#I will regret this purchase in the future but for now it is precious

[mxmuffin]

I don't know what it is about being in a stadium that gets me to suddenly become the biggest fan of a team from a sport I don't even see a lot. Like, today we (school band) had our annual Flyers Game where we play at the stadium in Philly then watch the game, and when I stepped into that hockey stadium it's like I felt the spirit of a divorced dad who watches the Flyers religiously suddenly possess me, and after tonight I finally get why the people of Philadelphia riot when they lose a game

[spockandawe]

You know what, I'm not happy about this either :T

Unless I'm t-boned by another reblog from someone huge, this likely won't reach as wide of an audience. And I regret that! Because either I presented myself badly or people are taking the wrong thing away from my words.

So, I strongly, STRONGLY believe in supporting writers. I also strongly believe in archival work and preservation of online media. I mentioned my own binding of the raksura patreon short stories earlier this year, hoping to manifest an official printing to buy, which.... folks, the implicit logical endpoint is that I went and expanded them all and saved them locally too.

It wasn't scraping, since I've seen that description being tossed around in the notes. My copy was manual copy and paste, because I don't respect my own time, and so was the other recent version. If you're going to rail against that, I guess you've successfully transported nft rage about right click + save as to a new medium.

Frankly, the patreon interface is a pain for this. Infinite scroll is part of the enshittification of the internet, this is a lot of text and posts, patreon isn't a powerful archival site, and it started choking horribly by the time I was halfway through. Now that I know people can still sign up (which i didn't, for years, that closed label is misleading), I still emphatically encourage them to do so and fight through the lag to read the stories.

I also quoted the thing where I said I owned all the books in three formats - physical, ebook, audiobook. Guess what copy I use for most rereads - that's right, none of them, because I was a dumb youth who didn't understand how awful kindle drm is and I can't word search in a paper book, so the secret fourth format is pirated ebooks, which I know amazon will never be able to yoink out of my grip. If I ever git gud at illumination and make a hand-illustrated compendium of the series, that's going to be my starting base, because there arent digital rights to lock me down to owning ACCESS to a copy of the book and not the copy of the book itself.

Now, the existence of pirated ebooks isn't all sunshine and roses. I've seen the talks about how new books IMMEDIATELY get pirated and shared and start cutting into an author's livelihood and future publishing prospects. I think it's incredibly important to support authors directly and in ways corporate marketing teams are able to observe. But especially in light of the Hollywood strikes, I'm sure many of us have seen posts about corporate entities playing shitty games with what they'll make available and withhold, and what they'll CHARGE versus what the customer has PURCHASED.

The only thing in the original post I take issue with is the reposting of something that was still available directly through the author. That has already been addressed. The originator is remorseful. I still understand if the patreon vanishes, to be clear. But i quietly made my own copy years ago BECAUSE i understand how easy it is for something like that to vanish, for much more arbitrary reasons. It could have been vanished because of site policy, patreon abruptly archiving all posts more than X years old. Online media is dangerously ephemeral.

I bind a lot of cnovel fan translations. So many amazing stories are getting licensed for translation - great! But it's also a massive extinction event for all the backbreaking translation work other fans have been sharing for years for free. And from that perspective it's a fucking TRAGEDY. I have... a Lot of files that I'm not sharing publicly. My goal is never to preempt or undermine the translators who did the actual work. But that hoard of files is still precious to me, because it takes about five seconds to delete a gdoc of translation, and there's not always warning to save a copy first.

Again, emphasis, my only issue here was the reposting. I'm not happy that it happened. I'm glad the files were quickly taken down, whether or not the patreon itself goes away. I'm glad op is remorseful for overstepping, and I can... mostly see how they didn't realize the problem, and mainly wanted to help more people experience a story they loved.

So it's also worth saying that I'm also not too stoked about the direction tags on that post were starting to go. 'Piracy is inexcusable, piracy is the death of--' STOP. I recognize that begging for nuance while tossing thoughts out onto social media is a losing game. But actually, I'm out of patience for black and white thinking happening on my post. Piracy is a valuable tool for archivists and a hazard to creators, which is why it should be practiced quietly and with deliberate care. It should be practiced in a way that attempts not to damage the creator's livelihood or take away control of their creations. That's where the misstep was here. OP understood they had misstepped and they were expressing remorse even before I got on my high horse, and it sure doesn't seem like the notes care about that, so! I'm done letting the outrage machine feed on it.

That's probably enough. I'm not saying anything I haven't said on here before. If you've ever grieved for a beloved fic missing from your ao3 bookmarks because it was deleted, you understand the basic archival urge. If you lost access to a favorite artist's extensive archives because the images were flagged in the 2018 boob ban, you should be able to understand. I manually saved 36,000 pictures in that brief grace period before I completely burned out. The fundamental impulse shouldn't be that hard to grasp. The rest is just responsible practices, and people fuck up sometimes. It sucks, but sometimes you don't recognize a boundary is there before you blunder right over it with the best of intentions. I think a lot of us have been there too.

Anyways, this is too much text, how boring to look at. Here's my remaining pictures of my own little anthology copy. Still manifesting an official release someday, or any books of the raksura material at all. Money will literally fly from my pocket to purchase it in every available format.

[sisterspooky1013]

Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 24

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

June 1999

The air smells wet and woody, birdsongs trilling in the early morning sun that trickles through a sky light. She stretches, then disentangles her legs from the sheets and stands, walking to the window.

There is a giant soaking tub in the corner of the room, flanked by two windowed walls that afford a sweeping view of the Cascade mountains, green carpeted hillsides meeting with a baby-blue sky.

She can still recall her mother’s face when they told her the wedding would be in Washington State. “But...we don’t even know anyone in Washington, Dana,” she’d said with a bemused expression, lamenting the length of their flights with a nine-month-old in tow.

Her mother’s reaction paled in comparison to Mulder’s excitement when she’d suggested the idea; she would spend their honeymoon relaxing with a book in the tub, and he could spend it traipsing through the woods looking for Sasquatch, or ‘squatchin’ as he called it. They would reunite in the afternoon, hiking, making love, catching up on all the conversations they’d missed while in the trenches of parenting a new baby. Mom would stay at the same resort with Molly so they could see her every day, while having precious nights to themselves; something they haven’t done since she was born.

She turns the tap on the bath, a blast of water thundering into the empty basin. When it’s full nearly to the brim, she disrobes and eases in, breathing deeply to inhale the juniper-scented steam, courtesy of the resort-provided bath salts. Closing her eyes, she thinks back over it all; their chance meeting, how she was drawn to him by a force that seemed to be bigger than them both, the anguish of wanting him but feeling like she owed it to Ethan to stay together. Her eyes snap open, a memory long-buried in the recesses of her mind springing forth like a trebuchet.

The day she met Mulder, she’d been planning to take the day off to go to a book signing for an author she admires. The signing was cancelled due to a scheduling conflict and she almost took the day off anyway, but had a last minute pang of guilt knowing that the workload that week was already heavy and Trudy would struggle to manage it all on her own. So she’d gone in, she’d performed that autopsy that should have been on Trudy’s docket, and she’d filled out the paperwork, and she’d met Mulder. How delicate the balance of the universe that such an insignificant choice completely changed the course of her life.

She suddenly misses him acutely, and a bundle of nerves and excitement flutters in her belly thinking about when she’ll see him next. She’d scoffed at the idea of them spending last night apart; they live together and have a child so the performative chastity seemed to be a bit much. He said it was like a fast, that a little time apart would make it even more special when they saw each other at the ceremony, and she ultimately acquiesced.

“Meet me on a mountain top at 4 o’clock tomorrow?” he’d asked as he backed out of her room, pulling away from the desperate kisses she was planting all over his face.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” she replied with a smile, and they said goodnight.

She smiles again, sinking down until the water slips into her ears. She can’t wait to marry him.

———

He sits up and arches his back, his spine protesting the cramped accommodations. Looking over at Byers and Missy curled up in the king size bed, he regrets his decision to crash on the couch here instead of staying with Scully in their room. Not only because he slept like shit with his legs hanging over the end, but also because work takes him away from his girls so often, he’s an idiot to add another day to it if he doesn’t have to.

He stands, hands on his hips as he twists to stretch his angry muscles, and walks to the window, taking in the dense green hills and valleys that surround them. He smiles, because she could have asked to go to Mexico, or France, or anywhere on the entire Earth and he would have given her what she wanted, but she chose the place she knew he wanted to go. Selfless and giving to a fault, his Scully. Soon to be his wife.

He quietly slips on his running shoes and sneaks out of the room, hitting the hard-packed dirt trail the concierge had told him about. The quiet forest is the perfect place to be alone with his thoughts, nothing but the thud of his feet striking the ground and the twitter of waking birds to distract him. He thinks about his life, about being a child who was lonely and alone, with parents who provided food and shelter but not much more. He thinks about Molly, and how she will never know that kind of pain, that there will never be a day of her life that she is not told how much she is loved. He wonders if his dad ever felt about his mom the way he feels about Scully, and he knows it’s not possible that he did, because if so they would still be together.

He comes to a break in the trees and pauses, breath heaving and lungs burning as he watches a hawk gliding through the valley below, hunting for breakfast. How easily he could have missed this moment, he thinks. Even one small change to the trajectory of his life, and he never would have walked into the autopsy bay that day. If the courier hadn’t been sick, if he hadn’t stopped by Kirkbride’s office when he did. Even further back, if he hadn’t stayed with the bureau with the X files were closed, if Valerie hadn’t been there to encourage him, or if he hadn’t met Valerie one random Tuesday at a record store. The path was long and winding, and it led to her. It led to him on this mountaintop in a sweat-soaked T-shirt, smiling at the thought of his baby daughter, his almost-wife.

He picks up running again, the smile staying on his lips. He’s always felt like he was running away; from his painful past, his regrets, his bad decisions. Now he realizes he’s running towards; his future, a thousand opportunities yet unseen, a kind of happiness he never thought he’d know. He can’t wait for the rest of his life to start.

———

He stands in a clearing near the edge of a cliff, the lush green landscape toeing up against the horizon looking like crooked teeth. Frohike stands beside him in khaki pants and a white linen shirt, a leather folio clasped in his hands. Mulder is also dressed fairly casually, in slacks and a blue Oxford shirt, the sleeves cuffed and the top button undone.

Scully wanted this to be as non-traditional as possible, to make it their own. There is no wedding party, no tuxedo, no flower girl or garter toss. No one will walk her down the aisle, as no one but herself has the ownership to give her away. The guests are small in number; immediate family only, plus the gunmen. Monica and Dahlia are house-sitting back in DC, minding Priscilla as well as the dog, King, that joined the family after the purchase of their house in March. Bucking the idea of arranging guests by whose “side” they are on, they all sit in a small cluster, and Scully will enter from the side.

He looks out and waves at Molly, who is standing on Missy’s lap, holding her hands and bouncing up and down forcefully. She squeals and shouts “dah, dah, dah!” which he chooses to interpret as “Daddy” even though Scully told him it’s just a nonsense syllable and doesn’t mean anything.

Langly gets the signal from Frohike and hits play on a small boom box, piping an instrumental version of “Can’t Help Falling in Love” up into the branches of the towering evergreen trees. He expected to feel nervous at this moment, but all he feels is excitement as Maggie scurries out from behind a line of trees and takes her place beside Bill, giving him a smile and a wink.

Scully appears from around the same group of trees and he grins broadly. He’s seen the dress, they picked it out together, but the full effect is stunning. Her hair, now grown well past her shoulder blades, is curled softly and pinned half up, brilliant red tendrils shimmering in the midday sun against her porcelain shoulders. Her dress is full length pearl satin, a slim sheath cut with off the shoulder straps. She is holding a small bouquet of pink peonies in her hands, and holding his eye with a playful smirk.

She arrives beside him and before the music stops, before Frohike has a chance to begin, he steps forward and takes her by the waist, kissing her fully. The guests laugh and he pulls away to see a confused smile on her face.

“I couldn’t wait,” he says simply.

They move through the ceremony, exchanging rings and vowing to love each other forever; promises they’ve already made to each other a hundred times. As they near the part that Scully understands to be the end, Frohike goes off script.

“Mulder has prepared some words of his own, he’ll read them now,” he says, nodding toward his friend.

Scully’s eyebrows lift in a surprised and confused expression.

“Mulder, we didn’t talk about writing our own vows,” she whispers, afraid she’s failed to complete the assignment.

“It’s okay, these are for both of us,” he whispers, and then, taking her hands in his, he reads a passage from her favorite book from memory.

“I have for the first time found what I can truly love; I have found you. You are my sympathy, my better self, my good angel; I am bound to you with a strong attachment. I think you good, gifted, lovely. A fervent, a solemn passion is conceived in my heart; it leans to you, draws you to my center and spring of life, wraps my existence about you, and kindling in pure, powerful flame, fuses you and me in one.”

The tear that slips down her cheek is borne only of happiness. She looks into his green eyes and sees contentment and love, and desire. It’s not a spark, what they have, nor an ember. It’s a wildfire, a white-hot torch, an eternal flame that binds them together inseparably. They were forged in fire the moment he laid eyes on her in that autopsy bay, maybe even before.

Frohike concludes, “by the power invested in me by the State of Washington, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride…again.”

He wraps his arms around her waist, lifting her up as he kisses her deeply, a gust of warm summer wind picking up pine needles and tossing them in a mini-tornado that surrounds them both. Molly squeals “dah dah dah!” and claps for her parents.

———

She stands at the mirror, brushing her teeth. Her hair is combed out, her makeup removed, the white dress hanging in the corner of the room with the hem now tinged brown from the dirt that served as their dance floor.

Mulder appears behind her, an arm snaking around the waist of her satin nightgown. She smiles at the sight of his newly ring-adorned hand pressed flat against her belly, then leans forward to rinse.

“Ready for bed?” he asks softly, and she nods.

They slip beneath the cool sheets, curling around one another face-to-face; her leg threaded between his, his arms around her back, foreheads touching. She draws in a big breath and lets it out slowly, contentment settling deep in her bones.

“Do you ever think about all the things that had to happen in exactly the way they did to lead us here?” he asks, and she pulls back a little to look at his face.

“Yes, I was actually just thinking about that earlier,” she says with a curious lilt.

“Makes you wonder, huh, what lives we’d be leading if even just one detail were changed,” he says, tracing his finger along her shoulder blade.

“I don’t think it would have mattered, actually,” she says, and he gives her a quizzical look, silently asking her to elaborate. “I know this will sound a little far-fetched coming from me,” she begins with a self-conscious smile, “but I think it was always going to end up this way. Even if we hadn’t met when we did, we would have crossed paths some other way. Looking back over everything, it just seems like this was meant to be the outcome, even if the path to get here could have gone in a lot of different directions.”

He ponders this, remembering a conversation they had over coffee when, against all odds, she reappeared in his life.

“Like there was only one choice, and signs along the way to pay attention to,” he says contemplatively, lifting his hand to brush a lock of hair behind her ear.

“Exactly,” she replies, pressing her lips to his briefly, “it was always going to be you.”

END

[yyparkq]

milk

“What the hell are you doing here again, Jackson?” you groaned when you saw him sprawled across your sofa, busy scrolling on his phone before you walked in on him inside your own apartment. Without looking back and waiting for an answer, you walked straight to the kitchen.

Jackson immediately rose to his feet upon hearing your voice, his eyes raking your whole body darkly. “You know why I’m here. Your roommate’s having a little too much fun of her own with mine,” he answered, licking his lips as he watched you saunter to the fridge and slightly bend your torso to reach for a jug of milk.

When you turned around, Jackson was already standing on the other side of the breakfast island, blatantly watching your legs with a mischievous glint in his eyes and a smirk tugging on one corner of his lips. You looked down at yourself and realized instantly the reason for his smug face—you are only donning a pair of lace panties and a loose cropped top with your long black hair upped in an overly messy bun.

Jackson slowly called out your name, licking his lips and brushing his hair with his hand in the process. “Are you trying to seduce me?”

Unbothered, you placed the glass on the marble counter and poured yourself a good amount of milk to help you find sleep for another night. Sleep doesn’t come and stay with you for more than a couple of hours—3 at most—these days and you’re not keen on taking medications to fix it just yet so you’re sticking to the conventional way of enticing sleep back to your system.

“Of course I am. I knew exactly you were coming over at this hour so I purposely almost stripped naked in my own house for your eyes to see,” you smarted, each word laced with a mix of annoyance and sarcasm. You immediately regretted the words though, realizing it’s not his fault he was being thrown under the bus by your roommates.

Jackson braced his arms on the counter, leaning over and studying your face. “Rough night, babe?” he asked and you took a good look at him. He’s got his sleeves rolled up and the first few buttons of his navy blue shirt unfastened—flaunting a good portion of his veiny forearm and muscular chest. By the way he was dressed, you can tell he came straight from his office. Shadows under his eyes slightly visible as the weight of the whole week finally wash over him.

“I’m not your friend, Jackson. Don’t you have anyone else to bother your ass with at this hour?” you chided, still feigning annoyance after downing a mouthful of milk. You’re exhausted and wanted to just plop down your bed and drift to sleep. The last thing you could have wished right now is to argue with a Jackson Wang.

Your forehead creased at his unbothered reaction.

With a sharp click of his tongue, his hand darted across space between you two and settled on your lips. Thumbing the corner of your mouth gently, he wiped the remnants of the milk off of you and stared darkly into your eyes.

You sighed and confided how tired you are but couldn’t sleep at all. Tiring yourself out doesn’t prove to be an effective solution for you as you have already went for a run, did a few sets of cardio, and tried breathing exercises—all still resulted in an hour or two of tossing and turning on your bed.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Jackson quipped.

It took you a moment to grasp what he’s trying to say.

Jackson licked his lips and smirked, “I could help you relax like the last time, you know.”

Cocky little bastard. You rolled your eyes and swatted his hand away from your face. “Oh god, will you please stop,” your cheeks instantly turned crimson at his mere words and you had to fight the urge to bite your lip and moan at the memory of him relentlessly pounding on you in every corner of your bedroom and rendering you limp the next day for work.

Rounding off the breakfast island, he grabbed your waist and hoisted you on one of the high chairs. “That’s not what you said when you were taking me so well that night,” he murmurs at the corner of your lips where his thumb has been on a moment ago. He found purchase standing between your legs. Your arms instantly linking around his shoulders when he started kissing you. His hands caressing your exposed hips.

Meeting Jackson is inevitable since you both live with your best friends—slash—roommates in the big city. Jackson simply couldn’t stand hearing your friend’s endless, loud moans from the other room without being utterly disgusted. He tried to pry it off the first few instances until he couldn’t anymore. But thanks to that one time the four of you went to a party sharing a car. When his friend insisted to carpool and pick up his girl from your home, Jackson took the opportunity to take note of your address for escape in the future. What he didn’t know is that there is you—a roommate like himself—in the picture, after all.  Cocking an eyebrow, he looked at you incredulously as you slid onto the passenger’s seat beside him. You mirrored his expression, frustrated enough to attend another boring party during the weekends.

As you have expected, the party bored you to death. A couple of familiar faces and empty conversations were shared and with the last look on your best friend’s direction who was now openly making out with his boyfriend, you cringed and made your way out of the place, your fingers instantly working trying to get yourself a car ride home. You decided the party is definitely a bad idea.

On the other hand, Jackson’s eyes never left yours. He easily recognized the disinterest in your eyes from the beginning and he was more than ready to drive you back home in an instant—which was totally unlike him since he’s usually the last man to leave at any party. When you got up and out the door, he was immediately on your heels. He pressed his car keys and you almost jolted when the car in front of you beeped loud, followed by an enormous body from your back reaching for the car door. When you turned around, you saw Jackson smiling. His face illuminated by the street lights and faint flashing party lights from the house. You were so clouded by your annoyance in the car ride to the party earlier that you failed to appreciate Jackson’s handsome face and now you decided there’s at least one good thing out of this boring day, and that is meeting this cocky guy in front of you.

Jackson’s hands were busy kneading your perky bust and ass when you pulled a fistful of his hair, creating a space between your faces desperate for oxygen. He looked at you, gasping for air, before latching his mouth to your exposed neck, sucking and licking all your sweet spots all the way to your mounds, earning loud moans from you. He placed kisses on top of the thin material covering your breasts. “You look so fucking good in this,” he growled into your ear. “I want you to keep it on while I fuck your brains out, baby girl.”

Between your legs, you are soaked and the friction against Jackson’s pants is making it harder for you. You whimpered at the lack of action and guided his hand where you needed him the most. Jackson chuckled darkly at your boldness. “Cat’s got your tongue, my princess? You know you need to tell me what you need.”

You gritted your teeth at his game. “God damn it, Jackson. Just shove your fucking dick in my cunt, will you,” you muttered under your breath. Not patient enough to play with his games.

His hands finally went between your legs and pushed your panties to the side. He looked at your face as he dipped a finger into your folds—as if testing if you’re wet enough for him—and started drawing circles on your clit. You shamelessly sang Jackson’s name like a prayer. His ministrations rapidly increasing the tension in your stomach. You ground your hips onto his hands, your eyes wincing shut at the feeling.

“I’ll fuck you so hard in this little kitchen so the next time you step foot in here to get your precious milk, you will remember my cum inside your pussy dripping onto this seat instead,” he growls into your ears as he brought you to climax. “How do you like that, baby?” he taunted you, licking your earlobe.

“You talk too much,” you moaned and reached to palm his dick over his pants.

Jackson groaned at the action and rutted his hips onto your hands. His pace increased, desperate to bring you over the edge and finally sheath himself inside you, causing you to erratically work on him. You shuddered under his hands and reached your climax, but he hasn’t slowed down his actions. You squirmed and twisted under him from oversensitivity but the ruthless man in front of you just continued his ministrations.

“Damn, Jackson—” you panted. “I can’t—fuck.”

“You can, baby. Cum again. Shit. Cum again on my fingers.”

It didn’t take you long before doing so. You thought you might pass out anytime soon until you felt Jackson’s arm supporting your upper body. You opened your eyes and saw him retrieve his hand from your core, gathering your liquid essence through his fingers and bringing it to his mouth for a taste. He sucked his fingers clean and kissed you, letting you taste yourself.

He broke the kiss after a while, “Sleep kicking in yet?”

You shook your head unzipped his pants. “Probably not until you cum inside of me, big boy.”

[eyesforjade]

Chapter 1: prologue

Summary: Tony Stark's life changes dramatically after a trip to South Korea, where a one-night stand ends up generating a life, the billionaire never imagined being prepared to be a father, until he held his little girl in his arms, where he knew for sure, that child had his heart at his fingertips and didn't even know it.

Word count: 1914 words.

Masterlist

𓅂𓅂𓅂

Tony Stark never imagined that his life would change dramatically. Of course, he was used to all the perks of having a public life, being a billionaire and a philanthropist, Stark Industries was going well in sales, and he always had the help of Pepper Potts and James Rhodes with his personal life, which added with the help of Obadiah Stane in the Industries, he held most of the loose ends they could have.

He knew he was prepared for everything, until the day he heard the news. Tony will never forget March 3, 2001, which he thought would be just another affair with a model, through a trip in the behest of Stark Industries. He remembers exactly the nine months before that date, when Obadiah got a perfect opportunity to purchase materials for the manufacture of weapons, which would benefit everything they were doing, and all Tony needed to do was to attend that event and give a speech.

Tony always approached in subtle forms when it came to women, with Nyree Choi it wasn’t different. The New Zealander model caught his attention as soon as she stepped on the scene, he knew it was a unique opportunity, since from what the news said, the woman lived in South Korea, even though she was born in New Zealand, Tony had to take advantage of that opportunity. The night was fast, and he didn't have Pepper to get rid of her the next day, so for the first time, he stayed in bed all night.

The next morning, they said goodbye and it was as if they hadn't even met. Tony didn't think much of it, usually he was the one who pretended that nothing had happened, and it was this factor that made future encounters with a certain woman so strange, and these were the ones he regretted leaving like that. However, with Nyree it wasn’t like he was used, the woman escaped his fingers like water, and she never needed to give satisfaction to him.

The absence of the women in the media, shocked many gossip magazines. And Tony always knew deep down, but he never wanted to admit it until 3th of March in 2001, when Pepper got that call, the redhead didn't know how to react when she heard the other woman on the phone, Malibu was a trip away from South Korea, Tony wouldn’t arrive in time for the birth of his daughter, but would arrive long enough to decide what to do with the girl.

Pepper ran that day, as fast as she could, to Tony's workshop on the floor below the house. She typed her access code with shaking hands and was almost pale when she faced the man, Tony vividly remembers what it was like, and how much he feared for what the woman was going to say, Pepper was with him long enough for him to know that the woman it wasn’t easy to shake, so at that moment, he smiled, and released one of his typical comments when he saw her.

"It looks like you saw a ghost, Miss Potts." His smile remained on his face, even though the woman's reaction in front of him only got worse. "Unfortunately, Stark Industries doesn’t yet manufacture weapons for non-existent beings."

"Tony, you... Hm..." Pepper takes a deep breath, staring at the man. "I advise you to pack your things, I already called Happy, and he's already outside, waiting for you with a car".

"And what is the occasion?"

"Nyree Choi just went into labor". The little sentence was enough for Tony's heart to wake up and speed up, he never expected to hear those words, and if he did, he hoped it was about someone that he had a better relationship, Nyree had been a one-night stand, and now, it was apparently a one-night stand that generated a life. "She disappeared for a few months, Happy and I were keeping up with the news, when she called me… Well, I did the math”. Tony had already got up and was walking towards the door. “Exactly nine months since that night, Tony. I’m not wanting to bet on hypotheses, but...”

"This has to be wrong." When the two went upstairs, Happy Hogan was at the entrance of the house, the door open behind him, and a look of despair followed his worried eyes towards Tony, who didn't even bother to pack a suitcase, he just left the house going towards the car, entering without saying a word.

Pepper followed behind, facing Happy without knowing what to do. Tony Stark was many things, but neither of them ever thought of adding “father” to the bottom of that list. The trip to the Stark Industries heliport was silent, Tony had his head in his hands, and his heart didn't even beat in his chest, or he couldn't feel it right, his mind flew between a thousand possibilities, like how he was going to have a child with a person he doesn't even keep in touch with?

The unexpected arrival of the three at the heliport made Obadiah question the reasons. Not that one of the three responded, they just walked towards the jet that Happy had booked and ordered the pilot to get out of there as quickly as possible, which caused Stane's numerous calls that ended up being ignored. Tony had no head to talk to the man who helped him run his company, to be quite honest, Stark had no head for anything.

The only thing he remembers in that jet, was looking at Pepper Potts and whispering a simple "I'm not ready for this", and he will never forget the smile she gave him, and the words of comfort that were said in his direction. Pepper Potts was always his salvation, no matter the moment, it was her, it was always her.

When he arrived in South Korea, his mind was a mess, and his heart yearned for his arrival at the hospital. Everything to have that moment, the first time he held the little girl in his arms, he knew, she was his little girl, that child had his heart at her fingertips and wasn’t even aware of it. All possible DNA tests were done during that week, and Tony could be sure that the girl he held for days was really his.

And that was when the most difficult decision was made. He had to hear from Choi the cruelest words that a man — newly discovered father — could hear. Elisabeth Stark Choi, as they had decided, wouldn’t be part of Tony Stark's public world, Nyree was famous too, but being a model would never endanger her little girl's life, the weapons creation business that Tony followed, it wasn’t the right world for his newborn daughter, and even if it hurt, Tony knew it was true.

He followed the girl's growth for five years. They had a good relationship, and every week, Tony visited or called her, the child was a genius, something the man already expected, she was a Stark, she was his little girl, and Tony saw that every day that it passed, she became smarter, but just like her father, Elisabeth had to discover that people couldn't always get what they wanted.

At some point in her life, Nyree decided that her career had been damaged since the birth of her daughter. At the same time that the woman loved her, she felt that she had been left out when she got pregnant, she was only 27 years old when she had her, and even so, she thought she would never be able to chase the lost time, it was when she came into contact with Pepper about the papers of the full guard to Tony.

It was when Happy traveled to Australia, where Nyree had recently moved, it was also where he met with her and the full guard papers already signed. Elisabeth wasn’t so excited about the news, it was a strange feeling to be losing her mother like that, she was too young to understand the woman's motives, and was too scared to know what her life in Malibu would be like, everything she could feel it was sadness for the possible loss in one side, but happiness for being able to spend more time with her father.

The trip with Happy was exciting, she showed all the things she had to the man, and talked about all the things she liked, and the man couldn't be more impressed. The little girl in front of him knew many things, including two different languages, not that she knew how to speak everything perfectly, but to know that Nyree was teaching the girl how to speak English and Korean, due to the time that the two stayed between the two countries, it made Happy’s day, even if the woman didn't want to be in contact with Lisa anymore, a part of her would always be with the girl, her origins would always be there.

Happy knew at the same time, that the little girl would be everyone's doom, and that Tony was lucky enough to have something so precious in his life, maybe he would even take it easy and open his eyes to the woman he already had in his life. Pepper received them with a huge smile on her face, and while Happy unloaded the girl's bags, the woman told stories about what her life would be like in Malibu, the woman knew they wouldn’t be able to hide the girl for too long, the media already suspected a possible daughter between the model and the billionaire, and that made Pepper's mind go everywhere with the intention of protecting the girl from that world.

Obadiah Stane was a complicated person at first. He thought it was crazy for Tony to assume his daughter, and held Happy and Pepper at the heliport before they were able to go to Tony's house, Stane believed that being with a daughter for 24 hours a day would be too much responsibility, and that Tony alone wouldn’t give so much attention to Industries and feared for the time that he would reserve with a child. Happy took over the situation, and reassured Obadiah that Tony's routine would change drastically, but he would still meet all the company's deadlines, and with that the three left without giving the man any more opportunities.

That day, Pepper assumed the role of a maternal figure. She knew she was far from being the mother of that little girl, but she knew she would be there at all times of difficulty, at all times that Tony was a difficult person to deal with, she would be there, just as she was now, holding her hand, and walking towards the house. That day, she presented the huge house to Elisabeth, the girl was 5 years old when she went down to that workshop for the first time, she remembers opening a huge smile, with the various possibilities she would have learned alongside her father.

Tony's eyes met Pepper's, and then they looked down, seeing the woman holding the delicate little hand of a little girl he knew well. Her hair went just about her shoulders, brown and with tired brown eyes, he knew in that moment, that his life would change for the better, and he knew in that moment that no matter what happened, he would be with her.

Add yourself on the tag list

Tagged: @queenturtle2018​

[omg-imagine]

⊱ Drabble #7 ⊰

Pairing: Jack Traven x Reader

Prompts:

24 - “I never want you to think you’re anything less than my top priority.”

Words: 1.5k

Warning: Angst

Requested by @ladyreapermc​ ♡

Swirling a glass of red in your hand, the meal set on the table had long grown cold; the half-eaten food on your plate remaining untouched in the last two, lonesome hours. The clock ticked quietly on the dining room wall, filling in the spacious silence as time quickly approached midnight. Reaching your third hour alone, you morosely concluded that Jack had forgotten about this evening’s anniversary dinner. As hurt weighed heavily in your chest, you decided to call it a night, seeing no point in hoping and waiting anymore, especially since this wasn’t the first occurrence.

And it probably wouldn’t be the last.

Once the food was stored away and the table was cleared of dishes, you headed to the bathroom where you stripped off the lovely dress you had purchased for this special occasion. The salty tears in the corner of your eyes didn’t fall until you stepped into the shower, your stifled cries masked by the steamy water cascading down your body. You took several breaths as the heat soaked into your skin, eventually calming your tense self and letting your mind briefly fade into dullness.

The sad truth was that you were used to this ache, the pain which gripped your heart like a vice. Though you loved Jack profoundly, you couldn’t help but feel as if you were second to his career. It became more apparent in the past three months, resulting in a string of hurtful arguments that never seemed to end. As of late, you barely saw each other despite living under the same roof. Jack often left the house early in the morning and would come home in the dead of night, too exhausted to offer more than a mere “hello” to you in passing.

It was difficult and unbearable. For a while, you wanted the relationship to survive, but you were nearing the end of the rope. After tonight, you were beginning to doubt that things would change. Perhaps Jack wasn’t ready to commit himself to a forever with you, not when his job was this demanding and dangerous. The thought of it was disappointing, but you didn’t want this kind of life. You didn’t want to force him to make an unfair decision; to choose between you, his fiancée, or the career he had worked so hard for.

Fresh from the shower and now dressed for bed, you were sitting on your side of the mattress, holding in your fingers the diamond ring Jack proposed to you with over a year ago. It symbolized his love, dedication, and commitment to you, a meaning that was starting to lose itself through the bitter words and the stinging tears. You could no longer look at it and be reminded of the future you would share with Jack. Instead, all you could see were years of longing and regret, a sad ending to what once began as a happy story.

“Hey,” a gruff, weary voice sounded by the door, and you swiftly glanced up to see Jack standing there, his hands buried in the pockets of his jeans and his face showing remorse. “I’d apologize to you, but I already know that won’t be enough.”

Fist closing over the sparkling ring, you then exhaled a shallow breath as Jack crossed the room, slowly dragging his feet towards the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped under his weight when he came to sit down beside you, a deep sigh escaping his lips. You could tell that he was tired from a grueling day at work, and the last thing he wanted was to pick a fight; to upset you more than you already were.

“What do you have there?” Jack probed lowly, your eyes still refusing to meet his.

You opened your hand carefully, the glint of the shining diamond capturing Jack’s attention almost immediately, his expression becoming worrisome. Shakily, you extended your arm towards him, the precious ring in full view as it laid in the center of your palm. “I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

Your confession hung heavily in the quiet air as Jack tried to make sense of your words. Upon realizing what it all meant, he tilted his gaze upwards as you did the same, his dark, pleading orbs locking with yours for the first time that evening. You could clearly see the utter fear washing over Jack’s features, his eyes glazing with a thin glassy layer of tears as he held onto the last shred of control. But when you slipped the ring into his empty palm, his whole world now crumbling around him, Jack was unable to contain his emotions any longer.

“Y/N,” he spoke with an unsteady voice, your breath stuttering out at the sound of your name trembling from his lips. “Please, I know things haven’t been okay, but I don’t want to lose you, baby. I-I’m sorry for everything. Just tell me what I can do to fix it; to fix us.”

“I don’t think it’s possible to fix us,” you responded, hopeless. “You’re never home. Even when you’re here, it feels like I’m living in this house by myself. All we do is fight about the same damn thing over and over again. I’m not a priority to you, your job is, and I understand that now. As much as I love you, I can’t stay and hope for change. So, this is it. I’m done, Jack. I’m walking away.”

It hurt. It hurt to say those words, and it hurt even more watching a tear roll down Jack’s face. It was often rare for you to see him cry, and as he silently sat there, firmly clutching your ring in his hand, you swore that both of your hearts were breaking at the exact moment in time. Pushing yourself off the bed, you had barely moved when Jack caught you by the wrist, holding you back.

Turning your head around, you found Jack standing tall behind you, urging your body towards him. When you didn’t move, he stepped forward, his arms wrapping your fragile frame in a comforting embrace. Surrounded by his warmth, you sobbed into his broad chest as Jack held you close, shedding several tears of his own. You felt him press his lips to your forehead before he pulled back, bringing his thumb up to lightly stroke your cheek, willing you to open your eyes.

“Please, Y/N. Give me a chance,” Jack implored, tone soft as a delicate whisper. “I love you more than anything, even more than this job. If you stay, I promise that I’ll make it up to you. I’ll tell them to cut my hours so that we can have time just for ourselves. Please, just stay. Don’t leave, don’t quit on us now.”

Gnawing at your bottom lip, you blinked your reddened eyes to stop the tears which only burned. You couldn’t think straight, your thoughts surging like a ferocious storm as your head and heart long sought an answer.

Meanwhile, Jack’s unwavering gaze continued to beg for redemption, to bring back the happiness and adoration both of you once shared; the times filled with great laughter and love. He was hopeful that he could reverse the damage, desperate for you to give him a second chance and make things right again. 

And despite the bleak months of pain, you still wanted try. You still wanted him. 

“Okay,” you murmured after much contemplation, offering Jack a small smile. “Let’s work this out.”

“We will,” he assured softly, his right hand reaching down to grasp your left. Slowly, Jack raised your fingers up to his mouth, planting gentle kisses across your knuckles, which had you sighing. You watched as he lifted his other hand, holding your engagement ring between two digits. Smoothly, he pushed the diamond rock down your third finger, and for a second, you took in its beauty, unaware that Jack was admiring you the same way.

Glancing back up, Jack leaned forward until his tender lips touched yours. Completely chaste at first, the sensuous kiss grew deeper as time ticked away in the background, the two of you lost in each other’s taste and touch. Suddenly, Jack pulled away breathlessly, his chest rising and falling in tandem with yours.

“I never want you to think you’re anything less than my top priority,” Jack avowed to you, eyes shining with pure fondness. “So, I was thinking of taking a week off from work, maybe even two if they’ll let me.”

“And do what?” You questioned with a raised brow.

“To celebrate our anniversary, of course. We could also start planning the wedding which we still need a date for. And if you want, we could even take a trip somewhere; get out of LA for a bit and relax.”

Chuckling at his enthusiasm, you encircled your arms around his neck, resting your head on his shoulder. “That all sounds lovely.”

“Good,” Jack agreed with a smile as he softly swayed with you. “Where do you want to go? Name any place you want, and I’ll take you there.”

“It doesn’t matter where,” you replied, realizing that this was everything you ever wanted in life; happy and content, being loved by Jack wholly and adoringly. “I’ll go anywhere, as long as I’m with you.”

Permanent Tags: @penwieldingdreamer​ @keandrews​ @feminine-machinegun​ @fanficsrusz​ @thehumanistsdiary​ @rdjloverxxx​ @flaminasteroid​ @lussdew​ @unaspiringwritings​ @planetkt​

[yan-purgatory]

Patient is the Night

Pairing: Suho x reader

Admin: ღ

Word Count: 2k

Note: We are deeply sorry for the lack of posting recently. As you can imagine, it’s not easy being a three person team! However, we are going to do our best to post more in the future. This was actually a commission I wrote as part of a fundraising campaign for the BLM movement - you can find more details on this on my blog @flowesona​. 

Her clothes were way more comfortable than usual. That was the first thing (Y/N) had noted when she woke up, in a completely different house to her own. She was wearing a negligee made out of fine slippery silk, that was soft to the touch. (Y/N) was entranced for a moment, running her fingers through it without the question of why she was wearing it plaguing her.

But she could only stay curled up in the king sized bed for so long - the growling of her stomach provided a good motive to get up and explore. It was only as she peeled back the covers and heard a groan she realised someone was sleeping next to her. (Y/N) paused her escape to observe her companion. To put it simply, he was stunning. Glowing skin, silky dark hair and perfect plush lips. 

‘Now is not the time to get distracted. I need to get out of here, wherever I am!’

(Y/N) scorned herself, as she tried to remember where she was last. All she could recall was getting into her car after a long day of work. And she could not recall seeing a man like the one beside her ever before in her life!

Wanting answers she finally rose out of bed, floorboards creaking slightly underneath her feet. That noise was enough to make the man stir, eyes creaking open to observe the disturbance.

“(Y/N), come back to bed. It’s way too early to get up.” He muttered, reaching for her arm and pulling her back down onto the bed. His arms wrapped around her, pressing her to his body as he sighed in content.

“Who are you? And how do you know my name?” The man opened his eyes once again, a warm sleepy smile on his face.

“I’m your boyfriend. You can’t possibly have forgotten about your precious Suho, right?”

~ღ~

It was almost picturesque. The sun was beating down, there was a warm gentle breeze, and Junmeyon’s chest made the perfect pillow. (Y/N) had started to drift off into sleep, when he suddenly sat up.

“Someone is here.” He said, his expression hardened into a frown. Junmyeon didn’t often frown, and it really didn’t suit his face - seeing him so uncharacteristically upset unsettled (Y/N) slightly.

“How do you know that?” She murmured, still reluctant to leave her happy daze.

“I can hear them. Heavy footed bastards.” Junmyeon sighed, standing up and leaving (Y/N) to bring herself back into reality.

“I’m sure it’s just the wind. Or some animals. Please, I don’t want to go back home yet.” She whined. Junmyeon didn’t even flinch.

“Stay right here. Don’t move an inch.” He commanded, and like that he was gone, stalking away with dark intent.

At first, the most of (Y/N)’s worries was that she was cold. After all, the sun had gone in, and she no longer had Junmyeon’s embrace to keep her warm. The picnic blanket had to act as a suitable substitute, the warm tartan felt providing some sort of comfort though it couldn’t hold a candle to her boyfriend.

He’d been so sweet recently. Truly, he wanted her to see his love. From bringing home flower bouquets purchased at the farmer’s market in the nearby town, to spending hours pouring over his cook books to make her favourite childhood dishes. And at his height of generosity, he offered to take her into the woods for a picnic. (Y/N) had initially been skeptical of his offer; she was sure he’d find an excuse not to do it, a work obligation or bad weather. But - sure to his word - he’d packed up a basket with an assortment of delicious foods and a flask of tea, and had led her down the barely trodden path into a movie-like clearing.

His intentions were pure. But his sudden disappearance marred the occasion, as (Y/N) waited for him. Seconds turned into minutes, into hours. The sun was starting to set, and there was no sign of him. 

Maybe it was a cruel trick. A punishment for some unknown misdeed - she’d confessed to him a few days that she was afraid of being alone in the dark, to which he’d promised she’d never have to spend another night by herself. But those words were empty now, as it was growing increasingly dark and she couldn’t see him. 

(Y/N)’s eyes flickered to the barely trodden path from which they’d arrived at the clearing. If she squinted, she could follow the path for about a hundred yards, before it winded out of sight. If only she’d paid attention, then she could dash back to the comfort of their home.

Maybe that’s where he went.

The haunting thought rattled her brain. Junmyeon could have forgotten her, and after investigating the sound he’d return to their home before the sunset.

The idea of being abandoned made (Y/N) let out a sob, her eyes filling with tears. He didn’t leave her with anything, just the basket filled with some empty containers and a meagre blanket. Perhaps it was a Hansel and Gretel situation, and Junmyeon had just wanted to rid himself of her.

(Y/N) staggered to her feet. She’d be damned if she was to die alone in a forest. She had to fight her way back to civilisation. Even if Junmyeon didn’t want her, someone surely would?

Abandoning the warmth of the picnic blanket, she started to tread carefully towards the path, shivering with fear. The darkness had really started to set in at that point, and even the slightest crack of a twig or call of an owl was enough to scare the life out of (Y/N).

She started to regret leaving the blanket behind, as goosebumps rose on her arms in response to the biting cold. She could only rub her hands along her arms and hope that she would stumble into humanity at some point. The insecure thoughts in her head were almost bubbling over, so much so she was barely paying attention to her surroundings and not evening noticing when the path was no longer under her feet and instead she was trudging through twigs and dirt.

Her attention was brought back as she felt her foot becoming stuck on something - a stray branch or exposed root - and she fell to the floor letting out a cry of pain. Her ankle was severely twisted, becoming red and hot to the touch, and (Y/N) wanted nothing more than for Junmyeon to emerge from the darkness, to tell her he was sorry and to whisk her away to the warmth of their home. She couldn’t hold her grudge against him when her body was in pain. 

“Suho? Suho? Where are you?” The young woman called out to no avail. All she heard in response was a rustling of the bushes and - fearing it was a predator ready to eat her up - she scrambled to her feet and staggered away as fast as she could with the aching of her limb becoming more prominent by the second.

Eventually, after what felt like hours of limping she heard a voice. Not just any voices. She could recognise it clearly and even in the darkness she could make out two figures. One hunched over the other one, which seemed to be unmoving.

She attempted to speed up her pace to reach them faster, but the aching pain in her limp only meant she could attempt a limp stagger, before falling onto her knees.

“Suho! Suho, please help me! Please, don’t leave me alone!” (Y/N) cried out, hoping he would listen. Some part of her still longed for him, even if he had left her all alone.

The hunched over figure raised its head, seeing (Y/N) injured form and instantly making its way to see her.

As it approached her, she could make out Junmyeon’s features clearer, although there was something slightly different about his face than when she’d seen him hours before.

“Suho? What did I do wrong? Please, just save me already!” (Y/N) cried, as he knelt beside her. His gentle fingers caressed her face. She flinched in response, as she felt some warm liquid transfer from his digits to her face. 

“(Y/N), I thought I told you to stay put. Look at what’s happened to you.” Junmyeon cooed, his eyes trailing to see her injured leg. 

“I-I was so scared. It was cold and dark and I was all alone! I’m so sorry Suho, I couldn’t do it.” She cried in response, shivering as he scooped her up into his arms. He just tutted as she nestled her face into his chest, not caring about how his white shirt was stained.

~ღ~

“I need to see it properly, my love.” Junmyeon caressed her ankle gently, trying to get his lover to stretch it out fully so he could treat the wound. 

(Y/N) shook her head, tears already leaking out at the excruciating pain. 

“It’ll get infected if I don’t apply disinfectant. (Y/N), you don’t have a choice.” Junmyeon’s firm voice was enough to coax her into offering up the full area of injury for inspection.

“My poor love.” He offered comforting words as he cleaned the wound, applied the disinfectant, wrapped it up in bandages. “You’ll need to rest for a few days hmm? No more going out for at least a month.” 

(Y/N) stayed quiet, her lip still quivering slightly.

“I’m sorry it had to be this way. If you’d stayed put then-”

“Do you hate me?”

The words hung in the air, as Junmyeon tried to process the accusation.

“What?”

She shrunk back, suddenly losing all gall she had.

“(Y/N), I love you more than anything in the world. Please, don’t ever think otherwise.”

“Why did you leave me yesterday?” She asked cautiously.

“There was some business to take care of. But it was all for us. I promise, (Y/N).” Junmyeon planted a sweet kiss on her lips.

She finally smiled back at him.

“I love you.”

“You know I love you-” Junmyeon’s declaration was cut off by the shrill ring of the doorbell. “I’ll be right back.”

He gave her one last kiss to quell her fears before leaving the room. She heard him welcoming the visitor with a loud, friendly greeting, before a more sombre hushed voice interrupted his. 

Their conversation was muffled through the door, though she could tell through Junmyeon’s tone that the visitor was the bearer of some sad news.

(Y/N) wanted to hear what they were talking about. Junmyeon should trust her, and what he knows she should know. Even if he wasn’t prepared to divulge in the details of how he spent the time away from her, she wanted to know.

She pushed herself to her feet, wincing at the pain when she put the weight on her foot. Hobbling to the door, she pressed her ear to the wood, hoping to make out a bit more of the conversation. Through opening the door a sliver, she could hear exactly what they were saying.

“You’re expecting me to believe this is all a coincidence, Mr Kim?” A deep voice posited.

“I had no knowledge nor involvement in the death of your comrade. Send my regards to Byun’s wife, and if you’ll excuse me-”

“How did you know his name?”

The tension was so thick you’d need a saw to cut it at the very least.

“I’m sorry, you must have misheard me. Now, if you don’t mind leaving my premises.” Junmyeon’s voice had gotten a lot sharper.

“There are things you’re not telling me. We can do this here, or we can talk at the station-”

There was a loud bang. (Y/N) flung open the door to see that the visitor - a detective, by the looks of it - was lying dead at Junmyeon’s feet, a smoking gun in her boyfriend’s hands.

“Sorry, my love. You weren’t supposed to see that.” 

[managingmymuse]

Plotting

for writer's month

day 24: fake dating

(original fiction | ???)

I read and reread the King's declarations more times than I could count. Soon the words grew blurred from my fingertips, and the paper threatened to peel apart at the folds. Still, I kept pulling it out, picking at it like one picks a scab.

I forced myself to wait a week before sending a reply. Before I made any answer to the message at all. I needed that time to compose myself, to ensure that I could write without a shaking hand or tears dripped onto the page. It was terribly rude, of course, but at the moment, I was quite over politeness. If Timothe had an issue with it, he could consult my father, seeing as everything I'd told Timothe so far had been ignored.

The betrayal hung on the back of my tongue like acid. It made me short with my mother when she came to discuss gowns, and shorter still with Marcel Imons who was still pestering Abigail Lyon. When he approached her near the lake by the girls' dormitory one afternoon, I dispensed with my usual diplomacy and used a burst of magic to fling him in it.

Abigail's roommates laughed themselves sick.

By the end of the week, I'd calmed down enough to write with a clear hand. My missive was short, and to the point.

What possessed you to do this without asking me?

The reply came quickly. Mail between Yarrow and Imena didn't often take long.

My dearest Desdemona,

I must beg your forgiveness. When I returned from Imena, I was in deep pain at the loss of your company. My suffering was so great that my magic diminished as well. When my father discovered this lack, he dispatched his orders immediately, and without consulting me.

I regret that I have not had the opportunity to ask you properly. I promise, upon my next visit, I will make it up to you in full.

Ever yours,

Timothe

I'd frowned at the letter. And then, in a fit of pique, I'd burned it, using my rage to fuel the flames.

It was only later that the mistrust began to settle over me. When we'd been together, Timothe had always seemed self-possessed. Confident. Unlikely to wallow in supposed heartbreak. And when we'd parted, he'd seemed resigned to our future relationship as companions, if not outright friends. But by the time he got to Yarrow, he was disturbed to the point of magic disruption? After a mere day's drive?

Something did not tally. Not at all.

Timothe's triumphant return, presumably with a real proposal and a ring, was scheduled for the next school break, only a week away. Many of our classmates were returning to Yarrow for the solstice, but I would stay here with my family. And Timothee, apparently, would be visiting us.

My mother went into a flurry of preparations. She just about cleaned out every larder in the county searching for chocolate jellies and lemon drops. The staff was given a verbal thrashing every time she saw a button loose or a shoe unpolished. Every room on the main floors was laden with pine boughs until the whole house smelled-- and looked-- like it would belonged in a forest.

While my mother obsessed, I made my own preparations. I borrowed a particular spell from Lady Rathburn's extensive library.

She grasped my arm when I turned to leave her. "Think very carefully before you use this," she said, grey eyes bright. "The truth is not always kind."

I knew that already. Perhaps better than I should. "Don't worry about me," I said. "I shall be the very soul of discretion."

And I was. Rather than send servants for my supplies, I shopped for them myself, trailing along Spill Street like a lady at leisure rather than on a mission. I purchased the ingredients I needed in three separate shops, mixed in with a dozen more items that I never intended to use. Anyone who recovered my shopping list wouldn't know what I was shopping for.

I brewed the potion and let it steep two nights beneath the moon's rays. When it was done, I had a thin vial of a brownish liquid that would make any man, woman, or child, spill their secrets they'd much rather take to the grave.

Arranging a meeting in private was a much more difficult task to manage. My mother wanted to lavish the precious prince with hospitality, and even my father thought it would be impolite not to greet him upon arrival in our city. In the end, I had to do my very best impression of a lovesick girl to get them to consent to allow me to have tea with him in private so that he might propose properly.

It worked, I'm ashamed to say. Very ashamed indeed.

Timothe's carriage rolled up one wintery morning. I watched from the window as he strode up the stairs of our home and knocked precisely once before our butler greeted him. I rang for tea while the butler helped Timothe off with his coat and gloves and settled myself in a rather demure position on the sofa a mere moment before the door swung open.

"His Highness Prince Timothe," the butler said.

I nodded and stood to offer a curtsy. Timothe strode into the room in grand spirits, crossing the distance between us in a matter of seconds. "Darling," he said. He seized both of my hands in his, bringing them up between us to press a kiss to each.

The back of my neck prickled with unease. "Pet names now?"

"You're unhappy with me," Timothe said. "I understand."

"Do you?" I glanced at the butler. "You may go."

With a swift nod, he withdrew.

A heavy silence fell about the room. Embers crackled and burned in the fireplace.

I motioned toward the high-backed chair in the center of the room and allowed Timothe to be seated before I resumed my own position. A knock sounded on the rear door to the room, and a maid entered, bearing the tea service I'd summoned just moments before.

"I've had tea prepared," I said, motioning the maid to set it on the table nearest us. "It's just the thing to warm you after such a cold journey."

"My dear, the only thing I need to warm me is your kind regard."

Ugh. I nodded to the maid, indicating that she could leave before reaching forward to pour the tea.

Timothe's gaze was a hot brand on my neck as I carefully added liquid to his cup and dropped in a single sugar cube. "You're angry with me."

"I'm furious," I said. I offered him the cup and saucer, and he took it. "We discussed this the last time you were here. I said I don't wish to marry."

"Yes, and I tried to respect your wishes," he said. "But once I got home, I realized how much I missed you. My magic suffered. I'm ashamed to say I moped."

"You might have written me before you told your father we were to be married."

"Would it have changed your position?" he asked. "Knowing of my heartbreak?"

My lips firmed into a thin line as I poured my own tea. "You ask too much."

"On the contrary. I think I ask just enough."

He took a cautious sip of his tea, and a bolt of triumph flared through me, lighting me from within.

"Think of how happy we'll be," he said. "How powerful. Between the two of us we'll have the political capital and brute strength to rule this bloody empire, my brothers be damned."

I just stared at him. I watched the color drain from his face. I watched dawning horror pull at his lips.

"Why-- why did I say that? Did I--" His gaze dropped to his tea, and his lip curled. "How did you get this recipe?"

"I am a witch," I said. "You seem to forget it."

"On the contrary. It's the only reason I'm interested in you at all."

I expected that, but it still stung. I took a delicate sip of my own tea before I set the cup down.

A range of emotions was flashing across Timothe's face. Rage and confusion and fear. "Sweetroot tea is illegal."

I lifted a shoulder. "Then have me arrested."

His lip curled. "You know I won't do that."

"Because you love me?"

He outright snarled. "You know I don't love you. Or you wouldn't have fed me this this brew."

That one didn't sting nearly as much. Not with the victory of tricking him dancing in my veins. "If you don't love me, why force me to marry you?"

"Why does anyone marry?" he said.

"That's not an answer."

I have to give him credit, he fought it. But the recipe I'd used for the Sweetroot potion had an extra kicker of joja berries mixed with acanthus oil. In precisely the right quantities, it was formulated to make the reluctant more forthcoming.

"You saved my life," he said. "I need you to do it again."

"Are you in some sort of danger?"

"My brothers. They're trying to kill me."

He stood up at that. His hands were curled into fists at his sides, and the cold shadow of fear passed over me.

"How-- that is, I-- how dare you," he said.

I affected nonchalance and drank some more tea. "If beating me into a pulp will make you feel better, then by all means, try it. But I warn you-- I fight back."

He snarled at me. Outright snarled. And for some reason, it filled me with more pleasure than I can even describe.

"Leave if you want," I said. "Storm down the streets in a rage if that would make you feel better. But I think it would be more productive if you would just tell me the truth."

"The truth." He sneered. "Why would I tell you anything?"

"You're trying to force me into a marriage with you," I said. "A marriage that I don't want or even particularly need."

"Honesty is not necessary for a marriage."

"It's a rather good start, though."

He scowled again. From the expressions on his face, I could tell he was fighting the sweetroot once again.

Finally, he dropped into his chair. His fingers clenched and unclenched on the air in front of him. "Fine. You want the truth? I'll give you the truth. My father has designated no heir. All three of us are eligible to assume his throne. My brothers have been trying to kill me for years. Last summer, one of them nearly succeeded."

"What does that have to do with me?"

"You're the one who saved me from his curse."

I sat back in my chair, startled. "That was only a falling branch."

"It was an ill luck spell," Timothe said. "I'm a magnet for danger. Literally wherever I go. I've been thrown from three horses, nearly run over by multiple carriages, and been injured by my sparring partner twice already."

I took a delicate sip of my tea. "I'm surprised you haven't been poisoned."

Timothe leaned forward, an odd glint in his eyes. "You have the distinction of being the first to attempt it, my love."

"Don't call me that."

"I don't see why I shouldn't."

"Because I'm not your love. I'm not your anything."

"But you will be."

The strength of that conviction, under the influence of sweetroot, was horrifying. Nevertheless, I forced myself to set my cup down gently on its saucer. "I'm not marrying you."

"Why?"

"Because I don't wish to marry," I said. "You in particular."

"Charming."

"I figured I might as well trade your honesty for some of my own."

I gave him a demure smile, and Timothe bared his teeth at me in a shark's grin.

"I don't need your agreement to force you into a marriage," he said. "I can have the papers filed with or without your consent."

"That's true enough," I said. "Heaven knows I can't stop you from filing paperwork with the courts."

"So you see that resisting this is idiotic."

"On the contrary," I said. "Resisting this is the only option I have left."

He stood up at at that, rolling his eyes. I half expected him to storm out, but instead he began to pace. He moved up and down the length of the room, cracking his knuckles as he muttered to himself.

I could see the wheels turning in his head. My calmness, such as it was, was getting to him. Good. It was bloody hard to hold onto my cool head.

It was time to push him over the edge. "What's to stop me from just letting you die?"

He turned to me. "What?"

"You heard me," I said. "If your plan is to have a bodyguard in the form of a wife-- well. An unwilling wife is irritating. An unwilling bodyguard is a legitimate problem."

"You would let me die?" he said. "Your own husband?"

I lifted a shoulder. "Quite a few women adore widowhood. It's not what I imagined for myself, naturally, but it's not the worst state one can find one's self in."

I thought he'd scowl at me. Rage and threaten, stomp and storm. But instead, a sort of calm passed over his face. He strode back to his chair, seating himself upright with the kind of courtly bearing that made me want to throw him across the room. "What do you want?"

"For you to leave me alone."

"That's not what I meant," he said. The glint was back in his eyes, and it sent a shiver rolling down my spine. "What do you want to act as my bodyguard?"

"You would hire me as a bodyguard?"

He laughed, and it sounded as if it rippled up from the core of his cold, dark heart. "I can't have a bodyguard. Not in truth. That would be a display of weakness."

"And moping and pretending to lose your magic isn't?"

"Sentimentality is not weakness," he said. "Was our country not founded by warrior-poets?"

"Our country was founded by pompous windbags."

"Those are my ancestors."

"They are, aren't they?"

Timothe's smile was broader this time. There was still an edge to it, but it seemed-- genuine?

"This is going to be fun," he said.

"It's going to be your death sentence."

"You asked me to hire you, which means that your services can be bought," he said. "How much?"

I scowled at him. "I don't need money."

"Everyone needs something."

I kept the scowl firmly in place. "There's nothing I need that would make marrying you worth it."

Timothe chuckled. The sound was deep and resonant, and it sent alarm bells pealing in my head. "Am I really so bad?" he asked.

"Not everything is about you."

He smiled at that before standing again. He paced to the window, looking down into the street. The snow-bright light from outside washed onto his face, making him look like a figure from one of my sister's fairytales.

Not a handsome prince, I thought darkly. Or, well, not just one, anyway.

"I'm willing to compromise," he said. "I'd like to maintain the fiction of an engagement between us for the time being. But in exchange for you ensuring that I don't die an untimely death, I'll break it off long before we ever near the altar."

"That's not much of a compromise," I said. "What's in it for me?"

"Is it not enough to assist your sovereign in his time of need?"

"You're not my sovereign," I said. "And at this rate, you'll never be."

"But you can change that," Timothe said. "Help me reach the throne, and I will grant you anything your heart desires. One royal favor. How about that, my sweet?"

A favor. With a favor from the king I-- well, I could do anything. Possibilities spun in my head. A school in the north. A girls school where they were allowed to study more than dance and flower arranging.

"Never call me that again," I said, "and you have yourself a deal."

He swung around then. The grin on his face was almost impish. "I knew I could get through to you."

"Don't look so happy," I said.

He practically bounced across the room. "Why wouldn't I look happy? I've just secured a wonderful new fiancee."

"Spare me."

Instead of returning to his chair, this time he settled himself on the sofa next to me. It was a flagrant breach of propriety, and I suspected that he did it just to make me uncomfortable.

My suspicions were concerned when he took my hand in his and slowly brought it to his lips. "Come now. When we're in public, you'll have to pretend to be madly in love with me. You might as well start now."

"If this is your attempt at charm, it's failing," I said. I extracted my hand and reached for the bell to summon the butler. "It's been enlightening as always, your majesty."

He only smiled. "It has, hasn't it? It really has."

***

@saltnpepapig You asked to be tagged if there was more. This got out of hand, so let me know if you changed your mind.

[herkawaiinovels]

[SS] Chapter 30

T/N: Now Playing: Give You My Heart - IU (I suggest playing the instrumental first, then with IU’s voice)

            “My lord.”

Albert rushed out of the mansion. Ver, who came back to the mansion after going out for a while, was holding Lady Weiand in his arms. Both were wearing dirt-stained clothes.

“Please prepare warm water. Use the bathroom in mother’s room.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Albert quickly became alert and gave orders to the maids. While the maids were preparing, Ver sat on a chair in the prepared room and wiped Prillance’s hands with a towel soaked in warm water.

“It seems you have some wounds.”

There were small scratches on her fingers. It seemed that small stones had bruised her hands as she had dug through the soil. Ver carefully held Prillance's fingers and patted the wounds.

Prillance tried to pull her hand out in surprise. However Ver's grip was stronger than hers. She felt her pulse quicken and her fingertips heat up.

“The bath is ready.”

It wasn't until a maid told Ver that all the preparations were made that he released Prillance. It was time for him to go out.

Ver saw Prillance avoiding his gaze as his hands grazed her fingertips. He left the room, asking the maids to take good care of her.

Prillance moved to the bathroom after Ver left. She rebuked herself for her pounding heart. She was indeed selfish. The momentary hesitation created as she was swept away by her selfishness created this four-way affair.

Did she even deserve the gratitude he gave her?

While Prillance was lost in thought, the maids finished their work and changed her into plain clothes. She heard a knock as her wet hair was being dried and lightly brushed. It was Ver, along with the physician of the Grant family. Ver had also changed into clean clothes just like her.

After the attending physician's treatment, a small bandage was put on the tip of Prillance's fingers.

        “This is the last remaining flower.”

When the doctor and maids left the room, a potted plant containing a jasmine flower was placed in front of Prillance's eyes.

She reached out her hand to touch the flower but quickly retracted it.

This flower was Ver's heart. When she thought so, she became hesitant to touch it.

“I will give this flower to Lady Royne.”

Prillance told him. The reason Cecia was angry in the first place was because she thought Prillance lied. If she delivered this pot, she could still bring them together.

“There is no need.”

However, Ver refused.

“I no longer want that.”

“But if you do that…!”

Prillance’s quiet voice grew louder.

“…Lady Royne will never know your heart.”

“It’s alright.”

Again! He was a man who always said everything was alright. How was everything alright? If you don't speak, your heart will not be conveyed. After much time has passed, it would be too late to regret.

Her regrets had already been 6 years worth, but his regrets had not even begun. How long will he spend regretting in the future?

“Since the Lady has acknowledged it…”

Ver responded faster than Prillance.

If it had been a few months ago, he would have let her do it. But now his heart no longer desired it.

“…That’s enough for me.”

Then he gently stroked her eyes as she looked up. Her eyes, red with tears, were staring at him. Instead, he felt like it wasn't so bad that there was someone who cried and recognized his heart.

“…That I acknowledge it, it’s meaningless.”

Prillance, who avoided Ver's touch with flustered eyes, managed to add.

Even at these moments, her inconsiderate heart was beating fast.

“I just need it to mean something to me. Since it's my heart, it’s up to me. More than that, I heard Cecia is engaged to Duke Tonz.”

It was reliable information because Ver heard it directly from Roman.

“Did you…know about it?” (Ver)

Her eyes seemed to ask how he found out. So she knew about it as well.

“Are you…alright?” (Prillance)

She seemed to be worried about him. In fact, he was indifferent to the news. Even at the moment that he had heard of it from Roman, he had no thoughts about it. Rather.

“I should be asking that to the Lady instead, are you alright?”

Why were they exchanging questions about each other’s concerns? Ver found the situation a little funny.

“Didn’t you want to be engaged to Duke Tonz?”

Only then did his heart ache. The story of Prillance's passionate love for Roman came to mind.

“That's…”

Prillance immediately halted her words. She was worried that her words might hurt him again. She didn't want to hurt him.

Once again, she didn't speak. She was always silent during these important moments. Just when he thought he was getting closer, she would step back. The lingering distance made Ver’s heart twinge.

“…Unlike the Lady, I don’t think I can cry on your behalf.”

Ver sat in front of Prillance, looking straight into her eyes, and slightly grasping her bandaged finger. At best, he could only do these temporary treatments.

His presence in her mind was only this much. His heart ached once more.

“But I think I can be helpful. If the Lady's offer still stands.”

Ver lightly kissed Prillance’s hand. Even though it was just actions with his lips, he felt like she was a precious person. As such, his actions were cautious.

“I will become a knight of the Weiand family.”

Prillance blankly watched Ver's behavior. She became surprised by his sudden remarks.

“Viscount. What…”

“Didn’t you ask me to become one of your family's knights?”

Prillance had indeed suggested for Ver to become one of her family’s knights. It wasn’t a bad offer for him, and he had said he would think about it. But even when he had declared he would never become one, she accepted it.

So what was he so disappointed with? Why was he so angry at her?

His complicated mind was settled after meeting her.

After all, it was because of his own expectations. He had expected that the closer they got to each other, the closer their hearts would grow as well.

He was hoping for a return of his feelings - feelings he had started by himself in the first place.

To that extent, he was giving her his heart.

And it wasn't until now that he realized, it was enough just to see her up close.

He wanted to know her heart that she doesn’t seem to want to tell him. Even if he couldn’t fill her heart with what she really wants. Even if she only allowed this distance.

“I will accept your offer.”

Ver's gaze was unshaken, as if to show his firm will. Certainly, his decision was impulsive, but his resolution was firm.

“Wait!”

Rather, it was Prillance that was taken aback. She didn't know why the story was going this way.

“Think about it a little more.”

“It is already a decision I’ve come to after much deliberation.”

“No. You are making an impulsive decision.”

“I am…”

Prillance stood up to avoid what he was going to say.

“I'll pretend I didn’t hear you just now.”

Holding the pot, she gave these words to Ver before leaving. It was difficult to keep hearing his confident answers.

“I…If I can be of help to you, then that’s enough.”

It was his final response to her words.

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[schaddenfreude]

Lay With Me

This is a continuation of the post-bridge scene drabble I wrote. It's going to be 2 parts, so I guess including that drabble you could consider this the 2nd of 3 parts. This one is fluff and a hint of smut. Part 3 is gonna be full on SMUT. I will also probably post both parts into one complete story on AO3.

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

The metaphorical Earth shifts under them again when they enter Eve's tiny apartment. As the quaking subsides, Villanelle and Eve are left on two sides of the fault line, encompassed by a growing sense of awkwardness that neither knows how to approach just yet. It's the kind of discombobulation that new couples feel when they sense an incoming next step in their relationship. It settles around them and somehow, there is room among Eve's tiny, cluttered apartment for the elephant in the room.

Eve distracts herself by setting about the task of gathering a small duffel bag for the trip ahead. Villanelle pretends to inspect the apartment, looking around as if it's the first (It isn't) and the last time she'll ever see Eve's home.

They both need space to work out the feelings coursing through them before the new dynamic in their relationship can be explored.

Villanelle plops herself down rather unceremoniously onto Eve's mattress and the springs underneath groan in protest. She picks up the nearby picture frame and examines the photo inside. Eve and Niko are pictured in happier times. A honey moon, maybe? Eve looks considerably younger.

Villanelle decides she doesn't want to ponder that and turns the photo face down on the window ledge, curling her lip in displeasure.

She sprawls herself back against Eve's pillow, turning to borrow her face into it. Eve's scent overwhelms her senses on her next breath and she relaxes deeper into the mattress.

Home.

The word turns itself over and over again in her mind. She is home and she is safe for perhaps the first time in her life. Well, maybe 'safe' is still to be determined, if indeed she ever will be, but being in Eve's presence provides her with an undeniable sense of security.

She wonders if Eve feels the same.

Her arm shifts underneath pillow and catches something solid. Curiously, Villanelle curls her fingers around it and slips it from it's hiding place.

It is a heart. Not just any heart. It's the heart she gave Eve nestled inside of a teddy bear. A physical representation of her own heart, which already beat for Eve Polastri long ago, she thinks.

"Admit it, Eve. You wish I was here."

Her own voice pours from the heart as she toys with it in her hands. The sound brings Eve to step slowly out of the bathroom where she had been collecting toiletries. She takes a moment to watch Villanelle, who looks thoroughly fascinated by the object she holds in her hands. Eve wonders what she must be thinking.

"You were right." Eve steps forward and Villanelle sits up, intently meeting her gaze. Suddenly Eve feels a weight on her chest and she struggles with the conflicting emotions that have been brewing inside her since before that first dinner with Villanelle in her kitchen. She thinks she catches the ghost of smug satisfaction in Villanelle's eyes, but it's gone as quickly as it comes.

"I did wish you were here. God....even-even after everything, after Rome. I was furious. I wanted to hate you so badly, but I could never escape wanting to have you with me."

Villanelle lets out an audible, quivering sigh at the admission. She sets the heart down in the window and focuses solely on Eve, like she wants no distraction from the moment that is developing between them.

"I...um" Eve stutters. "I just think about you. All the time."

"I thought about you all the time." Villanelle admits. She remembers feeling regret for the first time after shooting Eve. Everything that came after: the wedding to a woman she didn't love, throwing herself into her work. It was a distraction from the gnawing regret of killing the woman she loves more deeply, more purely, than anyone before.

"I masturbate about you a lot." Eve says as she comes to stand in front of Villanelle. Both of them smile at the callback to Paris and then Villanelle scoots over, patting the empty space beside her.

"Lay with me? Please?"

Eve complies, shimmying into her side of the bed and then they're laying on their sides facing each other. It's another callback to Paris and both can feel the deja vu.

Eve remembers what it was like to look into Villanelle's eyes then. God she was so arrogant. And ignorant, really. She thought a handful of files could show her everything she needed to know about the psychopath looking back at her. But she learned that she had only just scratched the surface of what it meant to be Oksana Astankova.

In a weird way, she thought that she deserved to be shot for her hubris just as much as Villanelle had deserved a knife in the gut. Like a zoo keep forgetting his place in the food chain and getting mauled by a tiger.

The pair of hazel eyes looking back at her are different than they were then. The touch against her cheek is softer. Villanelle radiates the same genuine love and devotion that Eve feels herself, and there's not a trace of possession to be found in her eyes. This Villanelle feels so warm, so familiar, and yet she's a complete stranger compared to the petulant, spoiled Villanelle Eve last knew.

There is that pull again. The one that drew them back to each other on the bridge. The one that always drew them back together, as if the cosmos itself refused to separate them. Eve found her eyes flickering to Villanelle's lips. They are so impossibly close. Just one tiny move and this tension between them would snap in the most glorious way.

"What do you want, Eve?" Villanelle sighs in a voice thick with barely contained desire. She knew what she wanted. And she knew what Eve wanted. Now Eve just needed to admit it out loud to herself.

Eve is tired. Tired of running tired of games. Tired of bullshit.

"I want this. You. A future. With you."

And Villanelle springs forward, surging into Eve and crashing their lips together for the second time that night.

Someone, maybe both of them, moans into the kiss. They can't really be sure. All of the waiting. All of the anticipation. All of the confined intensity and heat between them. It all melts into this moment.

Villanelle allows Eve to turn them over as their mouths dance against each other, pulling Eve into her lap before the kiss breaks with an audible smack and her lips burn a scorching path down Eve's neck. Eve's hands find purchase in Villanelle's hair, both threatening and promising to ruin the perfect bun on blonde hair.

This is what home feels like.

Both of them think that as they feel their hearts beat together where their chests are joined.

Eve lets out a wanton groan as Villanelle's hands find tender purchase on her backside. Then she's scrambling to tear her own shirt of and Villanelle stops. Eve finds her staring in awe, positively marveling at Eve's uncovered body with a dopey, slack-mouthed expression full of desire.

She's seen Eve topless before, but she finds that the cheap light bulbs of Eve's kitchen pale in comparison to how luminous Eve looks in the moonlight.

As if from some form of muscle memory, Villanelle's fingers automatically trail up Eve's body, and she delights at the tiny shivers they leave in their wake on the way up to the shimmering, glossy looking scar tissue on the left side of Eve's chest.

Acting on some unknown instinct, one of Eve's hands mirrors the action. It leaves Villanelle's hair and trails down her body stopping above her yellow cloak on the spot where she knows the scar from Paris is. She can almost feel the heat from it radiating through Villanelle's cloak and scorching her fingertips if she tries.

Their eyes meet again and Villanelle nods, allowing Eve to remove that ridiculous cloak. Then her fingers are on the faded knife wound. The skin of Villanelle's stomach shudders at her touch; shying away in fear of being marred again. She runs her thumb over the scar on a delicate, tender promise.

Never again.

And just like that, Eve finds her self being flipped back onto the mattress. The scales of their balancing act are tipped yet again.

Push and Pull

Pleasure and Pain

They both think that if this is what consuming each other feels like then they'll gladly spend the rest of their lives trying.

Villanelle's lodge lodges in between Eve's thighs in just the right way and she gasps. The younger woman pulls back to marvel at her again. She's spent countless hours invested in fantasies of this very moment, but it is so beautifully different from anything she had conjured up in her mind's eye. It makes her feel like a virgin again; experimenting with uncharted waters in a sea of sexual possibility.

She grinds herself experimentally into Eve once again and Eve groans out in frustration again.

"Get on with it. Please..." She hisses with desire.

"You're sure?" Villanelle asks, hands hovering over Eve's trouser button like she's about to unwrap the most precious treasure imaginable.

Eve grabs her by the t-shirt she is still wearing and brings their lips together, sliding her tongue into the waiting hotness of Villanelle's mouth. She breaks the kiss to trail seductive kisses up Villanelle's neck and stops to nibble at her ear lobe.

"Yes."

[fwoopersongs]

何必诗债换酒钱 - Notes

Clean version here and thoughts under the cut.

I saw the song translation notes made by @shelterfromrain​ a while back and thought, wow! what a fantastic idea it is to share the results of the rabbit holing (that you inevitably end up engaging in when doing this) and leave a record for your future self while at it too! Currently some of the song and poetry translations on fwoopersongs do have little notes, but those were casually written on the fly and after so long, the thought process behind certain choices often get forgotten, which is such a waste... Long story short - I’m doing it this way from now on!

This song was requested by @peerlesssqq on twitter - which may or may not have bumped it up by like a year on my list (yes, I’ve been sitting on it since 2018 and you’ll see why) - and I had WAY more fun than expected, so 谢啦 ~ It was a delight to receive your DM request. I was happy for days!

Some background: 《何必诗债换酒钱》 is the theme song of 【文定乾坤】- a collection of musical works that feature notable contributors to Chinese literature in ancient times, poets and the like. Oh, and I did notice that the MV on bilibili looks like it could be a promo for a webtoon or game. Who knows? I’ll be checking out the rest of the songs, that’s for sure!

The following part of this post will be my thoughts for first the title, then each section - the intro, verse 1 & 2 and the chorus, ending off with some final comments.

Disclaimer first though (otherwise later you read already then feel like beating me up): Everything in this post is only my interpretation of the song. I have quite limited familiarity with mainland literature and culture, so of course don’t expect much xD Here you’ll only find a story-loving banana who jiak-ed kantang too much in her youth and now regrets it a whole lot. 说好了哈 I’m pants at analysis, worse at Chinese, and am not at all good with words ok?

Title

So《何必诗债换酒钱》, let’s start off with the word here that’s unfamiliar to most of us:

诗债 | shī zhài or a debt of poems/poetry debt is a legit thing! - All you authors and artists out there might be familiar with it - It’s what you call the resulting debt when a poet promises to write something for another person but hasn’t done it yet. Procrastination has apparently always been the curse of content creators.

In fact, in the Bai Juyi’s poem that came up on the 诗债 baidu page《晚春欲携酒寻沉四著作先以六韵寄之》- possibly addressed to a friend he owes - he was complaining of illness, old age and writer’s block. But then oh, he goes on and then I passed by a party where they had drinks, and was quite up to my gills & totally out of it for some time, and THAT’S why I’ve done you dirty and owe you ever so many poems. I don’t really understand the last two lines but apparently he then offers to bring a drink for this person he’s talking to, mentions a wish to meet a winter goddess (????? pretty girl? or the snow? idk which), and starts reminiscing the times that were like a precious string of pearls they had singing at Yang Pass. Most likely farewells, but without context I just don’t get it. Anyway bribery and misdirection huh? I see what you did there bro, and I’m sure the person you attempted to distract saw it coming too...

何必 | hé bì, is a rhetorical question of Must you really? In the case of this word, 何 functions as roughly ‘is it that’ and 必 as ‘it must be so’.

换酒钱 | huàn jiǔ qián is of course, exchange for money to purchase wine.

‘Must you really promise poems in exchange for money to buy wine?’ then is the literal translation of 何必诗债换酒钱.

So here is the question: Is alcohol worth a poetry debt? Onwards to the answer!

Intro

生就诗骨 算来三百篇  Born and already a poet to the bones, (with) three hundred works counting up to now. 

浪掷秦淮长安 风流李杜王白  Spending lavishly in Qinhuai and Chang’an, free/unrestrained as Li and Du, Wang and Bai;

余下十分 便随意肩上担  whatever left is divided in ten parts, casually thrown over a shoulder

权作金玉铜板 相谢好人间  and taken for jade, gold and coin, a big thank you to this good world!

I interpreted the 生 in the first line as 天生 i.e. innate, natural born talent, so this first line describes someone born with a gift for poetry with ‘three hundred’ works to their name. Although... that three hundred should not be taken too literally, it’s more likely to be an allusion to collected works like the 16th century anthology of poems, Three Hundred Tang Poems. After all, Li Bai, Du Fu, Wang Wei and Bai Juyi are the most famous Tang Dynasty poets… and they were all name-dropped in the next line!

浪掷 | làng zhì was a new phrase for me, and means something like spending freely and lavishly or willfully wasted. Of course Chang’an was the capital during the Tang Dynasty and it was the world's most populous city at the time. One can only imagine how prosperous it must have been… and what fun things were there to spend your money on! The banks of Qinhuai river and that general area was once a gathering place for noble/wealthy families, scholars looking for a good time (and some say, the red light district xD). Though by Sui/Tang, that area was no longer doing as well due to political shifts. So the mental image I got from 浪掷秦淮长安 is of someone gallivanting through places of interest, from the bustling and prosperous to the dilapidated.

风流 | fēng liú is as always, hard to translate with no full equivalent in english. The feel it gives me ranges from, ‘cool, dashing bloke on a galloping horse with their cloak/robes/hair flowing elegantly in the wind’ to ‘pleasure seeking dandy who totally knows how to enjoy life, all the courtesans know him by courtesy name!’.

The third line started with 余下十分, which will not make any sense - why leftover? Divide what by ten? - until its put in context with the following:

Three hundred poems 算来三百篇 + 权作金玉铜板 pretend they are gold/jade/money (权作 | quán zuò just means to take one thing for another temporarily.)

The load thrown over the shoulder 肩上担

Spendthrift behaviour on tour 浪掷秦淮长安

The TITLE: bro so u wanna promise poetry in exchange for money to drink? why.

Let’s take those precious poems that can be exchanged for gold - a whole bagful of scrolls, and now I’m so rich I can scatter my money down the streets of entertainment districts and the capital! The very image of a 风流 poet, reckless and free spirited.

// Folks, please learn from this silly girl and do not read songs (or poems) line by line. They need to be appreciated at a distance, not one inch from your eyeballs.

Verse 1

两分与月 劳烦身前打点 Two parts to the moon, (may I) trouble you to take care of me while I’m alive.

哪处巍峨峰峦 当借我悬来观 Wherever there are majestic peaks and ranges, do lend me (your light) to hang and see by.

三分典高楼 好与长风赴宴 Three parts pawned for the tall building, good for attending the banquet alongside the wind,

遍寻可爱星子 唾手一把玩 searching for charming little stars, easily caught to play with.

Now we get to see how the poet is spending his ‘wealth’. This verse is a lot more literal as compared to the introduction, so there’s not much to say.

打点 used here is so interesting! Because it’s what you call bribing someone in a superior position to smoothen your path ahead (so to speak). Thanks to a childhood of tvb drama, I vaguely associate the type of people who would 打点 with rich merchant or minor noble fathers who want to give their sons an easier time at court. Either that or lower ranked officials with less moral scruples. Anyway, what’s being said in the song is something like: here is 20% dear moon, I’ll have to trouble you to bless me for the rest of this lifetime, and also please lend me your light to see by when I have need of it at scenic spots *for art*. The moon is a muse for many poets in all its forms after all… 明月, 圆月, 孤月, 残月, 冷月, 江月, 秋月 and so on.

Actually that whole sentence 劳烦身前打点 is so playful and fun that I put it in quotation marks to emphasize it. We’ve only just begun. Is the speaker already drunk?

And with the third line, 30% has been spent. Just noting here that 典 | diǎn can be read as pawn or mortgage. Another interesting thing to note would be that this imagery of ascending a tall building 高楼 and reaching out for stars 星子 in the last two lines of Verse 1 brings to mind one particular poem, famously attributed to Li Bai. Following translation by yours truly.

《夜宿山寺》- Overnight at the Mountain Temple 危楼高百尺 | dangerously towering a hundred feet high 手可摘星辰 | the stars are within reach 不敢高声语 | one dares not raise their voice 恐惊天上人 | for fear of disturbing the deities

Though the two probably have nothing to do with each other, doesn’t the reverence in the tone of this one bring out the playful irreverence of the other? So. Much. Fun. I adore the whole feel of 遍寻可爱星子 唾手一把玩 SO MUCH.

Verse 2

两分与桥 歇脚南北行船 Two parts to the bridge where travellers on foot and by boat from the north and south can rest,

欣然八方风物 闲话半日茶碗 delighted by the scenery all around, idly chatting half the day away over bowls of tea.

三分典流水 润色枯瘦石山 Three parts for the running water, moistening the gaunt stone mountains

又将天地一展 伸手 试浓淡 and again spreading heaven and earth wide, reaching out to test the viscosity (of the water).

It took a few listens, but in the end I really enjoyed the aesthetics here. And again, this verse is quite straight to the point albeit with two things I cannot understand.

The first point of confusion for me is why the lyricist chose to use 桥 | qiáo, a bridge as the place for people to rest on their journeys. I assumed here that this in reference to a pier or dock, assumed also that he is donating funds for this structure to be built or repaired. However, if that were the case 坞 | wù would have been enough - 船坞 was supposedly invented only in the Song Dynasty though, so maybe that’s why another word was chosen. But it’s not like there is any incidence of 桥 being used to mean ‘dock’ either!

The second thing that confuses me is the use of 典 for 流水. In verse one, that 典 was referring to the poetry works sold to reserve the venue for a banquet. That usage was apt. Here I suspect it might be for parallel structure, because there is no alternative reading for 典 that might allow one to use their 30% 三分 to do anything to flowing water 流水. That’s the literal reading, of course.

If we’re taking this a little less literally, it can be interpreted as borrowing the scenery (figuratively, since the place would not belong to anyone in the way you might own a property) to admire. It also expands on the second line’s mention of the surrounding view 欣然八方风物; there is running water which completes 润色 and brings the appearance of the gaunt and rocky mountains 枯瘦石山 closer to perfection.

润色 | rùn sè means to polish, to bring to greater heights. When you say something has been 润色 it is made more brilliant and closer to perfection by that addition. It can also mean moisten.

We always hear ‘rivers and mountains like a painting’ 江山如画 - originating from Su Dongpo’s《念奴娇·赤壁怀古》- used when the scenery is wonderful, because how often is real life as ideal as what we can imagine and depict? And that is exactly what is described here. The feeling out if the ‘water’ is concentrated or diluted 试浓淡 is used in answer to 一展 unfurling. 浓淡 of ink to 一展 of painting scroll. The land and sky seem like an ink wash painting, so beautiful that the viewer cannot help but reach out to run their hand through the water.

Chorus

Chorus Part 1

若趁游兴直到酣 If we take advantage of our wanderlust and go roaming till it is sated,

千字文章不值钱 classics and essays shan’t be worth a coin.

诗换花 词换雪 A poem for a flower! A song for snow!

再作檄文斗天官 Another denunciation for those heavenly officials!

Starting off with three new terms for me: 游兴 | yóu xìng means enthusiasm for travel. 酣 | hān can mean having a great time drinking, or being very satisfied and satiated. 檄文 | xí wén is a type of official document written for important announcements, declaration of war, or denunciation and condemnation of certain people or actions.

While I still feel this need to go out to see the world, I shall keep on the road until I am satisfied. Who cares about writing, who cares for study, it’s all worthless to me. I do what I want. And what I want is to write a little poem in exchange for a flower, some lyrics for a flake of snow. I’ll even write a denunciation against those officials in heaven (immortals). Fight me!!!!

I point again at Verse 1 with climbing the tower to play with stars. It’s no longer just playing nearby, now he wants a go at the gods.

Among the four parts of the chorus, this one is the simplest for sure. The lines mean exactly what is said. It also feels the most chaotic and mischievous. Is the speaker drunk? Is he high on something? One thing’s for sure. He’s out of money.

Chorus Part 2

何愁不得一样我 Why feel troubled that (I) cannot have another just like me?

知交尽向话中添 for one who understands you and is understood, look entirely towards stories to fill that place

唐解元 嵇中散 people like Tang Bohu (first in provincial examinations) and proud, upright and stubborn Ji Kang

且驰大梦任疯癫 Just chase that great dream, allow yourself to go mad.

I feel like the first two lines are quite straightforward, though they might not appear so on first reading: How could there be a need to feel sad or troubled that I have no like-minded equal. To find a true friend who understands you without need for words, and whom you understand in return, all you need to do is turn to those tales and stories 话中 for people to fill 添 that place.

唐解元 - People like Tang Yin, courtesy name: Bohu 唐寅, 字伯虎 (1470–1524 AD), noted painter, calligrapher and poet of the Ming Dynasty. Tang Yin led a life full of ups and downs that really cannot be covered in a paragraph’s worth of song translation notes. You can check out his wiki page if you’re curious though! There’s a little more on him where I cover the last line of this section. He is addressed as 解元 | jiè yuán here which is the term for the top scorer of the provincial examinations (second stage in the Imperial examination ladder). It is also an honorific for scholars. Tang Bohu is both.

嵇中散 - People like Ji Kang, courtesy name: Shuye 嵇康, 字叔夜, (223–262 AD), one of the Seven Sages of the Bamboo Grove - a group of friends who wisely kept themselves aloof from the dangerous politics of the Court, and devoted themselves to art, refinement and debate, of the Three Kingdoms period. He was a Daoist philosopher, musician, writer and poet.  

An accomplished musician, the qin composition 廣凌散 | guǎnglíng sàn is attributed to Ji Kang, though some versions of the story claim he learned it from a ghost while stopping at a pavillion on his way home. 嵇中散 was one of the names he was known by because of his appointment to the position of Attendant Counsellor, 中散大夫 | zhōng sàn dàfū, a civil official unspecified duties in the court of Cao Wei.

When Ji Kang was sentenced to death for his attempt to testify for a wrongly accused friend, three thousand scholars petitioned for his pardon to no avail. It’s said that at the execution ground, while they waited for the appointed hour, he had his favourite qin brought out and played a brilliant interpretation of Guanglin San that is now forever lost.

Do go read about them both if you have the time!

I would like to point out for the last line that 任 is to allow, to indulge, and it’s just such a heady sensation to say 任疯癫 - indulge in the madness! throw yourself in and don’t look back!

There is an easter egg here too. A nod to a poem by Tang Yin which can be read as his stance on his lifestyle choice after the alleged accusations of bribery in the final step of the Imperial examinations left him disgraced, and unable to pursue a civil career. Thematically the line does not call back to the poem at all, similarities end with the choice of words: chasing the dream 驰大梦 and indulging madness 任疯癫.  I leave an excerpt below. Translation again by me.

《桃花庵歌》- Song of a Plum Blossom Cottage // 若将花酒比车马 | if tawdriness and wine were compared against fine carriage and steed 他得驱驰我得闲 | he would have to drive and work hard for speed whilst I have my idle rest 别人笑我太疯癫 | others mock me for my madness 我笑他人看不穿 | i am amused for they do not perceive 不见五陵豪杰墓 | can’t you see that at the Emperors’ mausoleums and heroes’ graves 无花无酒锄做田 | there are no flowers, no wine, only land ploughed for farming

The second part of the chorus isn’t related to the first, but it has the same theme of showcasing the untamable (unhinged xD) spirit of the speaker. This time, the people he admires ‘intellectual equals’ and kindred spirits are featured, the 任性 feeling here has been pushed to greater heights.

Chorus Part 3

敢夸洒落何须酒 If one dares to boast of carefreeness, why, they hardly need wine.

不煮黄粱也称仙 Even without brewing millet they would still be called Immortal.

镜湖桌 白梅盏 The tables in the mirror-like lake, white plum blossoms in the cups,

等来春风恰开宴 await the spring breeze which arrives just in time for the feast to start!

Li Bai is regarded as both the god of poetry 诗仙 and god of drunkards wine 酒仙 because he wrote some of his greatest poems while drinking. The first two lines seem to be gently poking fun at that. Like hey, if you dare to claim to be all groovy, surely you have no need for alcohol? Just like how an immortal would still be an immortal without wine, your writing talent should not need any stimulants. This would be the time to mention that 黄粱 | huáng liáng is also known as millet, a type of grain that can be used to brew wine.

洒落 | sǎ luò has a few meanings, like shower down or blame, but the relevant one here would be 洒脱 generous, uninhibited and open. For me it feels similar to 风流 in that there is that ‘free, and exhilaratingly unrestrained’ element. 洒落 is in the most positive sense, being always open to having a good time, but without that dissolute or vaguely whirlwind-romance like connotation of 风流.

It feels like the intensity is letting up a little here - this is a light-hearted and frivolous song all the way through, but the words 洒落, 称仙 and imagery of a clear lake, white plum blossoms and the crisp spring breeze are grounding and sweet. Spirited in a different way from before.

Chorus Part 4

四角天地也醺然 The four corners and heaven and earth are also tipsy,

醉极自有桃李搀 when I’ve overindulged, my students will be there to help.

快意只 笔下讨 Gratification can only be claimed from beneath the brush;

何必诗债换酒钱 is falling into poetry debt worth that money for drink?

New words: 醺然 | xūn rán just means drunk. A new word for me though! 桃李 | táo lǐ is literally peach 桃 and plum 李 (李花, also known as 玉梅) flowers, and is a metaphor for students. The term originates from a story in 《韩诗外传》which was set in the Wei Kingdom of the Spring and Autumn period (771 to 476 BCE). There was once a highly ranked official who was sacked from his post and left for the north. He met another gentleman and remarked that the people he helped before did not lift a finger when he was in need. This person replied that, if someone were to plant peach and plum trees in spring, he could relax under their shade in the Summer and taste their fruit in the Autumn. But if that person were to plant weeds, nothing can be done with their leaves in Spring and there would only be burrs to hurt himself on in Autumn. Clearly the people the unfortunate gentlemen had helped before were not worth his effort. Students ought to be carefully selected and carefully cultivated as one would a tree.

Reading the four corners and heaven and earth 四角天地 are also tipsy 也醺然, I imagine the world sort of spinning around the speaker because he is drunk. But that’s okay, because his students (or the trees xD) will be there to support him.

快意 | kuài yì is the feeling of sudden relaxation, and then lightheartedness and joy. In this line, I felt like the intention would be closer to 畅快，爽快 and so chose gratification, because really writing is like scratching an itch isn’t it? Pleasure from satisfaction of a desire. Phrasing it as 笔下讨 is so very fitting though, because 讨 can be interpreted - somewhat contradicting - as either to demand or to beg. What could be more gratifying than having squeezed out the perfect sentence or word under your figurative pen?

So so so after all that, 何必诗债换酒钱? What do you think, is alcohol worth the poetry debt? Is Mr. Poet actually drunk and about to dig himself a deeper hole of owed poems to get even MORE drunk, or has he just been thinking about it all along? :)

Thoughts

This has been such a fun adventure following our madcap big spender from the shining Chang’an to the inviting Qinhuai, shadow of great poets in tow and all. We’ve done everything from talking to the moon and seeing the sights by her light, to boating down a river, dragging fingers through the water. It was sort of like being on a backpacking tour, except with with someone contemplating opening (or perhaps regretting opening this can of worms?) poetry commissions instead of singing in the streets?

Dear reader, if you’ve reached this point of my post, thank you. I hope you enjoy the song as much as I do now!

[ikevampeventarchive]

[Translation] IkeVamp Drama CD ~ Vincent van Gogh Ver.

Thank you very much for all your support and patience. Like before, we have prepared a translation of the IkeVamp Situational CD’s for follower milestones, this time Vincent van Gogh version.

Similar to Napoleon’s CD, these tracks are also available in game as a purchasable story set. 

Set Sale Info  | Vincent CD Preview | Napoleon CD Translation

[This is an unofficial work based on fan-translation. Copyright belongs to Cybird.] 

Prologue ～ Vincent van Gogh ～

00:13  My name? My name is Vincent van Gogh. If it’s okay, can you call me Vincent? The van Gogh who painted the sunflowers? Haha, yes, that’s me. You are very knowledgeable.

00:38 Now, I’ll tell you a bit about this world. To be honest, this isn’t something that many people can know about, so this has to be kept a secret from everyone else.

00:55 In this 19th century France, there exists a mansion within the very depths of this deep, deep forest. And within that mansion, 12 men, including me, live.

01:15 The truth is, these men are hiding an enormous secret. And that secret is that all these men are people who have engraved their names into history. Napoleon, Mozart, Leonardo, Jeanne d’Arc, all of them are my precious co-inhabitants.

01:45 Why is it that all these people from different countries and eras are living together in 19th century France? Ah, sorry, I haven’t explained that yet, did I.

All of us have one more secret. That is,in order to live once again, we all made a contract with the owner of the mansion to become vampires, resurrected and residing in this time.

02:28 Why live once again? Well, everyone at the mansion has their own specific reasons, but mine is…. It’s a bit foolish and embarrassing, so it’s a secret.

Right now, I’m very glad to have been able to live again, because due to that fact, I was able to meet my most beloved person.

03:00 One day, that woman crossed the divisions between space and time, and wandered into our mansion. People could say it was a coincidence, but I think that our meeting was destiny. And now, that woman is my most precious lover.

03:25 Ah, it seems that she will be waking up soon.

This is a story of a quiet day, with the person I love the most in this world.

An Especially Sweet Good Morning:

00:00 Soft music as birds chirp in the distance.

00:15 Hm? Ah, you’re awake? Good morning~

00:26 When did I get up? Just a little before you did. I was just looking at your sleeping face, thinking things like “Ah how cute, just like an angel”.

00:50 Aww, don’t hide your face in the sheets. Come over here — if I hug you like this, you won’t be able to hide anymore. Don’t hang your head, look this way. Please? I want to see your face.

01:15 Is that a no?

01:19 Haha, you finally looked up! ....I know I was the one who asked, but seeing your face this close up makes me kinda embarrassed.

01:37 Why am I embarrassed? It’s because of you, you know. You’re always so, so, adorable, I’m a bit troubled. Ah, no I’d like to make a correction to that. You were so cute last night, but right you’re much cuter right now, too. Everyday you show off so many charms, my heart is always busy trying to keep up.

02:20 Hmmm, hugging you like this...I kind of want to sleep like this a little more. I also want to be like this for a little longer, but I guess I can’t be too selfish.

02:38 Hm? Do you think the same way?

Haha, then let’s make a promise. Today, you’ll do your work to the best of your ability, and I will try my best at my own work today too. The two of us will work hard at our respective jobs and then, at the end of the day, we’ll cuddle in bed like this. After you try your best, don’t forget that I’m always here. How’s that? Me too, after working hard, I’m glad that you are here.

03:31 Okay, seems like we have to get up for real now. Ah, before I leave, one last thing I forgot to do.

03:45 Come here? Kiss Since I’ll really won’t want to leave if we do more, just a kiss.

04:02 Okay, I’m off~

An Especially Precious Work Time:

00:00 Piano music, a door opens and closes.

00:15 Welcome back, I was waiting for you to return. Good job today, you look like you worked hard.

00:29 I really want to give you a hug and praise you a bit, but right now my hands are covered in paint. If I gave you a hug right now, it would be a bit of a mess, wouldn’t it? Let’s put that aside for now.

00:48 How about you sit on this chair? Mh, yup, I spent the day painting. You want to see? Of course, go ahead. Good guess, I painted sunflowers today. When you look at the figures of sunflowers blooming towards the sun, you start to think about whether or not they’ll be able to turn upwards and be able to live, right? They’re my favorite flower.

01:30 But since I met you, there’s another reason that I like them, though. That’s still confidential information, though. Haha, nope, you can’t sulk~ Someday, I’ll thoroughly explain it to you, okay?

01:58 Ah, speaking of, Theo said that my art changed since I met you. He said that, compared to before, my art changed into something that moves your heart whenever you see it.

02:13 Up until I met you, it felt like a part of my emotions were sleeping dormant within my heart. There was neither anger nor envy, as if it was merely an empty sea. And within that cruel and gray world, I quietly painted. Silent and still.

02:43 But then the world changed. But then I met you, fell in love in with you, and experienced so many emotions. Even so, there are many emotions that I’m not very good at handling yet. Like surprising things, and surely, distressing things have also multiplied.

03:12 But still, I have no intentions of returning to the way I was before meeting you. Even if there are surprises and regrets, the joy I’ve found from loving you exceeds all of those things. I think loving you right now, is dearest to me. Something that is precious, and something that I never want to lose.

03:48 Don’t smile at me so gently. Even though my hands are smeared with paint like this, I’ll be unable to resist hugging you.

04:04 Ah — I didn’t think about you hugging me first. Hey, hold me tighter? …. Your heart is beating so fast… why is it pounding so hard?

04:34 Haha, sorry for teasing you. At this point, I understand well enough why your heart is pounding. Because, my heart is pounding for the same reason.

Bring your face...a little closer. Kiss Because I like you so much, there’s no way my heart wouldn’t beat quickly, is there?

05:16 More... I want to make your heart race more. I want… more of you. Tonight, won’t you listen to my selfishness?

An Especially Distracting Work Time:

00:00 Piano music, chair creaks as Vincent sits down.

00:08 Since my hands are covered in paint, I can’t touch you. So tonight, why don’t you touch me instead? I’m always wanting you and taking the lead, so I thought once in a while you should be able to do what you want instead.

00:38 Do you want to kiss? Okay. Haha, being kissed by you, from some reason it feels very new. Your face turned red. But this isn’t the end, is it?

01:08 What’s wrong? You’re too embarrassed so you’re stopping here? My bad, I was selfishly teasing you. I’ll end it here. Looks like I’m unable to do anything that troubles you. And besides, I can’t wait anymore. I give up too. I want to rile you up more with my own hands.

01:53 Can you wait a bit for me? Vincent washes his hands.

02:13 Mn, I washed my hands, so now I can touch you as much as I want.

Hm? My hands are cold? It’s probably because of the water. Then, warm them up with your body heat. Is that okay? No?

02:51 Haha, I don’t know what you’re embarrassed about. Ah, you said that’s okay? You’re...really good at making me flustered. Lend me your arm?

03:18 Your skin is really pretty. Is it okay if I kiss your body? I don’t have to ask? I know that, but for some reason, I want to ask each time. When I’m in front of your beautiful self, I think “ah, it is really okay for me to touch?”

04:00 Since you are dear to me, it seems like I’ve become insatiable. If you’re scared, kiss tell me, okay? I want to make you more flushed.

04:21 Don’t turn away, kiss look at me clearly. You’re making a really provocative face right now. You’re making such a cute face — what should I do? “What should you do?”, you say, haha. Is there a limit on how adorable you can be?

05:07 Give more of your body to me. More and more, I want to make you feel good.

05:23 Hey, that’s okay, right?

An Especially Provocative Bloodsucking:

00:00 Piano music.

00:15 It’s okay if our breathing is messy, it feels like you and I are melting together. This isn’t the first time we’ve touched, but for some reason, it somehow feels like the first time all over again. Surely, we’ll continue like this in the future as well.

00:54 Ah, if you embrace me so tightly, I won’t be able to keep calm. You understand what I mean, right? I won’t be able to resist biting you. Eh? It’s okay to bite? If you say so with such a cute face, I can’t hold back any longer.

01:40 Okay, I’ll be as gentle as I can, so please give me everything you have to give. He bites you.

Your blood really is sweet. Are you okay? It feels good so you’re fine, you say. I’m glad. I feel the same way. It feels good.

02:40 It feels so good that it I’m not careful, I might steal away your everything.

It’s okay. Stay with me. Our hands intertwined like this — until you say you’re sick of it — I’m never letting you go.

03:09 So, kiss, drown in me. In this night with only the two of us, drown in it. I’m always looking at only you. So you too, look at only me — pierce me with that beautiful gaze.  

An Especially Sweet Good Night:

00:00 Soft piano music. Sheets rustling.

00:17 Hm? You woke up? Ah, it’s still the middle of the night, so it’s okay to go back to sleep. Here, I’ll hold you.

00:40 Eh? Why are you crying? Did you have a bad dream?? Or, does it hurt where I bit you?? Or —

Huh? You were so happy to see me beside you when you woke up that you cried… haha, you’re seriously….

01:19 Now, now, don’t cry. Even if they’re tears of happiness, I really don’t want to see any tears on your cheeks. I want you to always be smiling with happiness.

I think the thing that suits you most, is a smile that is like a cloudless sky. For the sake of protecting your smile, I’ll do anything.

01:58 In times when you can’t smile, like when the entire world has become your enemy, I’ll always be on your side. Or when the entire world is ignoring your tears, I’ll quickly wipe them away with these palms. Or when the entire world rejects you, I’ll bundle you up in my arms.

02:44 No matter what happens, this is an unchanging promise. So remember it, okay.

02:58 Haha, you finally smiled for me. Mn, just as I said, a smile suits you the best. I really like it — I love it.

03:24 I’ll always be embracing you like this, so rest easy and sleep well. Kiss I hope you have a gentle dream. Good night.

Epilogue ～ To The Person I Love The Most In This World ～

00:00 Soft music.

00:08 Within this quiet night, I was thinking as I gazed at your sleeping face. As I wished to become stronger to protect you, I realized how weak I was. You are dear to me, but it is also mixed with a bit heartrending pain.

00:32 I wished for eternity, and learned how time flows on without compassion. Since I fell in love with you, I’ve only become more perplexed by how, at some point, I had suddenly developed conflicting emotions.

00:50 But, I can no longer return to how I was before I loved you. Because I had experienced the happiness of smiling with you; because I experienced the warmth of being with you; and because a desire to keep living by your side was born. So, even if I’m confused or surprised, I’ll continue moving forward. For the sake of your happiness, I’ll work as hard as it takes. With these clumsy, unsteady steps, I want to walk forward by your side, from now on, and always.

01:44 And while I was thinking this, suddenly the sunflowers that I had painted entered my periphery. The reason that I like sunflowers is because of how their figures blooming towards the sun cheer me up — and I haven’t told you yet, but the second reason that was born when I met you, is the meaning of sunflowers.

02:18 In the language of flowers, sunflowers mean “I am looking at only you.” They really resemble my feelings towards you.

02:32 Even if the seasons change and flowers of summer are wilting. Even if cruel time rips apart our intertwined hands. Even if this body fades away; I will always be looking at you, and only you. This is the love that I embrace as I continue to live.

03:12 I will always, to the point of being a hopeless fool, always love you. When morning comes, as well as for all of eternity.

03:33 Soft music continues.

Cast Talk:

I am Yoshihiko Aramaki, the voice of Vincent van Gogh. I’ll be doing a little bit of audio commentary and answering some questions, so please continue to listen to this track as well!

Ah, first part is asking me to share my thoughts on the recording process. Ah well, this recording, makes your body really hot. Ahaha there are various meanings to that.

In terms of situational CD’s, I don’t really have much experience, and there were a lot of embarrassing lines and sound effects, and I seriously totally turned red. I read the lines with a lot of embarrassment, but in the end, I did it. Yeah, uh, yeah I hope you also think that Vincent was done well, yup.

Second, if you became a vampire and had eternity, what would you do?

To be honest, I don’t really like the concept of eternity? Since everyone would die, and then you would become lonely, again and again you will lose people as you live, but you yourself cannot properly be dead. Ah, but then again if I had eternity, well hm, what should I do. What would I do?

On top of a mountain...I want to look over the people of the world below… sort of like a hermit. Yeah, I want to be a wise hermit! Yup.

Third is a question about how if I was a painter like Vincent, what sort of painting would I make, and whether or not I’m good at art.

Ah hmm, if I was a painter like Vincent, first I would want to make some human portraits. Well, I’m just average at art — I think that I’m at a level normal people are at, so haha I’m not really that good. But something like human portraits, and landscape paintings like Vincent does, something like that? I want to make something like that.

Ahh, well I’m not good at art but if it’s a painting like Vincent, like van Gogh would do, then surely it’ll take an enormous amount of time for me to accomplish one painting. Honestly I’m not that particularly passionate about art, so I want to take my time when making portraits, or landscapes, or stuff like that.

Fourth question. To the listeners of the IkeVamp Situational CD, can you please show off Vincent’s strong points? Okay, the character that I play, Vincent, is a seriously pure and innocent, angelic-type character. Please pat and assure him, and love him to your heart’s content!! He is in your care!!!

The end. This was Vincent van Gogh’s voice actor, Yoshihiko Aramaki!

[gaiapaia]

Kermit and Friends: A Work of Art

Elisa kicked this week’s show off with a lovely prayer in honor of Kermit that was inspired by a caller from last week. Fozzie started kissing Elisa like crazy when she began talking about Kermit... it’s not possible to have started the show in a sweeter manner.

Co-host Sugar then showed off her beautiful Kermitarian shirt, much to the delight of a lot men in the audience. If you would like to purchase any Kermit and Friends merchandise, you can do so here. 

You know what? I’m positive if Kermit was asked what would be the best way to end 2020, she would have answered to make a new awesome friend for her awesome show. Well, Kermit would have got her wish granted with Trumpster Bob!

Trumpster Bob is a gentleman Elisa met on the Drunken Peasants podcast (which you can watch here). They clicked well and Elisa invited him to KAF and voila - here he is!

If I were to describe what I know about Trumpster Bob thus far, it’s that he has the patriotism of Honest Frank, the drinking capacity of Corey, the sexual appetite of Claire, and the no-filter gift of gab of Kleenex. He contains pieces of all these classic Kermit and Friends stars, so of course he’s just perfect for Kermit and all her amazing friends. Bob was actually dubbed COO of KAF by Elisa, so I’m really looking forward to seeing what all he will bring to the show in the future.

Other than that, of course Trumpster Bob is a big Donald Trump fan. He’s also an Adonis in the bedroom with the way he describes his ability to pleasure women. And he gets a lot flirtation from men too, as multiple male callers called in to announce their attraction to Trumpster Bob. He’s just an all around stud I guess!

Speaking of studs, William Quigley made his triumph return to Kermit and Friends this week. If you remember Quig from previous episodes, he’s the guy who sold a Donald Trump painting to Trump himself, and he also likes to cam up in the shower. He’s very fun and very accomplished.

Elisa asked Quig a question, which led to Quig sharing a long story about how he missed out on a big investment opportunity with Red Bull and Grey Goose vodka. The main point of the story was how much of a mistake that was, but then he used the story as an excuse as to why he shouldn’t invest his time and energy into helping Kermit and Friends without being paid or having some sort of contract.

Honestly, I will never be looked at as a real contributor because I’m not an on-screen participant on the show. Nothing I do really matters, the on-screen talent is the bread and butter for KAF’s success. But as a huge fan of KAF, as someone who loves Elisa very much... I do put a lot of effort into helping in the ways that I can. I don’t ask to be paid for it. I’m a fan; it’s not much different from being a fan of a sports franchise. The Houston Astros don’t pay me to watch their games, give supportive tweets, wear their merchandise, etc. I do those things on my own because I love the Astros, just like I love Kermit and Friends.

If Quig truly cares about Elisa, if he truly enjoys Kermit and Friends... he should want to help out. I’m not in the position where I can snag big guests for the show, but if I was, I’d happily do it. So Quig, my respectful advice to you if you read this is to just contribute in the ways that you can. And if Kermit and Friends becomes a huge multi-million dollar success, you shouldn’t be upset if you don’t get a piece of the pie - you should be elated for contributing to Elisa’s dreams coming true. That’s how it will be for me. I pray it happens in 2021 or 2022, even if that means I lose direct contact to Elisa due to her fame. I will just be happy for her, no regrets.

Okay, I’m rambling on like my man Quigley did... sorry! Back to the review.

There was a funny gimmick on the old Kermit and Friends that featured a Zebra music video. Elisa has brought that cute little video back and she is on a never ending quest to try to find out who the real Little Zebra is. A mysterious woman called in... could it be her? There was a cartoon zebra on cam... could it be that person? There was another caller who claimed to be Little Zebra... could he be the real one? Maybe we’ll find out in the upcoming weeks, but the video was a joyous experience every time it was randomly played by Elisa.

Laurie was back on Kermit and Friends this week, looking nice in her colorful hijab with Marylin Monroe pictures in the background. William Quigley kindly painted a portrait of Laurie and presented it to her on the show. That was a sweet and also somewhat hilarious moment. Maybe Quig will paint Trumpster Bob next!

Kermit was lucky enough to make even more awesome new friends this week with M3 and Etan. Unfortunately neither guy could stay long but it was cool seeing them both and I hope we’ll get more time to get to know them further in the future.

Billy the Fridge also returned this week and had an interesting discussion with Elisa about certain enemies they’ve made over the years. Elisa shared her experience with an awful radio host in Florida (I remember that interview vividly, it was back in 2016 when Elisa was in the middle of trying to get her writing career going... I was infuriated with how that went). She also discussed her beef with Jimmy Kimmel, which I always find intriguing. I still hope Elisa finds it in her heart to forgive these people one day, but for now at least they could be used as fascinating topic points for the show.

So one complaint I do have about KAF right now is the phone calls. Everyone watching was at one time in their lives a Howard Stern fan, so they should know that you turn down your radio before you call in. If you want to call in to sing or flirt with Trumpster Bob or read definitions about Republicans, please turn down the volume on the device you’re watching the show on beforehand, PLEASE! Maybe as the show grows, Brandon the Neighbor can start screening calls for Elisa.

But back to the good stuff... all heck broke loose when Trumpster Bob met Laurie. Bob isn’t fond of Muslims and let his opinions be known. Laurie had none of it and fought fire with fire, and her father Johnny B even joined in on the action to stand up for his daughter. Then Corey comes out of nowhere to defend his mortal enemies Johnny and Laurie against Bob. It was absolute PANDEMONIUM on Kermit and Friends!

Once the chaos chilled out a bit, Elisa allowed Laurie to play some Islamic prayers that sounded like the Satanic orgy ritual scene from the movie Eyes Wide Shut. Sincerely though, that was very kindhearted of Elisa to do. 

Following the Muslim prayers, Elisa gave her beautiful Greek definition of church (ecclesia - to assemble a group of people), and then Johnny B ended things with a lovely performance of God Bless America.

Lastly, in typical Kermit and Friends fashion, we were treated with an awesome surprise after the outro video, where Elisa showed some home movies of her late precious dog Kermit. It was just like a post credit scene in a Marvel film, only 100000x better! Thank you for that Elisa, Kermit would be so so proud of you...

[redrobin-detective]

Family Man

I got talking in the discord last night and I got inspired on the idea of Inko not only knowing about AFO but being something of an equal partner in his business. It was fun to write and I figured since my writing has been very sporadic as of late, it would serve as my entry for @thefruitloop-chan‘s DFO fic contest. I hope you all enjoy Villain Dad and his Lovely Villainous wife with their Hero loving son.

All For One, currently Midoriya Hisashi along with a hundred other useless, abandoned names, has never been a conventional man. He was born in a period of upheaval with a power that beyond comprehension and saw that things could be different, better. His whole life was dedicated to improving the lives of people with quirks and fighting back at the government’s idiotic kneejerk reaction to controlling the super-powered populace. When his only brother died on the opposite end of the battle field, he had given up on trusting people and contented himself with a life of solitude. Until he met her that is.

“Hmm good morning, Hisashi,” Inko purred, leaning down to sleepily nuzzle his neck while he reviewed the latest dealings with his underlings. He doesn’t the close the tab when Inko began to skim the report and instead angled the screen her way. “Looks like the Kuronaga Genetics Corporation is misusing their funds again; just look at all those unexplained expenses,” she pointed out. “I think we need to remind them whose money they’re embezzling.”

“Yes, I noticed that as well, I could probably spare a few low levels thugs to encourage them to be more mindful of their spending,” Hisashi nodded while Inko just tutted.

“Fear is an excellent motivator in some cases but this will be the third time you’ve called them out on their practices. I would recommend you make them cooperate of their own accord; we have six other quirk labs on our payroll. Pad their budgets a little more, start pulling people from Kuronaga onto other projects as if you plan to shut them down. Nothing is as motivating as self-preservation; they’ll straighten themselves out to avoid being liquidated with no brute force needed.”

“Brilliant,” Hisashi blurted out suddenly, turning to his wife and kissing her cheek. “I would be nothing more than a two-bit villain without your insight.”

“You’ll always be a two-bit villain, my love,” she whispered in his ear. “Do you have time for breakfast?”

“I’ll make time,” he smiled back, watching her hips sway as she walked in the kitchen.

He met her under completely ordinary circumstances, at the station watching the news while waiting for the train. He’d been muttering about the government’s negligence regarding the increasing amount of unrest surrounding quirk advocacy groups. The unassuming green haired woman next to him intrigued him by agreeing and suggesting several ways for the state to address the issue. And so they continued to debate for the rest of the wait over the busy din of the train. By the time she stepped off her train for work, he was several blocks past his stop, late for his meeting and more than a little smitten as he carefully tucked away her phone number. The intelligent gleam in her eyes as she tore into the inadequacies of quirk law stayed with him long after she’d left and he called her later that night. Their courtship had been brief and intense, by the end of the third month, she had a ring on her finger and a positive pregnancy test. He took her surname and they moved into a cozy little house together and All For One was reminded, for a moment, what it was like to be happy.

“What time are you going in today? I’d like your opinions on several of the open contracts we have, you’re so much better at picking up loopholes and inconsistencies than me,” he asked as he sat down at the table and was greeted with a bowl of rice and eggs.

“In a couple of hours, I have a meeting with Izuku’s principal and the Bakugou family regarding Katsuki’s reckless and dangerous use of his quirk,” Inko said, setting herself down.

“I still say I should relieve the boy of his quirk since clearly he’s not being taught to use it correctly,” Hisashi growled, his anger still boiling from when his precious son came home the other day with burns on his arms. Inko had barely been able to restrain him from burning their whole house down.

“Don’t go causing trouble, I’m not eager to move again,” Inko chastised, pointing at him with her chopsticks. “I’ll make sure to impress on them just how unhappy we are with the situation, I’m pretty sure they’re more afraid of us suing them into poverty than anything else. Maybe then Mitsuki will learn to control her son.”

“She never learned to control herself,” Hisashi mused into her coffee.

“Well then I guess we’ll just strongly encourage them to relocate their feral child far away from Izuku,” Inko stated and Hisashi couldn’t help but sigh and stare at her with open love and admiration. He’d tried to keep his less than savory dealings away from his growing family but Inko never lost her sharpness and picked up on all his lies and half-truths rather quickly. He can still see her standing there, incredibly pregnant, after he’d guiltily laid out his whole past and current operations.

‘I don’t care that you’re a villain, Hisashi, I care that you lied to me about your job and your quirk,’ Inko raged. ‘Not to mention that your manner of trying to reform the system is completely childish. You want to create an underground villain league to fight the heroes? It’s a waste of resources and just reinforces the public’s trust in the self-serving hero system. If we’re going to be villains, we’re going to do it right.’

“What?” Inko asks dryly when she catches him staring.

“Just wondering how a bitter old man like me managed to win over someone as charming and wonderful as you,” he sighed.

“Because I want to take over your criminal empire in order to enforce my will on Japan,” she teased.

“It’s yours, my love; for you and Izuku, I would level this country and burn the world to ash,” Hisashi professed, meaning every word. For his family, he set the whole world aflame.

“And if you did that, we would be living in a burned, decrepit dystopia only slightly worse than the one we’re living in now,” she sighed, rubbing at her forehead. “Not everything needs fire and brimstone, darling. We don’t need to break the whole system to reform it; we’re already turning the tide. By the time Izuku is in high school, the hero system will be on the outs.”

“Hopefully,” Hisashi grumbled, looking at Izuku’s All Might themed place setting that had been purchased with his hard earned money. There was nothing he hated more than monetarily supporting All Might’s brand, except, of course, his small son’s disappointed face.

“All the kids are into heroes now, he’ll grow out of it, don’t worry,” Inko smiled, reading his thoughts. As if being summoned, there were several loud thumps reverberating through the apartment before Izuku suddenly appeared in the entryway, his hair a tangled whirlwind. He waddled forward as fast as his little legs could carry him before crashing into Hisashi’s knees.

“Hey there, where’s the fire?” Hisashi asks, lifting his boy up into his arms.

“Papa always goes into work early and I didn’t want you to leave before I could say goodbye,” Izuku wobbled, clinging into Hisashi’s dress shirt. He looked up Inko who gave him a small shrug as she gathered up their dishes, before turning back to Izuku. His wild curls with Inko’s rich green color, her sweet rounded face and the freckles he and his brother had as children, Izuku really was the perfect blend of the two of them. He’d never planned on becoming a father but having Izuku is something he would never regret, his boy’s curiousity and joy were infectious, it reminded Hisashi why he and Inko were fighting so hard to create a better world.

“I would never leave without saying goodbye, son,” he soothed, bouncing Izuku lightly on his knee. “I do have to go to work but you know that Papa will always come home to you and Mama. I love you both more than all the quirks in the world.”

“All the quirks?” Izuku said with a puzzled little expression, “more than Kacchan’s Explosion? Or Mama’s Attraction? What about All Might’s quirk? Do you love me more than All Might’s Superpower?”

“Yes, Izuku,” Hisashi said, shaking his head with amused affection. “I love you more than All Might’s quirk.” Once upon a time, he might have been more interested in recovering One For All. It was, after all, the last vestiges he had left of his brother. But he’s spent too much time fussing over the past; he needs to look now towards the future, to Izuku’s future.

“Wow that’s an awful lot,” Izuku muttered with an adorably serious face. Hisashi ran his fingers through his son’s hair and set him gently back to the ground.

“More than you know, now go get dressed; you and Mama have an appointment at school and then she needs to join me at work. We have some important things to do today and you have exciting things to learn in school,” propaganda most of it but Inko refused to let him homeschool Izuku, something about ‘lack of time’ and ‘he needs to play with other kids not debate politics with immortal cryptids.’ Oh well, Izuku was only four, he had plenty of time to convince her.

“Okay,” Izuku squealed, tearing back off towards his room with all the enthusiasm a four year old can have. Hisashi watched him go with a fond smile.

“You better keep your promise,” Inko said quietly over the sound of water spilling into the sink. “I know your work is important but I want you to always come home to Izuku and I.”

“Inko, everything is going to be fine,” he soothed.

“It will be when you stop taking so many risks,” he could hear the frustration in her voice. “I know you hate All Might but will you stop goading him so much. He has all that power built-up, if you slip up for even a moment, you might-.” She stopped and brought her hand up to her mouth, unable to continue.

“Inko,” he said again, walking over to her and placing his hands onto his shoulders. She brought one of her wet hands up to hold his own.

“You need to make a choice Midoriya Hisashi, you need to decide which is more important, your need for closure on your brother’s quirk or your family. I’m telling you, if you keep chasing after All Might then you will lose us, one way or another.” The house fell quiet after that, even the sound of Izuku stomping in his room seemed to fade at her heavy proclamation.

“You, always you,” he answered after a few tense moments trying to find his voice. “You and Izuku are the best things that have ever happened to me, tell me, what do you want.”

“Let the past be the past,” she said turning to him. “Focus on our goals, dismantling the establishment from the inside out. Stop it with these petty fights and this obsession with stopping All Might. They say the best revenge is living well, so do that. Live well, love your son and change the world.”

“Okay,” he sighed, leaning down and kissing her forehead before setting his cheek on her hair. “No more All Might, no more fighting, it will be strictly business from now.”

“Don’t sound so sad, my love,” she hummed, pulling out of his hold to pat his cheek before returning to the soapy dishes. “I just saved your life.”

“Well don’t sound so proud about it, now you’re stuck with me for life,” he teased, already calculating how to circumnavigate her decree. Part of being All For One meant he had to be in the field occasionally but as for All Might… well maybe it is finally time to let his brother’s ghost stop haunting him. Inko’s probably right that the big oaf would punch his face off one of the these days and he can’t let that happen, not when he has so much to lose.

“I am here!” Izuku announced, jumping back into the room with a broad grin. Hisashi moaned, on the other hand, he might need to murder All Might anyone for making his son into a fanboy, complete with grinning t-shirt and light up shoes.

“That you are,” he nodded, scooping his son up into his arms. “How about a deal, you go change your shirt and Papa will pick you up from school today and take you to the park for some quirk spotting.”

“Quirk spotting yeah!” Izuku wriggled leaping out of his arms to go change into what was probably going to be another All Might shirt but he’d take what he could get.

“You better not be trying to drag Izuku into our work,” Inko warned from the sink.

“I’m just encouraging his natural interest and skill with quirk analysis,” and subtly probing for any signs that he’d inherited Hisashi’s quirk, “but we’ll be good and be back in time for dinner.”

“You’re never good, you villain,” she said with a toss of her hair.

“Oh my dear villainess,” he grinned, wrapping his arms around her from behind. “You only like me ‘cause I’m bad.” He had not been born Midoriya Hisashi but that didn’t matter much. It was the only name he had truly cherished and the only name he wanted to have. His life was unconventional, running an underground conspiracy alongside his wife while managing a hero obsessed four year old. But he had found in his many, many years of life that it’s better to live an abnormal life. He’s just lucky he found such strange people to share it with.

[lilacmoon83]

A Darker Curse

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 12: Game Changer

"Come on...let's head to Granny's," she suggested, as they walked back into town with Wilby, just in time to meet Emma, August, and little David in front of the diner. But before they could go in, they heard someone calling for help.

"Hey...help! Help me!" a male voice called, as Emma hurried into the street. And she stunned by the person running toward her.

"Oh my God…" Mary uttered, as she saw him too. The man stopped and gawked at the blonde in front of him.

"Emma…" he uttered.

"Neal?" Emma asked in disbelief.

"What are you doing? How are you here?" she continued.

"Yeah...I sort of got brought here against my will. By him," Neal said, as he gestured to the other man that was running to catch up.

"By the Harbor Master?" David asked in confusion. But now Neal's eyes were fixated on the little boy in the stroller.

"Emma...whose kid is this?" he asked. She swallowed thickly and was sure the answer was written all over her face.

"How old is he?" Neal questioned again.

"Almost two," August answered and Emma sent him a glare.

"Emma...is this my son?" Neal asked.

"I'm not doing this right now. Tell me your name so I can properly read you your Miranda rights," she said to the dark haired man. Hook smirked at her and his gaze on her was almost predatory.

"Captain Hook…" he said, making it sound like a joke, though she knew it was no joke.

"You know which name I mean," she growled.

"Ian O'Malley, love," he replied, in a goading manner.

"Fine, Mr. O'Malley...you're under arrest for kidnapping," she stated.

"And assault," Neal hissed.

"And assault," Emma parroted and noticed Neal's eyes were still fixated on her son.

"Is he really little David's father?" David whispered to her and she nodded.

"Yes," she stated.

"And he didn't know?" David asked.

"We couldn't find him. He left Emma before we knew," Snow spat, as she glared at him.

"Mom...there's more you need to know," August interjected, as she looked at her son.

"I screwed up...but I think you need to go get Gold from the hospital," he told her. Her brow furrowed in confusion.

"What does Mr. Gold have to do…" Snow started to say, but she stopped mid sentence and suddenly put it all together. She looked back at Neal.

"You're Mr. Gold's son?" she asked. Neal looked at August.

"Mr. Gold?" he asked and August nodded, confirming what the other man was really asking.

"Yes...I am," he replied.

"And you knew?" Snow asked her son.

"I screwed up...I tried to find him when I found out…" August responded, as he tried to explain.

"Okay...we're going to have a very long talk about this later. Right now, you're going to follow Emma to the station and watch the baby, while she puts Mr. O'Malley in jail where he belongs," Snow said.

"And while you're explaining things to your sister, David and I will go pick up Mr. Gold," she added. Emma was refusing to look at August and she knew there was definitely going to be a blow out between them that she would need to mediate.

"Let's go," she said to a confused David, as they left to return to the hospital.

"Emma…" August started to say.

"Not here," she snapped, as she put Hook in the back of the squad car.

"Get in," she told them and they obeyed her, as she drove to the station.

~*~

A glass flew across the office and shattered against the wall. Sidney Glass barely had time to duck to evade the object and he looked back at the Mayor with terrified eyes.

"I should have known not to trust Ian O'Malley to do anything without mucking it up," she growled. He swallowed, afraid to speak, but knew that his silence wasn't good either.

"Madam Mayor...the situation isn't a complete loss," he offered, but she turned sharply to look at him with scrutiny.

"I have no control over Gold's son now. They will be reunited and I have nothing to hold above him," she responded.

"There is Lacey. He will be none too happy about that," he reminded, but she scoffed.

"That will merely be an annoyance to him and only serve to make him work harder against me," she snapped in return. He would be livid when he discovered she had given his precious Belle false memories. The shock of finding out she was alive was enough to incur his wrath upon her. She had planned to have Neal waiting in the wings to hang over him and force him to work against the Savior. But now that was lost and she was scrambling to figure out her next move.

"There are good things. I have written this piece about Mary Margaret Swan. It's quite scandalous. Half the town already thinks she's a cradle robbing harlot and this will seal that," he offered, as she looked at the story. She had purchased him a small printing press to run out of his apartment so he could publish a competing paper to keep her propaganda out there. He was calling it the Glass Gazette.

"As a waitress in a seedy bar supporting two children with no husband, Mary Margaret Swan hardly seems like the kind of woman that belongs in our fair town's leadership," Cora read.

"This misstep on Deputy Mayor Regina Mills' part in her inclusion of Ms. Swan in her campaign efforts will only serve to sully her own reputation. Does Storybrooke really want their new Deputy Mayor to be a former waitress, who has seduced a man the same age as her son?" she continued to read.

"Mary Margaret Swan seems better suited for the open waitress position at the Rabbit Hole than the one in our town government. Her talents would certainly be better used there," Cora finished and smirked.

"I do like how you basically called her a tramp without outright stating it," she complimented. He smirked.

"I've been following them and they are very cozy. These pictures will turn the people against them," he offered, as he showed them kissing in the streets and walking closely, holding hands as they walked some dog.

"Good...unfortunately, there are some that will not turn against her. I need to get rid of Mary Margaret Swan," she said, as she was deep in thought. There was always Kathryn to exploit and she had been thinking, more than once, about killing her and framing Mary Margaret for it. Seeing her leave Storybrooke to go to prison for murder would certainly see that she and David were ripped apart forever. But Cora wanted her to suffer more than that. She wanted to participate in torturing her step-daughter and make her watch her torment her beloved husband even more. She wanted to drive her to the brink of insanity.

"Do you have orders for me?" Sidney asked.

"Yes...it's time to make Mary Margaret regret crossing me and show her why this will always be my town," Cora replied.

"What will you have me do?" he asked.

"I want you to abduct Mary Margaret Swan the next time she is alone. You'll take her to the abandoned library and chain her up in the clock tower. I'll take it from there," she replied.

"Kidnapping?" he asked in alarm.

"Grow a spine," she snapped.

"The future of our town is on the line and she threatens everything. It's time that she finally pay for everything she's done," Cora added. He swallowed thickly.

"Yes, Madam Mayor," he relented. He would go back to following them and watching them closely. And the moment she was alone, he would strike and not without hired hands to help. He was under no illusion that he could handle the amount of muscle needed for this task and would be prepared. He would not fail the Mayor like Harbor Master O'Malley had so spectacularly.

~*~

David kept stealing glances at Mary, as they walked into the hospital, hand in hand. His head was still reeling a bit with everything that had just happened and questions were swirling in his mind.

"You must have a lot of questions," she voiced and he looked at her in amazement.

"I'd ask you how you know that...but I think I'm finally accepting that we're just that in tune with each other," he replied and she smiled at him.

"We are pretty amazing together…" she agreed.

"So...that was little David's biological father," he stated.

"I'm afraid so," she replied.

"He broke Emma's heart...didn't he?" David asked. She hummed.

"He did...he was a thief, but Emma fell for him and thought she could help him turn his life around. I think it was working for a while...but something changed and he left her. I think August knows more about that then he let on," she replied.

"Maybe...but I mean August is a really good man. Maybe he was just trying to protect Emma," David offered. Snow nodded.

"Oh I know he was...Emma won't see it that way. But he's my son and whatever mistakes he's made, I still love him," she replied.

"You're amazing...you don't even know what he did yet and you've already forgiven him," he marveled.

"He's had a bit of a problem with lying in the past. It's something he'll always need to work on, but I could never turn my back on him, even if he knew more about Neal's disappearing act and hid it," Snow said.

"So this Neal Cassidy is really Mr. Gold's son too?" David asked. She laughed at that.

"Yeah...I'm just finding that one out too. Fate is…" she mused.

"A bastard?" he asked and she snorted.

"I was going to say tricky bitch, but bastard works too. It's truly surreal...I share a grandchild with Mr. Gold," she realized.

"We share a grandchild with the Dark One," she thought silently to herself. Boy, fate sure did have a twisted sense of humor.

"Well, for what it's worth...I actually don't think he's as bad as people think. I don't know, maybe I'm being naive," he lamented.

"No...I don't think so. I think you're right. I think he can be as bad as people think when he wants to be, but there's always two sides to a coin. Family can really change things," she offered. He smiled.

"I know what you mean," he agreed, as he looked at her and she smiled back, as they took the elevator to Mr. Gold's floor. They made their way to his room and found him awake.

"To what do I owe this pleasure?" he mused.

"We need to talk," Mary said, as they entered his room and prepared to tell him that his son had arrived in Storybrooke.

~*~

The ride to the station had been silent and uncomfortable. He could almost see the waves of fury radiating off his sister. She parked the car and he sighed.

"Emma…" he started to say.

"Nope," she refuted, as she got out and roughly hauled the pirate that was parading himself as the town Harbor Master out of the backseat. He groaned, as she was not at all gentle with him, which he seemed to like.

"You like it rough...don't you love," he leered, but winced as she squeezed his arms and marched him into the station. She was stronger than she looked. August sighed and picked his toddler nephew up out of his ca seat.

"Can I hold him?" Neal asked.

"That's Emma's call," August replied.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Neal questioned.

"Tell you what?" August inquired.

"That Emma was pregnant," Neal countered.

"I didn't know! And when I found out, I tried to find you! But you were gone...it was like you disappeared into thin air," August argued.

"And you didn't tell her that you found out who I was?" Neal asked. He sighed.

"No...I didn't tell her or Mom. I didn't think we'd ever see you again and Emma was devastated. She put all her energy into little David and finding Storybrooke at that point, so I didn't say anything," August confessed. Neal sighed.

"So...how much does she hate me?" he questioned.

"Hopefully a little more than she hates me right now," August retorted. Neal snorted.

"Well, then I'm screwed, cause I think she wants your guts on a stick," he quipped.

"Maybe...but I'm still her brother. You're the ex that left her without an explanation," August reminded.

"She's gonna kick my ass," Neal realized fearfully. August allowed himself a chuckle.

"Probably and we know she's going to kick mine. I really hope Mom gets here soon," he said. Neal chuckled.

"Are you seriously going to hide your twenty-seven-year-old ass behind your mother?" he questioned.

"Emma is scary...of course I am," August replied unapologetically and Neal almost wished he could hide behind someone too at this point, but he doubted Snow would quite feel the need to protect him the way she would her son. They entered the station to find that the blonde hurricane they feared had put the pirate in a cell already, while she was furiously doing the paperwork. They were about to try and talk to her when Graham walked in.

"I heard what happened…" he said.

"Yep just doing the paperwork here and then Mr. O'Malley can have his day in court tomorrow," Emma replied.

"That won't be necessary. Mayor Mills has ordered his release," Graham said regrettably and Hook smirked.

"What?" she growled.

"I'm just delivering her orders," Graham muttered.

"He kidnapped me and brought me here against my will!" Neal cried in outrage.

"I have no idea what he's talking about," Hook said innocently.

"The Mayor says it's a case of he said, he said. She claims she sent Mr. O'Malley to New York on a business matter for her and she has the paperwork to prove it," Graham replied, as he showed the document to her. But Emma didn't want to hear or see it.

"This is crap!" she raged and she got up to face her boss. She would be damned if she was going to back down on this one.

~*~

"Bae...Neal is here?" Gold asked, as he carefully corrected himself. David wasn't awake so he really couldn't call him Baelfire.

"I'm afraid so. Mr. O'Malley kidnapped him and brought him here, probably on the Mayor's orders, though we have no proof," Mary answered.

"We don't need proof...she's behind this," he hissed.

"Yes, but fortunately your son got away before he could be locked up. I'm sure that was her plan," Mary offered.

"Where is he?" Gold demanded to know.

"He went to the station with Emma and August," she told him, as he started getting out of bed and went to the bathroom to get dressed.

"There's more," Snow called through the door.

"I don't care...I'm going to see my son and then kill the Mayor," he growled.

"You're going to care about this," Snow admonished, as he came out, dressed in his usual suit and walked toward them with his cane, expecting a quick answer.

"Your son, Neal Cassidy, is the man that fathered Emma's son," she informed him. At that moment, Gold looked like his head might explode, as he tried to wrap his mind around that.

"Did…" he started to say, but the curt shake of her head answered his question. This was the first she was learning of it as well. Of course...because she would have never made the connection between Neal Cassidy and Baelfire. It was not often that the Dark One was stunned...but this was truly shocking and possibly changed everything.

"Take me to the station," he ordered. They obliged and joined hands, as they followed the older man to the elevator.

~*~

"You can't be okay with this," Emma hissed, as she glared at him.

"Of course I'm not okay with it," Graham answered.

"But my hands are tied...there's nothing I can do," he added. But that just made Emma want to explode more.

"You could stand up to her and stop doing her bidding like an obedient lap dog!" she shouted.

"That's not fair!" he roared, but she was done hearing it and by now, her son was fussing from all the commotion.

"Emma...where are you going?" August questioned, as she got her coat.

"To confront our Mayor...I'm not letting this stand," she responded.

"Emma...she's not going to change her mind," Graham admonished.

"He's right...but maybe we use this. I can splash this miscarriage of justice all over the front page of the Mirror for tomorrow morning's edition. And tomorrow is election day," August reminded and she sighed.

"That will take you all night," she replied. He smiled.

"It will be worth it once Regina is Mayor and reverses this decision," August said, as he looked at Graham.

"And when she makes you Sheriff...this kind of thing won't happen again," he added. She sighed, as Graham unlocked the cell and let the pirate out.

"Enjoy your freedom for now, Mr. O'Malley, because the minute Regina gets elected, I'm tossing your ass back in that cell," she warned. He smirked.

"We shall see, Deputy," he leered, as he left quickly, passing the Crocodile and the couple behind him as he left.

"Emma...we need to talk," Neal said, as he turned his head and saw his father for the first time in almost three hundred years.

"It's true," Rumple said, as his eyes watered and he finally saw his son. Everything he had done and everything he had worked for came down to this moment.

"Yeah...it is and if I hadn't just found out that I have a son of my own, I'd walk away from here right now," Neal said angrily.

"Please...I know that you're angry and you should be. Letting you go...it was the biggest mistake I ever made," Rumple replied.

"Auggie...did you know?" Snow whispered to him and he looked down shamefully.

"I'm sorry Mom...I should have told you. I should have told you both," he said.

"You think?" Emma snapped.

"I tried to find him after we found out you were pregnant, but I couldn't," August responded. Emma sighed and felt like a caged animal.

"I need some air," she announced.

"Mom...can you watch the baby?" she asked.

"You know I can...but sweetheart…" she started to say, but her daughter put her hands up.

"Please Mom...I just need some time," Emma interrupted, as she walked out. Mary sighed and David put his arms around her. She took comfort in his embrace and welcome it when he pulled her flush against him in a hug.

"I need to go to the office and get that story out," August said, as his mother took the baby from him.

"Okay...but we are going to have a very long talk about this," she admonished. He nodded numbly, like a scolded child.

"Does this town have a hotel?" Neal questioned.

"Yeah...I can show you to the Inn," August replied.

"I...I want to know my son," Neal said, as he looked at Snow.

"I know it's Emma's call...but," he continued.

"I'll talk to her," Snow agreed. Neal nodded and started to follow August.

"B...Neal…" Gold called, as he corrected himself once again.

"I'm here for my son...it's the only reason I'm sticking around. You can go to hell for all I care," Neal said coldly, as he walked out, leaving his father behind and utterly broken. Gold stormed out after that, intending to likely go home, while Mary and David took the baby home. It was a night that had been life altering and Snow knew this could possibly be the beginning to the end of the curse...

[hecallsmehischild]

Burned

“Why can’t I just move on?”

I must have asked this question dozens of times last year from the depths of depression, regret, and the constricting cycle of questions I have that will never be answered. Almost a full year ago, I ended a ten year friendship that had, perhaps, never actually been a friendship to begin with. Her absence left a hole ripped straight through me. I knew that would happen, I’d told her as much myself, though it was not for the reasons I’d always thought. I had to accept that this relationship had caused a great deal of damage in both my head and heart, and that I would never get solid answers to some of my questions. 

And yet I would still get sucked into the questions. How could she have done {specific incident}? Was {incident} real or pretense? Did she ever care? When is the other shoe going to drop? I have to understand everything that happened so it never happens again.  If I put every piece where it’s supposed to go, it will stop hurting. If I know what was real and what wasn’t, I’ll be able to forgive myself for the things that were my fault and let go of the things that weren’t. I could probably write an essay on all the magical thinking I was doing that perpetuated my need to find solid answers.

For a time, I feared running into her. Completely irrational, given the amount of states between us. And yet I’ve already decided I never want to go to the city I know she lives in again, and may avoid the state altogether if I can help it. In my head, I played out endless scenarios where we somehow ended up face to face, and I made the arguments go well for me this time. Usually this only cemented some poisonous sense of self-righteousness and deepened my bitterness. It was a futile, fruitless exercise that brought me no relief or healing.

I divested myself of almost everything having to do with her in the immediate aftermath of going “no contact.” But I made exceptions. Things that, I rationalized, didn’t have quite as much of her fingerprint on them that I liked, or things I’d sunk large amounts of time into.

“Why can’t I just move on?”

As months went by, I kept finding pieces I’d overlooked, digital or physical, and removing them from my life. But I kept a few. It made no sense that they could hold any sway over me.

“Why can’t I just move on?”

Many months ago, I finally released the last couple items that had she had given to me. But I kept the children’s books. Between the two of us, we created two children’s books, fully illustrated. She wrote the stories, I illustrated them in ArtRage and formatted them for BookBaby. The first one took me about 9 months because I was unfamiliar with what I needed to do and ran into issues that I would not carry over into the second book. The second book took me about 6 months.

I’ve never been an amazing digital artist and I haven’t the inclination to become incredible, but that much practice sharpened my skills a bit and taught me the ins and outs of ArtRage. I even researched, re-purchasing some of my favorite childhood books to look at how they laid out their text and illustrations. And though the team at BookBaby probably thinks I’m a bloody idiot at this point, I finally got through my head what needed doing in order to correctly produce a printed copy. To date I have created four distinct books (and some copies) through Bookbaby for various projects.

But, you see, these books were mine. Mine. As much as they were hers, they were mine, and I was not willing to concede this ground when I had already lost so much. I asked my husband to take the books and put them out of my sight, though, because seeing them on the bookshelf every day hurt too much for me to handle. I harbored hopes that I would be able to page through them fondly in the future.

“Why can’t I just move on?”

From time to time I would get this niggling little notion that maybe I ought to let go of the books. I promptly shoved those thoughts aside. These are the only printed books with my name on them, even if it is as illustrator instead of writer. I signed these copies to myself, like I always wanted to do. I also asked her to sign them the last time we saw each other, and I knew each bore a lengthy message I had yet to look at. I would have to look at it someday, if I kept the books. But I didn’t have to think about it yet.

“Why? WHY?!”

I had begun, in the last three or so months, to realize that most of the time period during which I found this person as a friend was not one I really wanted to hold onto. There is precious little about that time period, or the city I was in, that was good. Why hold onto these things, still? I began slow, deleting photos I’d held onto because they were of a birthday that had meant a lot to me. She had been there celebrating with us, her birthday soon after mine. The whole folder of photos went.

Seeing an older friend on facebook was working through her own, similar issue, I asked her how you forgive. I understand forgiveness to be much more about my own health than the other person’s. I don’t want the anger and poison that come with long-term bitterness, but forgiveness is such an intangible concept that it is difficult for me to figure it out in practical implementation. I asked this friend how she managed, and she mentioned that every time the person who hurt her came to mind, she would pray for God to work in their life and bless them, even if she didn’t feel anything good or positive when she prayed. Pray for your enemies, huh? Suddenly that part made a lot more sense, and I started doing that even when I didn’t feel like it. It was another step, but sometimes I still got sucked into the futile mental argument scenarios.

I had to reformat my computer recently, and as I scrambled to save the files that I wanted, I intentionally left behind the digital files for the children’s books. I would never, I realized, be able to publish them anyway, since that would require an agreement between me and her. Anyone I’d wanted to give copies to already had them. I’d sent her the digital files from the start, so she already had them if she wanted to make her own copies, but I didn’t want any more copies. So I “lost” the files.

A few days ago, I went through my facebook contacts and trimmed about seventy duplicates, deleted profiles, and people I simply didn’t contact anymore or had accepted as “friends” because I felt I had to. I DON’T have to, and while it disheartened me how many of these I had allowed access to my circle, within a day I felt lighter for having narrowed my list down closer to reality. There are still some contacts I probably should release, but am not ready to accept that. It’s okay, it takes time. I will be ready eventually.

Yesterday I wrote up a description of one of the instances with her that bothers me the most in terms of unanswered questions and brought it to a private group, hoping to find some answers. Writing it up brought everything to the surface again, and it hurt. Once again, I flailed at why I couldn’t let go. Why did I have to keep asking? Why couldn’t I just get a damn answer about all this? Why couldn’t I drop it and never look at it again? I needed to forgive her, and I was already trying to do this by offering a quick prayer whenever she came to mind, but the hurt was always there. Just waiting for a good opportunity to come out roaring, claws extended, screaming, “WHY?!”

The books have to go. I don’t know whether to attribute this realization to God gently leading me toward this understanding all year a step at a time, or my own thoughts. Make of it what you will, but I don’t tend toward letting go. I want to, but I don’t actually do it. I have hoarded painful incidents, using them as fuel, as inspiration, as defense. I have, however, asked God to lead and guide and mold me into the person He means me to be. I often fail or misunderstand, but I have asked for Him to help.

I realized I was okay with letting the books go. It wasn’t a waste. I had gained valuable skills in the process of making these books. So, last night, I asked my husband to bring the books down. In a fireplace, we built up a small stack of flat, cardboard boxes and packing paper, set the books on top, and lit the pile. In retrospect, we definitely could have restructured that pile to burn better. As it was, we had to prod and bank and flip pieces over for it to catch right, but in the end it was all a cold pile of ashes. I chose not to read the inscriptions.

Afterward, I laughed my head off at the irony. I don’t hold truck with book burnings. I think it’s a lousy way to express what you think of the book at best and censorship at worst. I never thought I’d end up doing a book burning myself, let alone burn books with my name on the cover. My husband teased I was following in the “proud Christian tradition of book burning” and I just lost it. It is so good to laugh in a situation that has been saturated with tears.

I know this particular book burning was the right thing. I don’t know if I’ll still find myself asking, “But why can’t I let go?”, but I’ve done all I can think to do for now. I have let go of that part of my past in every tangible way I can, keeping no digital or physical remnants to mull over. I’ve taken another step out from under this shadow, and I’ll keep taking steps whenever they become obvious to me.