool the heat of his skin.

“I don’t care.” Duality, and he growled like a jaguar, too. Though he huffily turned his face away, Acatl saw his hand twitch; it was all the warning he got before it came down to rest atop his own free one. “You stayed with me when I was ill, and that was contagious. Do you think I wouldn’t do the same for you?”

He couldn’t think. Teomitl’s hand was on his, callused and warm, and he was fairly sure all sensation in his body had been rerouted to that single point of contact. He was surprised he hadn’t dropped the cup, and managed to set it down before he could. “I...uh.” He was unconscious, deep in his delirium. I didn’t think he’d remember. Gods, I was so afraid he’d never even wake. But he did...and…

It seemed to take an eternity for him to dredge up a full sentence from the mire of his thoughts. “You don’t...have to...”

Teomitl’s voice held nothing but certainty. He might as well have been making a royal proclamation. “Yes. I do.”

“...Oh.” It seemed to be all he could say. There was more locked behind his teeth—you are the best of men, I don’t deserve you, you’re a reckless fool sometimes but that’s alright because you still hold my whole heart safe in your hands—but he didn’t dare open his mouth and let it fly out. If he started down that road, he’d never stop. And Lord Death had not seen fit to take him into His embrace last night, so a sudden and fatal relapse wouldn’t save him either.

For a long while, Teomitl was silent. Though he sat as still as a statue, the fingers covering Acatl’s own twitched as though he wanted to curl them around his hand. Finally, still without looking at him, he spoke. “Do you have any idea how I felt when I learned how sick you were?”

“I was not that sick—” he began.

Teomitl didn’t let him finish. “Yes. You were. Ichtaca was shaking when he told us you were finally keeping down liquids.”

He dropped his gaze to his lap. Mired as he’d been in his own terror, Ichtaca had felt like a rock beside him. He’d had no idea the man had been frightened too. “...Oh.”

“Oh,” Teomitl mimicked, a spark of nastiness in his voice that faded almost instantly to that tight, flat restraint. “You terrified us, Acatl. You terrified me.”

Storm Lord’s lightning blast him. He couldn’t even attempt a reassuring smile, for Teomitl’s words struck him to the core. Still, he mustered up the energy somewhere to make an effort. “I’ve felt worse than this and lived. You needn’t have worried.”

Teomitl swiveled around to glare at him, eyes hot and suspiciously bright. “Don’t say that! Don’t you know how important you are to me?”

“Ngkh.” He knew he was blushing again, but he couldn’t have torn his eyes from Teomitl’s face if his life had depended on it. It was one thing to be pretty sure Teomitl cared about him, but another thing entirely to hear it confirmed. “I...” I am High Priest for the Dead. His teacher. His friend. That’s all he means. “But...”

“No buts.” Teomitl shook his head, squeezing his hand tightly. There was a terrible tremor in his voice. “You have to take care of yourself, Acatl. Understand? I don’t...I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you. I can’t lose you.”

His heart stuttered in his chest, and for a dizzying moment he thought he was going to faint again. “I know how you feel.”

“..Do you?” The bite of skepticism couldn’t quite hide that moment of hopeful hesitation.

He inhaled. “...Last night...” He couldn’t say it. He couldn’t. But Teomitl wasn’t saying anything; he was giving him the space to find his words. That made the difference, in the end. “Last night...I thought I was going to die.” He still wondered idly at the possibility, but it no longer filled him with heart-clenching fear. There was only one thing he would have regretted, after all. Now Teomitl was staring at him in horror, but he made himself press on. “And I thought of you.”

Teomitl’s eyes were wide, his fingers trembling. Now Acatl knew the expression on his face, that stunned sort of hope that didn’t quite dare to step into the sunlight yet. “Me?”

He nodded. Yes, you. Always you. “I thought—if I died here, I would never get to tell you that I—” But courage failed him, and he swallowed with a dry click.

Teomitl was still staring at him. Unfortunately, this didn’t let him off the hook. “That you what?”

He squeezed his eyes shut. It was a coward’s move, but then he had always been one, hadn’t he? Or else it wouldn’t have taken the fear of death to force the words out. “I love you,” he blurted out, and when Teomitl didn’t immediately react in rage or disgust he added, “I wanted to be sure you knew.” Even if you don’t love me back in the same way. Even if you’re about to break my heart, I’m giving it to you to break.

He heard a slow, deep breath. A shaky whisper of “Acatl,” more shock than outrage.

And then Teomitl kissed him.

His mind went entirely blank. There was only the soft pressure of warm lips on his, slow and careful and gods, so gentle. He had no idea what he was doing, but Teomitl clearly did; he tilted his head just so, parted his lips just a fraction, and Acatl was lost. Gods, he thought dizzily, I love you so much. Teomitl slid strong arms around his waist, and for a moment he thought that hold was the only thing keeping him upright. He wondered if it was possible to swoon just from a single kiss. Well, he was still ill. It might be.

When Teomitl pulled away, his eyes were shining. “I can hardly believe...Duality, Acatl.” He gave a little shake of his head, as though to express the utter impossibility of their situation. A wry little disbelieving smile tugged at his lips. “I was halfway to convincing myself to give up.”

Acatl blinked at him as the words rearranged themselves into something that made sense. His brain clearly wasn’t up to its full capacity yet, because Teomitl couldn’t have said what he thought he said. “You what?!”

Now it was Teomitl’s turn to blush. “I have wanted you for—gods, for years. I knew it was hopeless, but when I thought I would lose you...”

Things clicked slowly into place in Acatl’s mind. Passing glances, lingering touches, a hitched breath. Years, he said. Years. “...Does Mihmatini know?” He remembered her hard-eyed stare, the way Teomitl had looked almost nervous at whatever she’d said, and ice gripped his heart again. He wouldn’t be the cause of strife between them, no matter how much Teomitl made his heart race. He wouldn’t do that to her.

Teomitl drew himself up, glaring at him. He was still flushed, but Acatl judged it more embarrassment than guilt. “She does. Do you think I’d go behind her back, especially after the last time?” He didn’t have to elaborate. Things between him and Mihmatini had been so frosty for a few weeks that she’d practically spat when mentioning his name. Acatl wasn’t sure how they’d reconciled, but he was starting to get a few, somewhat embarrassing, ideas.

The ice was starting to thaw. He took one deep breath, and then another. If she knows, then... “Then...what she mentioned, about you two having spoken earlier...”

“You know how she is. She...suggested I consider the possibility of mentioning my feelings a while ago.” Knowing Mihmatini, suggested was probably far too polite a word. Teomitl quirked up a smile and added, “But I wasn’t expecting you to beat me to it.”

He found it much easier to breathe when he knew he wasn’t ruining his sister’s marriage. “After last night...I had to let you know. In case fate saw fit to separate us. I didn’t want to die without telling you how I feel.”

Teomitl’s gaze had softened like melted wax, and it was just about as hot. “Maybe you should tell me again.”

His heart kicked within his chest. Feeling suddenly bold—he’d come this far, after all—he shot back, “Why don’t I just show you?” Even raising the possibility of what such a demonstration might entail made him blush all over again, but...well. Teomitl deserved to know the full truth of his feelings, and honesty had already brought him great rewards. I took vows of chastity, of celibacy. I would break them all for you if you asked. Gods, I would break them all if I thought you might ask.

For a moment, Teomitl simply stared at him—face flushed, lips slightly parted, eyes heated—and Acatl knew he was going to be kissed again. Knew it and welcomed it, lingering illness be damned. He would figure out a way to be kissed by Teomitl if he were dead.

And then he grinned teasingly and murmured, “Then you’d best focus your energies on getting well again, hadn’t you?” and Acatl had to stifle an urge to groan.

[the--sad--hatter]

Mischief & Madness - Chapter 3 (Loki X Reader)

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Loki/Reader (No physical description of reader other than female presenting)

Warnings: LOKI, Angst, lots of violence, graphic gore, extreme cursing, anxiety attacks. 

Summary:

Living in New York has its ups and its downs. Upside - You have a cushy job at Stark Industries. Downside - You wind up getting yourself kidnapped by The God Of Mischief.

All you wanted was a decent cup of coffee, now you’re stuck on the otherside of the universe with a sociopath who has only begrudgingly not murdered you.

To get back home you’ll have to work with Loki, and probably stop trying to stab him.

To regain his power, he’ll have to work with you, and probably stop trying to slaughter you.

When Mischief and Madness collide, chaos ensues. Even if you survive this, the universe probably won’t…

Masterlist 

Chapter Three

As soon as the doors opened Natasha sauntered out of the elevator, leaving you to trail after her. The first person to notice and acknowledge you was Vision, who drifted over and held his fist out to you.

 “I have garnered from watching the interactions of the team that when a friend is victorious it is customary to offer them your fist so that they may bump it.” He explained, pleased with himself.

 You shifted your coffee to your non-dominant hand and accepted the proffered fist bump, cooing under your breath at his adorableness.

 “There she is, my favourite lil genius!” Sam crowed loudly, jogging over to sling his arm around your shoulders.

 “Excuse me? Is she the genius who pays for everything?” Tony squawked, offended.

 “Shush, let me have my moment.” You scolded.

“You did very well today.” Wanda said softly, and you had to look around for a moment before you spotted her on the couch, sandwiched between Clint and Steve.

 “Yeah, I had Friday pull the footage so I can watch it on repeat.” Clint sniggered ecstatically as Sam swept you over to the seating area.

 Something cold touched your wrist and you looked down at Bucky who was splayed across an armchair. He didn’t say anything, just caught your eye and gave you a firm nod of approval.

 “What kind of coffee is that?” Tony demanded, snatching the cup from your hand and taking a sip.

 “Gimme a break, I took an impromptu and unwilling flying lesson today.” You scoffed, snatching it back.

 “But I caught you!” Peter exclaimed, wiggling in his seat like a proud puppy who’d successfully performed a trick.

 “Yes, yes you did. Three cheers for Spiderinfant!” You scoffed, letting Sam push you onto the couch next to Steve.

 “I agree, congratulations are in order for the young ones and their part in todays battle. Were this Asgard, we would feast for days to honour them.”

 “Let’s go to Asgard then.” You stage whispered to Peter.  

 “Alas, I have just returned from Asgard and I have much news.” Thor admitted heavily.

 “Lay it on us, how much did Loki screw up Asgard?” Tony asked.

 “While masquerading as my father Loki ruled Asgard fairly and justly. He built monuments to himself of course but the people did not seem to mind. I suspect many of them knew it was Loki in disguise but choose to continue the charade. Indeed, Asgard is peaceful and prosperous.” Thor admitted, befuddled.

 “Huh. How about that? The would be King was actually fit for the job. Maybe we should have just given Loki the planet.” You sniggered.

 “Joking. Obviously.” You quickly added when you were subjected to numerous hard stares.

 “So what’s the bad news?” Steve asked, getting back on track.

 “The Enchantress Amora began causing havoc in Asgard, that is why Loki came here to find a weapon to stop her. She has been captured, though only barely. I believed Loki was acting in Asgards best interest until we went to the Vaults and the tesseract disappeared.”

 “Loki has the Tesseract?” Steve asked sharply.

 “I do not know. The Tesseract was in the vault. It disappeared before our very eyes and we know not where it has gone.”

 “Friday, where’s Loki?” Tony snapped out quickly.

 “He is on the balcony reading about childhood trauma and the effects it can have in later life.” Friday responded.

 “Who gave Loki a book?” Steve sighed.

 You sunk down in your seat guiltily, refusing to meet Natasha’s eye.

 “I did. Thought he might learn something.” The redheaded Russian said blithely, covering for you.

 You put your hand up nervously.

 “You can go to the bathroom, you don’t need to ask.” Clint whispered, shaking his head slightly at you.

 “Good to know, but… What do you mean The Tesseract disappeared. In all the years it was studied on Earth it never acted on it’s own. Someone had to have taken it, somehow. There’s only one person we know of who can do anything similar to that, and he knew where it was. It had to have been Loki.” You suggested.

 “Agreed. Friday, up the security on Loki and around the tower.” Tony instructed, taking your suggestion seriously.

 “I will guard Loki personally.” Thor said sagely, picking up his hammer.

 He didn’t really wait for an agreement, just stomped out onto the landing and stepped over the edge.

 “Love that guy. Knows how to make an entrance and an exit.” You snorted.

 “You’ll get used to it.” Steve assured, patting your shoulder.

 “Will I? Because as fun as today has been, I don’t really see myself hanging out with you in much of an Avenging capacity. Feel free to invite me to Pizza Parties though! And by feel free, I mean do it or I’ll subscribe you to every penis enlargement scam on the net.” You warned.

 “You wanna tell her?” Steve asked Tony.

 You looked between them, teetering between curious excitement and nervous fear.

 “Tell me what? Tell meeeeeeeeee!” You demanded.

 “Wanna hang out with us in an Avenging capacity? Pizza parties included.” Tony asked giddily, looking quite proud of himself.

 “All of our scientific minds are also out on the front, fighting. We think it would be beneficial if we had people working full time on tech, communications, weaponry etc… People we can trust. We already know you, we like you, we trust you and you’ve more than proven how capable you are.” Steve added.

 Proud of you, Tony was proud of you, not himself. You were being extended a coveted invitation to…

 “So you want me to be your ‘Q’?” You clarified.

 “Yes.” Steve agreed, rolling his eyes when you and Tony gaped at him in surprise.

 “I’ve seen James Bond.” He said flatly.

 “We’re offering you a job Princess. We want you to move into the compound upstate and work for The Avengers full time. You wouldn’t be in the public eye so you would be safe, and yes you will have your own lab. All the toys and funding you want.” Tony explained.

 “Barnes and I have worked out a training schedule for you, not that we’re expecting you to go on missions.” Natasha added, smiling over at you smugly.

 “We picked you out a room next to mine.” Wanda said excitedly.

  “I stopped Tony from making your room pink, but I couldn’t talk him out of the Canopy bed.” Sam snorted.

 “That beds awesome. If you don’t want it, I’ll have it!” Clint offered enthusiastically.

 “Banners at the compound now, setting up your lab equipment.” Steve added, explain the Doctors absence from the meeting.

 “Wait, you’re taking her upstate?” Peter piped up, near pouting.

 “Relax kid, we’re not locking her up, she’s not going from Sleeping Beauty to Rapunzel. You can still have playdates.” Tony assured.

 Throughout all the excitement you had remained uncharacteristically silent, something that started to dawn on everyone.

 “Uh, I… My coffee is cold. I’m going to make a fresh one.” You muttered, getting stiffly to your feet.

 “Princess?”

 “Just give me a minute, please. I’ll be back.” You said briskly, high-tailing it towards the elevator.

 “Well done guys, you scared her off.” Sam grouched as you slipped into the elevator, trying not to hyper-ventilate.

 It was a more than generous offer, it was a dream come true. But you couldn’t help but wander back to your lab in a daze, trying to untie the knot in your stomach. This was literally the biggest thing to ever happen to you, being invited to work with Earth’s Mightiest. You’d have access to resources and tech beyond your imagination, you could work directly with Tony and Banner not just for them. You could have a hand in saving the world, changing it, improving and saving lives.

 So why were you sat on a chair with your head in your hands and trying not to cry?

 “Princess, your heart rate is elevated and you are showing signs of distress. Is everything ok?” Friday asked, her volume lower than it normally was.

 “And there is your greatest fear, laid bare. You can’t stand the thought that your death will be as meaningless and unimportant as your life.”

 “I’m fine Friday.” You answered numbly.

 “The genius in a tower of people smarter than her, brushing shoulders with champions and knowing she will never be one, surrounded by greatness but unable to achieve it herself.”

 “Should I inform Mr Stark you need him?” She prodded.

 “You hate that you are insignificant, that you will never rise above the mediocrity that is so prevalent in your race.”

 “No. I don’t need Tony. I don’t need anyone.” You replied coldly.

 You knew what was wrong now. You were scared. Scared that you’d have the chance to be something more, to be important and that you would blow it. It was easy to hope for something but when that hope came to fruition it wasn’t easy to follow through.

 What if you weren’t as smart as they thought you were?

 What if you messed up and someone got hurt?

 What if you crumbled under the pressure?

 What if you let yourself down?

 What if you let Tony down?

 What if you got what you wanted and realised it wasn’t what you needed?

 What if you didn’t fit in?

 What if they realised the same thing everybody else always inevitably did, that you weren’t likeable?

 What if you got thrown out and lost everything?

 You were so consumed with what ifs that you didn’t notice that Friday hadn’t answered you. You only looked up when something you couldn’t quite put your finger on let you know something was wrong. You looked around the lab, on alert, searching for what was wrong, when you heard it.

 Or rather, you didn’t hear it. The lab was full of equipment and machines that were always on, humming and whirring, the white noise of machinery. It was silent now though, and now that you realised that you could see that all the blinking lights were off.

 “Friday?”

 There was no response, and a chill ran down your spine. You pulled your phone from your pocket and frowned at the black screen. You raced towards the elevator, knowing full well what you’d find and you were right. There was no electricity in the building, or anything in the building. Something had drained all the power.

 Which meant…

 “Hello Vænn.” He hissed, right behind you.

 Loki’s cell was useless.

 His fingers closed around your elbow and you were forcibly slammed into the nearest wall. His green eyes glinted in the darkness and something sharp and cold pressed into the tender flesh over your thrumming pulse.

 “Is that a dagger at my throat or are you happy to see me?” You laughed breathlessly, without humour.

 “You bested me once, I can not let the insult pass, nor risk you doing it again.” He explained almost amicably.

 He was so close you could see the flecks of gold and emerald in his eyes, and the regret as well. It almost distracted you from the sharp pain in your neck until you felt something damp drip down your skin. The dagger was so sharp it had started to slice through your skin even though he’d made no move to injure you yet. His gaze flickered down and he watched the thin rivulet of blood roll down your throat.

 “You’re hesitating.” You accused him.

 “Are you so eager to die?” He threw back.

 “Just wondering if that connection I felt we had was in my imagination, because after our moment on the balcony I thought we were friends. And friends don’t slit friends throats.” You told him, half joking-half imploring.

 His eyes darted across your face like he was searching for something, some kind of sign about what to do. Or maybe he was just relishing in your terror and you were projecting.

 “I was King. I had the throne and the power. The people adored me, even if they didn’t know it was me. I had everything and it’s lost because of you. You took everything from me and taking your pathetic life isn’t an even bargain but it is all you have, so it is what I will take in recompense.” He hissed, his eyes brimming over with darkness and hate.

 “Loki, don’t. Please don’t kill me.” You whispered softly.

 “For someone with so much pride, you do beg so prettily, sweet Vænn.” He whispered back, his tone hard where yours had been gentle.

 There it was again, that word. What it meant was still beyond the reaches of your knowledge but it hardly seemed pertinent right now, with the tower shrouded in darkness and your blood painting your skin.

 They had to know Loki would be free, The Avengers had to know. If you could just stall long enough, distract him, you could survive. You could beg some more, play up to the pathetic mortal gig, wait for someone stronger than you to come and rescue you.

 “You can try as hard as you like to lay the blame with me but we both know you were never really King, you were a bastard prince playing pretend.” You snarled.

 You didn’t want to die, but in the end you were still you, and you didn’t want to snivel and beg. There was no point in surviving if the price was being unable to look yourself in the mirror.

 Thunderous crashing above you made you flinch, unwittingly slicing your own skin a little more. The entire tower shook and for a moment you thought an Earthquake had struck New York, but everything soon became clear.

 “Loki! Stop this at once!” Thor roared, his booming voice reaching you a split second before he came crashing into the lab, the hammer swinging in his hand. When he saw you, half hidden behind Loki and blood beginning to stain your shirt, his eyes widened. Which begged the question, if he didn’t know Loki was about to kill you, what was he demanding that Loki stop?

 There was one final crash as the ceiling above your head collapsed, plaster and concrete raining down on your lab in a dusty explosion. Instinctively you hid behind Loki, using him as a shield and forgetting about the dagger that he thankfully pulled away in time. When the dust cleared you realised he wasn’t even paying attention to you, his eyes fixed on the centre of the lab. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Thor raise the hammer but you couldn’t care less.

 Levitating off the ground, smack in the middle of your lab, was the Tesseract. Blue light shone from it, casting a glow over everything it touched. It was… mesmerising. Utterly entranced by it you stepped forward in tandem with Loki, unaware you’d put yourself between him and Thor. Thor was yelling something but you couldn’t make it out, it was like you were underwater, separated from the world and drowning in blue light. The only thing you could clearly hear was your own heartbeat, slow and steady, calmly pulsating as you walked towards the Tesseract as the light got brighter and brighter.

 And then the floor dropped out from under your feet and swirling blue light was the only thing left.

A/N - Aaaaaaand we're off.

I think it's setting itself apart from MMYM. I feel like Princess and Kitten, while both sassy af, are quite different, and this Loki is a little bit different as well. I could be wrong though, so, thoughts?

Ngl though, I am already digging the Princess/Loki dynamics.

Permenant Taglist (Closed) @buckysknifecollection​​ @my-patronus-is-a-raptor​​ @thelostallycat​​ @dilaila95​​ @dropthepizza346​​ @destiel-artemis​​ @hiddles-rose​​ @myfandomlife-blog​​ @fangirlwithatrowel​​ @liveonce-sodoitright​​ @spnrvt​​ @tarastudiesalot​​  @dahkness​​ @sexyvixen7​​ @jaynnanadrews​​   @pinkisokay​​ @angieptt​​ @anamcg317​​ @belladonnarey​​ @queen-kayy92​​ @breezy1415​​ @penumbrawolfy​​ @fairislesheets​​ @lianadelphius​​ @youhavebeenspared​​ @candyxcyanide​​ @musingpredilection​​  @isaxhorror​​ @destiel-artemis​​ @my-drowning-in-time​​ @isabelcrichards​​ @teh-nerdette​​ @dlcita​​ @deathofmissjackson​​ @life-wanderer​​ @cleo0107​  @drdorkus​​ @inquisitor-selvala​​ @le-mow​​ @zeannastardust​​ @nighmxre​​ @writingforbucky​​ @abo4280ooof​​ @mad4oak​​  @aven-gers33​​ @helloimanavenger​​ @brownlee-22​​ @amoonagedaydreamer​​ @cowardlycandy​​  @secondsineternity​​ @mywinterwolf​​     @stressedandbandobessed7771​​ @jamesbucktitybarnes​​ @thirstofgames​​ @boxofteenageideas​​ @dark-angel-be-thirsty-af​​ @cdwmtjb8​​ @happybookmuffin​​ @belles-garden​​ @themusingsofmany​​ @infallible-thoughts​​ @adefectivedetective​​ @riverdaleserpent04​​ @jazztherebel​​ @unlikelygalaxygiver​​ @stuckybanner​​ @littleredstarfish​​ @vikkleinpaul​​ @tenthousandcolors​​ @for-the-love-of-the-fandom​​ @wherdtonygo​​ @bloglovelylady​​ @angelofivory​​  @tell-me-a-poem​​ @xthefandomequestrianx​​ @kaz22992​​ @sleepingspacedragon​​ @it-jinxed-us​ @iwritesmutsandfluff​ @brat-in-a-teacup​ @rvgrsbrns​

Mischief & Madness Taglist

@get-the-salt-now​ @myownviperroom​ @iamnowspider-fanbitch @jn-wolf​ @evythepokemontrainer @pink-meraki​ @lookalivefrosty​ @delicatelygloriouspenguin​ @maaryisafangirl​ @kaetastic​ @lokis-high-priestess @lisaspageofstuff​ @it-jinxed-us​ @hanniballecters​ @pandness​ @condy-wants-a-cookie​ @jessieray98​ @darkangeldesignstudio​ @rjohnson1280​ @cateyes315​ @pandacookieowo​ @petra-arkanian-1497​ @unfriendlyrightfighter​ @termaks @inquisitor-selvala​ @aurorawitchcraft​ @myfandomlife-blog​ @casket-of-ancient-mischief​ @severepienerdturkey​ @oldspirit​ @iwritesmutsandfluff​ @myfandomlife-blog​ @call-me-ziphon​ @noshi-chan​ @nonsensicalobsessions​ @alexakeyloveloki​ @donteatmycookiesplease​ @midgardian-mistress​ @humbledarkness​ @bionic-otp​ @sammy-jo1977​ @lieswithoutfairytales​ @thankyouforanonymity​

[cxmetery-gates]

OBSESSIVE TEACHINGS - DARK!TOM HIDDLESTON

CHAPTER ONE: FAKING IT

SUMMARY: Lynn Moore dreads the beginning of her greatest fear: the first day of senior year. WORD COUNT: 2.3k NOTE: Get ready for typical teenager angst. Let’s all bully Lynn. WARNINGS: dark!tom hiddleston, teacher!tom hiddleston

OBSESSIVE TEACHINGS MASTERLIST

JUST LIKE EVERY YEAR AROUND the middle of August, my mom tells me the same advice; have a good first day. Of course, most mothers, fathers, or whoever tell their child this, but it's as pointless as a circle. Whoever has a fantastic first day of school? There are new teachers to impress, you're stuck with the same bunch of losers you sit with at lunch, and there are more jerks and morons to pick on you, despite the status quo you fall under. High school is frankly really awful all the way around and there's no way someone can deny or even try to argue that. These are the four years of utter hell and we're all dying to get out. I've stepped through those heavy doors, resembling the gates of hell, on a first day three times now. My anger and hatred have only been fueled rather than dying down. I'm sure nothing will ever change.

"Don't forget--" Mom tries to tell me from the porch in sweats and a maroon t-shirt. Her unnatural dirty blonde hair piled on the top of her head with an old red clip. There are tears welling in her eyes, seeing her only child almost grown up. I have one last year of school and mere months until I'm an adult. For me, it may pass by far too slow, but I bet it's a whole different story for her. In all honesty, it's ridiculous that the woman is so upset and not to mention annoying. I have done this routine twelve times now, for Christ sake, she should get a grip on herself by now. I don't mean to belittle my mother but one of her greatest achievements is being able to replicate every single stereotype women have, including having no control over her emotions. An outsider looking in may say I'm a bit to harsh. All I can say to that is no one has loved with her for almost eighteen years like I have.

"I got it!" I yell against the wind as it smacks my face while I walk across the grass. "Christ on a bike," I curse tossing my messy light brown hair from my field of vision.

The bus would take another five minutes to get the corner, but I'd like to not look stupid on my first day by running to catch up with the metal rectangle of devilry Peter Parker style. Well, maybe it would turn into an interesting story at the least. Spiderman is my favorite superhero of all time after all. Despite this, I only allow an angry face to part my path. It's totally fake but faking it is the only way to survive.

Down at the intersection, there are already kids waiting. I think it's safe to assume that all of the puberty-sicken teenagers are freshmen or sophomores since most junior and seniors are still asleep at this early hour, knowing the good majority are able to drive. I take a good look at all of them. The fact that they find throwing bits of gravel at squirrels or birds makes me want to go over and smack them upside the head. That thought crosses my mind a lot. The world is so full of morons; it's hard to pick out which ones are actually tolerable. They're almost as bad as kids in letterman jackets with expensive sports cars. Those fuckers are the worst. All they care about is their ego and how much money they can wave around coming right from mommy and daddy's wallet.

Take the kid in the striped shirt tucked into his hand-me-down jeans. He looks like a nice kid; after all, he's got nothing to brag about. His parents are probably office workers or maybe nothing too difficult. Nothing too important. That's all we are, right? I mean, once we're dead and gone. No one is gonna care what car you drove or what brand your plain white shirt is. People who think they're hotshots or something special are the real morons.

Besides, who thinks it's cool to spend thirty bucks on a t-shirt?

An old car passes, a teenage girl in my grade sits in the driver's seat. I sort of duck out of the way. Not James Bond-like, but I move my already shitty hair in front of my face as if it's going to help hide my identity. The chick probably didn't even see me. I watch the car drive on, kinda imagining what sort of car I would drive once I get one. I suppose I would have to learn first. I personally am not a fan of getting behind the wheel. Hell, I can't even ride a bike without falling over. I'd rather move to a large city and order cabs to get me places. They seem more convenient and, if you get in a wreck, it's not your fault and it's not your money coming out of pocket. No car equals more money. Then again, no car also is equivalent to no freedom and taxis and Uber's can get expensive. It seems like each idea is flawed these days.

Upon scanning the area again— this time ignoring the idiots— I notice only one person who seems excited out of the group. Her dark brown hair and dark skin contrast to the majority of our town, including those waiting nearby. Her curled hair bounces with each stride she takes, happier than the step prior.

Some say it's strange that the girl and I are such good friends. You don't see God and Satan going out and having coffee every weekend or anything.

"What's got you in a good mood?" I question as I readjust my dark blue shirt underneath the flannel. Flannels are my favorite personal quirk. I own at least fifty, most being cool or dark colors. I don't have an obsession; just an interest that I care way too much about. Flannels are to Lynn Moore as controversy is to famous influencers. Looking back up, my eyebrow is still raised. I'm shocked to see her here, assuming her parents would have given her a lift. After a second, it dawned on me that this, riding the bus to school, was her punishment for getting into an accident she won't take responsibility for.

Posting memes and vines references are fun and all, but doing it while going 60 down a highway isn't the smartest. Forgive me for not following the strict millennial handbook but I don't actually want to die nor do I want my friends to.

My best friend, Ellie Graves, gives a small glare. "Why does it always seem like you're on your period?" I shrug my shoulders, and played with the wire choker I always wore. As my fingers slip underneath the necklace, it is evident how to lose it has gotten since I bought it a few months ago. I make a mental note to take a quick trip to the shopping side of the internet sometime soon.

I click my tongue before answering. "Probably because I'm closer to hell than you are," I say, referring to my obvious lack of height. I'm only five feet and just barely three inches off the ground while Ellie is at least five feet and seven inches. Personally I think we would make a cute couple given our attitudes and the extremities of our heights, except for the fact that dearest Ellie is not interested in people other than men. What a party pooper. For me, anyway. "But lets do our best to not reinforce stereotypes," I say referring to her comment.

She nods her head. "Yes, mother." I snort at her sass, leaning my body weight onto my right leg. "But hey! We have one year left! That's something to be excited about, am I right?"

Yes, I would say she is right. Freshmen, sophomore, and the dragged out junior year have come and passed, full of useless information and embarrassing memories with it. It's mostly embarrassing if I have to be honest. School isn't my thing, however falling up and down the main set of stairs apparently is. Who knew?

"Yeah, I suppose so. At least we're considered adults now," I reply trying to find some positive about the situation.

Ellie begins to lightly laugh, "True. That's kinda a scary thought, though." Her body shudders, either because a breeze just blew passed or out of what she just said.

The age of freedom is so close, I can nearly touch it. Despite my longing to finally buy a lottery ticket and spray paint, the fear of adulthood gnaws at the back of my mind. With eighteen comes responsibility, something I lack to a high degree. I muse the idea of getting a degree of irresponsibility. However, I don't think such diploma could help me get into a creative writing career.

I make a thinking face and bring my shoulders to my ears preparing for an exaggerated response. "Well, you aren't wrong," I reply in a forced high pitch noise, catching the attention of the guys. Now I notice they are all matching in basketball shorts and a jacket. Men's fashion, ladies and gents. Ellie chuckles at my utter dorkiness while I continue to make some weird face I'm sure she will get a picture of sometime within the next few seconds.

It's crazy how time is able to fly. Just last week, so it seems, the outgoing, beaming chick I have as a best friend and I were in third grade, the year I moved to a new house, a different school, and a very different town. Although my eight-year-old-self hated it at the time, I'm glad I left the northern state of Maine, all the way across to the midwest. That is if you consider southern Missouri part of the midwest. If I hadn't, who would have the privilege of being my first smack in the face? Or first sleepover (with an actual girl)? Who knows, and I honestly wouldn't like to. Ellie's my best friend; I would be dead if she didn't have my back. And I'm honestly positive she would say the same about her tiny best pal.

Little time passes after the picture was indeed taken and posted on Elle's Snapchat before an ugly shade of yellowish-orange appears entering the neighborhood. Ellie is practically fidgeting, fighting the urge to run up the bus even if it is some distance away. My eyes roll trying to not say anything to kill her spirit but I do let out an accidental groan as its loud hum draws nearer. The bus came to a screeching halt and I already want to turn on my heel and head home. When I step on, I notice there is a new driver this year. After Ellie got her license and could legally drive me around, I never bothered with the bus unless I needed space or she was busy, which was hardly ever. Ellie and I mostly spend our time together with our group of friends. Despite this, I still easily took notice of a different person in the seat. Instead of a balding old man with a face like alligator skin, a woman sat in the brown leather seat and looks roughly in her forties. She, like all of us except for Ellie, looks tired but fakes a smile anyways. The same rules apply; middle school and junior high in the front and high school in the back. It seems as if sitting in the back always made you cool of some sort. Every time a kid got away with it in middle school, he or she was automatically the bad kid, the cool kid, or the king of the bus. God, how stupid is that theory? These thoughts remind me how annoying and stupid we all were at ten and eleven years old. I'm sure if I had a duplicate of myself at that age, I'd shoot either one of us to cease me from the utter pain.

Instead of going all the way to the back, I turn to sit in the seat half way down the aisle while plunging in an earbud, leaving one open to listen to Ellie. I instantly scroll through an select a playlist that mixes rock, punk, and even some emo. Given today being my last first day, I figured early morning jams would be appropriate to get me pumped up even though I tend to listen to this genre quite often as of lately. I enjoy the heavy guitar and double bass pedal and lyrics I can either relate to or wonder who hurt the singer so bad. Needless to say, I'm definitely more of a rock person however there's still a lot of other types of music on my device, including orchestra and folk or indie. I don't like to limit what I listen to; whatever makes me feel good ends up on my phone. Simple as that.

"So, Lynn," Ellie says sliding in right next to me. I look in her direction, which was to my right, waiting for her to respond. She looks at me, but nothing came out of her mouth. Slowly, I arch a brow. Still, there was nothing. "I had nothing to say, I just wanted your attention." Ellie gave a stupid grin while I glare kindly at her if there is such a thing.

My head shakes and I reach out to pat her cheek, "You, my darling, are an absolute dumbass."

I feel her grin grow against my hand since I haven't moved it yet. "Not as big as you, though." I can't argue; she has a point.

As the bus lunches forwards, I look out the window and watch the world go by. Something settles in my gut about then, the feeling both familiar and foreign. I can't tell what it is, but as I watch the clouds roll in over the sun and birds flying through the sky, I only hope my last year of high school will be memorable.

[cautelous]

He has a long way to go. Not to the highest summit, of course, but… Targon stands impossibly tall against the backdrop of the Great Barrier. Mountains that are taller than the Ironspikes are cowed before the peak. The ascent.

But he only has to go to the Solari. Still a climb, still a journey - but not the journey. He finds beauty in nature and thrill from danger, yes, but the peak holds little promise for him. What would he find up there, if frostbite and oxygen deprivation didn’t kill him first?

Nothing but snow and ice and a sense of hollow victory, he imagines. The heavens only open for those pure of character, if the myths are to be believed, and he isn’t delusional enough to think that he qualifies. Noble goals and a noble heart, but justice outside of Piltover is still so set on judging actions and actions alone. The gods are no exception.

                                                        —

The Rakkor are far from unused to foreigners. They speak a common tongue with him, and while their grandmothers and grandfathers may have driven him from the land in an instant… Things have changed over the decades. Even in the past decade - he’s been here before, after all, and so much is different since then. He doesn’t have to hide, have to scamper up the mountain in the dark. The Rakkor’s opinions have shifted: so what does it matter if outsiders try to climb to the peak? If they are worthy, the spirit of Targon will embrace them and guide them higher. If they aren’t, their bodies are a sacrifice to feed the mountain.

He spends two days there, going over the contents of his pack again and again. It’s heavy - overloaded, truthfully, for a man of his weight - but he’ll manage. (Or he won’t, and his body will end up as one of many lost beneath the snow or down a crevasse.) There’s others on their journeys, others that he can climb with until their paths diverge. (That’s something new, too.) Cover, if she comes looking. (Won’t she?)

Thrillseekers and adventurers and dreamers. He sees how they shoulder their packs lightly, how they laugh and joke and cheer. (He joins in too, of course, and celebrates on the night before his and some of their departures.) Confident in the mountain guiding them up. No ice axes, no crampons, just their hands and determination. Won’t that be enough, if they place their faith in the divine?

Maybe it will be. Or maybe he’ll see their colorful coats blowing in the wind, higher up on the mountain, as he descends.

                                                        —

The first few days of climbing are more than manageable. The spring thaw had happened a month before, and so they make camp in grass that’s unburdened by snow. The others are less unprepared than he’d originally thought: they have food and shelter, at the least, and the other climber from Piltover has her own backpacking stove for warm meals. They boil water over it each night, taking turns donating packages of tea for the others. The Demacians - brothers, he finds out - look on with a mix of suspicion and interest the first night, but take the offered drinks on the rest. The Noxian has no hesitancy. The Freljordian keeps to herself, eating pemmican and jerky from the lightest pack of the group. Determination has set in as they climb, the stuff of jokes now reality.

The other Piltovian - Beth, he’d learned at the base of the mountain, and he’d given his name as Vincent - is a quiet and kind soul, but still spirited, once the ascent begins. His own mood has turned introspective as well, whether from the journey ahead or the mountain itself.

They sit at the edge of camp, one night, and stare out into the brilliant sky.

“Vincent,” she starts, looking over to him. “Why are you climbing?”

He sighs and watches his breath crystalize in the night, letting the lie come easily. “I’ve always wanted to. Do you remember when the first one of us made it up? The news didn’t stop interviewing him for a month, and… he’d said he’d seen ‘such beautiful things’.”

He remembers the articles and the newscasts. Something that had been talked about over distant dinners - his brother had called the man an idiot, for risking his life for a pointless title, and his mother and father had agreed.

“I wasn’t around yet,” Beth says with a laugh. “But I read about him when I was a girl, so I guess we’ve got the same reasoning.”

Her words hit him in the chest. “You’re- ah, you’re younger than I, then.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m twenty-four.”

“You- you,” he stumbles over his thoughts, turning to her with concern in his eyes. “Beth, you shouldn’t be up here. Not now.”

“If not now, when?”

Gods. He’s a hypocrite, really, worrying over her choices when he’d been robbing nations at her age. But imprisonment isn’t a cold and lonely death on a mountain. It doesn’t matter what he says, though - he knows that look on her face.

“If not now, when…” he echoes and stares up at the sky. Then he gets to his feet. “I’m turning in for the night. We’ve ground to cover tomorrow.”

“Rest your old man bones, Vincent.”

                                                        —

They reach the highest Rakkor settlement after a few more days, and the mood brightens once again. They’re nearing the point of no return, yes, but in the here and now there’s life and living. The Rakkor play host, children darting about and laughing as adults watch with relic-weapons at their hips.

He knows of the Rite of Kor. He knows that each of these men and women have slewn another - another child - for the sake of battle-hardening and survival. (He’s been here once before. He’s held a weapon and known that his are the only bloodless hands to have touched it. It sits in his private gallery with all the rest.) But they offer their hospitality for seekers of Targon’s truths. What a change, what a thaw.

Or perhaps it’s just a matter of sacrifice. He feels the mountain wind run him through as Beth laughs and talks with a girl, the other Piltovian crouching low and listening attentively.

                                                        —

The Solari make their home higher still, secluded from the main path up Targon’s flank. His divergence will be noticed, of course - he can’t run off in the middle of the night. But he has his explanations.

The Demacians, Frederick and Jonathan, have warmed up to everyone - even Felix, the Noxian. They share tales of valor over the stove at night, the three admitting that they had no idea that those from the opposite nation could be so… human. Even Erna has thawed, offering sips from her leather flask to the party and singing into the night.

They’ve all discussed their reasons for climbing. Beauty, achievement, pride, wonder, longing. He keeps his story the same. Inspiration from another, a desire for beauty. It’s true, if one looks at it in the right sort of way.

He asks the group one day, once their mutual camp has been set up, if they wouldn’t mind sitting for a few sketches. Beth claps her hands in excitement - Vincent, you’re an artist? Why didn’t you say anything? - as he pulls a sketchbook and pencils from the bottom of his pack.

It had been extra weight. It had been worth it. So he sets about committing their features to paper, one-by-one, and leaves out his reasoning. It’s something more permanent than memory. Something to prove that they existed.

Beth pulls him to the edge of camp, later that night, and they stare up at the nearly full moon. He worries for her. How could he not? She’s too young for this. Too soft for this. Everyone but them is a warrior, and he’s had his complicated life to prepare him for this. She’s a dreamer, hardly out of her studies - hardly into the real world at all.

“So why are you really climbing?” she asks, gloved hands cupped around an insulated mug. Steam rises in the cold.

“I’ve told you a few times, haven’t I?”

“And you’ve been lying,” she says with a shrug. “At least, I think you have. Not telling the whole truth, at least?”

He freezes. It’s the first time someone’s caught him in a lie in… years. And it has to be someone like her, doesn’t it? The last person he’d suspect. In any other situation, he’d deny it, play it off, laugh. But Beth deserves honesty, he imagines. She’s gone past her point of no return.

“Guilty as charged,” he murmurs. “I’ll tell you.”

“Well, go on then!”

“The Solari,” he starts. “That’s my end-goal. I need to… speak to them.”

She breathes out a ‘huh’. “Didn’t take you for the religious type, Vincent.”

She deserves honesty. Maybe not the whole truth - he can’t surrender himself to the will of another, not now, not here, not with the wrong person - but enough of it. It’s the least he can do. He looks to her and pushes the thought of purple-black frostbite from his mind.

“It’s Julian, actually,” he says with a laugh. It doesn’t sound forced.

He expects her to draw back - to accuse, or at the very least frown - but all she does is chuckle. “I thought you didn’t look like much of a Vincent.”

“I suppose I don’t.”

Chuckles give way to quiet concern. She stares out into the void for some time, silent. “Hey… You don’t have to tell me, but - whatever you’re looking for with them?”

“Yes?”

“I hope you find it, Julian.”

                                                        —

He breaks from the group the following day, pointing out his new route on his map. Everyone takes it well enough, although even Erna seems concerned at his departure. But he wishes them well (and gods, he means it) and soon enough it’s just him and the snow and the ice.

The Solari had been hard to plan for. Records on what relics they have are vague, at best, half-finished anthropologic surveys in the basements of universities and the words of the Radiant Dawn his only clue. But he has his target: another manuscript. He hopes it’ll be small enough to tuck into a pocket of his pack. Preservation is essential, after all, and the thought of accidentally destroying something so priceless is anathema to him.

As for his plan? Simple in planning, complex in execution. The full moon is in a few days. The Solari will stand watch at the edges of their territory, or so he’s been told. Rituals and customs and patterns. Their archives will be left unguarded.

Of course, if he’s caught… he’ll be executed. But that’s the nature of his work. Perhaps he and the others aren’t so different, after all.

                                                        —

The heist goes fine. The hardest part had been the trip to and from his camp, hidden far enough away from the Solari village that they wouldn’t spot it. No light but the moon’s. No sound but the crunching snow and ice. (And the matter of hiding his path, of course.) But he has his prize, written in a language that he can’t read, and he feels…

He feels lighter, truthfully. He knows what the pages say, or at least the gist. The structure would make it obvious, if he hadn’t already known from his research.

Poetry. Devotion to the sun as the giver of all life, as the celestial being whose love warms the world. The Solari depict her as a woman, he’s read, hair a mane of fire and skin the color of a burning sunset.

He’d left a card in a new color. (They’re going home. Together?) But that will have to wait. For now, the sun needs to rise. He needs to descend. He needs to survive. He forces himself to sleep, book tucked safely away in his pack, and ignores how the shadows seem to dance and twist in his dreams.

                                                        —

The descent is harder than he expects. He finds himself expecting to hear others’ voices, to hear Felix speaking of the life he left behind, to hear Erna humming, to hear the hushed conversations of Fredrick and Jonathan. He expects to hear Beth’s laughter as his foot punches through fresh snow, expects an arm to shoot out to balance him.

He expects company, and its absence chills him far more than the wind. Gods. How had he ever thought poorly of them? They’re all the same, them and him, all dreamers holding onto faith and luck. They just placed - place, he amends with a jolt - their faith differently than he. All the same, but they believe in a goal and he believes in a woman. No one’s more justified than the other.

He looks up into the cold, clear night each time he makes camp. He’s never been a religious man, but he bows his head to the stars regardless.

Let them summit. Bring them home. Please.

He says another for her.

Let her live. She’s too young. Have mercy, please...

He says another for her.

Let her be happy. Let this work. Let her see how much she’s needed, still. Let her choose for her sake.

He thinks, briefly, about saying one for himself. But he’s pushed his luck enough with three. He doubts the gods - or whatever is out there in the inky blackness - would have much tolerance for a man such as he, anyways.

He only hopes that they tolerate prayers for others’ sakes.

                                                        —

It hardly feels real when he steps - nearly tumbles, really - back into the village at Targon’s base. He knows how he looks after pushing himself for days, after not stopping at the Rakkor settlement. He needed to beat the Solari down the mountain, after all, and they had the advantage of it being their home. But he’d done it. The Rakkor give him a wide berth - do they think that he’d summited? Do they think that he’s been changed?

He has been, but not by the peak. His pack feels heavier than when he started. It’s not due to the manuscript. But he makes his exit, begins the long journey home, and tells himself that he isn’t leaving anyone behind.

                                                        —

He reads the paper religiously in Piltover, buying morning and afternoon and evening copies. Her name was is Elizabeth Hargreave. She’ll be trumpeted and heralded, he knows, once she makes it back. But a week passes. Two. Three. There’s nothing.

Maybe, he bargains, she’s come back quietly.

So he goes to find her. Because she has to have made it. The world’s a cruel, cruel thing, but it can’t be that senseless. She’d had faith. They’d all had faith.

He finds grieving parents.

He doesn’t speak to them.

He carefully tears one of her portraits from his sketchbook, folds it into a crisp little rectangle, and mails it to their address.

No return address. No added words. What could he say?

He finds himself drinking more wine than usual.

                                                        —

He finds himself staring at the two manuscripts, a half-empty glass in his hands, and wonders if he’s made a horrible mistake.

It all depends on what she thinks, he imagines, and he downs the rest.