#I think because of this people may hard to grasp what's going on in Mo's brain

[diofasolia]

Happy Birthday to AC!!!!!

墨心牙 (Mo Xin Ya) by @shinechermont

[contractbound]

On Birthdays...

Months-old thoughts on my birthday (and birthdays in general), ranging from my current-day speculations on my "birth" to my relationship to the concept over the centuries. Taken from private messages and reformatted more into essay form (albeit a messy one, riddled with author's notes written today).

December 2023 ; 1459 words

In the present day, I oftentimes wonder what that day in April (I can never remember which day) means for me in specific. (Author's Note: Turns out it's the 17th. I was reminded by my friends wishing me a happy birthday on call at midnight last night.) Is it actually the day I came into existence, or does it have some other kind of significance? Since its specifically listed as my birthday, I'd assume it's the former, unless it's a symbolic "birth" in some way, shape, or form.

There's also the issue of how Tey/vat's days and months may differ from Earth's, and the accuracy of this birthday. I mean, it's probably the closest equivalent we have, since I'd imagine there's a "language barrier" (so to speak) between Tey/vat's time and Earth's time that's too severe to overcome. I probably couldn't figure out a "truer" birth date for myself even if I tried (though being canon divergent is always a possibility as well).

Also, thinking about my "birthday" within my and Gen/shin's general canon makes me wonder how I came into existence in the first place. Did I just spawn in? Did I have any form of "parent" or creator? I could be wrong, but my current theory is I simply manifested somehow (as in without the direct and intentional influence of outside sources), more or less fully grown, just obviously naive because I was new to the world. (Author's Note: Cloud Re/tainer's story has since more or less confirmed my suspicions by citing adep/ti as having been "born amongst the elemental energy that courses between heaven and earth", which aligns with my speculations. I find this information very interesting.)

Leaning fully into the topic of canon now, it's probably not that hard to guess how I might have regarded my birthdays during my time on Tey/vat. One thing I was very good at was staying in eternal stasis, specifically in a state of not caring for myself. It's not like I could even afford to care, most of the time. As such, for most of my life I had never once given my birthday any importance, and I doubt I ever acknowledged or even remembered it much, at least not without prompting from other people. (Author's Note: To an extent, I know I'm lying about not being able to afford to care for myself. I definitely couldn't afford to do so earlier in life, but after Mo/rax took me in, it was less of an issue. At times, it was even encouraged. Like I mentioned before...prompting from other people.)

Still, even if I never gave it any importance, I probably still had different views on the concept of "birthdays" depending on what stage in my life I was at.

Very early in my life (I'm not sure the exact timeline but I'm talking the first few centuries or even decades), I doubt I had any awareness of the concept of a birthday, or what significance it had. I was probably more or less aware of how much time i had existed for, but human concepts were not even on my radar.

Once I'd gotten into the habit of looking into people's dreams, I might've gotten glimpses of birthday celebrations, among other aspects of human culture. But since it would only be small zero context glimpses, I don't think that would have given me a thorough grasp on the concept anyway. I'm going to go with the assumption that I regarded birthdays with a little bit of acknowledgement and importance, but not at all towards myself because I wasn't aware that it could apply to me. My understanding, curiosity, and enthusiasm would only have been directed towards others and towards the concept itself.

Under my former god, they gave me a better look at human life and culture, and an even more potent look into their dreams. Something as specific as birthdays were likely never a focus, but would still be one of the many things I'd get to learn more about as I gained a further understanding of humans and how they worked. Unfortunately, this god was one that, at least during the war, resented human life, only seeing it as something to make an example of or use to their advantage. That's a tangent, however.

Basically, they weren't the best teacher for this kind of thing. While that phase of my life greatly deepened my understanding of dreams and anything about humanity that was revealed to me through them, the principles and beliefs drilled into me were cruel, and I acted accordingly. Overall, I'd say I gave the concept of birthdays minimal acknowledgement. The only importance given to it (if any) would probably have been according to the god's agenda. I still wouldn't be applying the concept to myself at all, and honestly my perception of time was probably completely demolished as well.

After being taken in by Mo/rax and having all the other Yak/shas with me, I was a lot more closed off towards the world. I was no longer curious or adaptable, and only wanted to focus on fulfilling my contract (i.e being nothing more than a weapon). The other Yak/shas did not share this sentiment, and were endlessly curious about mortal life. Of course, Mor/ax didn't share my sentiment either. Being our god, he had no intention to completely distance himself from the humans he had to protect and govern.

In the case of the other Yak/shas, if they knew their "birthdays", or picked some for themselves, I don't doubt they'd want to celebrate themselves and each other whenever the day came. Thinking about it, I get the feeling that if our birthdays were symbolic, chosen dates, we'd pick the days Mo/rax took us in...but that's tangential.

The others wouldn't let me off the hook until I told them my "birthday", and then when the day rolled around, wouldn't let me off the hook until I celebrated with them. I was stubborn, and considered it frivolous, but couldn't avoid them without feeling at least a little bad....so I let it happen. I was forced to acknowledge the occasion known as the birthday and give it importance. Not just as a general concept, either, but specifically mine and those of the people closest to me.

Well, I say "forced", but honestly, i came to enjoy it over time. Not that I'd ever admit it then.

As for the general concept and human customs, I closed myself off from that and stopped feeling curious. It really felt best to distance myself from mortal affairs as best as I could, and not involve myself more than necessary. Still, it was hard to completely distance myself when I had the others to forcibly involve me.

In the centuries following Fu/she's disappearance, I was completely closed off and truly lived only to fight, save for a few foolish personal endeavours. I could probably ramble on about this period of my life in general, but specifically in the context of birthdays, I don't think I have any insight.

Finally, in the time after meeting Aether...in many cases, it was like being back with the others. He developed a stubborn interest in me, and made me open my eyes to the world around me again. For the first time in centuries, I allowed my birthday to be acknowledged and celebrated.

The first time he wished me happy birthday and prepared a celebration for me, it was probably quite jarring. Honestly, I don't know if I ever got fully used to it. But I did eventually come to enjoy it. Over time, I opened up and let myself be curious again, and with Aether living regularly among mortals, I got to learn more than I ever had, with no strings attached, no ulterior motives. I doubt I ever came to fully embrace/understand mortal traditions, maybe calling them frivolous or confusing, but inside I enjoyed learning, and most of all sharing it with him.

Overall, this is probably the most (healthy) acknowledgement and importance I'd be giving to my birthday, and slowly I'd be letting myself be curious about birthdays as a general custom too. I'd also come to look forward to Aether's "birthday" as well, whether it was actually the day he came to be, or something symbolic.

I could never forget any other friends I'd let into my life, either. My social circle grew over time, and I had bridged many gaps between myself and the people around me. Most memorably, I grew closer to the other adep/ti, and occasionally joined their festivities.

Perhaps between immortals, the concept of a "birthday" works differently from how mortals go about it, but the sentiment stays the same.

[sxxphyyzz]

7

at 24, i wanted to marry him.

i used to dream about building a life with him. it's a weird thing to possess around that time, that young because i had always been scared of counting the days of my life with someone else for a definite amount of time. compromise is a crime. but convincing yourself that you may have met the right one is ecstatic.

he is irresistible with flocks of hair curling on the left side of his face, wearing a kind of gorgeous smile that kept me on the hook for years and years after our brief encounter. at one point, he was everything i ever wanted, thinking to myself "oh wow, is this the man i am going to see his face for the rest of my life?"

at 24, i was also dumb, yet full of hope and full of life. but life got in between, drifting us apart, pushing us off the road, dumping me to the rock bottom where i thought finding a way out of cascading of emotion and yearning for him was impossible. it was nearly impossible, at least it's what i thought. i struggled and i wanted him so bad. i even thought about wasting my summer flying across the ocean separating us just for a glimpse of him. it was haunting sparing countless thoughts about him, making me grieve every-single-day. i wanted to see him, but all i got was nonchalant messages, followed by complete silence after a few months. people call it "ghosting" but i had a hard time to respect the dead and move on with myself.

7 years were like a fever dream. under the darkest clouds was me sobbing with my head in my pale hands - much like a slow-mo movie scene in shades of griege, not knowing what i was getting myself into all these years.

but 7 years are way too enough for me to realize the fever dream was consuming me slowly and deadly. i finally gathered strength, regret, and grief to get back on my feet while slowly welcoming the final blow: we are never meant to be. did it hurt? it did. but healing is different for everyone. i let it hurt until i can't no longer feel it in every inch of my body. in the end, it was all illusional. he was never my closest friend.

at 31, i have started to get colors back to my life. i finally reached the final stage of my bone-deep boredom: acceptance. i accept myself for "not being enough." i see my reflection clearer in the mirror. most importantly, i stop blaming the little girl i was and everyone else for the dangerous life i chose to dive into deep. i was aware of the kind of exciting fear that never terrified me enough to grasp the rarest air above the bluest water, but i was never ready to kiss bye bye to the sadness dominating my mind. until i woke up, bare and all alone on the cold hard ground to one fine morning, whispering "i don't wanna live this way," thinking he never deserved me one bit. from that moment forward, life has become more vibrant. walking away from someone who never spared the slightest thought for me was the biggest bravery.

i understand that i should have never placed my heart in the frail, clumsy hands of a careless man. but the young me didn't know better. the grief was immense but sometimes, you have to let it overflow instead of bottling it away. he still hides in plain sight, and there is one solid fact that i will never get to see him or show him how much disturbed i was because of him. but the careless man like him doesn't get time - to think it's the kind of punishment he must deal with, as long as he breathes, is the ultimate penalty.

in the end, i will one day forget what we had, with all the memories eventually sinking into the oblivion. but i will never forgive him for what he did.

[pom-seedss]

On being “afraid of pain”

It can be very frustrating when people, especially doctors but people in general too, assume that I’m ‘afraid’ of doing things. If I hear one more person talking about how I must be “afraid of pain” I am going to start sobbing.

First of all, I have a pretty good grasp on my capabilities and limitations. I know what will cause me more pain not because I am anxious, but because I have done these things before and experienced the fallout. I am not afraid that I will be in more pain if I do this activity, I know for a fact I will be in more pain if I do this activity.

Choosing not to do an activity that I know will cause me more pain isn’t anything more than choosing not to touch a hot stove because I know that will cause me more pain. It has nothing to do with fear, it’s about knowing the consequences of an action.

Second of all, I have an excellent grasp on how my body is feeling at any given moment. Because 1. I live here, I’ve lived here for 34 years and counting and 2. I have been consistently told throughout my life to chart how I am doing, so self-reflection and self-assessment have been drilled into me from almost every health professional I have had contact with.

Doctors who work with me, rather than just on me, consistently confirm I know what I am talking about. When I say “x is feeling tight, but I think the problem actually stems from y”, I am usually right. At least as far as muscles and such, internal organs are out of my league and usually need more in depth tests to know what’s wrong anyway. But as far as the basic mechanics, first aid, general fitness acumen, I know how my body works and how things are connected.

Third of all, I bare more pain on a daily basis than most of these people will feel in a lifetime. I do not care that there is no ‘objective’ measure of pain, no way to really say what is painful because one person will react differently to stimuli than another. But I know what pain feels like because I am in it constantly. From the time I wake up to the time I go to sleep, there is never a time I am not in pain. It ebbs and flows, of course, and sometimes I ignore it or can flood myself with endorphins on a really good day so i don’t feel it, but it is never not there.

It becomes quite insulting how people infantilize disabled folks who have chronic pain. Especially fat disabled people.

When non-pained folks work out they experience some pain, soreness, aching and eventually healing. They assume that this is the kind of pain that will be felt and they tend to encourage people passed the aches and pains because their bodies will heal and be better for it.

For a lot of people with chronic pain, however, the cost is much higher. It’s not just ‘regular soreness added to our existing pains’, it’s less a simple addition and more a multiplication. 

The general ache and soreness of working out may tip an already tired muscle over the edge into constant clenching. It might pull the joint out of place because there was too much tension on something already near the breaking point from strain. It can mean your core muscles tighten up and make your stomach clench and disrupt your food intake and cause bouts of nausea. It could mean having to take more pain medication that can have other adverse side effects like acedominaphine being hard on the stomach, which can cause long term digestive issues and further pain and complications.

So when all these factors and considerations and extra risks are all chalked up to “being afraid of pain” it really makes me feel like no one is ever actually listening to people in pain. Not just me, but any one of us.

When we say “that won’t work, I’ve tried it” or “that won’t work, I’ve tried something extremely similar to it” we are told we are just afraid to get better, that we’ve built an identity around our pain and we have to stop. I just want to scream at them that nothing is 100% effective for 100% of people and that people with adverse reactions to this thing that might help most people still exist and deserve to be treated as well.

I am not afraid of pain. I can and do deal with more pain than most people can even fathom. I can deal with more pain on top of my daily pain.

But only I get to decide what is worth the pain and the risks.

Just because I do not choose to spend my ability on whatever you think might help me does not mean I fear pain or am identifying too much with it.

It just means that I don’t find touching a hot stove to be worth it.

[let-the-dream-begin]

In My Daughter’s Eyes Chapter 34: Forever

Chapter 33

Read on AO3

IMPORTANT PLEASE READ: This fic is on a very long hiatus until further notice. Please see the AO3 link for more details. Much love❤️

It was June third, the day after their eleven month anniversary. Claire couldn’t believe it; it was truly almost an entire year since that fateful Saturday at the stables. A year since their hearts and bodies had spoken what their voices dared not say.

He took her down port again, to a restaurant even more extravagant than the one they’d gone to the last time they were there. It was a glorious Saturday night, and Claire was blissfully happy.

Though something seemed off with Jamie.

His hand had done that tapping that he did when he was anxious the entire drive over, and it was his left, always his left, so she could not reach out and take it to soothe him.

“Why, you’re as nervous as you were on our first date,” she’d teased.

“Aye, well.” He’d forced a chuckle, winking at her. “It’s no’ every day ye celebrate nearly a year wi’ the woman ye love.”

She’d laughed, too, not really considering what an odd thing that was to say.

She also hadn’t considered how strange it was to go so all-out when it wasn’t actually a full year yet. She could truly only imagine how extravagant those plans would be.

And anyway…what was there to be nervous about? There wasn’t a single thing they hadn’t shared, a single thing they didn’t know about each other now. Holding his hand as they left the parking meter, strolling down the sidewalk to their reservation, his palm was as sweaty as it had been the night they’d first slept together.

Had he never eaten at this restaurant? Was he worried she wouldn’t like it?

Watching his hand jiggle at his side at a constant loop at the table, Claire put her menu down.

“Jamie. You’re shaking the whole table.”

“Christ, I’m sorry.” He stiffened, reigning himself in. “I didn’t even notice I was doing it.”

“Don’t be sorry,” she said gently. “I’m serious. What’s going on with you? You’re never so out of it when we go out.”

“Nothing’s going on,” he said, and she almost believed him. “I’m alright.”

“You’re about to cause an earthquake with that nervous tick of yours and you expect me to believe you’re alright?”

His lips quirked up in a sheepish grin, and for just a second she caught a glimpse of Jamie again, not the anxious mess she was at dinner with.

“Is something happening with your family? And you don’t want to ruin the evening by bringing it up now? Because I don’t give a damn about the evening. We can leave right now—”

“No.”

Claire jumped a little, wincing at how tightly he squeezed her hand.

“Sorry,” he stammered.  “I’m mucking this all up.”

“Mucking what up?”

He sighed. “Nothing is wrong wi’ my family. Nothing at all is wrong. Everything is…perfect. My life hasna been this right since I was a bairn.”

Claire allowed a tiny smile, her eyes glimmering. “Okay,” she said softly, urging him to continue.

“That’s what has me feeling this way, I suppose. You are perfect. Our life is perfect. I suppose this big anniversary is just…I dinna ken. I think I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“Jamie…” Claire shook her head. “There is no other shoe. I’m not going anywhere. Faith is not going anywhere. You’re stuck with us, darling.”

He sighed in relief, and Claire could not comprehend that he would ever think otherwise to the point where he would feel such relief.

“Even when I’m shaking tables and sweating through shirts?”

She giggled. “Yes. Even then.”

He kissed her hand. “Good.”

The rest of the dinner went off without a hitch, though there was still something underlying buzzing through Jamie. She couldn’t wait to get him alone and reassure him the only way she knew how. If he kept this up, she might not be able to wait until they got home. She’d have to find a long, empty dock and drag him to the edge and kiss him senseless anywhere he wanted. She couldn’t stand to see him like this, and she wouldn’t rest until she could see that he was absolutely sure that she was his and his alone.

Forever.

They went to their usual ice cream place, and as they swapped cups and tasted each other’s, Jamie seemed to relax a little bit more, laughing, savoring the flavor like a little boy. That was one of the things she loved most about him. He took nothing for granted, not even the difference between his moose tracks ice cream and Claire’s mint chocolate chip, not even the pigeons and seagulls that watched them out of the corner of their eye the closer they got to the beach.

“I’ll unleash all my unholy power if they so much as peck this ice cream,” Claire said, eyeing a particularly nasty looking little bastard.

“Dinna fash, my lass,” Jamie said gallantly, raising his spoon like Excalibur. “No harm shall befall ye, or yer precious frozen treat. No’ so long as I’m wi’ ye.”

“My hero.” She batted her lashes at him, then craned her neck and puckered her lips, and he obliged her, kissing her soundly.

The farther along the beach they wandered, the less and less people they encountered, and Claire began scouting locations where they could tuck themselves away for even a few moments of privacy. She certainly couldn’t fully have him here, but a few sloppy kisses and heavy touches would do the trick. Her eyes flicked to a dock with a boat on the end, no people to be found on it. She gave him a mischievous look and began tugging him toward it.

“I ken that look well enough,” Jamie said, matching her mischief. “And I’ll no’ be giving in to ye.”

She stuck out her lip in her most convincing pout. “Why ever not?”

“I dinna trust ye no’ to get us arrested for public indecency. No’ with that gleam in yer eye.”

“I’ll be good! I promise.” She stopped tugging so she could press herself flush against him, arching her back just enough that her breasts were the first thing that came in contact with him. “Come on, love…I promise I’ll behave.”

She fully expected him to grab her hips, press his hardness into her with a growl, and accept defeat.

But instead, he just grinned. Not even a smirk, a full-faced grin.

“If ye can catch me, ye can have yer way wi’ me.”

“What—?”

And then before she could blink, Jamie was running, sprinting away from her, kicking up sand in his wake.

“You bastard!”

She hiked up her skirts and chased after him as fast as her bare feet could carry her in the sand. She lost track of how long she spent going after him, but he was not relenting, not letting her catch up. They were both laughing their heads off, whooping, Claire calling after him until her voice was hoarse. He finally stopped, appearing to not be exhausted in the slightest, and she slowed herself to a jog, chest heaving and burning.

“You absolute maniac,” she panted. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

She was laughing as she said it, and he laughed with her, reaching out his hand and taking it when she caught up. He kissed her hand.

“My legs feel like jell-o. You’d better be planning on carrying me back.”

“Aye, of course,” he said automatically. “But I want to show ye something first.���

She cocked a brow skeptically.

“Come on.”

He tugged on her hand, and out of sheer exhaustion, she allowed him to lead the way. They were walking right to a dock, and before Claire could exasperatedly complain that she’d been trying to do the same thing before he started that marathon, she realized.

There were candles lining every step of the boardwalk, a string of lights wrapped around each wooden post along the way. Across the top was a zigzag of more lights, held in place by thin metal poles attached to the wooden posts. She hadn’t seen it, even as she was running right toward it. She’d had her eyes locked on Jamie’s bright red hair all the while, desperate to catch up to him.

“What…what is all this…?” She was still out of breath, and on top of it her breath was gone for an entirely different reason.

He didn’t say anything, just kept his hand laced with hers and continued walking her down to the end of the pier.

“This is beautiful…is this always here…? I don’t understand…”

A familiar humming noise took her out of her dumbstruck admiration of the twinkling beauty, and she whipped her head around. “Jamie…what…?” Squinting, Claire could make out two figures at the opposite end of the pier, and a bouncing little thing in front of them.

Before she could process what was happening, she felt him take her other hand. She turned her head to question him, but was stunned into silence by the look on his face.

He was radiant.

The string of lights painted glowing streaks in his hair and twinkled in his eyes. And God, his eyes…they were bigger than she’d ever seen; she may very well have drowned in them if he didn’t start speaking.

“Claire, I…” His voice broke, and he cleared his throat. The hand that was grasping hers was trembling.

“Jamie…?”

“You are…the most remarkable woman I’ve ever met,” he continued, holding her gaze and squeezing her hand tighter. “The first time I saw ye I was…blown away by how big yer heart was. The way ye looked at Faith, the way she smiled at ye…I knew. I knew ye were special. And I didna realize at the time, but ye’d already crawled into this hole in my heart that was made for you. Both of you.”

Claire’s eyes welled up with tears, and it very suddenly hit her exactly what was happening.

“I know the pain ye’ve seen, mo ghraidh, I know the fear and doubt that plagues ye. But I…” He cleared his throat again, and then lowered himself to the ground, on one knee.

A single tear escaped Claire’s eye, trickling down as her breath hitched in her throat.

“I will never, never stop trying to be worthy of ye, Claire. I swear to ye on my life that I will be a good husband, and…a good father. You deserve to be loved beyond measure. And I…I do, mo sorcha. I love you wi’ every ounce of my being.”

Claire was fully sobbing now, and his thumb rubbed over her knuckles as his other hand reached into his pocket.

“So will you, Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp, make me the luckiest man in the world?” He opened the box, revealing the beautiful sparkling ring within. “Will ye marry me, Sassenach?”

Claire could not speak. She nodded vigorously, more ridiculous sobs sputtering from her. Jamie’s strained, concentrated face erupted into the most glorious smile she had ever seen. He leapt to his feet and Claire threw her arms around his neck, and he encircled her waist, lifting her off the ground and spinning her. He exclaimed loudly in Gaelic, laughing joyously, and Claire sputtered her own laughter in between sobs.

He finally put her down, and Claire seized his face in her hands and pressed her lips to his, and he kissed her back passionately. When they pulled apart, Jamie was holding the ring, a small but beautiful rock set within it, and she allowed him to slip it on.

“Oh, love…” she croaked out, and he brought her hand to his lips and fervently kissed the ring.

Something suddenly collided with Claire’s legs, and she cried out a bit in shock. Jamie laughed again as Claire turned around and looked down to see Faith clinging to her legs. Looking up, she could now see that the figures in the distance were Gail and Joe.

“You…” She turned back to Jamie. “You had this all planned, didn’t you?”

Jamie just beamed at her, his eyes glistening with tears. Claire let out a joyous laugh and sank to her knees in front of Faith.

“Hello, lovie….” She wrapped her arms around her and squeezed tight, rocking her gently. “Oh, look at you…” Claire pulled back so she could see Faith, dressed in a beautiful little dress, blue and purple and frilly, white stockings and her perfect little white shoes. When she’d left her with Leina, she was still in her pajamas from the night before, and the plan had seemingly been to leave it that way.

“Look at us, hm?” Claire said, sniffling as she stroked Faith’s hair. “All dressed up? Mummy is going to be married, darling.” Claire’s voice broke, and she laughed through more tears. “See, Faith?” She held up her hand, and Faith immediately began fiddling with the rock. “This means I’m going to be a bride, baby.”

God…I can’t believe it.

A hand suddenly touched her shoulder, and she looked behind her to see that Jamie had crouched down beside her.

“I’ve, ehm, got something for her, too,” he said, his nervousness returning.

Claire’s heart felt fit to burst as her eyes landed on the pink velvet box in his hand.

“With yer permission, Claire…” Jamie took a deep, stuttering breath. “I’d like to ask yer daughter to let me be her father.”

Claire’s chin quivered again, her eyes immediately welling up. She nodded, swallowing thickly, and then fervently kissed Jamie’s cheek before standing up to allow him to proceed.

——

Jamie took a steadying breath before straightening himself out, getting up on his knee the way he’d just done before Claire.

“Hello, wean,” he said. She was fiddling with her skirt and twirling it back and forth, staring intently at its sparkles.

“Faith, a leannan, can ye look at my eyes?” He gently poked her chin with his finger, and she looked up, only to become enraptured by the string of lights above her head.

“D’ye like the lights, Faith?” Jamie flicked her chin with his middle finger, signing light. She giggled and snatched his hand in both of hers. “Ah, ye got me,” he teased, bringing her hands to his lips and kissing them. “I like the lights too, ye ken. Reminds me of our special day in our fairy den. D’ye remember?” She hummed a bit, freeing one of her hands from his grip to flap it, saying fairy

“Aye, that’s right. Very good, Faith.” He took her hand again in hopes of keeping her attention. “I had lots of fun that day, Faith. In fact, I have lots of fun whenever I’m with ye. Because ye’re a very special lass. D’ye ken that?”

She started fiddling with the wee hairs on his hands, giggling to herself.

“I asked yer Mummy a very important question, Faith. I asked her if she wanted to be my wife. And I gave her a special present to celebrate, a very pretty ring. D’ye like the ring?” She nodded absently, still twirling the little hairs. “Well, I’m glad to hear it. Because I’ve got a special present fer you, too.”

That got her attention. She whipped her head up and looked at him, humming and then opening her mouth with an excited groan. Jamie chuckled softly and held the box up to her. She stroked the velvet box with her hands before pressing her cheek into it, likely enjoying its softness.

“Lovely box, is it no’?” he teased, and then gently lifted her chin to pick her head up off the box. “Let’s look inside, aye?”

Before Faith could snatch the box again or get upset, he popped it open.

“See what I’ve got for ye? Look.” He let Faith take it in her hands. “It’s a crown, see? And look what it says. F-A-I-T-H.” He signed each letter to her as he said it. “Faith. That’s yer name, aye?” She hummed, biting her lip with her smile. “Princess Faith, it says.

“D’ye ken that I love ye, Faith?” His voice got tight, his eyes welling up. “I think I fell in love wi’ you just as quickly as I did yer mam.” He tucked a curl behind her ear. He kept his hand there, cupping her cheek, as he signed I love you with his free hand. “See, a leannan? I love you.”

Faith gave a high pitched, squealing giggle, bouncing as she returned the sign. Jamie uttered a breathy laugh, a single tear trickling down his cheek. He heard a tiny sob from above him, and wasn’t surprised to feel Claire’s hand grasp his shoulder.

“Good girl, Faith,” Jamie whispered, rubbing a circle on her cheek with his thumb. “It makes me verra happy that ye love me, too.” He signed happy, smiling widely. “Are ye happy, Faith?” She hummed, jiggling her hands and nodding. “Good, good lass.” He sniffled, blinking away more tears, reaching to his own shoulder to cover Claire’s hand in his.

“I promise to always love ye, and protect ye, and do right by ye, just as I will yer mam.” He gave Claire’s hand a squeeze. “Will ye be my wee princess, Faith?” He poked a finger at the necklace, his fingertip cooling at the touch of the metal. “Will ye let me be yer Da?” He spread his fingers, poking his thumb to his forehead.

Faith hummed and jiggled a bit, but Jamie held the sign patiently. After a few seconds, she giggled, and then copied him exactly, thumb on forehead. Fingers splayed.

Da.

Jamie laughed out loud, fit to burst with joy. He released Claire’s hand to wrap his arms around his wee girl, and Joe and Gail broke into applause. He felt Claire fall to her knees beside him, and his heart cracked open to hear her openly weeping. He folded her into his embrace as well, and she pressed her face into the crook of his neck, fisting his jacket in one hand, caressing Faith’s curls in the other.

“Oh, Jamie…” she blubbered against his skin. “I love you…”

“I love you, too, mo chridhe. Wi’ my whole heart.”

When the three of them finally released each other from their embrace, Jamie freed the necklace from the box and fastened it around Faith’s neck. She rubbed it between her fingers, pulled it up and rubbed it on her cheek, and jiggled it in her hands.

“It’s beautiful, Jamie,” Claire breathed against his neck.

“D’ye think she likes it?”

“She does.”

“D’ye think she…understands?”

They looked at Faith for a moment, grinning from ear to ear as she fiddled with her necklace.

“I think she does.” Claire pressed a kiss into the crook of his neck. “If nothing else, she knows that you love her, Jamie.” Claire met his eye and held up the sign, trembling lips curling into a smile. He repeated the sign, touching their fingers together as he’d often seen mother and daughter do, and their foreheads rested together. “And she loves you, too. She doesn’t say what she doesn’t mean.”

A tear slipped from Jamie’s eye and trickled down Claire’s nose, and they kissed one another sweetly, I love you’s still pressed together.

Gail and Joe suddenly got closer, calling Faith over to them. Jamie broke into a wide grin, watching from the corner of his eye; the last part of the plan was nearly complete.

“Go on, baby,” Gail said. “Go put them on, just like we practiced.”

Faith scampered back to them, bounding and skipping and squealing with glee. Jamie exchanged a look with Claire, who seemed utterly bewildered, and who somehow looked completely and utterly beautiful, even red and swollen from tears of joy.

Jamie ducked his head and allowed Faith to clumsily place the hat atop his head, and then watched as she plopped the one with the bow on Claire. Faith squealed again and jumped up and down, clapping her hands in triumph and then flapping relentlessly.

“What on Earth…?” Claire turned to look at Jamie, and then burst into laughter.

Faith had put Mickey Mouse ears on them both — well, Minnie Mouse for Claire if you accounted for the red bow.

“D’ye no’ find me rather dashing?” he teased, and Claire laughed all the harder. “Here. Look.”

Jamie removed the hat, and Claire did the same, then Jamie held them side by side. Claire exhaled with a breathy laugh, leaning her cheek into Jamie’s shoulder as she read the words that Jamie had had embroidered onto the backs, his and hers respectively:

I asked

I said yes!

[shoichee]

hiii tysm for keeping this fandom alive... i was wondering if i could request hugging hcs for Moriyama, Kasamatsu, and Hayakawa? like what kind of hugs do they give, when, etc.?

BANGER REQUEST THIS IS SUCH A UNIQUE ONE I LOVE THIS THANK YOU ANON.... i hope you’re still around :^) 

[Headcanons]

Moriyama Yoshitaka

this guy is literally the definition of touch-starved LOL

once he finds his special someone, they’re gonna need to prepare themselves for TONS of verbal affection… even if they don’t get his convoluted words half the time

that being said, he wouldn’t be awkward with hugs, but it’s his misinterpretations and poor executions of the hugs that make things awkward

in his MIND, he THINKS he’s being mega suave and totally seducing you with his mannerisms, and you’re just here like, “umm… you know you can just… ask for a hug if you wanted one.”

“According to my research though, it’s better to approach this more poetically in order to be seen in a more profound light with the person you like.”

“Huh? Are you actually trusting the internet more than me about what I want—”

“Sorry, sorry, here,” he would mumble in defeat and immediately bring you to nestle your head against his chest

this type of interaction would be very frequent in the early stages of your shared relationship, where Moriyama would try to salvage his poor social skills by hugging you against body, and him putting his hand to cradle your head while the other is around your waist

of course, even if you were exasperated with him, you can’t help but eventually hug him back and snuggle closer

canon: he’d have unique scents on him every once in a while, because he’s someone to use scented deodorant sprays (like citrus, in the Replace novel)

he’d actually be unintentionally charismatic with his actions? like, if he doesn’t open his mouth and wordlessly hugs you, his body just knows how to accommodate you:

sad? happy? clingy? affectionate? lazy? when he sees your current mood, he just somehow knows what type of hugs to give you…

he thinks the internet advice is working, but in reality, he’s just inherently very in-tuned with people’s emotions; for example, he’s one of the few people who can see straight through Kasamatsu and his inner struggles, and he’s always the first person to suggest roundabout ways to make him relax

so because of this, sometimes he’d make the most confusing statements and random trivias he found from his “research” just to try to look for an opportunity to sneak up and glomp on you “tactfully” (never works, and you end up sighing that *sigh* before letting yourself be open on purpose for Moriyama to sneak in with a hug)

this dude is the type of guy who’d find every opportunity to hug you in front of his teammates to subtly show off how “experienced” he was in dating LOL and then he’d probably say something like, “If you follow the signs I told you guys about, you’ll all be able to have cute dates too, you know…” all while giving that little comical pout and index finger point at them… maybe flipping his bang to the side with that finger too…

but again, he’s touch-starved, so deep inside, he really, REALLY likes hugging you and wants to touch you every moment he gets

whenever he hugs you, he’s at his most “normal,” where he drops the whole “fate, elements, advice” talk and just has normal conversations and genuine muses… although a random corny line might slip out of habit

he hugs you before school, during school, after school, but rarely during practice or games or anything like that… which is surprisingly odd

he’ll hug you in front of his teammates during school no problem, but if it’s right before a practice or a game, he usually doesn’t, mostly because he’s usually very concentrated on the upcoming challenge… and not to mention, he’s a 3rd-year, so he does want to set a good example for the underclassmen in prioritizing the team first

he has no problem scouting for your face on the stands before a game starts though, and of course, he’d pester his team about how cute you looked in the stands

once games end, if you allowed him, he’d usually jog straight to you and would try to give you a quick hug before he’d go back to his teammates to the lockers

Kasamatsu Yukio

touch-starved guy #2, but is also afraid of physical contact

not because he doesn’t like it, but the concept of someone hugging him or him hugging someone for ROMANTIC reasons is so foreign

it’s the fact that he knows he’ll get super sweaty, clammy, and stiff and he KNOWS he’d focus on everything but also on nothing, and at that point he’ll just shut down—

so touch-starved that when he gets a hug from you, he’d be hyper-fixated on EVERYTHING about you and where you’re touching, and his brain would just overload

so the result is the same old Yukio being frozen and stammery and red

in other words, YOU have to initiate the hugs

whenever you hug him, he’s gonna first flinch and then respond by stiffly holding his arms out to support your weight against his body… and then after a few seconds of contact, he would awkwardly pat his two hands on your back in this loose hug he’s doing LOL

all while being red, of course

but how much he hugs depends on how much you go up to him for hugs; as much as he grumbles and stammers and lamely complains, he’d never reject any of your hugs, even with the hesitant reciprocation

if you two are alone, he’s much quicker to hug you back… if you hug him in public or in front of his teammates, he’s more likely to be frozen stiff and slower to pat your arms in a shy hug

however, the times when Kasamatsu would be at his lowest and most emotional are when Kasamatsu initiates the hugs first, often out of nowhere with fierce, tight holds while nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck/top of your shoulder

once he reveals his most vulnerable side like this to you in hugging you, it’d be huge milestone in which he would be more inclined to initiate physical contact without being in a flustered state

all in all, give the poor captain some time… eventually when you’ll reach a certain part of your relationship (see bullet points above), he’ll be comfortable enough to hug you without being a mess

so when he finally gets to this point, he will always ask you for consent (or at least give you a heads up) before he hugs you or physically touches you with, “May I…?” or “Do you mind…?”

and most of the time, or near always, you’d reply, “Of course, Yukio.”

“Th-That’s good…”

he’s still a reserved individual with a captain’s duty to uphold, so he’s not going to be handsy on his end in front of people; he’d literally DIE of embarrassment

expect “loose” hugs from him, he’s not gonna smush your face into his chest or give those extremely tight hugs, generally speaking

so what should you expect from his hugs? assuming that you hugged him first, his hands will always pat your back or rub soothing patterns of circles and swirls, almost in an unconscious effort to try to show you that he does love these hugs from you, even if it’s hard for him to show and express that sometimes

or if he has those shy moments, he’d try to half-heartedly pry you off in a grumbling fluster, but after grasping your arms around his waist, he’d immediately give in and just rub those familiar patterns on your upper arms while trying to convince you to wait until you’re alone with him to do these things

if he senses some sketchy people nearby or if you’re in a crowd full of strangers, expect a hand around your shoulder as he ushers you slightly closer to his side with a serious glint in his eyes, analyzing your surroundings (again, this will only happen once your relationship reaches at a later stage)

it’s only when the “danger” passes by and with his hand still on you that he realizes what he did and starts getting embarrassed again

key phrase with the Kaijō captain is: “There’s a time and place for everything.”

Hayakawa Mitsuhiro

touch-starved guy #3, but he’s not afraid to pounce on you for the hugs

ever since he miraculously got into a relationship with you (according to his teammates, anyways), slapping his own cheeks to get himself in the mood for rebounding wasn’t as appealing anymore

not when he has you to hug and accidentally squeeze the life out of you

“Oh!! A(l)e you he(l)e to chee(l) me on, (y/n)-san?!”

“M-Mitsu… I can’t… breathe—”

“O-Oh! So(l)(l)y…! I [will learn] to be mo(l)e ca(l)efu(r) next time!”

“Mitsuhiro, please don’t worry about me! Go back to your teammates… they’re waiting for you. Good luck on the game, okay?”

Hayakawa treats hugging like he does with basketball, putting 100% of his effort and enthusiasm into it… and oftentimes, his hugs can be too… explosive? they can be quite abrupt and intense

his energy alone would normally scare away everyone—hell, a lot of times, his teammates can’t tolerate it… so everyone always wonders how you never seem bothered by his tendencies

but to you, his bear hugs make you feel very, very secure and loved, since he never has qualms about hugging in public because he’s always focused on you or the courts

initially though, his hugs definitely crushed your figure into smithereens, mostly because he’s never had to keep his strength in check

and he’s never had anything close to an intimate relationship, so he’d probably need a lot of time and positive encouragement/advice for him to learn how to be more delicate (or rather, tactful) when initiating hugs

he’s SO earnest that he’d totally treat your words/encouragement as a serious lesson and would try to “practice” hugging and ask:

“Is this okay, (y/n)-san?!”

if you’re not around, he’d totally hug his teammates out of nowhere and definitely receive a few punches or kicks out of retaliation

“WHAT THE HELL?”

“I am p(l)acticing [how to] hug, Kasamatsu-senpai!”

“Don’t do that! People will get the wrong idea!!”

“Why? Don’t we a(r)ways p(l)actice togethe(l) as a team, captain?!”

“That’s completely different!!”

he has no tact, so whenever he sees you, expect a fierce hug as a greeting every time… unless you tell him that you’re not a fan of the constant hugging or want to save it for private moments, he’s gonna keep doing it

just as your hugs hype him up for anything upcoming, when you hug him a certain way, they also have a calming effect on this excitable boy too

Kasamatsu literally reveres you because you’re the only one who can keep him in check

it’s when you do your calming hugs (that gentle squeeze around his torso as you slowly nuzzle against him) that his heartbeat slightly slows down and his breath exhales out steadily to let out the pent-up steam

those types of hugs from your end would allow you to see a “less-energetic” side of him, where his voice might still be loud, but at least it’s still relatively indoor voice

still, a lot of his sentences are either incomprehensible mumbles or butchered exclaims, no in-between

“Sometimes, it’s good for your body and mind to stop and relax, y’know?”

“I-Is that so…! You a(l)e very knowled[geable] about these things! I [think] that is ve(l)y coo(r)…”

“You say that, but you’re one of the best offensive rebound players in the nation. That’s so much cooler, Mitsuhiro.”

“If I was coo(r) (r)ike you say, I wonde(l) why peop(r)e (l)un away [when I try] to ta(r)k? Mo(l)iyama-senpai says [it is because] I ‘have no cha(l)m’… I must wo(l)k ha(l)der [if that is the case]!”

“Well, I think your attitude and energy can be very refreshing. Everytime I see you, I can’t help but be motivated to work hard and accomplish like you do.”

“I am ve(l)y touched, (y/n)-san…!”

all in all, he will hug you every chance he gets (except when Kasamatsu roundhouse kicks him to curb him) and accepts all hugs from you (while being red and a little shy, but still enthusiastic)

prepare your waist/torso to be constantly crushed embraced, because that’s where his arms will always be around

[just-dreaming-marvel]

It’s Always Been You ~ 144

OUT OF TIME MASTERLIST

IT’S ALWAYS BEEN YOU MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,660ish

Summary: The time travel mission gets started.

Notes: You must read Out Of Time in order to understand this. The chapter numbers continue from Out Of Time.

“I’m going to look the suits over one last time before looking my reactor over,” Tony whispered to Y/N. “Are you going to be okay alone for a little while?”

“I’ll be fine,” she responded. “I need some time alone anyway.”

“Okay. I love you.”

“Love you too.” 

They shared a brief kiss before Tony headed for the lab and Y/N went outside. She was craving a run, wanting time to short through her thoughts. She began with a slow jog, slowly increasing her speed the more she thought about everything that had happened and could possibly happen. 

Rounding the track for the seventh time, she noticed Steve waiting. She rolled her eyes and pushed herself to run faster passed him. Too bad Y/N wasn’t a super soldier too, he quickly caught up with her.

“We need to talk,” Steve said, running beside her.

“I’m done talking,” she retorted, trying to push herself harder.

Steve sighed and easily caught up with her again. “Well I’m not. Can you stop for a second?”

“No.”

“Y/N, I just want to talk.”

“And I don’t want to listen.”

“Please.”

“Steve, I really don’t want to do this—“

“I’m sorry.”

Those words had Y/N skidding to a sudden stop. She was panting, too shocked to turn around. As soon as the words left his mouth, Steve had stopped. They were a few feet apart, but it felt like miles.

“What?” Y/N breathed out, slowly turning around.

“I’m sorry,” her brother repeated. “And in saying that, I know that it’s not enough. But… I’m sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for exactly? Bringing me along with you back in the 40s? Me waking up before you? You not accepting that I’m different now then I was, and that’s okay? Or for you not trusting me? For doubting me?”

“For all of it. I’m sorry that I brought you along on that world tour. I’m sorry that you fell from the ship and I couldn’t save you. I’m sorry that you had to spend years without any family members, believing that Bucky and I were dead. I can’t—“ He shook his head. “I can’t even imagine how lonely that felt. Because I woke up and I still had you. Though, you had changed…. And I’m sorry for not accepting it sooner. I… I guess I’m just hurt because you kept those things for me. Out of all people, you kept all these things from me, your twin. Your abilities, Coulson, your knowledge of the Stones… you knew so much, yet you didn’t share it…. And… And I guess I’m jealous.”

“Jealous? Of what?”

“You’ve found someone who loves you and fights for you. And you fight for equally in return. You guys lean on each other through everything, which is so admirable. And you have Morgan, who is the greatest thing. I love her so much.”

“She loves you too.”

“I want what you have… and I haven’t been able to find it. It’s killing me… the only person who I’ve ever wanted a family with was Peggy. And that’s not an option.”

“You’ll find someone better than her. I know it’s hard to believe, but you will.”

“I’m sorry, for everything. I really am.” Y/N was hesitant to believe Steve, and he could tell. “I don’t want to go into tomorrow, whatever may happen, without having cleared things up with you. I don’t want to do tomorrow without you knowing that I do love you and I do trust you…. Can you forgive me?”

Y/N bit her lips and looked away, trying to keep the emotions at bay and failing. She looked back at her brother and took a deep breath. “Yes… I forgive you.”

Steve rushed up and bear hugged his sister. She quickly wrapped her arms around him as well.

“I’m so sorry,” Steve whispered.

“I know,” she replied. “I am too. Let’s try and not be at each other’s throats constantly.”

“I think I can do that.” He pulled away, still holding onto her arms. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Putting up with me.”

“Well, I haven’t exactly made it easy on you either.”

“Right. Have you called Morgan yet tonight?”

“I haven’t, but she’s probably already in bed.”

“Do you think we could try? I want to see her, before anything happens tomorrow.”

“Good thing I have her on the line right here, Cap,” Tony stated, walking towards the twins.

“Uncle Steve!!!” Morgan squealed from the phone.

“Mo!!” Steve quickly swiped the phone from Tony. “How’s my favorite niece doing?”

“Good! Happy and Pepper let me swim in the lake today!”

“What?!” Y/N exclaimed, pushing to get into the view of the camera. “It’s October!”

“I didn’t— Morgan give me the phone,” Happy ordered. He swiped it from the little girl. “We didn’t let her! She snuck out.”

“Way to go, Mo!” Tony cheered.

Y/N smacked his arm. “Don’t encourage this,” she scolded.

“Sorry.”

“I’m sorry, momma,” Morgan said sadly, taking the phone back from Happy. 

“It’s okay, sweetie,” Y/N replied. “I just don’t want you to get sick. Okay?”

“Okay… when are you and daddy coming home?”

Y/N made eye-contact with the men surrounding her before looking back at her daughter. “Hopefully tomorrow night, or the next day.”

“Yay! Will Uncle Steve be coming with you?” Y/N looked at Steve.

“Of course,” Steve answered. “I need some time with my biggest fan.”

“Yay!!!!!”

“Okay,” Tony took the phone, “it’s time to go to bed, little miss. We love you.”

“Love you 3000!”

“Love you baby,” Y/N said as Tony hung up the phone. “This is going to work, right?” She looked at the men, pleading with her eyes. “We’re going to get the Stones, bring everyone back, and no one is going to die…. Right?”

Tony cupped her face and her hands when to grab onto his wrists. “Nothing is going to happen,” Tony promised her. “We are all going to be okay. And we,” he paused for a brief kiss on her lips, “are going to get back to Morgan safely.”

“Tony’s right,” Steve agreed. Tony broke contact with Y/N’s face, bringing an arm around her waist and pulling her into his side. “We’re going to get through this.”

“I hope so,” she whispered.

~~~

Tony and Y/N said goodnight to Steve and headed straight for their room. The door had barely shut before Tony had her up against the wall and his tongue in her mouth. Y/N willing grasped onto him, letting him take control.

“I love you,” he murmured against her as they worked together to tear their clothes off. “I love you… I love you.”

“Are you trying to make up for us not having sex when we said we would?” She panted ever so slightly.

“Maybe,” he smirked, lifting her up. “Or maybe, I just want to show my wife how much I love her before we head off to the past tomorrow.” He gently laid her on the bed and he knelt over her. He ran his fingers down the side of her face. “I love you,” he repeated.

“And I love you… now, are we doing to do it? Or are you going to make me beg?”

~~~

The Team could feel the weight of their mission when they woke up in the morning. Getting geared up, everyone checked everything over numerous times. Scared to over look anything. The Team headed to the platform together, with Steve leading the charge. Bruce stopped at the control panel as the rest walked up onto the platform. They each took a position around where the opening would be, Y/N in the middle of Steve and Tony. They all looked at their Captain to say something before they headed off. With a sigh and a second to get his thoughts together, Steve began:

“Five years ago, we lost. All of us. We lost friends… We lost family… We lost a part of ourselves. Today, we have a chance to take it all back. You know your teams, you know your missions. Get the stones, get them back. One round trip each. No mistakes. No do-overs. Most of us are going somewhere we know. But it doesn't mean we should know what to expect. Be careful. Look out for each other. This is the fight of our lives. And we're gonna win.” Looking passed Y/N, Steve and Tony shared a look. “Whatever it takes. Good luck.”

“He’s pretty good at that,” Rocket commented.

“Right?” Scott agreed.

“Alright. You heard the man,” Tony said. “Stroke those keys, jolly green.”

“Tractors engaged,” Bruce responded.

Tony reached over to Y/N and tugged her into him, landed a loving kiss on her lips. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she responded.

Bruce joined them on the platform and the quantum realm opened up. Tony and Y/N separated, looking down at the swirling colors. Natasha was smiling excitedly.

Turning to Steve, she said, “See you in a minute.”

Steve gave her a small smile in response before the Team’s helmets formed and they shrunk, entering the quantum realm. They were all together at first, until their GPS’ split the groups up to where they were heading. Tony, Steve, Y/N, Bruce, and Scott landed in New York 2012, in the midst of the Battle of New York. Their suits disappeared and Y/N immediately gasped loudly, stumbling back. Tony and Steve were quickly at her side to stable.

“Honey? Honey, talk to me,” Tony urged as Y/N’s breathing matched her rapid heartbeat. “What’s going on?”

“Th-The Stones,” she gasped. She could feel the connection forming once again. “They… I can…”

“Can you control them?” Steve questioned, trying to see if he could see what Y/N was trying to get at.

She nodded. “Yes.”

“Do you need to sit down?” Tony wondered.

“I’ll be fine. I just…” The buzzing began, making Y/N cringe. “I just need a second. But you guys can start without me. It shouldn’t be hard for me to catch up.”

“You sure?” Steve asked.

“I’m sure.”

“Alright then, we all have our assignments. Two Stones uptown, one Stone, down. Stay low. Keep an eye on the clock.”

Suddenly 2012 Hulk passed by their alleyway, smashing everything along his way. Bruce put his hand on his face, embarrassed. Steve looked at him.

“Feel free to smash a few things along the way,” Steve said.

“I think it’s gratuitous, but whatever,” Bruce muttered. He looked Y/N’s way. “You coming?”

“Yeah,” she responded. She leaned over and kissed Tony, pulling him closer by his neck. “Please be save.”

“Always,” he smirked. The two shared one last kiss before Y/N broke off and headed Bruce’s way.

“Need a lift?” Bruce asked, tearing off his shirt.

“Nah,” she grinned, opening a portal behind her. “I think I have a better way.”

“Jealous!” Scott exclaimed. “Do we have to— Ahh!!”

Scott failed to finish what he was saying, due to the fact that Y/N had opened portals beneath the others. She waved and blew a kiss as they fell through, landing them behind the Tower. She chuckled as she went through her portal, Bruce following. Closing the portal, Y/N and Bruce looked to see that they were in the Sanctum where they had met Dr. Strange.

“Hello?” Y/N said. “Is anyone—ah!”

Her trick was played on her and Bruce. The two of them falling through a portal and onto the roof.

“Careful,” the Ancient One warned. “I just had the floors waxed.”

“I’m looking for Doctor Strange,” Bruce said, him and Y/N standing up.

“You’re about… five years too early. Stephen Strange is currently performing surgery about twenty blocks that way.” She pointed. “But you should have known that already.” She looked right at Y/N. “What do you want from him?”

“That, actually.” Bruce pointed towards the necklace around her neck.

“Ah! I’m afraid not.”

“Sorry, but I wasn’t asking.”

“Maybe we should—“

“You don’t want to do this,” the Ancient One interrupted Y/N.

“Ah, you’re right, I don’t,” Bruce responded. He made a grab from he necklace. “But we need that Stone, and we don’t have time to beat it—“

The Ancient One quickly pushed Bruce’ astral form out of his body. Bruce, who now looked more human, stared at the Ancient One horrified.

“Let’s start over,” the Ancient One said, “shall we?”

“You know who I am?” Y/N asked.

“I do. But, do you know who are?”

“I’m getting there. And I’m so sorry to bug, but we really need that Time Stone.”

“No.”

“Do you know what happened?”

“I do.”

“Then you know why we need it.”

“Still, a no."

“Please, please,” Bruce, still in astral form, begged.

“I’m sorry, I can’t help you two. If I give up the Time Stone to help your reality, I’m dooming my own.”

“With all due respect, I’m not sure the science really supports that.”

The Ancient One created a projection of a long ray, simulating the flow of time. Projections of the Stones hovered above it.

“The Infinity Stones create what you experience as the flow of time. Remove one Stone and that flow splits,” she explained before she plucked the Time Stone projection away and pointed at the diverging line. “Now, this may benefit your reality, but my new one… not so much. In this new branched reality, without our chief weapon against the forces of darkness, our world will be overrun. Millions will suffer. So, tell me, can your science prevent all that?”

“No, but we can erase it,” Bruce retorted. “Because once we are done with the stones, we can return each one to its own timeline at the moment it was taken. So, chronologically,” he held the Time Stone projection, “in that reality,” he set it back, “it never left.” The diverging line disappeared.

“But you are leaving out the most important part. In order to return the Stones, someone would have to survive.”

“We will. I will. I promise.”

“I can’t risk this reality on a promise. It is the duty of the Sorcerer Supreme to protect the Time Stone.” She turned away.

“Then, why the hell did Strange give it away?”

She turned back, shocked. “What did you say?”

“Strange, he gave it away,” Y/N repeated, surprised that the Ancient One didn’t know since she seemed to know everything. “He gave it to Thanos.”

“Willingly?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“We have no idea,” Bruce answered. “Maybe he made a mistake.”

“Or I did.” She returned Bruce into his body and opened her necklace, revealing the Time Stone. “Strange is meant to be the best of us.”

“Ancient One, please trust us,” Y/N pled. “I am realizing now you only know so much, but you know what I am meant to do. And I cannot do it without the Stones. They were destroyed and I have no access to them. We need the Stone so that we can bring everyone back and… and so that I can complete whatever calling the Stones have put upon me… Strange knew the calling as well. So he must have given the Time Stone away for a reason.”

“I fear you might be right.” She handed Y/N the Time Stone.

“I’m counting on you two. We all are.”

“Thank you.” 

Y/N handed the Stone over to Bruce, who had something to put it in. Bruce nodded before pressing a button and disappearing. Before Y/N could follow after him, the Ancient One called out to her.

“Y/N.” Y/N stopped and turned. “Before you go, you might want to check on your husband and brother.”

“What? Is something wrong?”

“Just go to their meeting place. And, Y/N, be careful.”

next chapter >

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[adsosfraser]

The Stone’s Toll - Chapter Eleven

Read on AO3

They had been so careful. On the supposedly most fertile days of her courses, they had, well they had done other things. She religiously took her vial of posies and fennel each day and used the protection provided from her twentieth-century life. For months now. Still, it wasn’t enough, and she knew the only one hundred percent assured prevention was abstinence. She felt the ghost of a flutter in her womb. 

 Jamie found Claire on the floor next to their bed, her cheeks stained with tracks of tears and snot crusted against the deer pelt that her face was squished into. The chamber pot full of her sickness had been shoved away from her on the wood in her dejected anger. 

“Is it true Claire?”

 “Can ye..” he swallowed thickly. “Yer wee herbs can ye-“

 “No, that’s the last thing I want Jamie! God!” Her palms rubbed into her eye sockets. “I just wish- there wasn’t so much uncertainty. I could never survive- Jamie promise me, if it ever came down to it, you would save the child, not me.”

 “Claire,“ he levelled a determined gaze at her. ”That will never happen. Ever. That I will promise ye.”

 “But it might. You made me promise, should the time come, that I’d go through the stones. Of course, I was reluctant, but I did give you that promise. I followed through on it. Now you promise me.” 

 “Aye Claire, I’ll save the bairn, but it’ll no’ come to that.”

 “I’m going to instruct you. On how to help me. No matter if it goes wrong or the delivery is perfect.”

 “Ye wouldna prefer someone else? A woman?”

 “You’re the only one that I would trust.” She smirked in anticipation of her next words. “And you’re the one who did this to me, you can see it through.” 

 “Ye seemed pretty enthusiastic, if not overly pleased the many times I did that to ye. And I seem to recall the many times ye were the one clawing at me.” 

 She laughed at the big goof and then sighed into his embrace, relieving her stress and worry into him. 

 What if the baby never even made it long enough to make its true presence known? What if Jamie did have to follow through in his presence? Would she be able to survive the birth? She’d never given birth to a live, full-term baby yet. Or, even worse, would she be a terrible mother? When her mind drifted to these thoughts, she shook her head out of the daze. Stress wasn’t good for the baby. And if she constantly worried about her child’s health, her thoughts may very well become a self-fulfilling prophecy.

 It was March, and flowers and trees were slowly crawling out of their hibernation. Claire’s pregnancy felt… off from how she carried Faith. It didn’t raise alarm for her baby’s health, but she did have her suspicions.

 “What is it Sassenach? Ye’re smiling so hard I fear yer lips will fall off.” 

 “Well, I have been a bit… bigger than usual.” 

 “Aye, yer round wi’ my bairn. And I’m no’ complaining one bit. Wi’ yer fine plump arse even bigger than usual.” He grasped a healthy amount of said body part and smirked.

 “Well, I think I’m carrying twins.” 

 “Ifrinn!” All the colour drained from his face. “Two bairns? Two bairns! Sassenach!” He gripped her in his arms as joyous laughter rumbled through his chest and her feet left the floor. More words of love in his native language rumbled out and her eyes crinkled with her smile. 

 When she was absolutely sure it was twins, Jamie’s daily ritual of one kiss to her belly each morning and night turned into two kisses on either side of her stretched skin. 

 Not only did one life depend on her at once, but now two. She was terrified. Even with constant reassurance from Jamie that the bairns kicking in her stomach were braw, a twitch of doubt seeped into her mind. 

 To ease her worry, she thought of something that could reassure her. She traced the design onto the back of a discarded pamphlet. A pinard horn. So Jamie could hear the strong heartbeats of the babies tumbling within her belly. Fergus laboured hard on the project immediately, while his ‘milord’ was off working the lands of their croft. It was expertly crafted, even with her rudimentary designs. 

 Jamie manoeuvred the hollow horn over the expanse of her belly, brow furrowed in concentration. He paused over one spot and nearly fainted. 

 “Ah Dhia!” His eyes widened in fascination. “He’s really in there!”

 “Yes, they are.” She placed her hand over his on the pinard horn and slid it across where she thought she felt the other heartbeat to be. 

 His hands were shaky now and he choked on his tears, almost painfully bursting with joy. “Two braw bairns. Wi’ wicked thumping hearts.”

 They felt more concrete to him now, actual people instead of the imaginations of what they could be. He spoke every day to them in Gàidhlig, when Claire said they should be able to hear now.

 It was bittersweet. She was carrying them for over seven months now, longer than her other children. She was constantly caught between unflagging joy and unrelenting grief. Sometimes it felt like a betrayal to be so happy. But she carried through, with her husband and son by her side, and the promise of the future tucked under her heart.

 The day after Jamie’s birthday, she started labouring. Jamie commented on the decency of his children to not eclipse his day with their own arrival. It was as difficult as any other birth, but thankfully there were no complications. Claire had gripped, clawed, and screamed at her husband. She’d scream the promise to have him castrated many, many times. While she paced around the room, Jamie tried to assure her or crack jokes to lighten the atmosphere, but every word he said she turned it against him. He was silent after that, but then Claire would call out for him as each contraction ripped through her body. He stood behind her squatting form above the straw and she dug her nails into his arms as she bore down. A beautiful squalling boy was born after nine hours of labouring. William Brian Beauchamp Fraser. While she felt distraught placing the name Brian within the middle, Jamie assured her it was to not only honour his father, but now the child that they had lost, and she warmed to the idea as well. His brother met the world soon after, almost a quarter of an hour apart, looking exactly the same as the brother who beat him out of the womb. Henry Alexander Murtagh Fraser. Beautiful healthy boys, both with tufts of the same brown downy hair and slanted Fraser cat eyes. 

 They opted to have their sons sleep in their bed that night rather than the cribs Jamie had carved, tucked in securely between their parents. Neither of them could sleep and Claire was watching the steady rise and fall of each small chest. 

 “They’re real.” She whispered, brushing her pinky across William’s cheek. His lips tugged up into a smile, just like his father’s did. 

 “Thanks to ye Claire. Ye were braw.” He squeezed her hand, their arms hovering over their sons. “But I dinna wish to ever see ye like that again.”

 “Is it wrong to feel so happy? To rejoice in my sons while-?” 

 “They’ll be happy fer their brothers. I ken it. And they’re watching o’er them as their angels now. Lord knows how much these lads will need it. These two will be trouble, I can feel it.” He affectionately patted their bums. 

 Claire finally let her exhaustion take over and curled protectively around her son as she drifted off to sleep. Jamie never slept that night, too preoccupied with the sight of his wife and the children she had blessed him with. His wife learned just how real her sons were in the middle of the night when they would scream their lungs out unceasingly until attention was paid to them. Jamie insisted she rest and recover, and leapt up at every cry to take care of it, but was instantly horrified at what he found in the cloth swaddling Willie’s bum. 

 Fergus was elated the next day to meet his new brothers. Jamie and Claire had already spoken many times about how the new babies wouldn’t change anything about how they felt for him, but they could still sense some worry. 

 “Would you like to hold your little brother Willie?” At the indication that it was true, he had a little brother, all his worries vanished.

 “Oui maman.” He was so gentle with them with so much adoration in his eyes, and it made Claire cry just to see her boys together.

 He traded for Henry next and Jamie pulled Claire into his lap. 

 It was six weeks after the birth, and Jamie and Claire were equally ravenous. Both the babies had finally fallen asleep together, being unusually generous to their parents.

 “I need my wife.” He crawled over her. 

 “You still want me? After seeing all that…?” Her confidence has waned slightly. She was still pudgy around the middle and there were new scars lining her belly. There was also the fact that he had seen her sweating, cursing, and wailing like a cow on their bedroom floor before the fire, and had taken multiple peeks down there to check her progress. It was apparent, however, that he wanted her desperately despite of and maybe even because of that fact. 

 “I could never stop wanting ye Sassenach.” He peppered kisses across her abdomen and paid special attention to the fading purple streaks on her skin. The burns on her stomach had long since faded and were barely even noticeable unless one were to look very closely, as her husband was now. She let her knees fall to the side and a moan escaped her lips when he ducked further down. 

 “Now, as much as I love yer wee noises mo nighean donn, ye’ll have to be quiet tonight.” He covered her mouth with his, silencing the cries that he brought out of her body.

 When they both had finished, laying boneless on the sheets, Jamie pulled Claire’s back close to his chest and she curled back into him. Henry began to cry, waking his brother as well and throwing them both into fits of hungry wails. Jamie silently walked over, wrapping his kilt loosely across his hips and placed a baby in each of his arms. The sight made Claire want to ravish him with a sudden ferocity, even though they had just joined together moments ago. But, her babies’ hunger won over and she placed one on each breast. Jamie watched fascinated, as he always did. The babies hungrily gulped down their meal and then slumped against their mom, tired from weeks of growing, crying, and eating. Their tiny fists laid on top of her skin and Jamie slowly adjusted himself to hold Henry. He fell asleep, Henry’s body rising and falling with each of his father’s breaths. Willie stirred again, inquisitively staring up into his mother’s eyes. Claire stroked Henry’s cheek eliciting the same smile she loved so much, and then reached for Jamie’s as well.

 “God, I love you, Jamie. So much.” Her attention shifted down to the babe on her breast. “You have such a wonderful father, don’t you Willie?” She spoke down to her captive audience. “And I love you.” She kissed his small nose, then leaned over for Henry’s “And you.” She pulled on Jamie’s bottom lip. “And God how I love you.”

[thedumpsterqueen]

Standards of Performance, Chapter 6: Buckshot and Tequila

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

AO3 Link

Finally, I write most of the chapter before the day I’m supposed to post it. This was mostly done on my laptop (which I’m not used to) as we just moved and my PC is barely set up, so forgive anything that looks weird or wonky. As always, I hope you enjoy. I love getting all your kind messages <3 (Also message me if you want to be on the taglist - I suppose I should be better about that!)

Summary:  You’re the BAU’s newest intern, desperate to prove yourself amongst an established team of much more experienced profilers. Agent Hotchner, the seemingly infallible team leader, sets strict expectations for your performance. He commands your respect without even trying, but is there something more to your relationship than a simple desire to impress your stony-faced boss?

Chapter: 6, Buckshot and Tequila

Chapter Summary: Events during a new case test your ability to keep your feelings hidden, and a night out takes an unforeseen turn. 

Words: 3736

Rating: Explicit, 18+. Warnings on AO3.

Pairings: Hotch x Reader, Hotch x You

Turns out, lying to Hotch was easier than you thought.

It helped that you were lying to yourself too, of course - that you pretended your gaze didn't linger on his form whenever he was in your vicinity, that the swell of pride in your chest when he agreed with something you said was purely professional. There were times, though, that the facade was much harder to maintain. The most recent case had been one of those times.

You had been tracking down an unsub abducting children in a rural Iowa town. Three kids had gone missing in the span of two weeks, and after Garcia matched the victimology and MO with neighboring states, it looked to be close to a dozen in the years before that. The case started off rough enough - locals refused to believe it could be one of their own, police resisted the BAU’s guidance, the usual - but it came to a head when a fourth child went missing during the investigation.

Thankfully, the team figured out the identity of the unsub relatively quickly. Reid did a geographical profile of all the locations where victims were taken and found a public health clinic that had branches in each area. Garcia cross-checked the employee records to find that only one doctor had done travel shifts at each clinic during the time the children were taken, and within minutes, you were rushing to his address.

The SUV carrying Hotch, Rossi, and Prentiss arrived long enough before yours that by the time you pulled up, they were already kicking down the door and entering the home. The first thing you heard after you flung the car door open was the deafening crack of a weapon firing, and despite your lack of training with firearms, it was apparent that it was not an FBI-issue pistol.

You would never describe yourself as fragile - you couldn't be, not in this line of work. But when you registered the implications of that sound, your knees buckled, instantly bringing you down onto the dusty ground outside the farmhouse. The rest of the team sprinted in, guns drawn. You faintly registered Prentiss yelling inside, then more gunshots, but your head was ringing so loudly from the visceral panic that you couldn’t make out anything specific.

When Hotch burst back out onto the porch, you thought you might honestly sob with relief. That is, until you caught the glint of the sun in the slick, dark blood dripping down the sleeve of his suit.

That was when you puked.

Something about the sight of Aaron Hotchner bleeding felt so wrong that even as you struggled to your feet and stepped over the pile of sick you left in the dirt, even as you got closer and saw the rivulets of blood drip down to his fingertips and dot the wooden floors of the porch, you felt like you were in a dream. Your mind couldn’t grasp the sudden shock of his mortality, that he could bleed, that he could die, even, and he very well might, depending on what vessels were hit. You made it up the steps, only managing to call out his name - his first name - your throat still burning from bile. Despite the chaos of the current moment, he still whipped his head around at the sound of that, as if hearing the name Aaron desperately falling from your lips was more attention-grabbing than the rest of the team gathering around him trying to stem the bleeding.

“It looks worse than it is,” said Rossi, peering through the holes in Hotch’s mangled sleeve. “It was just buckshot, and he barely hit you. Nothing a few stitches won’t fix.”

He turned out to be right, thank god, and later that afternoon, Hotch was freshly bandaged and sitting across from you on the return flight to Quantico.

So, yeah, the “lying to yourself” thing wasn’t going so well at that moment. Hotch was absorbed in paperwork while the rest of the team napped - because of course he was; even being shot didn’t sway his apparently relentless refusal to relax - and each time he winced at the movement of his arm, your vice grip around your chest tightened a little more.

He must have sensed you staring, because he looked up, frown softening slightly as he saw the concern on your face.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m fine,” he assured you with a half smile.

Teetering on an emotional precipice, too scared to respond for fear of falling over the edge, you went back to your reading. After a few minutes of listening to him write while not turning a single page in your book, he set his pen down and took a breath.

“You were screaming my name,” he said, quietly, despite you two being the only ones awake.

“What?”

“Earlier,” he clarified, “when we went into the house. I could hear you outside, yelling my name.”

You looked at him, incredulous. “Of course I did. I heard the shotgun go off. Clearly,” you gestured at his arm, “I had a reason to be worried.”

He shook his head and cleared his throat, as if you didn’t understand the question. “Dave and Emily were with me. Any of us could have gotten hit. You only yelled for me.”

Oh.

You shrugged. “You’re the team leader. It’s my instinct to call for you when something goes wrong."

It was a lie, and a bad one at that, but Hotch gave you an unreadable look and let the subject drop.

The rest of the flight was uneventful, and when you finally made it back to your apartment, you had no plans other than to sleep off the stress of the case and the embarrassment of Hotch calling your actions into question. Garcia, however, wasn't about to let that happen.

BAU-tiful People Group Chat

Garcia: *added You to the conversation*

Garcia: Ok, my lovely children, I know you’re all tired, but I miss your faces, so I’ll see u at Whimsy tonight at 9! Notice I didn’t use a question mark bc it is NOT a question!

You knew from overhearing the team talk that Whimsy was a bar downtown they liked to frequent, but you’d never been invited before. Despite your overwhelming exhaustion, the idea of going out with the team, of finally feeling accepted by them, was enough to make you amenable to the concept. It may have seemed insignificant on the surface, but Garcia adding you to their group chat was the biggest welcome gesture you’d received yet.

Morgan: Only if you wear that dress you know I like ;)

You lived for the day they would realize they were actually flirting with each other instead of just pretending to.

Prentiss: Garcia… you’re killing me… but you know I’ll be there.

JJ: Contacting the babysitter as we speak.

Morgan: Fuck yeah!!! Pretty Boy, you in?

Reid: Can’t we ever go somewhere quiet?

As the group chimed in with various iterations of, “Shut up, Reid,” you hesitantly typed out a text to confirm your attendance. You were excited, of course, but nervous to be the new kid at their favorite hangout. After today's events, though, the desire not to be sober won out over nerves.

You: I’ll be there! Thanks for the invite!

Rossi: Hope you kids are ready for me to drink you under the table, as usual.

Morgan: Eyyy, you KNOW we party hard! See y’all tonight.

____________

Turns out, Morgan was not exaggerating. Not even a little bit. By the time you arrived, 15 minutes late, everyone looked to be at least 3 shots deep. Garcia ran over to greet you, squealing, and wrapped you in a suffocating hug.

“I’m so glad you came! What do you drink? Tequila? I’ll grab the next round!”

You laughed and confirmed that tequila sounded great, and as she scurried off to the bar with Morgan on her heels, you had a chance to look around.

The atmosphere of the club surprised you - it was all glass and steel and modernity, packed with people dancing to something with intense bass - not the low-key joint you’d pictured the team wanting to unwind at. But as you watched JJ, Prentiss, and Rossi cheer on Reid as he threw back a shot, doubling over in hysterics as he coughed and sputtered at the taste, you realized that this place was just loud and energetic enough to keep them from thinking about anything other than work. In that way, you definitely saw the appeal.

“I come bearing shots!” Garcia yelled as her and Morgan made it back to the table. “Grab yours… here we go- whoops! Alright, everyone got theirs?”

She turned to you, grinning behind a pair of hot pink spectacles. “Cheers not ONLY to rescuing four kidnapped children alive, but also to our lovely intern and her first Whimsy outing!”

The team erupted in cheers and you smiled back, downing the tequila. You chatted with the group while Garcia ordered more drinks, and then more drinks, and soon you felt a pleasant buzz filling your head.

“Morgan, you better ask me to dance right now before I go find another man to do the job,” Garcia said with a wink in his direction.

Morgan grinned and mock-bowed, holding out a hand for her to take, and led her off to the dancefloor.

“Should we join them?” JJ asked around the table.

“Someone’s gotta make sure they don’t do anything worth getting kicked out for,” Prentiss shot back. You giggled and followed the girls, leaving Rossi and Reid behind at the table in the midst of a heated debate about childhood brain development that you couldn’t even hope to comprehend.

Not long after you started dancing, you felt a gentle tap on your shoulder and turned around, looking up into the stunning green eyes of a man who looked to be about your age. It was hard to really tell what he looked like in the dim lighting, but by the way Prentiss was giving you a thumbs up and mouthing, “Go for it,” from your side, he was good enough for you.

“Do you want to dance?” he asked above the music. You smiled and nodded in confirmation, letting him wrap his arms around your waist and pull you to his hips.

He knew how to move, that was for certain. He ground against your backside lightly, snaking his hands around your stomach. You weren’t used to this kind of thing - dancing with random men at bars, letting them touch you like this - but the combination of the music and the booze and the relief at the last case being over was making you feel more free than you had in recent memory.

You exchanged grins with Morgan, who was dancing a few feet away in a much more R-rated manner with Garcia. The man behind you (whose name you didn’t know, but who cared?) leaned down to kiss your neck and you arched against him in response, reaching up to run your hand through his hair.

Throughout the song, you had rotated back to facing the table where the rest of your team was sitting. You glanced over, saw Reid and Rossi still deep in discussion, along with another man in a black button-up with a very familiar side profile and-

Hotch.

Hotch was here, and as if the powers that be were insistent upon proving to you that the opposite of serendipity existed, at the exact moment you had that realization, he turned and made direct eye contact with you. Drunk, wearing a skintight dress, a random man grinding on your ass, and staring right back at your Unit Chief at the motherfucking Federal Bureau of Investigation.

Your heart dropped to your stomach, and if you had been drunker, you might have hurled tequila all over the dancefloor. Instead, you pulled away from the mystery man behind you, ignoring his shocked, “Wait!” and beelined to the bar.

“Tequila. Shot. Please, I’m sorry, just saw someone I didn’t expect to,” you blurted out to the bartender, swearing you could feel Hotch’s eyes on your back from across the club.

The bartender, probably having seen much worse, nodded in understanding and poured your drink. You gulped it down, wiped your mouth, and leaned on the bar to get your bearings.

It’s not weird. It’s not. It’s a bar, it’s outside of work hours, it’s perfectly fine that you’re buzzed and dancing and having fun. Everyone else is!

Really, it wasn’t that you were worried about your job, or even that he would judge you (he probably would, but that was unavoidable regardless of the setting), it was just that you hadn’t mentally prepared yourself for the possibility that he would come. He was in the group chat - obviously, if he had seen Garcia’s invite - but had never struck you as the social type, the kind of boss that would interact with his team outside of work.

“Did you see that Hotch is here?” Prentiss asked breathlessly, appearing at the bar beside you.

Apparently, you weren’t the only one surprised.

“I did,” you whispered back, despite the thumping music and the rowdy patrons making it logically impossible for your words to reach the table 20 feet away. “Does he usually join you guys?”

“Never,” she said, before thinking and correcting herself, “Not in years, anyways. When Haley… we used to drag him out, but we stopped after a while.”

“Why do you think he came tonight?"

She shrugged. “Who knows? Far be it from me to explain why Hotch does anything.” An idea seemed to pop in her head, and she grinned. “Maybe it’s because of you!”

“M-me?” Your reaction to the suggestion wasn’t nearly as nonchalant as you’d tried for, but Prentiss was too drunk to notice.

“Yeah, gotta help initiate the intern on her first night out, right?” She grinned and clapped you on the shoulder, then turned away to head back to the dancefloor, leaving you alone. You sighed, gathered yourself as much as you could considering the effects of the tequila, and turned around to go greet him.

“Hey, Agent Hotchner. Didn’t expect to see you tonight!”

“Yes, well. Thought I’d show up for a bit; it’s been a while.” He gave you a tight lipped smile then looked back down at his glass of whisky, the awkward energy palpable.

Probably because he just saw you basically dry-humping some random dude.

“Well, I’m glad you came! Feel free to, uh, come dance if you want! Morgan and Garcia are showing us all up,” you said, gesturing to where Morgan and Garcia were in fact drawing the attention of several onlookers.

He chuckled at that. “They’re certainly a sight to behold, aren’t they?”

You nodded in agreement and headed back to the bar, the brief conversation pointing you towards yet another drink. Talking to him was so easy , sometimes, and others it was like pulling teeth to get a human response out of him. Could you blame him, though? Your last one-on-one interaction was you basically inviting yourself over to his apartment with takeout and listening to him spill his guts about his dead wife and kid, and he probably felt uncomfortable with you after that, and then you went right to this case without any chance for things to go back to normal, and then he got shot, and oh my god, you didn’t even ask him how his arm was doing, how fucking rude can you be, dumbass? and-

“Whoops! Shit, I’m sorry!”

You looked at the person you’d just bumped into in the midst of your internal crisis.

“Hey, it’s you!”

The man you’d been dancing with earlier, now much more obviously handsome in the brighter lights of the bar area, grinned in recognition.

“Hey, I thought I’d scared you off there!”

You laughed and shook your head. “No, I’m sorry. Just saw my boss and freaked out a little bit.”

“Oh shit, your boss is here?” he asked. “That’s uncomfortable, damn. I’m sorry.”

“No worries, it’s just… yeah. Anyways. Wanna pick up where we left off?” you asked, more desperate than ever to get Hotch out of your head. If he didn’t want to see you having a wild night, he shouldn’t have come to the club.

He took your hand, looking pleased. “Lead the way.”

It really was so much easier, you thought, to let yourself feel attraction for guys like this. Uncomplicated, willing to take what you give them, no backstory to speak of. They weren’t riddled with tragic history, unattainable in both position and personality, not to mention impossible to even imagine ever returning your feelings. Guys like Cooper (you’d finally learned his name somewhere amid the grinding and groping) were easy and fun and they didn’t keep you up at night agonizing over whether that thing you said at work was impressive enough.

But then again, they didn’t give you the roller-coaster feeling in your stomach that Aaron Hotchner did every time you locked eyes.

And lock eyes you did - an increasingly frequent number of times, actually. It seemed like whenever you turned to face his direction, he was staring you down. He always went back to his conversation with Rossi and Reid, but you noticed that he seemed to get more and more pissed off with every song that played. His frown was deepened, his expression dark, and you could tell even from a distance that his knuckles were white from gripping his glass.

You shrugged it off as Hotch being Hotch - who knew what that man was thinking? And besides, you were trying to forget him, damn it. At least, that was until a particularly raunchy song came on and you were in the middle of getting your ass felt up, when you felt a hand squeeze your shoulder and whip you around, bringing you face-to-face with your boss himself.

“Hey, what’s going on? Is something wrong?” you asked, utterly bewildered as to why he was interrupting you.

He ignored you, instead staring down Cooper, who very quickly decided Hotch wasn’t one to fuck with and walked away.

“Hotch! Is there a case? Should I grab the others?”

He shook his head. “Can you come with me, please?”

Perplexed, you acquiesced (not that you had much of a choice, with the way he was gripping your elbow) and followed him through the crowd, out the back door, and into an alley. He let go of you then, sighing and crossing his arms.

Your mind was wild with questions - did you do something you shouldn’t have? Get too drunk? Everyone was drunk, though, and you weren’t even half as wasted as some of the others. Did Reid or Rossi tell him something bad about you? Were you about to somehow get yourself fired off the clock?

“The boy you were dancing with was bad news,” he said, after an uncomfortably long period of silence.

What the fuck?

“What the fuck?” you repeated, this time out loud, and you knew you shouldn’t be talking to him like this, but you were too caught off guard to conduct yourself more appropriately.

“He was a drug user,” Hotch said, as if that would explain everything.

“A drug user,” you repeated back, no less confused.

“Cocaine,” he continued. “He was high - his pupils were dilated, he was rubbing his nose, and he's been to the bathroom several times.”

“So… you’re going to arrest him? For doing cocaine?” you asked, still baffled as to what he was insinuating.

“What? No,” he said, “I’m trying to warn you not to get involved.”

You had entered some parallel universe, you decided. There was no other explanation for your boss, a man you’d known all of four months, dragging you outside a bar on a Friday night and telling you not to dance with a hot stranger because he was on cocaine.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself before you really did get yourself fired. “Sir, I appreciate the concern, but I don’t think it’s really any of your business.”

His face hardened at that. “It is exactly my business,” he said, eyes boring a hole through your skull, “to watch out for things that may compromise my team.”

“Compromise your team?” you repeated his words again. “I was dancing, not getting engaged to the guy.”

“Should I allow you to dance with a sexual sadist if it’s just dancing?” he pressed, using the stern voice that usually caused any sort of dissent to whither and die right in your throat.

It didn’t work this time, probably because he was acting fucking insane. “Are you seriously comparing a sexual sadist to a guy who does cocaine while he’s out partying?”

“It’s not just while he’s out partying, by the way he conducted himself, he was a chronic-”

“It doesn’t matter!” you said, nearly yelling now. “You had no right! I'm sorry, what are you, my dad?!”

His eyes flashed at that. “If I hadn’t already had to sit through an 8 hour surgery not knowing if Garcia was going to make it out alive because her date shot her, then perhaps I would have no right. But as it stands, I do. Please be more careful with who you associate with, even if it’s just dancing.”

He spat that last part out, more vitriolic than you’d ever seen him, and stalked back inside. You were left outside in the alley, alone, reeling from confusion surrounding the entire interaction and shock at the emotional charge he’d leveled at you.

Reentering the bar, you saw that Hotch’s seat had been vacated and his jacket was gone. You rolled your eyes, and on your way to the bathroom, nearly ran into Cooper again.

“Hey!” he said. “What was that all about? You good?”

You looked up at his face and for the first time, noticed faint traces of white dust around his nose. He looked keyed up, jumpy - his pulse racing and visible on his carotid. You sighed.

“I’m good. Just not in the mood right now, sorry,” and pushed past him into the bathroom.

Hotch was an emotionally stunted asshole with a control complex, but he was also never fucking wrong.

[madeofsplinters]

for the symbols ask, would you mind all of them that you havent yet done for vader? you have very good opinions on him and i would like to hear them

Aw, thank you! Although man that is A LOT of Vader headcanons left to do :D But I like writing random stuff about him, soooo... Sad:

Vader still remembers all the Jedi younglings' names.

Angry/Violent:

I mean, what in Darth Vader's life *isn't* angry/violent? Lol. The particular way that he uses the Dark Side produces a really fucked up feedback loop: he's angry and in various forms of pain all the time, which produces an energy he can channel into violence, which produces self-hate and further pain, which produces more energy. Lather, rinse, repeat.

A lot of Palpatine's work with Vader is simply about managing this loop and adjusting as necessary. Giving him enough outlets for his rage that he doesn't just combust where he stands and start breaking things he isn't supposed to; tormenting him enough, and giving him the tools to self-torment, so that it never quite subsides into peace.

This isn't the only way of using the Dark Side, but it's a common one for Sith warriors; both Maul and Kylo Ren use something similar.

Sex:

Disabled people can, too have sex - it just takes a little more creativity. Vader has plenty of creativity, as well as magic super powers. If he doesn't indulge in such things - which, honestly, in canon he probably doesn't - then it's due to psychological factors: a conservative upbringing and ascetic lifestyle, unresolved grief for his wife, self-hate, depression, not wanting to let anyone in that close, etc.

Anyways if I see one more "BuT hIs DiCk DoEsN't WoRk" post here on Tumblr dot com, as if that body part is all that sex boils down to, I may actually scream.

Living Quarters:

When he's meditating in his stupid lava fortress, Vader senses the Dark Side nexus underneath him as if it's a living being, a kind of elemental lava spirit. Sometimes he talks to it in his head. (Is it "really talking" back to him? Is he just carrying out a strange symbolic drama in his own head? Don't ask - if you don't intuitively understand how a spiritual experience can be both these things at once, then you're not on Darth Vader's level.)

His favorite thing about the lava river is that it isn't Palpatine. Vader of all people knows how destructive lava is, but lava is direct and straightforward. It doesn't lie to him. It doesn't play games on purpose just to jerk him around. It just flows on and burns what's in its path, and there are days when Vader finds that both relatable and soothing.

Romantic:

Vader has a weakness for partners who are older than him, brave, smart, outwardly stable (the insides may vary), have a cute accent and strong negotiation and leadership skills, feed him attention in measured amounts, and are convinced they know better than him about everything. Padmé and Tarkin (and Obi-Wan, for that matter) all fit this type...

Friendship:

I mean, Vader doesn't really have friends, though. He is capable of forming really intense attachments to a few specific people, and tolerating others because of their competence, but anything in between those ends of the spectrum? Doesn't really compute. Vader does not chill or hang out or make pleasant conversation, not a lot of room for friends here.

Even as Anakin, he was a little like this. It was harder to tell, because his social circle was a lot bigger then - there were way more people in the "would die for them" circle, and way more who he went out of his way to be nice to, even if they weren't exactly close. But all of these social relationships involve some kind of power relation. Anakin has masters and fellow generals and an apprentice; he has favorite loyal troops and a favorite droid; he has a Supreme Chancellor who is being very nice to him for some reason. These are all people he works with, or who want something from him; he doesn't really have anyone he hangs out with just for the sake of hanging out with them. Padmé is the closest he gets to that, and even with her, he’s acting out a romantic role in the way that he thinks is expected of him so that he’ll deserve her love. (And doing a bad job of it, because Anakin is awkward, but never mind.)

Anakin has a huge heart and many attachments, don't get me wrong. But I don't think he's ever fully grasped the idea of a social connection that doesn't revolve around one of the people involved being useful to the other.

Quirks/Hobbies:

(I already did a “workshop/tinkering” one, so here’s a “flying” one...)

Vader's special experimental prototype TIE fighter is in constant need of repairs because of how recklessly he flies. It's not even that he crashes into things - it's just wear and tear because you're not actually supposed to yank the throttle that hard every damn time you turn the ship, Lord Vader, seriously how are you not passing out from those g-forces.

Vader is genuinely confused why the techs keep complaining. Podracers are used to having to rebuild their entire pod after every race. By that standard, he's doing great.

Childhood:

Tiny little bb Anakin wasn't actually any angrier than normal, at least by the standards of traumatized child slaves. Like, he was about at par. There were plenty of angrier ones. You couldn't have looked at him, in comparison to the other child slaves doing similar jobs in Mos Espa, and said "oh yeah that one in particular is gonna have anger and attachment issues."

He did stand out from the other kids, though, on account of just being a weird little nerd. He built a whole droid and a racing pod by himself and his master didn't even make him do it! He keeps talking about how he's going to be a Jedi and fly all around the galaxy and save the planet and marry a queen, when everybody knows there are at least three good reasons why that's wrong. He thinks random customers who come into his shop are his new friends! Anakin is just... weird. Off in his own little world. The other local slave kids know not to be too mean to him because he will always help you out in a pinch, and he is really good with machines, but other than that, I dunno, would you wanna hang out with Mr. I’m Gonna Be A Special Jedi?

Shmi sees this dynamic happening, but there's not much she can do, except to give Anakin all the love and reassurance that she wishes he was getting from his peers.

Cooking/Food:

Idk the Wookieepedia says that Vader can eat nutrient paste out of a straw in his mask if he wants to, but he doesn't want to because it tastes awful. So my questions here are (a) considering everything else they have to do, how can the suit's recesses possibly fit enough nutrient paste inside them for Vader's needs, and (b) seriously we're how many years in the future and we can't even make a nutrient paste that tastes good? We haven't even hit on "bland"? For the Emperor's chief enforcer, whose personal care budget is virtually unlimited? Yeah no, I'm calling canon error on this one. He can't eat, or it's too much trouble to get food into him with the other life support, so he's tube-fed. That's my headcanon.

Appearance:

Vader is very muscular. (This isn't really a "head"canon? He's literally played by a bodybuilder? But some fans disagree, so, eh.) He was already tall and strong when he was Anakin, but the suit adds height and it adds a LOT of extra weight that he has to be able to carry around with him literally every time he moves.

His recovery process after Revenge of the Sith involved having to learn how to move again, with new prosthetic limbs and horrifying new chronic injuries, basically from the ground up, and having to do it well enough that he could sword-fight Jedi Masters to the death, and he had to put on a ton of muscle in order to do that.

Palpatine was very strict in the nutrition and exercise regimes he imposed for this purpose. I have a sneaking suspicion that steroids were also involved.

[wonderlandleighleigh]

(Hey remember that Jedi of the Dune Sea fic I was working on four thousand years ago? 

Here’s Chapter 9)

He’d meant to leave Tatooine. To board his ship, and go back to Coruscant. Back to the Order and back to helping clean up the war.

But…

Well…

What freedom looks like is up to you. 

Freedom, to Anakin Skywalker, looks like a slaver’s palace engulfed in flames.

Not that Anakin himself set it on fire. He just freed all the slaves inside, and they decided what should be done. 

“Word is coming in from Mos Espa and Mos Eisley,” one of the former slaves says, typing away on a datapad stolen from one of Jabba’s guards. “The slave revolts have spread there as well.” 

“Then that’s where we go next,” Anakin nods, as he lifts one of the youngest slaves - a tiny Twi’lek girl - into his arms. “And we don’t stop until these former masters understand who is now in charge here on Tatooine.” 

The people around him - sixty or so former slaves - cheer. 

And they walk. 

***** 

When they get to Mos Espa, it’s in chaos, and everyone dives in, helping to fend off slave masters. Anakin sets the little girl down somewhere safe, and walks around, seeing where he’s needed; where he can do the most good.

Anakin rounds a corner and stops, spotting a young mother with her son, cowering in an alley, as Watto looms over them in the air. 

It’s a familiar scene, but Anakin is used to being on the other side of it; used to seeing the way Watto looms, a hand raised to strike.

He ignites his lightsaber, but doesn’t move. 

“Eh?” Watto jerks around to face him, and his expression from wrathful to worried. “A-Ani…? Ani...what...what are you doing here?” 

“Freeing slaves,” Anakin says simply. He looks past his old slavemaster to the woman and her son. “Go find cover.” 

The woman struggles shakily to her feet, hoisting the little boy into her arms and running. 

Watto snarls. “Those were my slaves, boy! Bought and paid for. You don’t have the right to free my property.” 

“Watto,” Anakin says calmly. “Listen to me very, very carefully.” He slowly steps closer, lightsaber raised. 

The Toydarian floats back, looking alarmed. 

“I want you to repeat after me,” Anakin goes on. “If you don’t...if you argue with me, or try to weasel out of this, I’m going to slice your whole head clean off those tiny little shoulders.” 

Watto stares, his eyes wide with fear. 

“People,” Anakin says slowly. “Are not property.” 

Watto growls. 

“Slavery,” Anakin says, just as slowly as before. “Is bad.” 

“Ani…” 

“I will never own slaves again.” 

Watto struggles, as Anakin follows him as he backs himself against the wall the woman and her son had previously occupied, lightsaber raised to the old Toydarian’s throat. 

“Fine!” Watto cries. “Fine! People...People are not property! Slavery is...is...bad! And I will never own slaves again!” 

Anakin grins and extinguishes his blade. “There. Was that so hard?” 

Watto wheezes, grasping at his own throat in gratitude. 

“If I ever find out that you’ve bought another slave,” Anakin tells him. “I will come back here. For you. Do you understand?” 

Watto is off like a shot then, flying away as quickly as he can.

“This is quite the show.” 

Anakin grins and turns, finding Obi-Wan Kenobi standing behind him. “Pretty good, huh?” 

“You should not have done this,” Obi-Wan tells him. “When you told the Council you were coming here, you said it was to find yourself.” 

“I have,” Anakin says simply. “I went to the Jedi Temple in the Dune Sea, and the Temple Guard asked what Freedom looks like to me.” He shrugs. “It looks like this. It looks like freeing slaves. It looks like showing slave masters that their kind are no longer welcome in this galaxy.” 

“It’s a noble cause, Anakin, but-” 

“But what?” Anakin asks. “But this is not what Jedi do? But this was personal? It should be. On both counts.” 

Obi-Wan sighs softly and crosses his arms. “Perhaps. Are you going to help me prevent the former slaves from burning their former masters at the stake?” 

Anakin thinks about that for a moment, 

“Anakin.” 

“Fine. But I’m not gonna be nice about it.” 

***** 

After they help to get things settled between the freed slaves and the local Mos Espa Council, they wander off into the desert, setting up a fire to help them keep warm, and Anakin cooks up some of the dehydrated stew in his pack for them, using some water from Obi-Wan’s cantine in the little pan over the fire. 

As they eat, Obi-Wan watches his former apprentice carefully. The younger man is tanned deeply, in a way that Obi-Wan has never seen. There is sand in his hair, and dirt under his fingernails. 

“How was Mandalore?” Anakin asks casually.

Obi-Wan turns just slightly red, looking down at his food. "Fine."

"More than just fine," Anakin smiles as he chews. 

“We are not here to talk about me,” Obi-Wan says pointedly. “We are here to talk about you, and your actions here. What spurred them on?” 

“What do you mean?” Anakin asks, looking at him quizzically. 

“The slave revolt? Getting involved in local politics?” 

Anakin shakes his head in disbelief. “I’ve always been this person, Master. I always said I would come back here and free the slaves.” 

“When you were a child,” Obi-Wan points out. “You grew out of that.” 

“There’s no growing out of wanting freedom for your people,” Anakin snaps. “And just because I let you and the Council dictate my actions, doesn’t mean my feelings on the subject ever changed.” 

Obi-Wan goes quiet, staring at him. 

Anakin blows out a breath, calming down. “There’s a Jedi temple in the Dune Sea. Former slaves, who were Jedi.” 

“You found more Jedi?” Obi-Wan asks, surprised.

“Their ghosts,” Anakin says. “It turns out that when former slaves try to strictly follow the Jedi code, they mostly go insane and turn to the Dark Side.” 

Obi-Wan’s expression saddens as he watches his former Padawan. He thinks back on all of Anakin’s difficulties over the years; on his inability to let go of his attachments. 

“After this experience, I don’t know if I can be the kind of Jedi that’s expected of me,” Anakin goes on. “And if I can’t be the kind of Jedi the Council expects, I may have to leave the order.” 

“Do you want to leave the order?” Obi-Wan asks. 

“No,” Anakin admits. “But...but if the Council doesn’t...can’t..accept what I need to keep my sanity, then I’ll have to leave.”  

“Perhaps we can go to the Council together,” Obi-Wan offers. “Talk to them about what you’ve learned here.” 

Anakin snorts softly. “Well, they certainly listen to you more than they listen to me. And now I truly understand why. I’ll never be like them, or like you. I’ll always be different, and I finally know that that isn’t a bad thing. It just is.” 

“It’s also why the Chancellor was trying to manipulate you,” Obi-Wan says, stroking his beard thoughtfully. “He saw those differences and tried to use them against us.” 

“Then it’s lucky that I let him give me a seizure instead of turning to the Dark Side,” Anakin teases lightly. 

Obi-Wan narrows his eyes. “You joke, but you scared me half to death. I thought we’d lost you.” 

“Is that attachment I hear in your voice, Master?” 

“Eat your dinner.”

[selenuntius]

Zhang Longevity - Southern Archives

Hello I know I just wrote about this at length but like I acknowledged in that post, I hadn’t read Southern Archives. Well now I have, and I’ll make a couple of additions/speculations based on the information in that. Don’t read if you haven’t read Southern Archives. Some of this information is related to plot points.

The main takeaway from Southern Archives that’s truly unambiguous is that there is a way to destroy the Zhang longevity (quite violently it appears).

Two other ones that have ambiguity to them are related to qilin blood. It’s a bit hard to just give a conclusion so I won’t be giving one here. My take beneath the break, or just read the novel.

Again, I’m trying to make clear what’s speculation and what’s actually in there, but I think even just by pointing out ambiguity, I’m making an argument. Just read the goddamn novel, really, especially to draw your own conclusions about the qilin blood things.

There are some other takeaways from Southern Archives about Zhang clan lore but I thought I should make a followup of sorts to my previous post with new info. Also Southern Archives was a pretty good read. I enjoyed the third-person POV and the period atmosphere. Zhang Haiyan, Haixia and others are some very engaging characters. I feel I may be a little attracted to Zhang Haiqi but I also want to call her mommy, so you can say I’m in a bit of a Haiyan predicament.

Zhang longevity can be destroyed

Probably one of our biggest takeaways from Southern Archives. This was achieved here via some kind of gas. The people who became aware of this in Southern Archives are Zhang Qishan (and some of his clan?), Zhang Haiqi, Zhang Hailou, Mo Yungao.

This may give support for the Zhang Qishan died because he found a way to age normally theory.

Zhang longevity is in their “blood” (not said to be the same blood as qilin blood; might just be blood as in they’re born with it)

This one is more ambiguous. The quote I’m drawing this from is in c.55:

“That German nerve gas was not produced in Germany, and its origins are unclear. It seemed to be able to destroy the mechanisms within Zhang people’s blood. Mo Yungao mentioned in his records that he found this by chance, and only possessed a single cylinder of it.”

If you’re checking your sources and see that this translation and merebear’s edited MTL is different and want to know why, I will leave a note at the end about this.

Anyways, like I said, I feel like immediately saying that this blood refers to qilin blood is a bit of a leap. I, for one, mostly read it as like a Zhang inherited trait rather than qilin blood. I went into a bit of why I felt the qilin blood is directly linked to their longevity theory wasn’t the best in my previous post, and I did see a reblog also theorising about that but I was too tired to finish writing my response (and I didn’t want to seem like I’m trying to start shit; I really just have too much time on my hands).

If qilin blood is directly linked to longevity, then everyone who has lived for longer than usual has to have a bit of qilin blood. That would mean there’s some kind of threshold for recognising qilin blood, and below that threshold it counts for longevity, but isn’t strong enough to detect.

To confirm the theory, we need some kind of confirmation that an in-between state between full-on qilin blood and non-qilin blood exists. The blood has different degrees of strength - this is true. Wu Xie speculates that the Qiling is chosen by who has the strongest qilin blood (book 8 c.81; N.B. that in Shahai 3 a different reason for selecting our Qiling was hypothesised), and Zhang Haike talks about hearing rumours as a child that our Zhang Qiling had the strongest form of their kekkei genkai blood (ZHH 2 c.7).

However, I still think there’s a distinction between the ones who do and the ones who just don’t, and it’s not all about how strong the blood is. Going back to the Qipan Zhang sect, they wielded quite a lot of power within the clan because they “held the qilin”, which Wu Xie guesses to mean the qilin blood (book 8 c.50 p1). Don’t know if that meant only Qipan Zhang had qilin blood, or if there was just a higher occurrence and a greater strength (I’ve read a headcanon that it’s because the Qipan Zhang absorb anyone who has the blood). Also, Wu Xie says in the 2017 short of Zhang Hailou, “You’re from the branch family… like me, you have to worry about mosquitoes.” Wu Xie, by this point, is quite knowledgable about the Zhang clan so what he says is kinda? reliable. In fact, all three of the Zhang that have qilin blood are from the main family or descended from a sect of the main family (Haiqi is one of the few Hai-generation main family members, southern archives c.47; Qiling was part of the main family according to Haike; Foye is a descendant of Ruitong of Qipan Zhang and Wu Xie speculates at the end of book 8 that Foye’s father brought their entire sect out of the Northeast Zhang’s control, which makes Rishan a descendant of Qipan Zhang too). So is it only the main family that ever has proper qilin blood? If it’s a thing all Zhang have to a degree, surely sometimes it pops up in the branches too.

This is pretty much a joke but I was going to say that maybe bare min qilin blood only protects you from mosquitoes and nothing else but still counts for longevity, and I can’t even make that joke anymore…

The problem here is at what point do we stop saying the longevity has to do with qilin blood and just say the longevity runs in the family, and for some reason, Foye didn’t get it (or died for other reasons). And even if we take a step back and say, yes, longevity does come with the Zhang blood but qilin blood makes you live even longer, not enough time has passed for us to say that.

An addendum about qilin blood, not directly related to longevity: Can qilin blood be an acquired trait?

Mo Yungao believes qilin blood to be an acquired trait, because he asked Zhang Qiling about it and he said it was acquired (Archives c.55).

This is contradicted in other places, for example, by Zhang Haike in ZHH 2 c.7, where he specifically talks about qilin blood as an inherited trait. The two previously mentioned passages about Qipan Zhang and from Wu Xie duking it out with Xiao Zhang Ge also support this, though less directly.

So, why did Zhang Qiling tell Mo Yungao it’s acquired?

There are a couple of possibilities, including Zhang Qiling lying and this actually being true and everyone else being wrong, but I think this was a misunderstanding.

Mainly because I don’t think the line is entirely without ambiguity.

He had asked this strange person if he had been born with his extraordinary abilities or if they were acquired, and the person had replied that they were acquired.

(I have another note about this line but it doesn’t matter for the ambiguity bit, so I’ll leave it at the bottom too.)

The key here is that Mo Yungao, in this omniscient narrator recollection, did not specifically ask about his blood. Mo Yungao clearly meant his blood, because a couple of lines above, Mo Yungao is saved by this person and his blood, and his later obsession is with this blood. But what he actually asked was his extraordinary abilities (plural) so maybe Zhang Qiling took it to mean combat ability rather than specifically his blood?

Again, there are other possibilities, but I prefer a simpler answer rather than a complicated one that takes more speculation to support.

Nerve gas line note:

The original contained the phrase 张家人血液中的肌理, literally “the skin texture of Zhang people’s blood”. This is because 肌理 (skin texture) was likely a typo of 机理 (which I translate as mechanisms here; not necessarily the best one. Could also use principles but I felt that sounded less physiological and more philosophical). These two words have the exact same pronunciation. XL makes these mistakes quite a lot, and because most of our stuff is sourced from his serialisation and web versions, these mistakes don’t get corrected. I suspect this is why merebear uses the vague sentence “but it seemed to specifically target the Zhang’s family blood” instead. It’s not a huge difference, but I thought I should explain my addition of mechanisms and using destroy instead of target (this I don’t quite understand, the original says destroy and I don’t see an issue with simply using destroy) so it doesn’t seem like I’m making stuff up.

Acquired abilities line note:

“Extraordinary abilities” is actually my guess of what XL means when he wrote 无常的能力, because I feel the adjective used is a misuse of the word. 无常 can mean changeable, can be a reference to a Buddhist concept of the cycle of life and death (don’t have the best grasp on this, but bear with me), can be a euphemism for death, or can be a kind of ghost? spirit? that collects people’s souls, kind of like the Grim Reaper I guess but they work for the king of hell. None of these quite fit here. The two characters, taken on their own can maybe mean something like extraordinary, so I’m thinking maybe that’s what XL’s trying to get at but used a slightly different word to replace what you might usually use for extraordinary (不凡 or smth idk), but not to great effect.

[jokertrap-ran]

(未定事件簿) EVENT!「午夜华章」 [Tears of Themis] EVENT: Symphony of the Night Translations (Chapter 1-01: Prologue)

*Tears of Themis Masterlist  *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *The tracking tag for ALL Event Stories will go under: #Tears of an Event *(y/n) is your name when in direct referral; otherwise referred to as MC. *Presenting: 10 pages of prologue content (cracks fingers)

Location: Detective Agency

The winter sun shone into Xia Yan’s office, but I couldn’t feel even the slightest bit of warmth from it.

Now, Xia Yan was beside me with a frown on his face as we both stared intently at what he was holding in his hand…

???: Listen well, Great Detective and partner… This will be your last chance.

A voice that had been processed by a voice-changer came from the strange box that he held within his palm, holding absolutely no trace of emotion at all.

???: If you cannot help me complete this commission of mine by finding the missing hacker within the specified time limit…

???: I will immediately launch an attack on the Big Data Lab, which will paralyze Stellis City’s entire network.

The voice cut off here, ending spontaneously, leaving me facing Xia Yan, who had a look of utter seriousness on his face.

Xia Yan had received a commission last evening. The Client came oddly in the form of a box, and the details of the commission were all also transmitted to him through the very same box itself. Knowing how I loved puzzles, Xia Yan had invited me to investigate it together with him. But who knew that this commission also came with a threat.

The Big Data Lab would come under fire if we failed to complete the commission… The Client had repeatedly emphasized on that point without providing us with any other explanation. 

Xia Yan: Since you’ve already come to us with a commission, then how about you tell us about everything clearly? Who exactly is this hacker you’re searching for…?

Bzzt, bzzt―—

The phone that I had left on the table buzzed to life. Seeing the Caller ID flashing upon the screen, Xia Yan stopped questioning the box.

MC: Lu Jinghe? Didn’t he say that he had a whole day of meetings with the Board of Directors? Why is he suddenly calling now…?

Xia Yan: ...I have a bad feeling about this. In any case, let’s answer his call first.

I nodded and answered the call.

Lu Jinghe: (Y/n), I heard yesterday that you were going to the Detective Agency to play. Are you still there now?

MC: I am. Did something happen?

Lu Jinghe: Could you pass the phone to Xia Yan?

He wants to talk to Xia Yan? I paused for a moment, looking towards the guy in question.

Xia Yan nodded, signaling for me to put the call on speaker.

Xia Yan: Lu Jinghe, has there been any problems with the Big Data Lab recently?

Lu Jinghe: What a direct question. Looks like you do know something about this after all.

Lu Jinghe: The Big Data Lab has been harassed by hackers a couple of times recently. The engineers there have just warded off another attack just now.

Xia Yan: Why are you looking for me? Is it because you feel like I’ve done something similar, and thus, being the first one on your list of suspected people?

Lu Jinghe: ...If you absolutely have to put it that way, well, you’re not exactly wrong either.

Lu Jinghe: But, what I’m more worried about is the fact that this isn’t an attack by just a single person, but rather, an organized large-scale attack.

Lu Jinghe: If this is the case, then we can only rely on the personnel currently stationed there. But I’m afraid it’ll be hard to ward them off with just that amount of manpower.

Lu Jinghe: So, I was thinking of asking you for some recommendations of experts in this field. Even better if they’re open to external contracts.

Xia Yan: So that’s how it really is after all… If I’m not guessing wrongly, I think that this has something to do with the current commission I’m undertaking.

Xia Yan: This matter involves the entire Stellis City Network, and it’s not something that any one of us can handle on our own.

Xia Yan: Can we call a full NXX Member Meeting at once? I’ll explain everything then. 

Lu Jinghe: Yes. You and (Y/n) head to the Base first, I’ll notify the other two.

Ending the call, Xia Yan’s gaze fell to the box by his hand once more, his expression solemn.

MC: Xia Yan, does this mean that something serious has happened for you to be calling everyone together to investigate this?

Xia Yan: Yes. Even though everything still looks peaceful now, I have a hunch that…

Xia Yan: This commission that was headed by a threat must be much more complicated than we think it is.

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

One hour later, at NXX’s Base.

Location: NXX Base’s Meeting Room

Mo Yi: So? The Client oddly came to you in the form of a box that cannot be pried open and even threatened the one who’s taking on the job for them, all just to find a single missing person?

Xia Yan: The Client has repeatedly emphasized on the fact that this matter cannot be let known to the public. I suspect the missing hacker must have come upon something dangerous.

Lu Jinghe: No matter how dangerous it might be, they should have been prepared for some leaks to happen when requesting for outside help. Using the Big Data Lab as a threat is just too unreasonable…

Zuo Ran: How serious were the attacks on the Big Data Lab so far?

Lu Jinghe: Even I can’t explain this properly, myself. But I’ve found a helper who’s very good at this aspect of things, so it’ll be more reliable to let him do all the explaining.

Saying so, he booted up NXX Base’s computer.

After inputting in a series of commands, he turned on the projection device, and a figure slowly formed before us.

MC: Huh? Aren’t you…

Chu Dai: Hello, I am Chu Dai, the Big Data Lab’s exclusive AI. I'm pleased to be of service to you.

I was stunned for a while at seeing the AI boy who I only saw on my phone, the one who loved leaving interesting evaluations on encyclopedia entries, appearing before my very eyes.

MC: You’re Chu Dai?

Chu Dai: I am! I can always talk to you like this if you prefer this form of mine more~

Lu Jinghe: Chu Dai, report on the current status of the hacker attacks on the Big Data Lab.

Chu Dai’s expression turned sullen upon the mention of the “hacker attacks”.

Chu Dai: Yes, leave it to me to explain that.

Chu Dai: Ever since last month, the Big Data Lab has been facing small-scale attacks every few days. Fortunately, they all seemed to be just testing the waters, so no real harm was done.

Chu Dai: The hackers launched yet another attack this morning. And the engineers think that they may be just buying time to analyze the Firewalls.

Chu Dai: Chu Dai has been pushing back the hacker's parsing progress, but Chu Dai thinks that they've already completed it.

Chu Dai: If there's another attack, the Firewall will have a higher than 90% chance of being broken through…

Xia Yan: This Client who's looking for a missing hacker's actually also a highly skilled hacker themselves.

Xia Yan: Based on my understanding of the warning that the Client had sent, I suspect that what the Big Data Lab has been subjected to are just pre-emptive attacks.

Lu Jinghe: You mean, he deliberately pushed the cracking process to a critical point, only to force you to complete the Commission?

Xia Yan: I'm afraid so. These attacks are simply to prove that he has the capabilities to take down the Big Data Lab.

Xia Yan: In my opinion, I think that the best way to resolve this incident would be to track down the Client before they can launch a next attack.

Mo Yi: Which mean, you intend on accepting this commission?

Zuo Ran: Buying time by accepting the commission, and then conducting reverse-tracking to locate the signal from where it was originally sent from would also be a plausible method.

Lu Jinghe: What's your stand on this, (Y/n)?

Everyone turned to look at me at his question.

⊳ Choice: Accept commission

MC: I think it'll be better if we accept this commission too.

MC: I think it's better for us to play along with the other side's tune first, until we get a full grasp of the situation. This way, we might also be able to find more clues along with our investigations.

Mo Yi: Nothing ventured, nothing gained… that's a very interesting way of thinking.

Mo Yi: I'll be very happy to accompany you, if that is your decision.

Xia Yan: Yup, I'm of the same mind too. You can rest assured on the problem of safety if we're going to be working together.

⊳ Choice: Refuse commission

MC: Logically speaking, I think that we should accept it… but personally, I still think that we should look into it a little more.

MC: We’re unable to identify the true motives of the person we’re up against at this current moment in time. And if finding the missing person’s just a guise...

Zuo Ran: So, you’re worried about what the other party’s motives are. Truth to be told, I’ve also thought about that.

Zuo Ran: But this is also the only option we have that allows us to obtain more clues. Rest assured; I’ll be accompanying you.

Lu Jinghe: And you have me too! Leave your safety to me; still worried about it, Big Sister?

Chu Dai: Yep, yep! Chu Dai will also follow the hacker's signal to its source and provide all of you with support! 

Xia Yan showed everyone the box that the Client had sent by placing it atop the table.

Xia Yan: This is what the Client sent. I tried to pry it open yesterday but found that it's a complicated piece of electronic equipment that cannot be disassembled at will.

Lu Jinghe: ...It's not a bomb or anything along those lines, right?

Chu Dai: No, but it should be a device that requires special commands to open. Can you connect it to the computer? Let me try opening it.

Xia Yan connected the box to the computer with a USB cable. The projection of Chu Dai temporarily disappeared to focus on analyzing the box. We waited for about ten minutes before the box on the table snapped open with a click, opening from the gap in its center.

Lu Jinghe: Whoa! It's open?

His voice had only just faded before Chu Dai's own rang from the computer's speakers.

Chu Dai: This box is called the "Vespers' Box" —— And this is the data that the creator has placed within it.

Chu Dai: Oh yes, by the way, there's a special program installed into the "Vespers' Box" which records the first person who boots it up.

Chu Dai: But Chu Dai is definite that it won't pose any threat to anyone! So, please feel free to investigate it to your heart's content!

Everyone exchanged looks with each other, leaving Xia Yan to pick up the box. After confirming that there were really no problems with the box, he handed it to me.

Xia Yan: I see that you've been so curious about this box for a long time now, so how about you lead everyone on the investigation of this thing?

MC: Me? Are you sure about that?

I looked around, only to meet everyone's trusting eyes.

MC: Alright then… Let me check this out!

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅

MC: I just have to open the box from here, right?

Xia Yan: Yup, just flip both sides open.

Zuo Ran: Be careful while opening it since there's a delicate device inside.

MC: I won't handle it roughly… you really should have a little more faith in me, Lawyer Zuo.

Zuo Ran: ……

Zuo Ran: What I meant was...be careful not to scratch your hands from the small, intricate parts of the device.

MC: S-Sure…

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅

MC: Nine screens? Is it used to display different parts of the commission?

Mo Yi: Perhaps it has something to do with it's name of the "Vespers' Box"...? Unless, maybe it's really a commission from an undead?

Lu Jinghe: Well… don't you think this is shaped a little similar to cosmetic products and the like that girls use…?

MC: Cosmetic products for girls…? You don't look the type to be that knowledgeable about it.

Lu Jinghe: Hehe— Of course I'll pay attention to something that might be a potential present for you one day!

Chu Dai: Everyone, I've already activated the program within the "Vespers' Box". You can activate the screen to light it up by tapping on it again so please try it out!

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅

MC: Whoa… how beautiful!

Mo Yi: ...It can be regarded as an Art Masterpiece.

Chu Dai: The contents being shown on the screen are the instructions for your investigations. I'm still analyzing it so please wait for a moment.

Zuo Ran: Only one screen has been lit while the others are locked and marked by a serial number… Are these all steps dictated by the Client themselves?

MC: Looks like we can only play along with them until we manage to find them…

Lu Jinghe: Let's first discuss the countermeasures we're going to be taking while waiting for Chu Dai to decrypt it.

Xia Yan: Yup. We have to listen to what everyone thinks of this before deciding whether or not to participate in this Case.

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅

We temporarily put the "Vespers' Box" aside since Chu Dai was still parsing the encrypted content on the screen.

Lu Jinghe: Let me share my opinion first. I cannot ignore it now, since this matter concerns the Big Data Lab.

Xia Yan: This person approached me by name and even threatened the Network Security of Stellis City, so I can't stand by and do nothing about it either.

Lu Jinghe: ...So you're saying that you want to settle this together too, don't you?

Xia Yan: This was originally a matter that the Client entrusted to me alone.

MC: ……

Don't we all investigate cases together all the time anyway? Why do the two of you have to be so…

MC: Then...how about we all solve it together?

Xia Yan: You want to participate too? But I'm afraid it'll affect your job…

Zuo Ran: Priorities are priorities. This issue of the "Vespers' Box" involves the Information Security of Stellis City as a whole, and thus, cannot be ignored.

Zuo Ran: (Y/n), I can give you a vacation to let you focus on this matter at hand. I will lend my aid as well.

MC: What…? Are you sure?

MC: Thank you, Lawyer Zuo!

Lu Jinghe: I knew that things would eventually turn out like this…

Mo Yi: We're all members of the same team, so it's not good to be leaving teammates behind and act on your own accord, correct?

MC: Are you joining us too Dr. Mo?

Mo Yi: Of course. I'll naturally accompany you to face this challenge that you've undertaken.

Lu Jinghe: Acting cool even in a time like this…?

Zuo Ran: How much longer till Chu Dai decrypts the tasks?

Chu Dai: Mission completed! Everyone, you can now check the tasks on the screen of the "Vespers' Box"!

Chu Dai made a re-appearance before us again as a projection after completing the decryption process.

Chu Dai: The Client has made nine task groups and will probably be giving us clues and hints on where to investigate after completing them.

Chu Dai: Actively complete the tasks set out by the Client, and you should be able to see what his true motives are soon enough!

Lu Jinghe: Complete tasks to get hints…? Does he think of this as a game?

Xia Yan: A hacker's code is unique, each to its own, like a fingerprint. It'll come a long way in helping us identify the Client if we can crack his method of compiling source codes.

Xia Yan: I'll be cooped up here most of the time from now on, using what resources we have at hand to crack the codes. I hope Chu Dai can assist me with that.

Xia Yan: This way, I can also provide remote support if the Big Data Lab faces threat again.

Lu Jinghe: No problem. I've already notified the Big Data Lab to leave enough Memory Space for Chu Dai to work with for this Case.

Chu Dai: Yup! Chu Dai's daily serviceable functions won't be affected at all, so feel free to use me to assist you in your investigations!

I felt a surge of relief upon seeing them settle the arrangements without a hitch.

MC: Please don't hesitate to tell me if there's anything I can help with! I'm still on vacation, so I my time's more flexible now.

All eyes on the floor turned to me right after the words left my mouth, making me feel oddly embarrassed out of nowhere.

MC: Don't...Don't look at me like that. I might not know much about hackers, but I'm still able to run around doing errands and investigations for clues…

Xia Yan: Actually, there's this one other important thing that only you can do. Sorry, I kept forgetting to tell you about it.

Under my curious gaze, Xia Yan took a deep breath before speaking slowly.

Xia Yan: I hope you'll take custody of the "Vespers' Box" and lead this investigation.

MC: !!!

Xia Yan: I know that this is a little risky. It was I, who received the commission, and I shouldn't have involved others who didn't have anything to do with it…

Xia Yan: But I have to stay at the Base most of the time to analyze the codes, so I had to find someone who would be able to take on the task and carry out the investigations out in the field much more conveniently.

Zuo Ran: This is too dangerous. We do not know of the reason behind the hacker's disappearance and have no way of identifying who we're up against.

Mo Yi: But her safety will be guaranteed so long as there's always someone by her side, yes?

Mo Yi smiled at me.

Mo Yi: My recent schedule is somewhat free, so I can accompany you if that's any reassurance.

MC: Huh? But wouldn't I be troubling you way too much…?

Lu Jinghe: Trouble or no trouble, I wouldn't trust someone who only wakes at 9AM to protect you.

Xia Yan: Same.

Zuo Ran: Mo Yi, I hope you'd consider the feasibility of your suggestion before putting it forth.

Mo Yi: ......

Zuo Ran: All four of us have a fixed range of activities we are involved in; be it work or investigation...

Zuo Ran: So how about we take turns to accompany her based on whose workplace is the closest when the tasks get triggered?

Zuo Ran: The "Vespers' Box" will be stored in NXX's Base after completing the daily tasks every day. This way, there'll be no need to be afraid of being tracked.

Lu Jinghe: Yes, that's certainly a good idea.

Xia Yan: I won't be careless when it comes to the problem of her safety. I'll also track and monitor her location in real time when she's out through the GPS signal beamed from her mobile.

Mo Yi: Alright. This is certainly the most efficient method we've come up with.

Chu Dai: So... have all of you decided the course of action you’ll be taking?

Chu Dai, who had been watching us all this time, seemed to have finally found an opportunity to interrupt us.

Chu Dai: Oh! Looks like you've all talked it out! (Y/n) has a very good work record! I'm sure she'll have absolutely no problem at all leading the investigation!

MC: Haha, thank you for the compliments, Chu Dai!

Chu Dai: Then next, I will be explaining the functions of the "Vespers' Box" that I've analyzed.

Chu Dai: All members of NXX, please listen carefully, for you'll be using these eventually in consequent investigations!

Everyone nodded, gathering where I was to listen to his explanation.

A heavy sense of responsibility weighed on my heart as I held the "Vespers' Box" in my hands.

MC: (Please rest assured, all of you who have placed your deep trust in me…)

MC: (I'll definitely complete this commission and find out the true colors of this mysterious Client of ours!)

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Next Part: (NXX Group Chat: Big Data Lab)

[moth-and-mayfly]

gay fairies

I wrote this gay ass story for a final if anyone wants a short little queer pick-me-up to read. It has sapphics and fairies and a cute lil happy ending. I’m not really a writer so go easy but constructive criticism is appreciated :)

it also has some google-translate Irish in it so if anyone speaks real Irish I genuinely apologize 

Lavender Grass

My feet pounded across the ground, the bitter wind hard at my back as I crushed the long grass into a record of my path. I was barely taller than the grass myself but I pushed through, faster and faster, the sky above me gaping wide, the intricate stone crosses like trees arching over me. She was gaining. I kept going, the hard ground becoming harder stone underneath my small feet as I broke out of the long grass. I was almost there- the gate loomed in front of me, and a crazy grin broke out across my face. Just as I stretched my hand out towards it, I heard a buzz behind me and felt a pair of arms wrap around me. I let out a shriek as I was hoisted into the air, and began batting wildly at my captor.

“Ha! Gotcha!” I spun around to look my sister Nula in the face, and stuck my tongue out at her.

“You didn’t get me! You cheated! Wings aren’t allowed!”

She just grinned impishly at me, buzzing her wings behind her triumphantly. “It’s not my fault Mam hasn’t taught you yet, you’re too little. And you know we’re not allowed near the gate, so we both broke the rules, trioblóidí! It’s late, Mommy will worry if we don’t go home now.” She gave my dark curls an affectionate tousle, and started the flight back home still carrying me.

“Why doesn’t Mam want us near the gate anyway?” I asked as the long violet grass and graves passed underneath us.

“Because Mommy’s from there, and they kicked her out and hurt her.” Nula looked down at me seriously. “They’re not like us. They’re mean okay? And Mam just wants us to be safe.”

. . .

Nula set down as we reached home. It wasn’t big or showy, just a wooden house sticking up like an animal out of the long lavender grass. But as Mommy says, it keeps the wind out and the warmth in. I liked that I could see the ocean on all sides from the roof, and wave hi to the kelpies in the mornings. I liked that we had cows and goats and jackalopes, and that Nula and I got to name them. I liked the fluffy pillows that Mam made for us and our big fireplace. It was home.

“Dia duit mo pháistí!” Mommy greeted us from the porch, holding my little brother Rhys in one arm and churning butter with the other. I squirmed and Nula set me down.

“Nula cheated and flew again! It’s not fair Mommy!” I whined as I ran over to her and grasped her skirts. “Why can’t I learn to fly yet! Why not, why not, why not!

“Sage you’re such a tattletale.” Nula muttered.

Mommy sighed, letting go of the churn and looked down at me. “Mo stór, be patient. Your wings aren’t big enough yet.��

I pouted. “Well fine! If I can’t fly yet I want to go through the gate!”

She blanched immediately, her normally warm round face growing cold and her tone deadly. “Sage you absolutely may not go through that gate. I don’t even want you near it! Why are you bringing this up now?”

My righteousness subsided as I saw how serious she was. “Nula said you used to live there.” I mumbled, looking down at my feet. “She said they were mean to you.”

Mommy sighed, melancholy now. “They were mo stór, they were.”

I looked up at her hopefully, settling myself next to her the way I do when she reads us stories by the fireplace.

She laughed wryly as Nula sat at her other side, face curious.

“Alright mo dhualóga, I suppose I can’t keep it from you forever. I will tell you everything . . .

-

I grew up in a sad little town called Aineolach across the wall. The other side of the wall isn’t like here; the grass is green and there’s only one moon. No one has wings or tails or horns over there, they all look like me. And they are bitter, for somewhere deep within themselves they know they are missing something, but they don’t know what. So they take and take from the world, but they remain unfilled and eventually take it out on one another.

    I had four brothers and two sisters back in Aineolach, and all three of us girls shared a bed in our home. We had four walls, which is more than could be said for many people of the town, but they were worn walls and badly patched, and the wind still came in through the cracks. My sisters Ana and Neasa were the only things keeping me warm some nights. Ana and I were inseparable, she was older than me but we were the closest in age of all the siblings. My mom called us her cailíní fiáine- her little wild girls, because we had a reputation for always running off to dance and play in the woods, collecting flowers and pretty rocks and herbs. The space underneath our bed gradually filled with our little treasures.

    Neasa however . . .  well, she was younger than us and she got left behind a lot. I think perhaps it made the bitterness grow faster in her.

    As we got older, things changed. Crops started going bad, livestock got sick, people started whispering. They were suspicious of Ana and I, how free we were, how comfortable in the wild where the fae roam. They said perhaps we had angered something old.

    It never bothered me much, but Ana started staying home more often. She started working in the shop in town, hanging out with the other shop girls and twittering about boys. I didn’t see the appeal personally, so I went to the woods on my own. Months passed, and Ana fell in love with the blacksmith's son. I still didn’t get it, but I suppose he was tall and nice and such. Sometimes the three of us would all hang out and feed the ducks, and it was always a good time. It made Ana happy that me and him got along.

    But one day, a carriage rolled into town. A duke, passing through on his way to the city. I remember his fancy shoes and his lumbering walk, how he looked at everything as though he could own it with a snap of his fingers. I guess he felt that way about people too, because the moment he saw Ana he felt she should be his. He offered our father a massive sum of money, and before either Ana or I or the blacksmith's son knew what was going on, she was engaged to the Duke.

    I held Ana that whole night as she cried. Shaking, she whispered to me through sobs that she didn’t know what to do, that she was pregnant with the blacksmith’s son’s child and she didn’t know what would happen if the duke or anyone found out. I held her until she fell asleep, whispering “it’ll be alright. You’ll be alright. I’ll fix this.”

-

That night after Ana fell asleep I went into the woods. Unlike my usual walks, my steps were purposeful and my path was direct. My feet led me deeper and deeper until I reached an iron gate, twisted and rusted with age, only standing with the help of a nearby oak tree that had begun to grow around it. I had happened upon this gate years ago with Ana, but when we discovered it she had immediately pulled me back in fear.

“Look at those!” She had pointed frantically to the little ring mushrooms that grew around the tree and gate. “This is obviously fae land. If we get any closer they’ll take us away and we’ll never see home again. Let’s go.” I had let her pull me away, but I couldn’t help sneaking looks back as we left.

Now however, there was no one to stop me. And I needed to save my sister. So with a trembling breath, I stepped over the mushrooms. Instantly, my vision went white. When I could see again, I was still in the ring of mushrooms looking at the gate, but everything around me was different. The grass was purple, and twice the amount of moonlight shone down upon me. A sweet voice sounded from behind me, and I spun around- coming face to face with the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. She was talking, but I couldn’t process anything she said because I was too overwhelmed looking at her. She looked like a human, but somehow more alive. Her eyes were deep dark brown, the color of the soil and dark wood. Her hair was short like a boy’s, revealing pointed ears poking out between her curls, and I could have sworn her teeth were sharper than normal.

“Sorry, what?” I said, still dazed.

She gave me a concerned look. “I said hello.”

“Hi,” I managed to squeak back.

She squinted her big eyes at me, concerned. “Are you okay? We don’t get a lot of humans here. Are you lost?”

“No,” I said, taking a deep breath and steeling my resolve. “I’m here for a favor.”

At those words, an impish smile curled on her face. “I see. I am called Wren. And your name?” She reached out her hand, her unusually long fingers beckoning.

I slapped it away on instinct. “I’m not stupid. I wouldn’t give a fae my name. Call me whatever you like. I need you to help my sister and I can pay.” I thrust a bag of coins at her shocked face.

“Alright trioblóidí, relax.” She laughed, easily brushing off her surprise and pushing away my hand. “I will help. But your human money is no good here. I want that.” She pointed to my bracelet, a gift from Ana.

“It’s worthless.” I insisted.

“It’s sentimental. It has magic. And I’ll need a link to your sister if you want my magic to help the right person.”

I handed it over reluctantly.

“Okay, i'll see what I can do. But I must warn you, magic doesn’t always turn out how you or even I want it too.” She said, dark eyes holding mine.

“Now, you must go. The longer humans stay here, the harder it is to leave. If you need me again, just come to the gate and say my name.” And with that, she put a finger to the center of my forehead, and pushed me back. My vision went white, and I awoke the next morning in my bed, my heart pounding and my wrist bare.

-

The next day, the news travelled around our village faster than a dragonfly in spring: the count had fallen ill, and would be staying at the local healers house until he recovered. Or until he died, I thought. But I had enough sense to keep that to myself.

Ana was overjoyed. She and the blacksmith's son had enough time to run away to the next town over, and when they returned married, no one, not even our father, could do anything about it. I was so happy for her, really I was. But soon, she moved into a new house with her new husband: leaving me stuck with Neasa in the cold.

And so, the months passed. The duke did recover, but left town immediately, having forgotten completely about Ana. The harvest came and went, scarcer than ever. Ana lived her new life, and I stayed stuck in mine. I retreated to the woods more and more, unable to stop thinking about the gate and the fae girl and her dark eyes, but also unable to find the gate again.

One night, Neasa woke me from a nightmare, her thin hands pushing at my back. I turned to look at her angry face. “You’re keeping me up with all your whimpering! What has gotten into you?”

“Nothing. It’s not important.” I said.

Her young face scrunched itself into an unpleasant scowl as she looked at me. “I know you’ve always hated it here. You don’t talk to anyone but Ana, you’re always alone in the woods. Dad says you probably messed with spirits and got replaced by a changeling or something. But I think you’ve just always been a freak.”

At the time, I was too frustrated, too young and too tired of feeling trapped and bored with life to respond to Neasa with patience. I’ll probably wonder forever if things could have been different if I’d been more mature. But instead, I snapped.

“I’m not a freak!” I yelled. “You don’t even know anything Neasa! You’ve never left this stupid town and you probably never will. You’re just gonna be running around after people who don’t want you for the rest of your life. I’d rather be a freak than pathetic.” Without stopping to look at her face, I grabbed my cloak and boots and stomped out into the night air, letting my feet take me to the trees, and down path after path after path, until I stumbled upon a twisted gate.

“Wren?” I whispered uncertainly.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then with a flash of white she was there, standing in the circle of mushrooms, hair wild and eyes dark. She smiled when she saw me. “Hello again trioblóidí. Come to tell me your real name?” She joked.

I couldn’t help it, I started crying. Fat tears rolling down my face as I started talking about Ana leaving, and Neasa, and how everyday there was less food at home. Wren’s eyes widened, and she pat me on the shoulder uncertainly as I rambled.

“And I just know I’m going to be stuck there forever! Until I have to marry some slimy village boy and then I’ll be stuck at his house forever, cooking and cleaning and - oh my god - having his KIDS-“ with that, Wren pulled me into a tight embrace as I continued to cry.

Eventually, my tears turned to sniffles, and the embarrassment caught up with me. “I’m so sorry.” I said, hiding my face in her shoulder. “I know we’ve only met once, it’s just you’re the only person I know who doesn’t live in my village- and all of them think that settling down and marrying, ugh . . . A boy is the pinnacle of happiness and I just-“

She cut me off gently, “Hey, hey, it’s okay. I don’t - I don’t necessarily know how to help with this one, but if I can, I will.”

I peeked up at her. “Do you think you could tell me about that place I met you? With the lavender grass? Then I can, I don’t know. Imagine I’ve been somewhere besides these woods and home.”

She smiled, and we spent the rest of the night leaning against a nearby tree and talking about our homes and where we’d go if we could go anywhere.

As the sky grew light and the sun began to filter through the trees, I got up to go home. “Sorry again- but also thank you. For everything.”

She stretched and grinned, showing off rows of pointed teeth. “If you really want to thank me, you could give me your name.”

“Not likely, fae.” I teased

“Alright trioblóidí, up to you.” She grew serious then. “But listen, if you ever need to get away for real you can come with me. Home, I mean. My home. Only thing is . . . For a human, it’s hard to get back once you stay. So be sure.”

I wanted to. I really wanted to, but - “I can’t. I can’t leave my sisters”

“I understand.” She turned back towards the tree, and I watched as two beautiful, shimmery dragonfly wings stretched open behind her.

I gasped “are those-“ but she just threw a wink my way over her shoulder, and flew past the gate and out of sight.

-

Days stretched into weeks and weeks into months, and spring and summer came and went. I spent nearly all my free time sneaking out to talk to Wren and helping Ana with my new niece. I was happier than ever, even as things continued to grow worse in the village. Food was scarce, tensions were high, everyone was suspicious of each other. There was nearly a fistfight in the middle of the town square as a farmer accused his neighbor of stealing his cow. The cow in question was found a day later, and it turned out the farmer himself had left the back gate unlatched, but not even that revelation got him to apologise.

Since our fight, Neasa refused to talk to me. I tried to explain myself, tried saying sorry, but she would only stare at me in stony silence. I gave up after a while, too preoccupied with my newfound positivity to worry about her. She’d always been stubborn and volatile, but she usually forgot about things once she had a new person to direct her anger at, I was sure this time would be no different.

As the first cold winds of fall blew in, an early frost came with them. The frost covered the fields, rotting the fruits on the trees and decimating the crops. It was the last straw. Devastated, everyone gathered in the town square, screaming and shouting at each other, clamoring to blame or to weep or to prophetize our doom the loudest. I stood on the outskirts of the crowd next to Ana, who was holding my hand and her baby with equal fervor.

Suddenly, a voice echoed from behind us. Slow, and dripping with satisfaction, it carried over the noise of the crowd with ease.

“I know why this is happening.”

Silence.

“I know who did this.”

I turned around.

It was Neasa, a sharp smile on her face, vainglorious with the weight of all eyes on her for the first time. She walked slowly to the middle of the crowd, villagers parting like the Red Sea. Was she holding something?

“Someone in our village has cursed us.”

Gasps and mutters throughout the crowd. I stood up on my tiptoes to try and get a better look at what was in her hands.

“Think about it, what kind of person goes into the woods at all hours? Is strange and antisocial? Rejects all normal ways of life?” She smiles, drawing it out and holding the crowd rapt. “A witch of course.”

I spot the items in her hands. Dread shoots through me.

“And who do we know like that?” She turns her eyes on me and the crowds’ follow.

“I would hate to implicate my own sister in this foul act of magic, but alas, the evidence is overwhelming.”  All eyes turn back to her as she dumps the collection of herbs and rocks from under our bed onto the ground.

“She collects these materials to bring back here and concoct nefarious spells and curses. She is responsible for the sickness that befell the count, who would have brought us prosperity and wealth. She blatantly runs wild in the forest cavorting with the fae. I’ve seen it myself!” Neasa shouted triumphantly, pointing at me. The crowd began to edge away from me, staring at me angrily, whispering agreement.

She must have followed me that night after I yelled at her. I looked frantically at Ana, who was staring at me with a scared look on her face.

“It- it’s not true! I sputtered “listen, all that stuff- it’s just stupid trinkets Ana and I found when we were kids, it’s not, I’m not- Ana tell them!”

Ana stepped forward to defend me, but Neasa interrupted again.

“I have proof.”

She held up a small, perfectly white mushroom. Unmistakably from a faerie ring. The crowd erupted, but I didn’t hear anything. I just looked at Ana, pleading.

She looked back at me. Then, down at her baby. Back up at me.

She let go of my hand.

All the noise came rushing back to me, as Ana was swallowed by the crowd and angry villagers crowded my vision. I stared back blankly, as people I’d never met screamed at me for the death of their livestock, for their child falling ill, for the bad crops and the cold and the wind and all the things they couldn’t control.

It struck me then, that these people never got much of a choice in their life. The world so rarely gives people like us that courtesy, most people are only ever able to take what they are prescribed or what they can take from other people. But I had a choice that none of them would ever get, and I was wasting it staying here, when nothing was left for me anyway.

I bolted. I could hear shouts coming from behind me, the clanging of metal, stomping, the fizzle of fires being lit. My feet carried me through the grass and up the hill to the tree line. I was already panting but I pushed through, faster and faster, the trees arching over me. A crazy grin broke out across my face as I realized I’d never have to go home again. I hit a root and fell hard, but managed to kick off the underbrush along with my shoes and keep going. They were gaining now, but all I could hear was the blood rushing in my ears and the promise of a new life. I was almost there- the gate loomed ahead of me and I shouted “Wren!” In a split second she appeared before me, all wide eyes and sharp teeth.

“trioblóidí, what the hell?” She exclaimed as I barreled toward her, finally slowing to collapse into her arms.

“I want to go.” I said, breathing hard.

Her eyes softened, “are you sure?”

No hesitation. “Yes. And my name is Fiona.”

“Fiona.” She repeated. I nodded, and reached up to kiss her as we disappeared through the gate.

-

“And that, is how I met your Mum.” Mommy finished, smiling at us.

“That’s soooo romantic!” Nula sighed dreamily.

I just stuck my tongue out and wrinkled my nose. “Gross. Kissing.”

Mommy chuckled as Nula called inside. “Mum did you hear that! Mommy says you were like a hero!”

Mum emerged from the house, her dark curls blowing slightly in the wind, wings stretched behind her. She looked fondly down at Mommy, and planted a kiss on her forehead. “If you think I’m the heroic one, you should hear about all the adventures we went on after your mommy came back here with me! She’s the brave one for sure.”

Nula’s eyes lit up, and I knew we’d soon be hearing the whole thing.

“Okay tell us! But leave out the kissing.” I demanded. Mommy laughed, and grabbed Mum’s hand as we drew closer.

“Alright trioblóidí, I will tell you everything . . . “

[sillyshortstories]

Parsley

Summary: This short story is inspired by the original Rapunzel tale by Giambattista Basile. Serafina must embark on many side quests to obtain the witch's parsley, before her pregnant wife Satomi succumbs to scratching her eczema ridden skin!

Cultural context: Birthmarks and cravings. 

“I’m really craving parsley,” Satomi said, longingly staring out the window. 

Serafina immediately rose from her coffin, and stared at her wife in horror. “Which… which parsley?”

Satomi pressed herself against the window, and dragged a hand down it slowly. “The neighbour’s.” 

These words granted Serafina more alertness than 49 cups of coffee. Satomi turned her head, pouting out her lip like a small child. Serafina softly started, “Don’t-”

“Could you,” Satomi started to beg. “Get some for me?”

Serafina stumbled out of her coffin, shaking her head profusely. “Nope. No. Not gonna happen, sorry babe.” 

Satomi whined, “But Serafina-”

“I may be a 240 year old blood-thirsty-vampire, but she’s a 22 year old independent witch of this century. She’ll destroy me and you know it.” Serafina grabbed Satomi’s hands, and pulled her gently. “”Now let’s get away from the window and think of sorbet. You like sorbet! I can go to the corner store and pick you up some of that.” 

Like a switch, Satomi change her demeanor, and leaned into her wife. She slowly and seductively whispered, “I want that parsley.” She breathed into Serafina’s ear. “And my eczema is acting up.”

Serafina quickly pushed and held Satomi at a distance. “You’re lying?” she said softly. 

“You know I’m not.”

Sweat began to form on Serafina’s forehead. She shifted her attention from Satomi to the window, until she gulped down. “You uh,” her voice quivered. “You really want that parsley?” 

Satomi smiled, horns imagined on her head as she planted a kiss on Serafina’s pale lips. “Make sure to get a big bunch,” she requested, and sat back down on the windowsill. “Thanks babe.”

“It was nice knowing you, my love. I’ll die on this quest to get parsley for my beautiful wife,” Serafina performed, allowing a tear to fall from her eye. “Tell our baby that I love them.”

“Hon, you’re immortal.” 

“She’ll break my soul!” Serafina sniffled, then ended her dramatic scene. “Okay, I’m going.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

___

Serafina tiptoed her way around the fence that divided the two properties, and somersaulted on the grass like a secret agent. She did it correctly, only her feet landed and crushed a lavender head. 

“Well, I already fucked up.”

Serafina stood up, dusted off her pants and cloak, and walked right up to the small patch of fresh parsley. She wrapped her hands around the stems of as many as she could, then ripped it out from the Earth. Soil spilled out from beneath it, pulling out multiple carrot-looking roots along with it.

Serafina heard a crack of a twig, fear shook her to the very core as a shadowy figure stepped into her view. The figure was her neighbour Nomi, who held onto the ends of her cloak above her head, giving the illusion of a larger stature in the dark night. However, she was approximately the average size of a pubescent child.  

Nomi squinted her eyes at the lavender patch, releasing her cloak, and croaked, “What did you do to my lavender?”

“It was an acci-”

“Those were to save the bees. What, you don’t like bees now?”

“No, I love those chubby fuckers! It was an accident, really.”

“And this bunch of parsley you ripped out from my garden? I’m guessing that was an accident too.”

“Well, uh, see-”

Nomi snatched the parsley from Serafina’s grasp. “Nice try, but it’ll cost you.”

“How much money do you want?”

“Not money…” Nomi stroked the parsley in her hands. “I’ll let you have the parsley if-” She smirked. “If you give me your first-”

“Not my first child!” Serafina screamed. 

“Goddess no, why would I want to be a mother in this economy? I just want your first murder victim. Their bones, to be precise.”

“I-I haven’t killed anyone. I’ve always lived off of period blood.”

Nomi blinked rapidly, shaking her head in disbelief. “Wow, um, okay? Then just get me Dildar from the graveyard down the street. Aaron’s been hoarding him since I was 7.”

“Are you sure you don’t just want mo-”

“Bones!” Nomi screeched, swinging her cloak over her face, and disappeared into the shadows again. 

___

The fog was thick in the graveyard, the whistling of the wind filling Serafina’s ears. She clutched her cloak and wrapped it around her body as she wandered deeper into the graveyard. Some fog passed through her body, and took the shape of a 10 foot cyclops. 

“I am the grave ghost! Fear me!”

“Hey Aaron.”

“Oh, hey Serafina.” The ghost relaxed and shrunk down to Serafina’s height, in a human form. “Has it been a year already?”

“No, I’m not here to visit my former husband. I’m here for, uh… Dildar, actually.”

Aaron squinted his illuminated eyes, and hovered around Serafina’s body. “Why?”

“Well, uh, see Aaron, I need something from Nomi and-”

“Tell that Gnome that she cannot have his bones.”

Tears welled in Serafina’s eyes. “Come on Aaron, it’s not like I’m asking for your husband’s bones.”

“Dildar was my first love and you know that.” Aaron descended slowly to sit on top of Dildar’s tombstone. He let out a sigh. “We met when I was 20.”

Aaron smiled softly, immersing himself in the soft memories.

Human Aaron was walking his dog when there was an explosion a few houses down. Thick smoke seeped out through the cracks in the window of the small stone house. A young man with singed eyebrows and a coarse beard stumbled out of the front door, and fell on the lawn.

“Are you okay?” Aaron asked, wafting away the smoke around him. 

“I’m fi-fi-fi-fine,” Dildar replied. 

Aaron offered a hand out towards Dildar. “You need some moisturizer, you are looking a little ashy.” 

Dildar burst out into laughter, then smudged some of the black soot from his cheek with the back of his hand.

“We became friends because of that,” ghost Aaron said recalling some more memories. “He sure was an experimental alchemist, and a talented witch.” 

Serafina spoke softly, “You know he would allow his bones to be used after his death.”

“I know that, Nomi just boils my blood.” Aaron floated up from the tombstone and circled around Serafina slowly. “Why are you helping the Gnome anyways?” 

“Satomi is craving parsley and-”

“Say no more,” Aaron interrupted. “I will make a deal with you. I will give you the bones of Dildar if,” he tapped his finger against each other, like he was hatching an evil plan. “You get me Rasmus’ lucky rabbit’s foot.”

“Oh, come on Aaron,” Serafina whined. 

“I cannot give you his bones, Serafina.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll get the rabbit’s foot for you.” Serafina turned and mumbled unpleasant commentary under her breath as she stormed out of the graveyard. 

___

Music was blaring through the open windows. Serafina’s knock was barely audible, but Rasmus swung the door open. 

“Serafina!” Rasmus shouted over the noise. “What’s up? Come in!”

Serafina immersed herself in the chaos, and without hesitation she tried to explain, “I’m going to be straight with you- well, not straight ‘cause i’m not.” She snorted. “But like, to the point, I need- Is that a dancing chicken?!”

“Oh yeah, Ove and Ivalu found her wandering on our front lawn,” Rasmus replied. “She’s pretty talented, huh?”

The chicken was racking up points in Dance Dance Revolution until the very end. The tiny Ivalu, exhausted, toppled over in defeat once the song finished. 

“Y’ain’t shit Ivalu,” Ove shouted at his sister, as he pushed her battered body to the side. 

Like clockwork, Ove and the chicken agreed on a song, and began to dance. But this song, When I Grow Up by The Pussycat Dolls, sent the chicken down memory lane.

Freshly hatched from the egg, the chicken was introduced to music, and with that, the influence to move to the melody. Her mother thought it was cute, the way she would move her feet, and sway her plump behind, but she wanted to be more than cute. She wanted to be the best. She wanted to be famous. 

At the ripe age of 1, she set out on her own. She followed the music, made it to frat parties, and befriended lonely flute players in the woods. 

‘I’ll be famous one day’, she would think as she practiced daily. On her journey, the chicken stumbled upon Rasmus’ front lawn, and danced to the music that poured out of the windows. 

Eventually, she caught the attention of the two children, and as many others had done, they welcomed the talented chicken into their home. However, this time was different. 

Other people, other homes, were not equipped with a game to help her practice. This game offered her a wide selection of tunes and choreography. Upon discovering this game, the chicken silently decided she would stay a while, and practice to achieve her dreams. 

‘I’ll be famous one day,’ she repeated in her head. ‘It is my dance dance resolution.’

Serafina stared in awe as the chicken demolished Ove this round without even breaking a sweat. Not that she could sweat, she’s a chicken after all. 

“Uh.” Serafina cleared her throat, and looked to Rasmus. “Look, I’m really in a rush. My wife needs parsley, but Nomi wants bones, and Aaron wants your lucky rabbit’s foot. Can I give you something in exchange for the foot?”

“Why does Satomi need parsley?”

“You know, pregnant women crave thi-”

“She’s pregnant?!” Rasmus threw his hands in the air, and giggled like a schoolgirl. 

Serafina smiled at his excitement. “Yeah, for a few months now.”

“I had no idea! I assumed hormone replacement therapy would make you infertile.”

“Oh no, I’m not on hormones. It’s hard enough to get my supply of period blood all the way out here, forget estrogen.” Serafina tossed her long hair over her shoulder. “Anyways, Rasmus, I need the lucky rabbit’s foot. What do you want in exchange for it?”

Serafina silently prayed for his request to be money. 

Rasmus placed a finger to his chin and stared at the ceiling as he thought. He animated his thought process by throwing his thinking hand into the air. “Oh! I know! Tamecia has a handwritten cookbook.”

“You want a cookbook?”

“Hey, I’m a single dad living in the middle of the forest. I need to make due with a surplus of wild mushrooms and ramps.”

Serafina sighed. “Fair enough. I’ll be back with the cookbook,” and she went on her not-so-merry-way.

___

She was exactly where Serafina knew she’d be; stuck in a tree. The branches crackled beneath her, and in an instant, Tamecia fell to the ground. 

Tamecia had a white afro as big as her belly, that now housed several branches and withering leaves. 

“Hey,” Serafina dragged out the word in a forced upbeat tone. “Tamecia.” 

“Serafina! Hello darling. Help me up, won’t you?” Tamecia grunted, and stuck her arms out for Serafina to grab. 

Serafina’s veins popped, muscles rippled as she strained to lift Tamecia up, who was putting in no effort herself. 

“There you go. Not too difficult for you, I hope?” Tamecia chuckled to herself, and dusted off her silk nightgown. 

Serafina was still panting as she blurted out, “Can I buy your cookbook?”

A bellow of laughter erupted from Tamecia. “Why would you need a cookbook, dear?”

“I don’t, but Rasmus does, and I need something from him.”

“Ah, Rasmus. Good fellow. Did you see that dancing chicken he has?”

“I had the pleasure of meeting her today. Now how about that cookbook.” Serafina whipped out her wallet from her back pocket. “How much do you want for it?”

“Oh sweetheart, I don’t want money.”

Serafina’s face light up like Diwali. “You don’t? Then can I get it n-”

“Monifa does have an invention I’m interested in.” Serafina immediately deflated as Tamecia continued, “If you can get that for me, dear, then I’ll gladly give you the cookbook.”

Serafina looked like death. “What’s the invention?”

“It’s a potion that gives you stretchy limbs. It’d be very useful for me. You don’t know how often my Kitty gets stuck in trees.”

“No no, I can imagine how often your kite Kitty gets caught in trees. We do live in a forest after all.” Serafina let out a long sigh, and carried herself away from Tamecia, who had begun another attempt at retrieving her pet kite from the tree. 

“So, a stretchy formula,” Serafina mumbled, swaying her lifeless body in the direction of Monifa’s house. 

___

Monifa’s lawn was full of botanical life, but with a clean walkway to the front door. Serafina breathed in the calming lavender, attempting to enjoy nature instead of letting the bitterness brew in her chest. She couldn’t believe Nomi was the only person in the whole village to grow parsley. 

‘It’s okay.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I will get this parsley, as if my life depends on it.’

Just as Serafina put her fist to the door, it swung open. “Hey Serafina,” Monfia said. 

“That was… were you expecting someone or something?” Serafina looked behind her, and searched around for someone else. 

“No.” Monifa leaned against the doorframe. “You were just standing on my porch for a while. Seemed a little out of it. Are you okay?”

Serafina’s voice cracked, and her body fell, as she clutched onto Monifa’s lab coat. “I need parsley.”

“Oh, okay?” Monifa instinctively held onto Serafina, and attempted to pull her up. “How can I help?” 

“I need your limb-stretching formula or whatever it’s called.”

“Stretcher 4.0. I’m sorry, but how does… how does that help you get parsley?”

Serafina pulled herself up with the aid of Monifa, and explained to her they daily events that led to this moment. She pointed to the trees, and danced like the chicken to animate her predicament. 

Monifa attempted to contain her laughter. “Wait wait wait, you’re going through all of this because your wife is craving parsley?”

“My wife has eczema, I can’t just not! Our child will have parsley all over their skin!”

“Actually, that superstition has been disproven for centu-”

“PARSLEY! PARSLEY ON OUR BABY’S BODY!” Serafina threw her hands in the air frantically, then dragged her fingers through her hair, tugging it down. “Now, what do you want in exchange for the stretchy thingy?”

Monifa paused for a moment before pointing behind her. “Do you see a little girl eating brownies back there?”

Serafina peered in, noticing a tray of untouched, steaming brownies, but no sign of anyone else in the bungalow. “Uh, no?”

Monifa adjusted her glasses to sit higher up the bridge of her nose. “Okay, I figured I needed to switch up my meds.” Monfia reached into her pocket, and pulled out a thin vial with a thick iridescent fluid. “Here you go, the stretcher 4.0.”

Serafina took it in her hands, and stared at it bewildered. “That’s all?”

“Yeah.”

“Are.. you sure?”

“Yup, that’s all I needed. Oh! One more thing before you go; be sure to unplug your appliances after use, because it can burn out the device and it wastes electricity.”

Serafina switched her gaze from the vial to Monifa, with tears forming in her eyes. She sniffled, “Thank you.”

___

The house was flooded with the burnt orange of dawn light, and Serafina swam in the warmth of it. The parsley in her hands flopped around as she danced to jazz music from the 1920’s, playing softly on the record player.

Even with the missing component of garlic, the scent of tomato sauce transported Serafina to her childhood in Italy.  

She burst into the tiny kitchen to greet Satomi when the record scratched and stopped. 

A pot began to spit out sauce as Satomi stood frozen over the stove, with her eyes fixed on Serafina. Satomi’s hand was still on her neck, which was inflamed and cracked. Slowly, her hand moved down to her side. 

Serafina held the bouquet of parsley out and mumbled, “You’re not still craving this, are you?”

“I, uh,” Satomi stuttered, just as the pot of water began to boil over. 

Satomi hurriedly removed the lid from the pot, and slowly stirred in the pasta, occasionally stealing glances of Serafina. 

Finally, Serafina relaxed into a smile as she watched her wife. She imagined their child looking just like Satomi, with birthmarks in place of her eczema. 

Serafina planted a kiss on Satomi’s cheek. “Our child is going to be so beautiful.”

[seven-oomen]

Hi, Ben!  I hope your day is going well so far!  Are you still getting snow, or has the storm calmed a bit?  We’re supposed to be getting a potentially severe ice storm over the course of today.  There’s already a thin layer this morning, we’ll see how the rest of the day goes.  And temperatures are supposed to stay in about the -4 to -6C range the rest of the week.  I’m very glad that I’m off the next couple of days, and managed to get by the grocery last night after work.

I saw your post about writing and writing styles!  It was helpful because I’ve not really seen the different styles written out and explained before.  I’m still not 100% which I am, but probably either an intuitive plotter or a methodological pantser.  Usually there’s a scene or a line or two that I’m like “this needs to happen in this story” and everything else is fairly free-form.  I did try actually writing down an outline for IYWTD, but even then it’s more a list of beats/tropes and the order I want to include them in.  (And I’ve only just made it past halfway through, although a couple may need to be altered a bit, oh god, how did this get so long…)

It’s also always kinda of amusing to me how many of those writing advice lists are like “Don’t do this”, “Stop doing this”, “Never do that”, and then they’ll encourage you to find your own voice and style.  Like, bitch, you just told me not to ever do half the shit that makes up my style.  Which am I supposed to do?  Damn.  XD  (You will seriously pry adverbs and similar descriptors from my cold, dead, grasping hands.  Also the occasional epithet.  No, I’m not using a character’s name nine times in one paragraph, sorry, and pronouns don’t always help if the characters are the same gender.  The reader can deal. ;D )

And I feel ya on the tall, skinny, blue-eyed boys thing.  It doesn’t have to be just a white boy, but if he’s taller than me, slender, and has a pretty pair of baby blues, my higher brain functions tend to go into insta-lag.  I ain’t particularly proud, but I’ve long accepted this about myself (there are many reasons Luke became my forever BAE.)  That’s not to say a lack of any of those is a deal-breaker in the slightest, but it’s definitely going to immediately get my attention.

Speaking (vaguely) of Luke, I had a thought the other day of him and Din being off on some planet together (Grogu is staying with Aunt Leia and Uncle Han for a few days), and there’s a noise in the middle of the night, and Din refuses to accept Luke’s assurance that there’s nothing out there, and in true himbo fashion insists on going out to investigate having grabbed only the darksaber and his helmet to cover his face -but nothing else.  Luke just finds it a combo of hysterical and adorable (and kinda hot.)

I hope your novel is going well (whatever stage you happen to be at), and I’m always up for hearing whatever you feel like sharing about it.

I hope you’re still doing well with the whole eating and hydrating regularly thing (it’s also totally okay if you aren’t!), and I’m super proud of you for sticking to it as much as you can anyway.  That shit is hard.  (Also, ignore the 1500 calories thing, I swear that shit is designed for 130lb women trying to shed a few pounds, not people who need to safely and steadily lose larger amounts of weight.  But then I’ve also never fully understood making someone lose weight before surgery, either.  “We need you to get rid of some excess weight before we’ll okay this surgery to *checks notes* get rid of some excess weight."  Like, weird flex, but okay.)

Anyway, I’m rambling again, and should really eat some breakfast and try to write a little myself today, maybe.  Hope you’re feeling okay, and that things are going well overall.  I hope Mo is doing well, and enjoying his best cuddle buddy life.  Take care!  *Hugs!*

Okay, gonna try this this way so that I can refer back to the links on my phone if need be.  I couldn’t quite see the full entries for the physical descriptions, and when I tried clicking on them it kept asking for a login, but I think I saw enough to get the gist.  I’m not sure exactly what sort of feedback you’re interested in, if any, so this will mainly be my usual sort of rambling stream-of-consciousness type thoughts and questions.  Hope that’s okay.  Feel free to ignore if it’s not what you’re after right now!  :D

I think one of the first questions that popped to mind was where is/what happened to Ellie’s mom, and is that something that’s going to cause problems later in some way?  (I.e.- was she killed on a hunt, are they divorced, was it bitter or amicable [would she come after her daughter if she heard about his relationship?])  I guess technically similar questions could also apply to Nate (late husband, ex-husband, ex-boyfriend, one night stand, sperm donor?) it was just more noticeable with Ellie being so young still.  Although that could also be part of why he’s ended up in Wyoming, which was another question I had, although there I assume it’s hunt-related.

I also anticipate quite a bit of tension of all kinds when he and Nate first meet, because Faron strikes me from his descriptions as someone rather used to being able to get his own way either through the influence of who he is, or through his size (not necessarily in any kind of intentional or aggressive way, more in an unconscious privilege kind of way, if that makes sense?), and I don’t think Nate sounds like the type to give two shits about either of those things, and it would probably drive Faron up the proverbial wall that Nate isn’t intimidated by him in the slightest.  (I could be entirely wrong about all this, this is just the impression I get so far. :D )  And I think Nate being noticeably older than him would just make it that much more irritating at first, too.  Now, how long these impressions last will just depend on how quickly they get to know each other, and whether Bachelor #3 is helping or hindering things.  XD  The potential for just sitting back and watching the fireworks as “laid-back dad jokes with a quick temper” clashes with “quiet, reserved, and possibly takes themselves slightly too seriously” might prove too much for our last contestant for a while, depending on where his personality falls.  ;D  (Especially since Faron coming in and starting shit will likely come off as a direct threat to people and places Nate considers under his protection.)

Also, are any of these three going to have met before?  Will Nate already have some sort of relationship with the werewolf (Does he already know about the supernatural at all?)  Did he and Faron encounter each other on the trip to Europe you mentioned in the Life Highlights?  If he and the wolf already know each other, how does he get along with Cas, or Nate’s pets?  Is the werewolf also going to be native to the region?  Does he know anything about Faron’s family?  Does Faron already know he’s a werewolf, or is that going to be a bit of a crisis for him later?  A test of how well he’s learned not to judge?  If Nate doesn’t already know, how will he deal with both their secrets?  Do you plan for full-shift only wolves, partial-shift only wolves, or a mix of the two like TW?  Are there other supes in the area?

I think you mentioned maybe having him be of Native American descent?  I think that could be very interesting, but would require a LOT of research into which tribes are active in the Yellowstone area, and what their individual mythologies say about things like shapeshifters, and LGTBQ+ issues, etc., because there can be a fair amount of variance, I’m sure.  Also, I’m just overall curious how he’ll fit in with the other two size wise (get your mind out of the gutter, you know what I mean.  XD )  Also curious if any o them are going to have the slightest clue on the feelings front, or are they all going to be just absolute disasters?  Will the kids figure it out before they do?  Will the kids get along?  (Will BachelorWolf have any kids of his own, or just Nate and Faron?)  Will Nate’s coworkers have any clue about either the supernatural, or what’s going on with those three?  Because I suspect at least some of them will be way more obvious than they think they’re being.  XD

Uh… I think that was all that’s occured to me right now?…  I’m sorry you’re having a yucky day overall, and I hope tomorrow’s a bit better!  The ice storm has finally moved in here, and I can feel the temperature drop radiating off of the front door and windows.  It went from rain to freezing rain/hail and I’m not sure how long it’s supposed to last.  Hopefully only a little while.  Also, sorry your book was terrible.  I haven’t seen too many recent recommendations from friends, and I’ve been mostly reading “cozy” mysteries (Agatha Christie, Elizabeth Peters, etc) as my comfort reading myself, lately, so I can’t really suggest anything in particular, unfortunately.  At least, nothing I think you wouldn’t already know.  Anyway, hope you’re getting some decent rest, and hope you have a better day tomorrow!  Take care!  *Hugs!*

Alright since this is going to be like a very long one, I’m break it down into a few things.

First full physical descriptions, cause I didn’t know Milanote would be a bitch about it.

Nate:

164 cm (5'4), 75 kg (166 lbs), Short slightly overweight trans man in his middle age. Nearly always the shortest man in the room, only standing around 5'4 and weighing in around 166 lbs. With kind moss green eyes that have permanent crow's feet in their corners and a polite but reserved smile always on his face. 

A face that's framed by faint freckles that are only visible in the sunlight. A neatly trimmed beard spices up his features and frames his pink lips. His thick but short eyebrows frame his eyes and create a short arc to his slim nose. 

A high forehead separates his brows from his wavy dark blond hair that's always tucked behind his ears. 

He generally wears the Superintendents' Park Ranger uniform while on duty. When he's not he wears comfortable jeans and t-shirts, usually a mono color like green, white, or black, plaid flannel shirts, socks with the weirdest patterns and colors, and hiking boots. He wears a steel ring on his right index finger and has a little steel Mjolnir on a necklace around his neck.

He's missing two fingers (his ring and little finger) on his left hand due to a childhood accident.

Faron:

185 cm (6'1 ft), 93 kg (205 lbs), Faron is a tall man with plenty of muscle from his time hunting. He can seem daunting and intimidating when you first meet him but there is a kinder, softer side to him. He has a warm light brown skin color, blue eyes, and black natural tight curly hair that he keeps very short. His full dark beard decorates his cheeks and chin, connects to his upper lip, and all the way up to his sideburns.

  He tends to wear dark clothing, leather jackets, no jewelry that could identify him, jeans, henley shirts, or V-neck shirts, and black, brown, or red jackets. He usually wears black combat boots or dark brown hiking boots. He's got knives and other weapons hidden all over his body and pockets and it might take him a good few minutes to unload every single knife from his body when he was to disarm.

There are also scars all over his body, including some scars on his neck that are visible from day to day life. He had the bad luck of being struck down by a vicious Wendigo but managed to escape. He survived thanks to his sister's quick thinking and first aid.

He covers some of those scars up with tattoos; he has one tattoo of a dragon laying down on his shoulder, with its head on his chest and its body curling over his shoulder and ending just below his shoulder blades. And one tattoo covers up some scars on his lower arm, it's a tattoo of a wolf's head that covers up a bite mark.

Dichali:

He’s 37 and has 4 siblings, and two children, Kajika & Kaniya (Jika & Niya, identical twins, but one of them identifies as male, he’s trans. Kajika is his chosen/reassigned name. They are 10.) Dichali grew up in Riverton, WY, which is the largest town of 10,000 in the largest Native Reservation in Wyoming. He’s also a dear friend to our Nate (who is also his boss technically) and has slowly been falling in love with him for the last few years. (Although he still hasn’t realized that he loves his friend.) 

Yena, his coworker and friend, who’s much younger at 25 has been watching her coworker and her boss joke and dance around each other. She has a betting pool with her girlfriend on who snaps first.

Not sure how I’ll connect him to Faron if it’s more fun/better to have him find out later or to already know him and keep it quiet. 

I’m still working on him, so I don’t have much of personality and other things written down yet. But I have made his physical description:

At 178 cm (5'8) and 83 kilos (182 lbs) Dichali probably isn't the tallest man you've met, he's also not the shortest. And while he's got some good muscle on him from working as a Park Ranger, and being a werewolf, he also has some softer sides. All the better to cuddle with. He has long straight brown hair that falls to his mid-back and deep brown eyes and a long nose that ends prominently. His eyebrows are thin and he has a high forehead. His skin is a light Tawny color, there's a hint of an orange brown with a cool undertone.

His skin is also relatively clear and youthful looking because of his lycanthropy.

He tends to wear pants and jackets made by native designers and always incorporates native fashion into his outfits. He has jackets of mostly gray, blue, brown, and black colors made of denim, cotton, wool, or brass that are lined with more traditional cloths and patterns like the designer brand Ginew. Usually he pairs them with dark jeans, either black, gray, or dark blue. He pairs it with white, blue, red, black, or printed band t-shirts (Metallica, Green Day, Marianas Trench). 

For shoes he has brown hiking boots that are part of the Ranger uniform, more western styled boots like black cowboy boots, and a pair of sneakers.He also wears a copper bracelet with lighting bolts etched into it.

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Now this whole story got started because I had the question what if we had a DILF romance going on while/because the following happened?

What if a YouTube video that accidentally got uploaded shows the existence of a werewolf in Yellowstone park? Threatening to expose the entire supernatural world.

The werewolves right now are a mix, so half shift is like the classical half shift of a wolf head on a man’s body, but the full shift is more like a larger wolf. Almost the size of a black bear. Though I might change those ideas as the story progresses.

But that is how the Cryptid of Yellowstone is brought into the world. And that brings problems. Big problems.

Wendigos, vampires, djins, I plan to create a world where a lot of supernatural creates exist. From all sorts of cultures. I’m also toying with the idea of Kelpies and Griffins. That kind of stuff.

The supernatural world is hidden from ours, hidden in plain sight if you will. Most encounters are written off as really strange, sometimes a picture pops up, but with the coming of the internet, things have gotten more complicated. Also with deforestation and competition with regular wildlife has made some bigger supernatural creatures either extinct or thought to be extinct. They’re not sure what still lives in Australia, though.

Nate or his son don’t know about the supernatural world. Neither does Yena. Or much of the world. Dichali, his children (to some extent), Faron, and Faron’s family do know about this world.

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Alright, as for your other post XD

Right now it’s no longer storming but due to the freezing temperatures the snow’s not going away and all public transport and delivery services are still not driving/delivering/running. So that’s neat. Not. 

I swear we get some snow and the country is just down. Upside, ain’t nobody going outside and this helps with lockdown.

I hope your snowstorm won’t be too bad and everything thaws down soon. Snow’s fun for a day but after that...

Make sure you stay warm alright? And bundle up.

Yes dad... alright XD

Honestly, I’m glad to hear you liked my advice too. I’m getting quite a bit of positive feedback on it and that just makes me really happy ^^. I’m definitely writing more writing advice from everything I’ve learned so far.

There’s honestly so many contradicting ones out there, it’s a matter of picking and choosing which ones work best for you and applying those. And that’s the real trick of advice.

Fun fact, a lot of famous writers are also pantsers. Steven King, Neil Gaiman, George RR Martin are examples of famous pantsers or gardeners as they are also called. 

John Grisham, JK Rowling, RL Stein fall into the plotter or architect category. 

Writers like Hank Green seem to fall in the in-between category of plantser (somewhere between a plotter and a pantser. Or the Intuitive plotter.)

Okay but the DinLuke things is really really kinda hot and cute and adorable and has me smiling <3

And I can’t remember what else I wanted to say since it is like 2 am and my meds are seriously kicking in now.

But I hope you’re doing alright and that the snowstorm isn’t too bad where you’re at.

I’ll be alright, my diet hasn’t been going so well the last few days and I can’t really exercise, but I did mostly get healthy groceries that will be delivered friday so there’s that. 

Fingers crossed I can pick it back up.

Okay I’m heading to bed XD 

I’ll talk to you later, B <3 

Hugs from me and Mo <3