#I wrote this over the course of a week so this may be completely incorrect

[mylastmoleculeofserotonin]

Ik that this probably isn’t a new take, but I haven’t seen it talked about enough: I think the reason why so many Star Wars fans dislike the Acolyte is because the fan base is dominated by men and the genres that the Acolyte occupies tend to attract female audiences. Star Wars started out as an action-adventure sci-fi story which are genres that attract male audiences and features the Hero’s Journey which has roots in ancient mythologies and is often accompanied by the main character transitioning from boyhood to manhood. However, the Acolyte is dark romance mystery/suspense story, which not only attracts a more feminine audience, but is also (to an extent) the exact thematic opposite of the stories that men typically read/watch.

The interesting result of the audiences being used to different genres is that they identified different characters as the focal character. Male and action/adventure accustomed viewers picked out Sol as the hero of the story as he at first seems like the most heroic and likely to go on a Hero’s Journey; female and dark romantasy/mystery accustomed audiences, however, saw Osha as the main character because she resembles the classic YA Fantasy protagonist (sources: instagram posts and other random opinions I’ve come across). Episode 3 painted the Jedi in the best possible light and Mae and the witches in the worst possible light, and while female audiences immediately identified it as an unreliable narrator moment, male audiences took it at face value and thus assumed the inconsistencies of the witches’ deaths and Mae’s motives were careless writing. Then, when the Jedi’s actions weren’t painted as heroics, the criticism from male fans shifted away from the writing being poor to the show “glorifying” the Sith and breaking down the Jedi=good Sith=evil dynamics, while the female fans began getting excited for Osha’s corruption and Mae’s redemption.

So, in conclusion, this show is just a different genre than the rest of Star Wars and men need to just accept the fact that they were not the target audience.

[korijime]

— apaixonar

(verb.) to fall in love with someone or something, the act of falling in love

shigaraki tomura, boku no hero academia

fluff, modern!college!au, social anxiety, slightly sexual jokes, swearing

wc ; one thousand six hundred and fifty nine words

dt ; @t-amajiki

riyuu says ; ahh, i don’t know what to say here. i started this last night, but i got the idea a really long time ago in one of our conversations. i was really scared about getting his character right and i hope i did it some justice. big thank you to @tokyoghoose for proof-reading!! i’d have cried if the mistakes you pointed out weren’t fixed sbdubdidjd

this is kinda a part of a series..i guess? there’s two more fics coming, so i guess it’s 1/3 of the fics i wrote for gere and 1/6 of all the gifts i made for them in total.

so yes, happy birthday, gere. i love you to the moon and back and i’d do damn near anything for you. i hope you like your gifts. ♡

“oi, crusty, look over there.”

the ‘crusty’ in question, a pale-faced young man, cast an annoyed glance in the direction of his partner’s finger. he never once listened to what dabi had to say, yet he knew from the tone in his voice that it would be something that had to do with you. and so he looked, and he didn’t regret listening.

he looked past the window of the chemistry lab, past the other annoyances, and towards you, sitting in the grass with your green-haired friend. he looked at you, sitting in the grass with the late morning sunlight engulfing most of your form, casting a makeshift halo over your head. a well-deserved one, at that. subconsciously resting his face onto his gloved hand, he turned completely towards the window, towards you, his experiment long forgotten.

“okay, jesus christ, stop it. you look like a creep.”

and there goes the moment.

his once ‘softened’ eyes and good mood vanished as soon as dabi spoke up again, his form hunching and his face contorting into annoyance once again.

“no, i don’t. you’re the creep.”

“sure, i was the one who sighed when they smiled for the camera, right?”

“shut up. you’re the creep, i’m right.”

of course that bastard was looking at him while he, in dabi’s words, ‘fawned’ over you.

he didn’t. he just knew how to appreciate good things. it didn’t really matter whether or not his cheeks and ears became heaters whenever you’d look at him, it happens to everyone.

right?

“not right. factually incorrect. you’re a dumbass, go ask them out.”

“i’m the dumbass when you’re the one who blew up our project not even two minutes ago? i’m not a mirror, you easy-bake oven.”

and so on and so forth, until the bell finally rang to signal the end of their day.

tomura shigaraki, never one to listen to anything his ‘best friend’ says, never one to hang around anyone except dabi and a few others, was seen moving methodically and quite swiftly through the halls of u.a academy, heading straight towards the small group of third-years standing at the far end of the corridor.

they’d known him for three years, they knew his mannerisms and the way his mind worked. it was only natural that both toga and twice had to fish out five dollars each to hand to a very smug-looking dabi, who only watched with a shit-eating grin as tomura went up to you.

he could feel his friends’ eyes on his back, but it didn’t register in his mind which was currently screaming at him to get the hell out of this situation what were you thinking because now not only you and your friends but a couple of other students and even teachers in the corridor were gawking at the infamous anti-social boy who was looking at his shoes like they were the love of his life and not you.

his stomach twisted and churned painfully, the nausea he felt was nothing compared to the embarrassment and humiliation he felt, the same embarrassment which was painted bright on his face.

maybe he could just pretend he wanted your notes and call it a day and go home and cry—

“aye, you crusty fuck! don’t chicken out now or you’re doing my homework for the next week!”

fuck that fucking blue haired porcupine ass smug-looking son of a bit-

“ne, shigaraki-kun, did you need something?”

he sent his prayers to whatever god was above for sending an actual angel to be standing in front of him and pull him out of his formerly very quickly approaching spiral.

“are you..areyoufreeafterclasses?”

you furrowed your brows and stepped closer to him, ignoring the way tsuyu tried to pull you back. tomura was your friend, or at the very least, your acquaintance, she had no reason to be so wary.

“what was that? i didn’t catch that.”

the construction of the academy and the location of the institute was quite unfortunate, it would have been better suited in one of the islands near florida so that the bermuda triangle could’ve just swallowed it up so he wouldn’t have to be in this situation where he wanted nothing more than to evaporate into fucking water vapour why are you looking at him like THAT-

“are..you free after classes? i need your help with something.”

“oh! yeah, sure! what do you need help with?”

and apparently that was the director’s cue for everyone to go back to minding their own business. the students’ chatters started up again and the ones that had stopped to watch realised they had better things to do than gawk at the college loner asking the pretty one for help. even your friend group stepped back to let the two of you have some semblance of privacy, and tomura had never felt more relieved.

“you’re, uh, in fine arts, right? i have a project on that and i need to know more about it.”

he made the effort to finally look up and he was glad he did. like really, really glad. because the way you were looking at him with the same smile you’d given the camera, your hands clasped together as you leaned towards him, really just made all the embarrassment and humiliation worth it.

“sure! just let me say bye to my friends and we can get going, i know a good cafe near the campus.”

he only nodded and turned at the same time you did, heading towards the shitheads while you headed for your friends.

“would you look at that, crusty-no-balls finally grew some.”

“nice one, tomura! make sure to get their number!”

“toga-chan, they will be studying together, i doubt they’ll have time for that.”

and the rest was tuned out as he leaned on his locker, looking out towards the gates and back at you. he really did that, didn’t he? worked up the guts to ask you out, even if it was under the guise of a study session. which wasn’t a complete lie, what the hell did ‘fine arts’ mean, anyway?

“visual arts! stuff like painting and architecture and theatre, alongside others. i’m pretty sure poetry and prose are on there too.”

“wait, so you’re taking all of that? how.”

it was late afternoon now, around three or four when he had last checked. time wasn’t really important right now, not when he managed to kill two birds with one stone.

he was getting to spend time with you and do his project, added with you talking about your passions as a bonus.

he stopped typing and reached for his drink, which he did not choose because you told him to, thank you very much and fuck off, dabi.

looking back towards the screen, he realised he was almost done with his project, which was a surprise as he was sure he was paying zero attention to the project itself and hundred percent attention to you instead.

could anyone blame him? no.

no, they couldn’t.

they couldn’t blame him for having his attention on you when you went into the fine details of prose and theatre, using hand gestures to try and get across the point which you couldn’t do so with words. apparently you thought he knew sign language. which he did. it was an option, seemed interesting, nothing more nothing less.

is what he told dabi when he asked. but no, the real reason was the one you knew, which was the fact that the shelter he volunteers at has some people who prefer to use sign language, whatever the reason may be. he knew how it felt to be forced into doing something even though you’re comfortable with something else, but you can’t do that something else because it’s not convenient for others.

so yeah, sign language.

he was pretty sure it earned him some brownie points with you, for which he wasn’t complaining.

what he was complaining about, though, was the fact that you thought it’d be a good idea to steal a bite of his pastry while he was lost in thought.

“hey! thief. stop that.”

“no, it looked tasty.”

“okay, and so do you. you don’t see me biting you.”

..the fuck?

what the FUCK did he just-

run.

take your laptop, and your phone, and your bag, and get the hell out.

his mind kept chanting that over and over, and he was listening to it, his clammy hands reaching to close his laptop as he got up but then. stopped.

you were laughing. at him. you were laughing at his major fuck-up.

“ne, ne, tomura-kun. i had no idea you were into that.”

yes, yes, he knows. he knows it’s weird and that it’s a weird thing to say to someone who he has a crush on and-

“honestly, the last time i made a joke like that, deku combusted and iida looked constipated.”

“wh-what was the joke?”

“i’ll show you later!”

he choked.

“show me!?”

“you sure sound excited, tomura-kun.”

the grin on your face did nothing to calm the hundred-mile marathon that both his heart and mind had been running ever since he said that.

what was even happening anymore.

that was the question which kept running through his mind even as he walked you home, thanking you for your help.

“no worries! i’d love to spend more time with you.”

what was happening.

“oh and, i also have an assignment due, do you think you could help me with it?”

“yeah, sure. same cafe?”

“sounds good! i’ll see you friday, then!”

“mhm.”

what the fuck was happening.

he’d like to say he didn’t care nor did he think about it, but the way you hugged him goodbye with a promise to see him again left the smallest of smiles on his face which didn’t go away for a while.

tagged ; @t-amajiki @tokyoghoose @kei7ime @inarizsunarin @tsukkiboii @spicyfoodboi @kakiwrites @lcaita @lnarizakis @kuro0luvr @himichii

[hyrule-kingdom-updates]

🌼 any of them

Whoops, wrote a fic

Describe one of your OC’s worst nightmares.

An optimist would look at the world of divination with wonder. The universe is a but a magnificent hall of tapestries, beautiful pieces of art woven into anything you could imagine. Tapestries where you are a hero, tapestries where you are royalty, tapestries where your people live with riches, tapestries depicting your eternal victory over your enemies. The universe is endless and bountiful, for in the future, all futures are possible.

This is how Astor usually can depict the good fortune tellers from the worse.

If they’re an optimist, they’re most likely a faker.

The only true divinator that he had met that was even a bit of an optimist was his mother, and even then, he had always had the sinking feeling that she hid a deeper sorrow behind her simple shoes of colorful flames and shining moon and starlight. No, it was quite hard to stick to true, unfiltered optimism in this field, as while it was true that all futures and choices were possible, that freewill ran its course through all who walked the vast possibilities of the universe, the issue came in the fact that you could not travel it to and fro.

There are futures where you live, there are futures where you achieve your wildest dreams, timelines where your childhood is happier, and timelines where you find true love and satisfaction.

But you aren’t in those timelines. The future you have is this one, and it is set in stone.

Walk all the roads you want, say all the words, read all the stories, but when a seer analyzed exactly what world we live in, exactly what end is destined for this string of the universe, there will be no holding back. There is only the unfiltered, raw, typically pessimistic truth of the end. Savor it.

“In truth, Elane, I hate my job. Fear it, even,” Astor set his teacup down, looking out the balcony towards the inky, midnight view. “I fear one day I will find the prediction—the true, ultimate glimpse into the night, that seals in the fact that we’re doomed.”

The Queen only cocked her head with a smile. “Well, I’m flattered that there’s still a ‘we’ in this scenario. Good to know I’ll be joining you in the lockup when my mother find our contraband cucco nuggets—“

“I’m serious, Elane.”

She only laughed quietly, before leaning back in her chair, and gazing out into the pleasant evening. “I know...”

There was a quiet between them, not quite awkward or stiffening, but quiet in the way that you might hold your breath after someone embraces you warmly. Quiet in acceptance, quiet to make room for the sounds of something rare and fickle.

“I swear, I might retire early,” Astor finally said. “Quit while I’m ahead. Head off to Hateno or Mabe and bury my head in the sand.”

“You might want to try Gerudo then, if sand is what you’re searching for. I’m sure Urbosa would be thrilled.”

“Tsk. I am inclined to disagree.”

Elane chuckled again, and she let the quiet embrace her for a moment.

“Eternal doom aside, for a moment, I would posit that there’s hardly anything to fear. You’ve foreseen my daughter’s growth, analyzed the future livelihood of the kingdom, and predicted our victory over Ganon. I’d say it’s hard to bargain with that.”

“Maybe, but I could be wrong.” Astor circled his finger on the lip of his cup. “It happens, people make a prediction, but miss one star, or slip up one word...or perhaps one cow suddenly dies, or one ember quickly fades, and suddenly we’re actually in an entirely different timeline than predicted.”

“Didymos Astor? Wrong about something? Oh my, I never thought I’d see the day...” Elane smiled to herself again as she lifted her cup for another sip.

Astor clicked his tongue. “Well. You should hope I’m not wrong about anything. If someone of my skill makes an incorrect prediction, it would probably be disastrous for everyone.”

Elane winked as she set down her cup. “Well, good thing you’re a prodigy, then.”

“Good thing, indeed.”

Quiet keep their third company once again. Astor still had not sipped from his cup, but Elane was already heading for her fourth refill, no doubt begging for any energy after tucking her daughter to bed. A young toddler with enough energy to power a Guardian army, Elane has always found it quite odd that she used up a lot of her energy to annoy the Royal Seer. It was charming to see him get put off by a Mallory’s boundless curious aura, but mostly relieving in the sense that the Queen could get a moments rest and trust little Zelda would be alright.

Elane looked back inside through the half open door, and smiled at a bundled sleeping figure, surrounded by an army of stuffed animals. She then turned back and finally noticed Astor’s continued silence on the next refill.

She sighed. “Although I would be saddened to see you leave,” she began, “If a retirement would make you happy, Astor, I would loathe to do anything to stand in your way.”

He looked up at her, analyzing her body language and expression. She was genuine, of course, as she always was in these sorts of talks. Astor finally let himself exhale in peace, as he smiled and shook his head.

“Unfortunately I don’t think it would do me much good, anyways. Location won’t let me escape my own thoughts and visions.” He took a sip of his tea—a bit citrusy this evening, a hint of apple—and relaxed. “I’d imagine His Majesty would miss me dearly, and I simply wouldn’t want to leave him in distress.”

“Ha! Oh yes of course, Rhoam would be crying tears if you left us...” she replied, sarcastically. “Tears of deep, deep sorrow.”

Astor looked out into the night in silence again, not touching his cup.

“But I’ll tell you what Astor,” Elane began again. “If you ever receive that world dooming prediction, whatever may happen that may instigate your view of the deepest hells,” she raised her cup. “You come find me, and we’ll have a drink.”

He raised an eyebrow. “A drink? What sort of drink?”

She shrugged. “Whatever you like. Tea, wine, beer, water or juice if it’s your fancy. Whatever will keep your spirits high.”

Astor smirked, solemnly. “I don’t think you understand just how severe and dreadful certain predictions can be. When we say ‘all futures are possible,’ we do mean all possibilities.”

��And I understand, dear seer. I truly do.” She tilted her head as she kept her cup in the air. “But the way I see it, is that with divination or not, doom and hell come into people’s lives one way or the other. But it hasn’t really stopped the majority from loving their lives now, has it?” Her eyes twinkled like starlight. “Dearest Astor, if our destined doom is predicted one day, I command you to at least smile through our tea party.”

Quiet.

He finally sighed, the corners of his lips perking. His protests drowning in her expression.

“I suppose if you’re the one pouring, it’d be difficult to refuse.” He raised his cup and clinked it with hers.

She was dead eight days later.

With her death came the final factor. The final star.

“Your daughter is destined to fail us,” he said again. “The Calamity shall rise and consume us all, and she won’t stop it in time.”

Rhoam slammed his fists on the desk, but the seer did not flinch. “We’ll train her hard, we’ll start now, even! I’ll get those clerics from the temple to teach her the starting prayers!” he yelled.

“It won’t work.” Astor replied, simply. “Perhaps she might attain them down the line, but she most certainly won’t awaken her powers by Ganon’s rise. It’s over.”

“You told me we could do this!” Rhoam pointed a finger, accusingly. “You saw our prosperity, our victory!”

“That was what I initially saw, yes. But unfortunately we live in world where the Queen of Hyrule is dead, and thus the threads of our future weave accordingly.”

“You’re a liar!” Rhoam bellowed again. “You saw her death, saw our end and lied to us since the beginning, haven’t you?!!”

“Don’t you think that if I knew Elane would die, I would say something?! That I would give ample time for her to say goodbye to you and her daughter??” Astor finally raised his voice, met with equal silence. “I failed to correctly analyze our timeline the first time around, and for that I am sorry. But I can not control what pieces of the future fate allows me to see. It’s not an open novel for you to give me a bad book report grade on. It’s a museum of endless tapestries, of which I am task with analyzing one stroke at a time to identify which is woven to a singular man, and the fact that I have given you a complete enough answer now is a gift within itself, so don’t even try to accuse me forgery and lies.”

The two men clenched their jaws, staring angrily at each other.

Astor finally whispered. “Overtime I might gather more specifics, but overall—this is over.”

Rhoam balles his hand into a fist. “We’ll start a new schedule for Zelda first thing in the morning—“

“It won’t work, it’s futile���“

“We’ll make it work—“

“This is set in stone, this is the world you live in—“

“Well what if you’re wrong again?”

“I’m not.”

“But what if you are?”

“I’m. Not. I’ve read the signs again and again and again, in fact I’ve been reaching the same conclusions repeatedly for the last four weeks. It. Is set. In stone.” He tapped his finger on the wood with each syllable to emphasize. “Perhaps the futures of prosperity are accurate for the Rhoams and Mallorys that live in a different time, but unfortunately for us, we live in one where Elane is dead. This is our reality and you’re doing no good denying as such.”

Silence.

Rhoam made his way towards the door. “You’re a liar.” The seer scoffed. “You’re a liar and you don’t know what you’re saying! Borderline treason if I’m being honest! You’re pathetic, and a rotten fake—“

“If it pleases His Majesty to confirm the integrity of his humble subject,” Astor cut in, sarcastically, “It might be good to know that also I’ve predicted you won’t imprison me, or exile me, or execute me, given you’re still ever reliant on my uncontested skills for more personal matters. That, and you wish to try and keep me around to hopefully prove me wrong, in which you can then tell yourself you’d be in the right to truly punish me.” He stared the regent dead in the eyes. “But don’t worry, you won’t.”

Rhoam slammed the door shut as he stomped off.

That night, Astor has another dream. Or perhaps it was a vision, he wasn’t sure, as the details were so surreal and horrific and captivating that it would have surely been a blessing to chalk it up entirely to vivid imagination.

There were screams and the sound of rocks crumbling. Bones were cracking and monsters were squealing and shrieking. And be felt his arms burn, and he felt his soul drain, and he looked down to see his skin peeling into dark flakes, his muscles, sludge. And in the distance, a young woman with golden hair laughed at him, but her eyes were hollow and gold. And she laughed and laughed as his body was slowly broken to pieces, bones torn asunder, skin burned to smoldering malice, senses vivid until the final moment when he woke.

But the good thing about nightmares, was that...that was it. There was no where else to go. There was nothing left to offer. No more pain to fear.

It made sense of course. Of course, of course. He never went to the funeral, he never offered his sympathies. There was no longer anything to mourn, as he allowed himself to view the world in its true, disgusting form. The people were doomed, and the dead, well...perhaps they might have deserved it. Yes, that was the only way this all made sense, of course. He even stopped trying to warn other folk after a few too many dozen harsh rejections to his character. No, now in complete isolation and resignation of his path, there was nothing else that could possibly drag him back to—

“How do I die?” Zelda Mallory Hyrule asked, one day.

At first, he was confused, and he turned in his chair. “What?”

She was seven at the time, and it was truly an odd and concerning thing to be coming from a seven year old girl’s mouth. Or perhaps it wasn’t, given the circumstances.

“How do I die?” she said again. She was laying down on his worn carpet, fiddling with the frilled edge.

Was she truly that bored? Already out of other questions? Hmph, he had always warned her to stay away, as a seer’s office wasn’t really meant for childish entertainment. Yet still she always came and asked to hide away from her father, and, well...anything to spite that man...

“Why do you ask?” he finally replied. Had someone said something to her? A threat? He clenched his jaw. I swear, if that fool tried to force her powers by—

“You’re always going on about how I’m wasting my time with praying and stuff...but father says I still gotta to stop the Calamity or else we could all die.” She didn’t look up from the bits of carpet string she was playing with (and contemplating on popping in her mouth), “So I figured if you tell me how I die we can settle the debate for good!”

Astor just sighed. “Well, of course you d—“

He stopped himself, but not for the reasons a more put together person, might. Not because of the generally frowned upon action of telling a child how she dies, no, that was not exactly beyond him. No, Astor cut off his sentence simply because it had crossed his mind that—

“...I’m not entirely sure...” he whispered.

He suddenly stood. Walking towards the other end of his office, carefully stepping over the child. “E-Excuse me a moment.”

Why had he never considered this? Of course, he had seen the signs clearly enough, the visions, the stars. A girl cries over a corpse, a light vanishes in the night. Malice plagued the sky and dooms the day. But did the Calamity actually kill her? Does she drown in rubble and malice like the others? Slain by a demon or monster perhaps? Or if not, then, would that mean...?

The princess soon forgot about the question by the next day, and the next, and the next, and the next, and the next.

Astor spent nearly eight sleepless nights into finding an answer.

But he never truly did.

These things happened more times than one may think, when it came to predictions. Vagueness was commonplace, but specificities and straightforward answers were about as rare as a green sunset. Of course, he knew she would die, goddess blood or not, she lived the life of a mortal. But how? When? While it certainly wasn’t impossible to predict a person’s death, but whatever the circumstances of Mallory’s was made the process was infuriatingly impossible.

It was possible she would die of malice or suffocation under rubble, even circumstances where she dies at the Ganon’s hand himself. But then there were clear visions of her living, walking through a grassy field, ruins in the distance covered in leaves and moss, her turning and calling to a friend to keep up with her pace.

But no, nonono. She would die during the Calamity’s rise, that was the majority of what the futures offered to her were. That was the probable outcome.

But the factors and visions and signs and alignments were so fine and minuscule in difference, that Astor truly couldn’t a true statement, a true prediction, a true answer to the question. What timeline did we live in?

It taunted him.

Maybe it was better if the question was put to rest, did it even matter?

“Mallory?” he asked. “That’s a stupid name.”

“What?! No it’s not!” Elane laughed and shoved his shoulder. “Please, YOU’RE not one to talk.”

“Well as a victim of stupid first names, I think I’m qualified to speak accurately on the subject.”

“Aha! But it’s not technically a first name.” Elane tapped his head. “It’s a middle name, her first name would be ‘Zelda,’ of course.”

“Yes, and that is also a s—“

The queen shoved his shoulder into the wall before he even finished the sentence. “Oh would you shut up...”

He laughed, unconventionally carefree. Her Majesty’s happiness these days truly was contagious. Or perhaps that was a side effect of pregnancy? Did all expecting mother’s give off this aura?

“I think it’s a wonderful name.” Elane said. “Reminds me of a cute little duck, like a mallard!” She tucked her arms and flapped her elbows to imitate as such. “Quack, quack!”

“This is further adding to my argument actually”

“Hmph! Ok then Mr. Overseer of all names” She tapped a finger to his chest. “If it’s such a stupid name, then when she starts getting bullied for it around the castle, I shall expect you to take care of her in full.”

He scoffed. “Oh, I’ll be sure to do so. She’ll definitely need it.”

Elane pecked his head with a kiss.

“Good! I grant you my blessing lovingly tease her, as well. And I expect the best from you, Astor!”

His face suddenly warmed for some reason, and he couldn’t form words.

“What?”

“.....W...”

He was suddenly whack in the head with a rolled up piece of paper. Astor sprang awake from his desk. “...W...What...?”

“Morning, Mr. Astor!!” Princess Zelda-Mallory beamed. “And happy birthday!!! Sorry I woke you up early, but I needed to give this to you before the winter solstice festival later and—“

She continued to ramble on and on, but Astor simply opened the rolled up paper she had handed to him. It was simply filled with dozens and dozens, arguably hundreds, of hand drawn stars. In the corner was written, “You always look at the same stars so here’s some new ones!” in crude purple crayon. At the time, he failed to notice the accompanying note on the back that read “One for each year of how old you are!” Thankfully he was too busy looking through the different stars, with varying degrees of sparkles and smiley faces.

He finally looked back at the princess, who was still rambling on and on about her day, and her father’s day, and her newest stuffy dress, and her latest adventures with her stuffed toys, and—

“Why are you always here, Zelda?” Astor finally said. She stopped talking, looking at him, quizzically. “I mean...” he grumbled, “You know I don’t really like you, right?

“Eh, I don’t care. I think you’re neat!!” She held out her arms as she zoomed around his circular office. “Your room is so cool! And you got fun books!”

“Necromancy isn’t necessarily what I would consider ‘fun’ reading material—“

“Plus your outfits are cool, and you’re super smart, like my mom.”

He blinked.

“Plus, you’re the only one that’s not mean to me about my dumb powers. But really that’s just a chair on the top!”

“Do you mean cherry on top?”

“No! I meant chair! Watch me!! I’m gonna do a backflip off of this—“

“NO.” Astor immediately stood up, and snatched the girl off of the wooden chair. “NO. No backflips.” He set her down on the rug and pointed to a side of the room which held a broken table, stool, and a few old chairs—the victims of the princess’ previous acrobatic attempts.

She crossed her arms and stuck out her tongue. “You’re no fun!”

“I’m running out of furniture, is what I am.”

“But I’ll let this slide since it’s your birthday! Hmph.”

She started pulling at the loose threads of the carpet. “Don’t know why you had to stop my birthday backflip! Who cares if I get a little scratch?”

“I do—“

“YOU DO?!” Mallory was immediately up and clinging to his robes.

Astor sputtered, instinctively waving his arms to free himself from the child’s grip. But then he finally processed her question, and...

“I...” He looked at her starlight eyes. She had that stupid, naive grin that he always remembered from her mother. A stupid, pathetic, horrible, terrible, optimistic smile.

He finally scoffed. “I just can’t have you getting hurt on my watch, as otherwise, I’d probably be a dead man. That’s all.”

The princess lifted her hands in a “hooray!” fashion, and yelled the exclamation, accordingly. She then resumed her zipping and zooming around the room, much to Astor’s unexpected relief.

That night, he visited the question again.

Why? He didn’t really know.

The question wouldn’t offer him anything, it wouldn’t relieve him of anything—in fact it really did just the opposite. If he found that died miserably, it would be another scream in the nightmare, another nail in the comforting coffin of despair. But if he someone found that she lived, that there was a day after the Calamity, where even a child such as her could possibly prosper...

Having hope and seeing it fail anyway would probably be the most torturous of all.

Again, he had a dream, of a world tainted by blood and malice. But this time he was floating. He was floating and watching the end of it all.

Castle Town was nothing but ruins and ash, and no colors existed but red, black, and grey.

He couldn’t hear anything but a shrill hum in his ears, but he knew there was screaming. He looked to his hand, expecting to see malice or blackened skin, but instead found a strange floating device in his palm. It spin slowly, pink constellations drifting across its surface.

The hum in his ears turned into a groan, and then a whisper. It said something familiar, but he was sure he had never heard it before.

It is time.

The next night he had a dream of a girl standing in a green field, calling out to her friends somewhere behind her. She rested under the ruins of a collapsed pillar, and ate a homemade sandwich with a memorable smile.

Astor reached a conclusion.

In most futures, the girl dies horribly. He wrote in his journal. To be expected, I would assume the rise of the Calamity isn’t exactly easy to survive from.

But what I have discovered is a very specific set of circumstances that lead to a more favorable outcome, at least for her.

I have no way of knowing if it accurately depicts the comings of our time, or another. There are too many variables and specifics. Too long I have spent trying to discern our fate, but the probabilities and possibilities for doom are so interchangeable that it really go either way. The only truth I know is that she lives if—

He paused, tapping the dry quill to the desk again in thought. He dipped it once more.

I’ve decided that if I ever find myself in the scenario where I can solidify her a more favorable destiny, I will take it. I can only hope dare to alter my existing nightmare into something different, there’s really nothing left to lose, is there?

Astor leaned in his chair for a moment, savoring the silence of his office. He looked out the window and took in the night. The stars were gorgeous this evening.

Although if it fails I hope it kills me.

Call it arrogance, but I don’t think I can handle being wrong again.

The seer sighed, then suddenly flipped to the next blank page, angrily.

If I had never met her it would have been fine. If I had just minded my own damn business and continued to work in being resigned to our fate, at least then I could have—

There was a soft knock at his door.

He knew who it was.

Astor pinched the bridge of his nose as he opened it. “It’s past 2am, Princess, what could you possibly have to tell me?”

She looked down and shuffled her feet. “I had a nightmare...”

“Yes, people do have those sometimes.” He immediately closed the door.

Another knock.

After a moment, Astor opened it again. “Don’t you have guards outside your room, how did you sneak up here?”

“Secret tunnel!” She grinned, proudly, as she replied with a sort of sing-song tone.

“That’s nice.”

The door slammed shut again.

She knocked once more. There was the longest pause.

“FFFFFFine!” The world was out of his lips before he even fully swung open the door, and Mallory happily scrambled inside. “But no touching anything, I’m working.”

“It’s ok, I just wanna stay up all night and read your books!” She was already scrambling for the necromancy section, again.

Astor sighed, and went to slump back into his desk. The princess was already sprawled across the floor, distracting herself with another stack of wondrous, ill-recommended book. He didn’t really care.

I don’t really care. He wrote once again. I know there are futures where I dedicate myself to the Calamity, and she dies anyway. I know it doesn’t really matter, I know it’s hopeless to care, and that’s why I don’t.

He looked back at Zelda, he saw her slowly blink back her tiredness. He knew in a few hours or so, he’d have to drop her sleepy figure back off to those useless guards, and berate then for letting her wander off again, as it always was.

If I do this and it’s all for nothing, he began, I fear it will be worse than if I had just stood to the side and perished. It’s already doomed, and this pathetic, foolish optimism might cause me to turn this nightmare into something even worse.

He sighed, and the hours passed as he just sat with his thoughts.

Zelda was using and open book as a pillow.

Astor opened the door, and went to pick her up.

I’m not living through another nightmare. He thought, as he descended the stairs from the observatory. The girl’s breathing was steady as she wrapped an arm by his shoulder.

If it fails I hope it kills me before I see it. He repeated again.

I can’t handle being wrong again.

[spencers-renaissance]

To Look On Tempests and Not Be Shaken

Summary: In the wake of a blazing row and an empty apartment, Aaron finds Spencer's well-thumbed copy of Shakespeare's sonnets and recalls the morning after their wedding, when Spencer sat on his lap and read Sonnet 116 to him. Suddenly, everything makes sense.

Tags: angst with a happy ending, fighting and making up, married hotchreid, relationship dynamics, introspection, fluff, shakespeare/literature

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 2.6k

Masterlist // Read on AO3

(Set in S11, AU in which Haley/Aaron divorced in S1 and Aaron/Spencer married in S4.)

It wasn’t really either of their faults: work was relentless at the moment and they hadn’t had any real time for one another in weeks. That’s not really a consolation to either Spencer or Aaron, however, when they’re in the middle of a blazing row that has them both drowning in flames of anger and passion, unable to see one another for the smoke filling their apartment. 

“Aaron, this is the fourth case in a row that you’ve stayed at  the office past 4 in the morning to wrap up the paperwork,” Spencer shouts, frustration rising in his chest as he tugs at his hair, already feeling far too overwhelmed. Aaron is looking as unbothered and stoic as he always does during their fights, and even though Spencer is fully aware of the emotion that will be stirring under his carefully constructed mask, it doesn’t make it any less exasperating. 

“You know as well as I do that this sort of work load is completely unavoidable,” Aaron says lowly, anger finally audible in his voice. It’s not as satisfying as Spencer had hoped. “We can’t keep rehashing this same old argument. I’m the Unit Chief of a team in one of the most prestigious FBI departments. I have a responsibility.”

“You have a responsibility to me and Jack as well,” Spencer cries, fury bubbling over as he thinks of Jack and just how much he deserves. “We deserve your time just as much as fucking serial killers do.”

Aaron visibly flinches as Spencer swears, an occurrence rare enough to indicate serious emotion. “This is exactly the argument I used to have with Haley, Spencer,” he says harshly. “I refuse to have it with you, too. If you can’t handle it then maybe you should leave, just like she did, hm?”

“Have you ever stopped to consider that maybe that means there’s an element of truth in it then, Aaron?” Spencer asks, voice breaking slightly as the scale tips away from uncontained ire towards hopeless misery. He turns away from his husband, trying in vain to conceal his crumpled face and damp eyes. “And you know I would never do that to you; don’t you dare throw your unresolved issues back in my face.”

“I can’t deal with this right now,” Aaron says, voice and face hardened; Spencer can almost see the walls he’s building up again, the stubborn refusal to concede any point. “You’re not being rational. I’m going to bed.”

His stomach twists with the desperation of the situation as he says quietly to Aaron’s turned, retreating back, “What happened to never going to bed angry?” He doesn’t turn back around. 

⭐��

Aaron waits in bed for Spencer to join him, fully intending to feign sleep the moment he enters the bedroom but nevertheless longing to know he’s safely tucked next to him in bed. When he hears the quiet click of the front door and checks the time to see he’s been waiting for almost 25 minutes, though, a panicked feeling fills his chest. He throws the covers back and treads out to the living room, only to be met with a decidedly empty room. If he was a more spiritual man he’d say he could still feel the angry aura of their previous argument lingering over the furniture. Really what he feels is the inevitable, empty vacuum a home without Spencer in it is bound to house. 

He sits down on the sofa, just on the wrong side of too cold in his threadbare t-shirt and underwear, and buries his head in his hands. The problem is that he knows Spencer’s right. He and Jack both deserve better than this kind of life, of course they do. Jack deserves a father, Spencer deserves a husband. Admitting such a fact, however, requires humility, vulnerability, failure almost. It means telling his boss that he needs reinforcements, that he can’t continue with the 80+ hour weeks, that he’s not as strong as he used to be. 

That sort of thing takes a courage that feels so far out of reach, though, and he’s left defending a place he doesn’t want to be in against people he loves more than anything in the world. 

Forcing himself out of his miserable carousel of thoughts and regrets, he pulls his head from his hands and catches sight of a note on the coffee table, his name scrawled across it in Spencer’s handwriting. Immediately, his heart sinks: it’s unlikely a love letter. It’s far more likely it’s a note of good riddance, an announcement of abandonment. 

Turning it over in his shaking hands, he reads: 

I’ve gone to stay with Derek and Penelope for the night. I will pick up Jack from Jessica’s in the morning, on my way home. I love you. Spencer 

He immediately feels guilt at ever having thought that Spencer would be cruel enough to leave him in the same way he’s been left himself one too many times. His husband has an incredible amount of love filling his heart, and he’s simply incapable of such cruelty. It’s been a fear of his for many years, that Spencer would grow unhappy but be too kind to leave, prioritising Aaron above himself. He knows it’s Haley’s fault for embedding such fear and doubt in his heart all those years ago, but he can’t help but berate himself for ever doubting Spencer. 

It’s not like they’re about to break up. When he considers the situation logically, he knows that. He loves Spencer, Spencer loves him, and ultimately, he’s going to relent. He’s going to draw on whatever shreds of courage remain in his tattered and beaten soul and do whatever it takes to make his family happy, to give them what they deserve. He just has no idea how to cross the gaping chasm that stands in the way of reaching that eventuality. 

He goes to place the note back down on the coffee table, but his eyes land on the book it had originally rested on: Spencer’s well-loved copy of Shakespeare’s sonnets. He picks it up, sort of absent-mindedly, thumbing the pages the love of his life has read countless times, holding on to the book as an emotional connection to Spencer. It’s travelled their entire relationship with them; he remembers it laying on his spare bedside table back when Spencer visited his apartment in the dead of night, terrified of anyone finding them out. He’d read the poems over and over again, long into the night. Aaron can’t help but smile at the memory of Spencer’s unique quirks. 

Eventually, his absent fiddling lands him on a page Spencer’s visited time and time again. A worn leather bookmark Aaron recognises as one of Diana’s gifts marks the page titled Sonnet 116. Tired and lovelorn, he begins reading.

Let me not to the marriage of true minds  Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove. O no! it is an ever-fixed mark That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wand'ring bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come; Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom. If this be error and upon me prov'd, I never writ, nor no man ever lov'd. Sonnet 116, William Shakespeare 

((Modern Translation, if you’d prefer:

I will not admit that interferences are possible in the union of two people In love. Love that changes when circumstances do is not love, Nor if it bends when someone tries to destroy it: Oh no! It is an eternally fixed point, Which may watch storms but is never shaken by them; it is the guiding star for ever lost ship: Its distance may be measured but its quality cannot be. Love does not fall victim to Time, though features of youth Are eventually entrapped by him; Love doesn’t change as hours and weeks race past, But endures until death. If this is wrong, and I’m proved incorrect, Then I never wrote, and no man ever loved.))

The words come rushing back to him as soon as he reads them: it had been a contender for Spencer’s chosen poem at their wedding. He’d eventually gone with I loved you first by Christina Rosetti, the perfect compliment to his own choice of I love you by Ella Wheeler Wilcox, but on their first morning as a married couple, laid in their warm and comfortable bed, Spencer had pulled out this very book and straddled Aaron’s thighs, reading it to him with an earnest expression. He remembers the air being punched out of his chest as he’d looked up at a bright-eyed 27-year-old Spencer who had been through so much already but still held all the grace and innocence he did on his first day at the BAU.

He doesn’t realise he’s crying until a tear runs down his nose and splashes on the page. What really tips him over the edge is reading Spencer’s small, chicken-scratch annotations around the poem, noting different points in their relationship, events between the two of them that prove the words of an Englishman born 400 years earlier.  

It’s so easy for him to doubt how much Spencer loves him - insecurities and the trauma of his separation from Haley consume him far too often - but he’s holding the tangible, physical proof. This is undeniable, this is the evidence his doubtful, damaged heart yearns for, and the furious, raging, endlessly tumultuous waters inside him settle for the first time in weeks.  

⭐️

The second Aaron’s alarm goes off at 6am, he gets started on the plan he’d formed as soon as the words of Shakespeare’s sonnet had sunk in. The email he’d composed the night before is the first thing his laptop screen displays when he powers it on, and he presses send on the uncompromising, demanding letter he’d addressed to Cruz. Finally feeling good about the entire situation, he turns the coffee maker on and gets dressed; Spencer’s an early riser but he’s determined to get to Derek and Penelope’s before he leaves. 

The relief is freeing, and he feels light for the first time in a long time. He hadn’t quite realised just how much it had all been weighing on him until he’d finally found the courage to cut it free. 

Armed with two coffees and Shakespeare’s sonnets, he heads downstairs to the taxi he’d ordered the night before. The city races past in front of the slow and steady sunrise, dawn marking a new chapter in Aaron’s life that he’s determined to make worth it. Slowly the thick of the city fades into the suburbs, and the taxi slows down as they wind through the maze of identical looking streets until they arrive at Derek and Penelope’s home. 

He pays the taxi driver as quickly as possible and sighs in relief at the sight of Spencer’s car still on the drive as he climbs out of the vehicle, carefully balancing his two coffees, still warm in their thermal mugs. Fully aware that Derek and Penelope are absolutely going to chew him out the minute they lay eyes on him, he hesitantly rings the doorbell. 

“Man, what the hell?” Derek exclaims, clearly exasperated as he swings the door open, revealing a sorry looking Aaron Hotchner standing sheepishly on his doorstep. 

“I know,” Aaron replies immediately, trying to portray as much regret and understanding with his body language as is possible when holding two coffees with  your husband’s most prized possession perched precariously under your arm. “I know, I fucked up, and I’m sorry. I need to see Spencer.”

Derek looks thoroughly put out just being in Aaron’s presence, but after a moment or two of hesitation he relents, opening the door wider to let him through. “Alright,” he sighs. “I’ll ask if he’s okay to see you.”

He parks Aaron in the living room and then leaves to go and find Spencer. Only seconds later, he hears the hurried click of kitten heels on the wooden floor and internally cringes; if facing Derek was bad, facing Penelope will be infinitely more painful.

“Aaron Hotchner,” Penelope shouts before she’s even fully entered the living room, “I have never, and I mean never been more disappointed in you. I don’t think you fully appreciate how lucky you are. You may be my boss but that does not mean I will not chew you out when you screw up this bad. Anyone who makes my Spencer cry is in my bad books for at least two weeks. You are in the dog house, you understand me? The dog house.”

She’s thankfully cut off from continuing her rant by Spencer’s shy, hesitant appearance at the doorway. Penelope immediately rushes over and gives him a hug, whispering something in his ear that Aaron doesn’t catch but makes Spencer giggle. She reaches up to ruffle his hair before patting his cheek fondly and casting a furious glare in Aaron’s direction as she vacates the living room. 

“Hi,” Aaron says softly, breaking the silence left in the wake of Storm Penelope. “I bought you a coffee.” 

“What are you doing here, Aaron?” Spencer asks, clearly a little confused but still accepting the drink. 

“I know you said that you’d come home this morning but I had to come and get you,” he replies, standing up from his seat on the couch and taking a few steps forward. “Look… your note last night, it was on top of this book. And in my absent-minded cloud of misery I was looking through it and came across Sonnet 116.”

A flicker of recognition lights up Spencer’s eyes as his face softens a little at the sight of his beloved book.

“Do you remember? Climbing into my lap on our one day wedding anniversary and reading it to me? Back then I was partly distracted by the gorgeous man in my arms but last night… Spencer, the words hit home in a way I haven’t felt before. Not to mention your annotations; I felt like I was reading a journal of our love story, which I know was probably your intention all along.” He shakes his head, trying to get back on track. “I’ve been an idiot, a rotten fool, and I’m so sorry. I emailed Cruz this morning. 

“You did?” Spencer looks up, surprise filling his features for a second before a small, hopeful smile takes over. “What did you say?”

“That I couldn’t continue with the workload and I needed reinforcements. That I would work the same hours for two more weeks to allow them to find an adequate solution, but after that I’ll be reducing my hours to align almost directly with yours,” he says, tentatively gauging Spencer’s reaction. 

It’s made pretty easy for him when Spencer’s hesitantly hopeful smile blossoms into a wide grin, relaxing his posture as relief overtakes his body and he throws himself into Aaron’s arms. Aaron buries his face into his husband’s curls and lets himself breathe easy, feeling infinitely better with Spencer wrapped up in his arms again, just where he belongs. 

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Aaron whispers as he pulls Spencer impossibly closer. 

“I’m sorry, too,” Spencer sighs, nestling his face further into Aaron’s neck. “We both said things we shouldn’t have. But, you’re here now, and that’s what counts.”

“I love you, you know that?” Aaron murmurs, pulling away slightly so he can look Spencer in the eyes, trying to convey his sincerity as well as possible. 

“I know,” he smiles. “I love you, too.”

“Come on, sweetheart,” Aaron says, patting Spencer’s side gently. “Let’s get out of here before Penelope comes to stab me with her high heels.” 

Spencer giggles at that. “I don’t know, maybe, I’d like to see that,” he teases, digging his finger into Aaron’s ribs for good measure. 

“Oh, stop it you,” Aaron smiles fondly before kissing the top of Spencer’s head, feeling happier in this moment than he’d ever thought possible again last night. Peace is finally restored in Aaron Hotchner’s heart, all thanks to one rather ancient English playwright and an academic for a husband. “Let’s go and get Jack,” he says, longing to have his whole family back together, to restore the equilibrium of a tumultuous few weeks. 

Spencer leans down to kiss his shoulder as they walk out of the Morgan-Garcia household, and it’s enough to keep him warm the whole way home.

@strippersenseii @criminalmindsvibez

[ladyinbooks]

Ok, I’ve been um-ing and ah-ing over whether to post this or not (mostly because I am absolutely not here to upset anyone, only to have a good time). But stuff it. I’ve been chugging salty tea today, and this wouldn’t leave me alone.

So I’m going to have a (not-so) little grumble about writing, authors, and why authors should pipe down. (And I apologise in advance for the length of this, and the fact it’s not altogether coherent.)

I also want to preface this by saying you are, of course, free to disagree with me. :)

I wandered into a fandom last week, mostly just to have a peek over the barricades and see if there were any fics I liked. It’s a relatively small fandom, and the books it’s based on are moderately popular.

And lo, within thirty seconds, I had stumbled across shipping wars. Again.

(At this point I need to add: I don’t like shipping wars. I am absolutely a ‘ship and let ship’ kind of person, who doesn’t give two hoots what anyone else is shipping, as long as we’re all having fun and nobody’s getting hurt.)

Arguments were going back and forth, but one of the points I kept seeing made over and over by a certain group of shippers was: ‘But the author doesn’t like ship X. They specifically said it would never be endgame, and it was toxic.’ This was, I believe, meant to be the ‘winning’ argument.

And my reaction was: ‘So?’

Which brings me to Point 1 - Your ship does not have to be canon.

The whole point of fanfiction (and to a lesser extent fandom), is that it’s a transformative experience. The dynamics you’re interested in exploring outside of a canon setting are exactly that: outside the canon setting. You are taking original source material, and creating something different; exploring something new. This includes ships.

It therefore seems strangely reductive to point to a non-canon ship and go ‘Ah ha! Wrong! Because it’s not endgame and not canon!’

That’s... kind of the point?

Fandom shipping shouldn’t have to be about a ship becoming canon. It’s not about ‘winning’ that race over all the other shippers. Fandom shipping is quite literally about going ‘Hey, I found the potential dynamics of these two characters interesting, and I want to explore that.’

But Lady, the author said it was a toxic ship!

And my reaction is still: ‘So?’

Point 2 - The author is not God in a fandom space.

The author can tell you their opinion on a ship. They can tell you their intention. But they cannot tell you what you can and can’t ship. And their opinion certainly shouldn’t be weaponised against shippers, who are writing about a pairing the author disapproves of.

For thousands of years, human beings have been taking well known stories and rewriting them. This isn’t new; it isn’t revolutionary. Authors create fascinating worlds, and people want to explore them, and the characters that inhabit them.

But as an author, you also don’t then get to dictate how people explore that world and those character (and that includes shipping). People relate to different characters; they may not see the same traits in a character you do; they may be fascinated by the possibility of exploring safely, in fiction, a relationship they know full well is portrayed as toxic.

Which brings me to my third point.

Point 3 - The author is not God at all.

Taking the theme from Point 2 and applying it more widely, I want to reiterate what I said: an author can tell you their opinion on an element of their work, and they can tell you their intention when writing. But they cannot tell you that you have misinterpreted their book and its narrative.

I know this is hotly debated, and I apologise, but I come down firmly on the side of: there is no one ‘correct’ interpretation. (I know, I know, a background in Classics gives me a bias, where we all reinterpret the same single piece of source material over and over, because we have nothing else.)

Every single reader who picks up a book will have a slightly different reading experience. We all bring unconscious bias with us; we all bring personal preferences. We all have different backgrounds, formative experiences and viewpoints.

Which means we are never, ever all going to read a book in the same way.

And that also means the author is never going to be able to create only one interpretation of their book.

So.

You can disagree with the author.

There, I said it.

I’m just going to use Icarus, Burning here as a quick example. I can talk about my ideas around IB pretty much forever. I can (and do!) excitedly ramble about it, and overthink things, and generally make an idiot of myself. And I’m lucky enough to have bumped into some amazing people on here who let me do it!

But.

I also firmly and completely believe that whilst I can tell you what I was aiming for when writing IB, you can disagree with me and your opinion is equally valid. You will see what I can’t; you will bring interpretations to it that I hadn’t even thought of.

This applies to anything within the text, and anything outside of it too.

For example, I can tell you that Samiel and Jay went on to live a long and happy life together, and nothing ever tore them apart again. That’s fine. That’s what I wanted to happen, and it’s what I’ve done my best to show as the likeliest outcome. However, you can disagree. You can think that it was a love forged in a time of conflict, and it’s not going to last during peace time.

Are you wrong?

No.

I may disagree with you; I may not especially like that interpretation. It doesn’t mean it’s incorrect. All it means is you’ve taken the story I’ve created, applied your own interpretation to it, and reached a different conclusion.

And that is exactly as it should be.

I mean, there are courses on this. You can go to university and study interpreting narratives. Literature degrees are quite literally about textual interpretation.

Do we ask Byron what he was thinking? Or Wilde? Have we gone back and decided that unless Homer specifically tells us that Achilles and Patroclus were shacked up together as romantic partners, we can’t possibly view their relationship in this light? (Aeschylus and Plato would disagree with you, by the way, but they too are bringing their own experiences and biases.)

Which is a very long-winded way of me saying: fandom (and wider readership) seems to have forgotten it’s not possible to interrogate a text from the wrong perspective.

Can you have your opinion? Yes. Does that mean the author has to agree with you? No. Does that automatically mean the author’s viewpoint on the work trumps yours? No.

In short: readers shouldn’t use an author’s ‘Word of God’ to prove a point, and authors shouldn’t either.

The author wrote the book, the author let it loose in the universe.

And now it’s up to everyone else how they want to engage with it.

[shijiujun]

[ENG] History3: Trapped Novel - Chapter Eight

Translation Masterpost can be found here

Disclaimer: Translations are entirely mine - these are not official translations and some phrases have been changed for better English interpretation so you’ll definitely see better/different translations elsewhere. Also keeping in mind when we translated this we aren’t exactly thinking about the style of writing and this translation is as close to the novel as we can make it XD So yes, some parts may be a little awkward to read. And yes some teeny weeny details and words may not turn up in the translation because the Chi to Eng mind acrobatics didn’t work out. If you see asterisks, scroll all the way to the bottom for notes!

Full chapter below the cut

*Note: ERMMMMM I’M BACK? So there was a plan for Chapter 8 and 9 translations, but I didn’t want to leave this until like 2021, so I’m trying my best to just clear it before New Years. Not sure how many of y’all are still reading this, but... I just don’t want to remember that this is incomplete hahahaha, so yeah, I did Chapter 8, and Chapter 9 should be up within the next couple of weeks, so it’ll be pretty and complete for 2021!

Chapter Eight

The act of handing Li Zhi De over to the police force led to the emergence of dissenting voices within Xing Tian Meng, and even the elders that were initially approving of the reform were beginning to shift towards a neutral position, stopping the biddings that were proceeding at hand.

Jack is walking towards the spot where he parked the car, and suddenly, someone emerges from behind a pillar and stops him in his tracks.

“Chen-ye would like to speak to you.”

After coldly shooting the man a glance, Jack gets into the other’s car and is brought to a tea house. Jack walks inside, and as expected, he sees a man with a scar on the right side of his cheek — Chen Wen Hao.

“I didn’t expect Chen-ye’s invitation.”

“When it comes to talented people, even if I have to personally make the trip, I will,” Chen Wen Hao pours a cup of tea for the other, and Jack raises the cup in a sign of respect for the man, before drinking it.

“Liang Dian, based on your intellect, you should have long established your own gang.”

“…”

Jack shudders, the sensation coming straight from his chest, and looks at the old, scheming fox before him without the slightest change in his expression. Fang Liang Dian, that is his real name, and the people who know this name are mostly dead already. From this, he can see that Chen Wen Hao has indeed gone to great lengths to obtain this information.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the ends of his lips curve up in a smile as he picks up the teapot and pours a second cup of tea for himself.

“Tang Yi spared no efforts in sending his own subordinate to the police, is such a person still worthy of being followed? Aren’t you afraid of becoming a second Zhi De?” Chen Wen Hao says as he looks at the young man before him, sliding a document filled with a list across the table.

“This is everything Wang Kun Cheng has in Taiwan, I can hand them all over to you.”

The red-haired man plays with the black leather gloves he has in his palms and without looking at the contents of the document, he returns, “How immense these benefits are, but… what do I have to exchange with Chen-ye?”

“You’re indeed interesting,” he answers, his eyes filled with impress at Jack, “I want Xing Tian Meng and Shi Hai Corporations’ data on their flow of funds, their current client lists, and also their proceeding bidding cases, as detailed as you can get them.”

“Aside from Tang Yi and Zuo Hong Ye, even Gu Dao Yi may not fully have a grip on all these you mentioned, Chen-ye, don’t you think that your exchange offer of Wang Kun Cheng’s power in Taiwan lacks sincerity?”

Jack raises an eyebrow, and bored, he takes out his butterfly knife and begins to flip it in his hands. A young henchman immediately steps up to stop him upon seeing this, but Chen Wen Hao interrupts him.

“Speaking to me with this attitude, aren’t you afraid that I’ll kill you?”

“Since Chen-ye is the one with a request, he can surely be like Liu Bei, and lower his position humbly to obtain what he wants.”*

Chen Wen Hao pats at the surface of the table, and loudly says, “Good, I did not place my bet on the wrong person! Liang Dian, Xing Tian Meng’s pool is too small, and it is a pity for you to stay here. You should come and discuss the Cambodian business with us.”

“Okay,” Jack smiles at Chen Wen Hao, the movement of the butterfly knife in his hands coming to a stop.

—

Investigations Team Three

Tonight, Zhao Zi is taking the night shift with Shao Fei, and one of them is standing in the office with the glass door closed, a cardboard box opened on the table and taking out the items inside one by one.

The box contains the last of Li Zhen-jie’s belongings, there are medals and awards, her police badge and also a team photo of Team Three.

“Boss, think back carefully, was there some connection and interaction between Li Zhen-jie and Chen Wen Hao?”

“When Li Zhen was transferred to Team Three, Chen Wen Hao was already in prison, so I don’t think they knew each other.”

“But there is Li Zhen-jie’s signature on the prison’s meeting logbook, I confirmed this, and it is indeed her handwriting. And she even went to see Chen Wen Hao with Tang Guo Dong!”

“Wait, when was this?”

“1990.”

Shao Fei looks through the things Li Li Zhen left on one hand, and recalls his conversation with Shi Da Pao.

“Since Boss said that Chen Wen Hao was already in prison before Li Zhen-jie transferred into the team, then she might have gone to see Chen Wen Hao for a case? But even if she was investigating a case, why would she have gone to see Chen Wen Hao with Tang Guo Dong? What is the relationship between them? Why did the both of them die in the same place?”

Opening the circular tube containing a graduation certificate, he doesn’t see anything else, and rifling through the books left in the box, he doesn’t find any other clues hidden between the pages either.

“Ah!”

Shao Fei yells in frustration, his hands pulling at his hair hard.

Incorrect! There has to be a clue he missed, he doesn’t believe that Li Zhen-jie was in cahoots with Xing Tian Meng, and so before she died, her meeting with Tang Guo Dong was definitely not because she wanted to leak information to him.

There has to be some other reason that made Li Zhen-jie contact Tang Guo Dong, there has to be!

It’s just, where exactly is the missing clue to the puzzle? Where is it?

“Damn it!” Shao Fei swipes Li Li Zhen’s belongings to the ground, and regrets it immediately the next second. Holding his head in his arms, he tries hard to breathe and calm his emotions down. Seeing the photo of himself and Li Zhen-jie, he remembers that when he first entered the team, he brought quite a lot of trouble to her because of his impulsive nature, but she never once chided him for it. Instead, she would generously teach him everything she knew.

“Li Zhen-jie…”

Looking at the him dressed in his police uniform and making a stupid face standing right next to Li Zhen-jie in sadness, he picks up the music box at the bottom of the box, turning the latch at the bottom to open it up as he listens to the melody repeat itself.

Suddenly, he sees a corner of what looks like paper trapped inside the box, and so he carefully uses the tip of his fingernails to grab at the corner of the aged paper, wanting to open it to see.

Shao Fei looks at the paper in disbelief, his eyes wide, this is actually something Chen Wen Hao wrote to Li Zhen-jie… a love letter?

I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, and the only right thing I’ve ever done is to love you. — Wen Hao

“My god!”

Shao Fei cannot believe his eyes, and so continues to explore every corner of the music box, and as expected, he finds a birth certificate issued by a hospital and on it is printed…

Name of Mother - Li Li Zhen

Name of Mother’s Significant Other - Unspecified

Date of Birth - 21 October 1990

Gender - Male

“Li Zhen-jie had a kid? And the date of birth is 21 October 1990?”

How strange, why is this date so familiar?

Hold on!

“Don’t be too touched, after all I did chase after you for four years, of course I would know today is your birthday. 21 October, Libra, people who are born on this day have extraordinary personalities and thoughts, especially when it comes to personal matters, they are more persistent and firm in attitude.”

“Pfffft…. how accurate! Super accurate!”

21 October 1990, isn’t this Tang Yi’s birthday? Also…

“How coincidental, Li Zhen-jie also has a similar music box.”

“Is that so? This is the only thing my mother left me.”

“Could it be…?”

A thought suddenly flashes across Shao Fei’s mind, and so he picks up his jacket and rushes out of the office. He almost bumps into Zhao Zi, who has just come back from buying supper.

“Huh? Ah Fei where are you going? Ah Fei? Ah Fei?”

Shao Fei holds onto his steering wheel tight, his thoughts jumbled up in a mess as he drives at an urgent speed on the road.

Suddenly, the phone he left on the passenger seat rings. Turning his head for a brief glance, he sees that it is Tang Yi.

“I’m working on a case, let’s leave it at that for now.”

He quickly responds after picking the call up, and then hangs up immediately after, slamming his foot down on the accelerator to a destination unknown.

“…”

Inside the Tang mansion, a Xing Tian Meng leader sitting behind his study desk in his office, looks dumbly at his phone.

Someone actually dared to hang up on him?

“Forget it,” Tang Yi sighs, looking at his dark phone screen helplessly, and continues working his way through unfinished work.

—

Investigations Team Three, The Next Day

Lu Jun Wei hurriedly runs into the office, and seeing their Captain, he rushes until he’s right in front of him, “Bad news! Li Zhi De died in the prosecution’s holding room!”

Shi Da Pao tugs at his own shirt, his face filled with alarm and fear, “What happened? Why did he suddenly die?”

“I’m not very sure either, all I know is that it is all under investigation at the moment.”

Shi Da Pao looks at Zhao Zi, who was in the interrogation room together with Lu Jun Wei after midnight, and asks, “Did anything strange happen yesterday during interrogation?”

“No. Li Zhi De refused to speak, and thankfully, Guan Zhi-ge was there, that’s how we managed to get some information out of him.”

“Zhou Guan Zhi? Why was he interrogating with you guys?”

Zhao Zi scratches at the back of his head, and seeing his unusually furious captain, explains, “Because Li Zhi De was very tough to handle, and Guan Zhi-ge said that he could assist us.”

Shi Da Pao immediately shoves the documents in his hand away and walks out of the team office. Seeing their boss suddenly leave like this, the rest of the team exchange looks, revealing concerned expressions.

—

Tang Household

“Ah De’s death was sudden, we need to find out who exactly did it.” Tang Yi instructs while simultaneously walking into the house as he loosens his tie, his expression serious as he faces Jack.

“Yes, boss.”

“And take note of the reactions from each Xing Tian Meng faction, we must reassure our own people. After all, I was the one who sent Li Zhi De into the station, if we don’t handle this well, it will affect the progress of Hong Ye’s current accounts.”

“I understand, I will handle this immediately.”

After Jack leaves, Tang Yi picks up his phone and once again dials for Shao Fei’s phone number, but he is still directed to leave a message after no one picks up.

“I’m Meng Shao Fei, leave a message if you have something to say, if not, hang up, thanks!”

“Meng Shao Fei, where exactly are you?”

How could he not pick up his calls or return any of his messages for a whole day?

Irritated and frustrated, he walks towards his study, and the moment he pushes the door open, he sees the man who has been missing in action for almost 30 hours standing right in front of him. The man is smiling, delighted as he presses at the phone’s mic function, and replays his previous voice messages.

“Meng Shao Fei, my whole life, no one has ever dared to not pick up my calls, and not return any of my messages!”

“Where are you? Why aren’t you picking up my calls?”

“Shao Fei, it’s been a day, it’s okay if you don’t pick up my calls, at least send me a text message to let me know you’re safe, okay?

“Shao Fei, I’m really worried about you. Can you call me? I want to hear your voice…”

Shao Fei stares as Tang Yi’s expression morphs from embarrassment to anger, and smiles, “59 calls and 15 messages, you were that worried about me?”

Tang Yi glares at the person before him, and angry, he says sarcastically, “I thought Officer Meng had evaporated from the face of the earth.”

Shao Fei walks over and apologises, tightly hugging the other, “I didn’t realise that my phone fell under the car seat, and was out of battery. I’m sorry I made you worry for so long.”

Turning his hand and returning the hug from his lover, who always manages to make him feel unlike his usual self, Tang Yi sighs, “The next time you go missing, I will put a tracking device on you. What super important case is this, that you would not even realise you didn’t have your phone on you?”

“…”

Shao Fei looks at Tang Yi, hesitant as he wonders if he should tell him what he has found so far.

“What is it?” the other asks, sensitive to Shao Fei’s unusual reaction.

“Tang Yi, do you remember the names of your adoptive parents?”

“He Ru Yu, Li Shou Xing.”

Tang Yi’s brows are furrowed, as if incredibly unwilling to bring up these two people. Shao Fei takes out the notebook he has with him and flips to a specific page. He lets Tang Yi confirm the details.

“This address here, is this the place you used to stay at when you were younger?”

“Why are you investigating my past?” Tang Yi asks, staring straight at Shao Fei with alarm, caution and confusion.

“I’m not investigating you, I was actually on another case, and who knew I found some leads related to you.”

“Leads that are related to me?”

“Mnn,” Shao Fei nods, and inhaling deeply once, he gently says, “Tang Yi, I found your mother, your biological mother.”

Before he can finish speaking, the sound of a phone ringing interrupts him. Tang Yi’s looks at Shao Fei, startled, before picking up the call.

“Boss, xiaojie was taken away by He Hang’s people, he said he wants you to go over personally in exchange for xiaojie.”

“He. Hang!”

Tang Yi says these two words through gritted teeth, then pushes away the person hugging him and rushes out of the study.

“Tang Yi! Tang Yi!”

Shao Fei chases after him, worried, and unheeding of the other’s disapproval, he squeezes into the passenger seat and follows the murderous Xing Tian Meng leader to the destination highlighted by He Hang.

—-

Investigations Team Three Office - Staircase Landing

Zhou Guan Zhi is slammed heavily against the wall in the staircase landing, held up by Shi Da Pao via his collar.

Because the impact of the force used was too heavy, the man whose back struck the wall ends up in a coughing fit.

“Li Zhi De’s matter, were you the one?!”

“The person died at the prosecution’s office, how is that any of my business.”

Zhou Guan Zhi pushes Shi Da Pao away, turning around and about to leave, but the other man immediately grabs at him.

“If it wasn’t you, how would you have known that he’s dead? And you also know exactly where he died?”

He deliberately used the word ‘matter’ to replace ‘death’, and so if Zhou Guan Zhi really had nothing to do with this, then his first reaction would be similar to that of other Team Three members. It would be disbelief, fear and alarm, and not this look, as if he knew about this much earlier. Even the fact that Li Zhi De was transferred to the prosecution’s interrogation room from their own after midnight, he knows such a detail this clearly.

“You were afraid he would implicate you, and so you killed him, didn’t you?”

“Of course I’m afraid he will expose me, but boss, aren’t you afraid?”

Shi Da Pao’s eyes shift, and he retorts, “You were the one who murdered him, it’s nothing to do with me.”

“How could this not have anything to do with you? The one who let Ah Fei do as he like and investigate this case was you, the one who allowed him to protect Tang Yi right at his side was also you. In the end, we even got to the stage where Li Zhi De was brought back to the station, of course I had to silence him! If I wait until he reveals everything then you and I both are done for.”

The man, his gaze murderous and cold, laugh as he pats at the captain’s face.

“You actually knew what I was doing all along, but when have you ever stopped me during these four years? You gave the silent approval to your subordinate to sell off the drugs the police force obtained in return for a profit. Shi Da Pao, do you still think this has nothing to do with you?”

“…”

Shi Da Pao is speechless as he hears Zhou Guan Zhi’s accusations.

“Besides, that case four years ago, you were also a bystander who did nothing to stop it. What was Li Li Zhen’s relationship with you, that you would allow the rumours of her cooperating with Xing Tian Meng run rampant in the station? And you never once helped to clear her name, so you’re an accomplice. You are an accomplice who caused the death of others for your own greed, just like me!”

The last few words smash through the last of Shi Da Pao’s strength, and he numbly sits on the stairs. Covering his face in guilt, his voice weak, he says, “Why didn’t you just stop at the incident four years ago? Ah Zhi, you have already earned so much in the past few years. It’s enough! Stop already!”

“Enough?” the person who hears this cranes his neck upwards and sneers. “We police officers put our lives on the line day in and out only to earn this meagre salary. It’s not even enough to stuff the gaps of my teeth, how do I deal with those chasing me to repay debts? Stop putting yourself on a high horse, you are no different from me.”

Shi Dao Pao puts down the hands covering his face and looks at the person who’s slowly descending into insanity, and shakes his head, “You’re like this because you gamble, and this is your just desserts. And me… I did it to save my daughter. These four years, I’ve never once had a restful night, and I live in terror and regret everyday.”

Zhou Guan Zhi smirks, his eyes slanting to look at the person seated on the stairs, “Boss, as long as you took the money, your hands are dirty. No matter if it is because I deserve it, or if you were forced into a dead end, you’ve been tainted, and it is what it is.”

“Besides, isn’t it the money you took that year which allowed Xiao Ya to live on happily, all the way until now, when she’s able to have her wedding? So it doesn’t matter who wants to dig up the case from four years ago again, I will definitely not let him get away!”

He knows Zhou Guan Zhi is referring to Shao Fei, who has been so focused on the homicide case from four years ago, and he finally stands up, grips at Zhou Guan Zhi’s shirt collars and yells for him to stop.

“Ah Zhi, stop! Don’t fall any deeper into this!”

“Boss, don’t worry. I’ll be very subtle, no one will be able to find out. As long as you don’t say anything and I don’t say anything, after a period of time, this will be slowly forgotten by everyone,” Zhou Guan Zhi says, arrogantly slapping away the hands at his collar and turns away.

“Ah Zhi, aren’t you afraid that I will turn myself in and expose you?”

“You!”

Zhou Guan Zhi turns back abruptly, his eyes betraying his impulse to strangle Shi Da Pao to death right at that very moment, but Shi Da Pao is no amateur either, and if they really do get into a fight, he will not have it easy. Instead, he tries the soft approach, lightening his tone as he tries to convince his Captain that they are both on the same boat.

“Boss, don’t do foolish things. Xiao Ya is about to get married, and you’ve done so much for her. Don’t you want to see her happily get married, and become the most beautiful bride?”

“,,,”

Shi Da Pao’s eyes tear up as he keeps silent, Zhou Guan Zhi hitting him where it hurts. Seeing that he has gotten his way, Zhou Guan Zhi smiles, smug as he stuffs his hands into his jacket’s pockets. He leaves the staircase, whistling casually as he goes.

—

In an Abandoned Factory

Chen Wen Hao sits on a chair, two men standing next to him on his sides. On the other chair, Zuo Hong Ye’s hands have been tied behind her, and a cloth is stuffed into her mouth, but she displays no sign of fear as she glares at He Hang, who has a gun pressed to her temple. Tang Yi, who arrived with Shao Fei, nods at Gu Dao Yi, who has been waiting outside for a while, and the three of them walk into the abandoned factory that is filled with a metallic stench.

“I’m here, let Hong Ye go.”

“No problem. My target is not her. He Hang, let Zuo-xiaojie go.”

“Boss, aren’t we making it too easy for Tang Yi by letting Zuo Hong Ye go?” He Hang refuses to loosen the ropes on Hong Ye as he glares at Tang Yi in fury.

“Tang Yi, I’ve been in Xing Tian Meng for so long, why did Tang Guo Dong let you become leader? How much authority does Xing Tian Meng wield in the underworld, and you want to go legal and reform? Aside from cutting off our brothers’ path to riches, you also handed one of us over to the police! I might as well just kill you here, lest you get in the way.”

The gun that was pressed to Hong Ye’s brain suddenly shifts to the Xing Tian Meng leader standing before him, but all he gets in return is the other’s cold laugh, full of ridicule and mockery for He Hang.

“You? If you were really capable, how would you have repeatedly failed in trying to assassinate me?”

“Fuck! I will kill you right now with a single shot, do you not believe me?!”

“He Hang, did you forget that I am still here? You’re in no position to talk here.”

“Chen… Chen-ye… but…”

Chen Wen Hao’s seemingly light tone belies a chilling warning under it, and He Hang retreats, not daring to say another word.

“Yes… yes, Chen-ye…”

Drenched in cold sweat, the man immediately keeps his gun, and loosens the ropes on Hong Ye, then pushes her towards Tang Yi. Tang Yi catches Hong Ye, and asks, concerned, “Are you hurt?”

“No.”

“Dao Yi, take Hong Ye and go.”

The bespectacled man stands between He Hang and Hong Ye, as if guarding against the possibility of another attack should the other man change his mind.

“I’m not going to leave, I want to face this together with you at your side.”

“If you get hurt I will hate myself, so, just go!” Tang Yi says in a low voice, tightly holding onto Hong Ye’s arm.

“I understand, you be careful,” Hong Ye bites at her lips, her eyes reddening as she leaves the factory under Dao Yi’s protection.

Chen Wen Hao gets to his feet from the chair and circles Tang Yi as he walks, just like a predator playing with its prey, and says, “Do you know why I had to find you today? Is it because you killed Wang Kun Cheng? Because you cost me losses of several ships worth of goods? Because you sent a bunch of my brothers to jail? Or-“

Suddenly, Chen Wen Hao stops in his footsteps right before Tang Yi, and stares into his eyes.

“Is it because four years ago, you saw the crime scene of Tang Guo Dong and Li Li Zhen’s death?”

“…”

Anger flashes in Tang Yi’s eyes, and the moment he takes a step, he is stopped by the other’s raised gun.

“No! None of that! I got you to come here because you are Tang Guo Dong’s son. Tang Guo Dong stole my woman, caused the death of my and Li Li Zhen’s child, and found someone in prison to create trouble for me, made me go through 24 years in jail. Twenty. Four. Years!”

“…”

Shao Fei stares at Chen Wen Hao in surprise, recalling the brith certificate he saw not long ago.

Li Zhen-jie’s child, was Chen Wen Hao’s? Tang Yi’s biological mother, is Li Zhen-jie? So… Chen Wen Hao is Tang Yi’s real, biological…

Chen Wen Hao does not see the young officer’s face go white, and continues, “When I came out, Xing Tian Meng became yours? What a joke, how is it that Tang Guo Dong could have everything, but I ended up with a broken family and nothing to my name? No, this is not fair, isn’t it?”

He pauses for a while after, and a dark, vicious smile emerges, “So… I want you… dead!”

All the men that were guarding outside of the factory suddenly rush in, surrounding Tang Yi and Shao Fei from the back. The both of them have no choice but to put up both their hands and pretend to surrender. Shao Fei takes half a step, opening his mouth to say, “Chen Wen Hao, Tang Yi, he’s-“

“Shut up, this is no place for you to talk.”

Tang Yi suddenly falls to the floor, avoiding the line of fire from the barrel of the gun and kicks out at the man holding the gun on him. It is only after the man falls does Tang Yi snatch the gun away, turning back to face Chen Wen Hao, the gun pointed at him.

At the same time, Chen Wen Hao has his gun turned towards Tang Yi.

“Chen Wen Hao, I’ve devised this plan for four whole years, all to force you to come back from Cambodia to take revenge for Tang-ye, because, it was you who killed him!”

“No! I didn’t kill him!”

“Shut up! You’re going to pay with your life!”

“Tang Yi!”

“Don’t stop me!”

Seeing that things are about to spiral uncontrollably, to a point of no return, Shao Fei can no longer care about anything else, and quickly blurts out the truth from that year.

“Don’t shoot! Chen Wen Hao is your father!”

===

*This is a metaphor and you can temporarily ignore who Liu Bei is.

[percy-the-penguin]

A Late Night Visitor

Hey guys guess what I did! I wrote the thing based off cim’s incorrect quote!!

thanks to @cimanon​ and @gold-star-for-cathyparr​ for encouraging me!!

I’m a bit sleep deprived so sorry if I jumble words or names

TW: Mentions of blood, bullying, and neglect

Word Count: 1357

Honestly this might be able to be a multiple part series..

Oh well. Please enjoy!

Anne was awoken one night to someone nudging her in the ribs. She grumbled, obviously displeased as she forced her eyes open and rolled over too look at who woke her up at such an ungodly hour. She looked more confused then anything when she saw a man standing over her with a knife

“Hey, I just killed your family” The man commented 

“Huh?” Anne asked sleepily “No, my family is on vacation”

It was the mans turn to look confused “Then who were the people in your house?”

“There are people in my house??” Anne sat up quickly

“Well not anymore!” The man exclaimed “You could’ve died tonight, dumbass, you’re welcome.” 

“Uh..thanks” Anne said as she flicked on the lamp so that she could get a better look at the man 

He was tall, probably about 6’0 with messy brown hair, and striking hazel eyes. He woar a black hoodie with dark stains and his jeans were just as messy 

“You need now clothes, my dude” Anne commented as she got up out of bed 

“Well would you happen to have anything?”

“I dunno I’ll have to look” Anne shrugged “Hey, what’s your name by the way, I’m Anne Boleyn” 

“Theodore” The man responds with a smile 

“Pleased to meet you, Theo. Can I call you that? I’m gonna call you that.”

“The pleasure is mine, please do call me that. I’ve never had a nickname before.”

“Well there ya go” Anne said. She left and came back with clothes that she hoped would fit her new friend

Theodore thanked her and used the guest bathroom to take a shower and wash the blood off himself as Anne had suggested 

He came back in the purple hoodie and clean blue jeans. Anne had made them tea 

“Do you drink tea?” The green girl asked 

“Of course I drink tea, what a stupid question” Theodore respond jokingly

“Well I don’t know, my girlfriend Cathy doesn’t drink anything but coffee so..”

“Eh, I never liked coffee. It requires to much sugar for it to taste good” 

“Fair enough” Anne shrugged and gave the man a mug 

“Why thank you” The visitor said “You’re awfully kind for a person who was just woken in the dead of night by a serial killer”

“Well you’re awfully kind for a person who just murdered three people in my house” 

They both shrugged “Cheers”

Over the next five days, Anne and Theodore quickly bonded and Theodore had started crashing in Anne's room since he didn’t have anywhere else to go. They often stayed up watching movies or talking and laughing together. 

Theodore was still there the day the other five queens came home 

Anne went to the door to greet them and Theodore followed “Heyyy” She smiled energetically as she hopped up and down 

The others greeted the small energetic queen warmly 

Catalina was the first to notice the man in purple and she pointed at him “Who is that?”

The other queens looked over and Theodore waved in response 

“Oh!” Anne smiled “That’s my friend Theodore, he’s been crashing here since a bit after you all left”

“Yep” Theodore agreed “Y’all have a great place here”

“So how’d you two meet?” Cathy asked 

“Oh he killed some people who broke in” Anne said casually “But it’s fine, he’s chill”

Theodore smiled 

Jane laughed nervously “Anne may we talk to you, in privet” 

“Sure” Anne said 

“Uhh I know it’ll be about me so I’ll just go up to Anne’s room. Call me if anyone needs anything” Theodore said before jogging up the stairs 

“Okay what the hell Anne?” Catalina asked 

“What do you mean? He’s nice, he saved me, and he’s a great guy over all” Anne said

“Yes but babe..” Cathy said “He’s a killer. He’s dangerous”

“I like him” Kitty announced “Any friend of Anne is a friend of mine”

“Thank you kitty” Anne smiled 

Jane frowned “Cathy’s right..”

“Oh come on” Anne protested “At least give him a chance? A week. That’s all I’m asking” 

Jane thought for a moment “One week.” she agreed “But if he turns out to be dangerous, we’re turning him in”

“Yay!” Anne and Kitty grinned while Catalina and Cathy sighed 

Over the next week, Theodore did everything he could to show the queens he could be a good person. He played games with Kitty, helped Jane with the chores, talked to Cathy about her writing and even went with Catalina to help get groceries, paying for them himself

At the end of the week, the queens gathered to discuss

“He has been a great help” Catalina admitted 

“He’s really fun to play with plus he can reach things I can’t” Kitty smiled 

“He has been fun and interesting to talk to” Cathy said 

Anne looked to Jane, waiting for her to say something 

The silver queen thought for a moment. He can stay but on a week to week basis. I’m still not completely sure he’s safe” 

“Fair” Anne said and the others nodded in agreement

The queens had all made good friends with Theodore by week 4. So when they learned Theodore’s birthday was in a week they immediately got to work. They made a room for him, all of them helping to make sure the man wouldn’t find it. They got him more clothes, books, and games as well as a phone as he previously hadn’t had one. They even got him a custom jacket. It was dark purple denim with ‘VII’ on the right shoulder and a pride flag on the left. 

The morning of his birthday, Jane made his favorite breakfast. Anna joined them that morning too, to help with the surprise. Everyone was smiling by the time breakfast was over. 

“Happy birthday, Theo” Anne said “We wanted to give you something”

Theodore looked surprised as the other queens nodded “R-Really?”

Jane nodded “Yep. Upstairs, last room on the left”

Theodore stood after a moment and went to where Jane had directed, the queens following

Theodore took a breath and slowly opened the door and flicked on the light. He froze when he saw the room, decorated with everything he liked.

“Welcome home, Theo” Jane said

 He covered his mouth as he looked around  the room. He didn’t realize how long he just stood until Catalina cleared her throat “Well?”

Theodore found himself overwhelmed with emotion. No one had ever done something so kind for him. He had been neglected by his parents and had to drop out of school because the bullying got so bad. He registered the words Jane had said ‘Welcome home’ “Home” He repeated, his voice chocked as he tried to wipe the wetness from his eyes “I’ve never had one”

“Well ya do now, dumbass” Anne said, causing a small laugh to escape Theodore’s lips

“I don’t know what to say” Theodore said “Thank you nowhere near covers it. No one has ever done anything like this..”

“That’s okay” Kitty piped up “We like having you around and we’re happy to have you as part of the family”

The others nodded in agreement

Theodore crossed the room to where the jacket was hanging and slowly pulled it on, noticing the bubbly feeling of warmth spread through him as he did so. He shook his head and smiled widely “Thank you guys, so much, I’m glad to be part of the family. I promise I’ll find a way to repay you for this”

And that’s Theodore's story. How he went from murderer to part of a family. He ended up getting a job at a flower shop not far from the house. He road his skateboard there every day and never went anywhere without his purple jacket. He was like an older brother to Kitty and quickly became protective of his new family. Though, late at nights sometimes when he lays in bed, thinking about life he can’t help the thoughts ‘Will they turn on you?’ ‘Maybe you’re better off without them’ and worst of all ‘They’ll leave you as soon as they find out what you did..and who you really are’

[four-loose-screws]

FE4 Suzuki Novelization Translation (Gen II) - Chapter 11

If you would like to start from the beginning, read a missed part, etc., click here!

FE Game Script Translations - FE Novel Translations - Original FE Support Conversations

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———————————

Chapter 11 - The Children of Thracia

The next day, the liberation army began to march. Their destination was Queen Hilda's Chronos Castle.

Along their path was a wooded region, where a mage unit was waiting for them. 

"Rout the enemy, then press onward!" Seliph yelled, then led the charge into the enemy formation. 

His image vividly resembled that of "Blood-Soaked Sigurd," the great hero who'd made his enemies tremble in fear, and inspired his allies.

The liberation army cut down the enemy in the blink of an eye, then trudged through the forest.

After that, no one else interrupted them until they reached Chronos Castle.

"To Chronos!"

In response to his words, all units charged.

Hilda fled, fearing their power.

-

Right after that, they traveled west to Lados Castle, where they were met by a cavalier unit led by General Ridel. 

Ridel had only been carrying out the child hunts, so the sight of the liberation army made him overjoyed.

"It looks like we'll be able to fight our first decent fight in a long time! All units, chaaaarge!"

Ridel's cavalier unit was powerful. However, after fighting so many successive battles, the liberation army had mastered the best strategy to use against cavalier units - endure the first wave, then shift the tide of battle with a counterattack. 

It was a difficult fight, but once it was over, it was clear that the liberation army had claimed an overwhelming victory.

There was a large group of children being held at Chronos Castle, but none of them were from Thracia. The Thracian children had been taken to Grannvale the day before.

"Then we must hurry after them!"

"Please wait. There is still Lados Castle to the west. If we ignore it and all march onwards, the soldiers there will come to threaten us from behind.”

Seliph nodded at Oifey's proposal. "Oifey, you're right. Alright then, just the cavalier unit will attack Lados Castle. The infantry will all head towards Miletos Castle. When we take Miletos, next will finally be Grannvale."

-

The person who took the Thracian children to Miletos was Crown Prince Julius' beloved, Ishtar.

She loved him from the very bottom of her heart, and wished to make him happy, so she did whatever he said, no matter what it was. However, that did not mean that she gladly executed all of his orders. She questioned his orders relating to the child hunts in particular.

They arrived in Miletos at around three in the afternoon. The children were all given a simple meal, then ushered into a room. Afterwards, she went in to check on them, and, probably because they'd been so tired, they were all nestled within a pile of straw and fast asleep.

Ishtar saw nearly twenty children's sleeping faces. They looked completely innocent, as if they hadn't seen any of what they’d experienced on this trip. Some had tear stains on their faces, and every time she saw them, she felt a pain in her chest.

'What if it were my child?'

She had that thought because she'd recently started to suspect that she may be carrying Julius' child.

'If I told him we're going to have a baby, I wonder what he would say?'

When she returned to the castle's main building, Julius was unexpectedly there to see her.

"It's been so long since we last saw each other, Ishtar. I heard you brought the Thracian children here."

"Yes."

"How are they?"

"They are tired, but none of them are ill. They are all smart, cute little children."

"Excellent. I want you to send them to Belhalla straight away."

"I will."

"No, wait. It appears that someone else will take them to Belhalla. I've thought of a better idea for us." A mischievous smile, like that of a child's, crept upon his face. "Would you like to play a game here with me?"

"What kind of game are you thinking of?"

"Tomorrow, the rebel army will come this way. Let's see who can kill one of their soldiers first."

"I understand. If it's a fight, then it will be fun."

"Oh, so it wouldn't be fun if it were some other game." 

Julius glared at her, and it felt as if he could see right through her and at her heart, making her panic. "Of course… I didn't mean it that way…"

"Well, it’s fine, then. But random soldiers won't count. It must be someone with some fame to their name. Someone with the blood of a royal family is best. Look at their weapons and armor, and choose your enemy wisely."

"Yes, Milord."

-

The next morning, as the two ate breakfast, Bishop Zagam appeared before them.

"The rebel army has broken the barrier and invaded this territory. "

"Don't get yourself worked up. There's still two hours left before they get here. Until then, leave things to the front line."

"Y-Yes, Your Highness!"

Julius glared at him, then Zagam walked away, looking confused.

When they finished their meal, Julius said with a smirk on his face, "There's still some time left. Shall we go to the bedroom and rest for a bit?"

As he made love to her, Ishtar thought, 'Should I say it? ...I'm still not entirely sure. ...If he finds out later that I was mistaken, he might get angry. If I wait another two weeks, then I'll know for certain…'

Just before noon, the two lined up and walked out of the Miletos Castle gate.

The rebel army still had not gotten close yet.

"Do not leave here. The fools will probably come to us.”

"Understood, Milord."

As a descendant of one of the Crusaders, Ishtar did not dislike fighting. 'I have Mjölnir. There should be no one who can match me.'

While they waited, the battleground moved closer and closer to Miletos Castle.

'That's it, come closer, so I can show Lord Julius my power.' At that moment, she saw a mage running towards them.

"Lord Julius, I've won, yes?" She said, then gasped.

The mage was running unnaturally fast.

'He's wearing a Leg Ring!' She thought as he rushed up to her.

Ishtar panicked and tried to cast a Mjölnir spell, but her opponent was a split second faster.

He hit her with a strong gust of wind, sending her flying to the ground. 

Even upon watching that occur, Julius' expression did not change. He cast a spell on her limp body that revived her.

"You lost." Was all he said. He did not even extend a hand.

'He does not know what death is,’ Ishtar thought, 'so his heart is not moved by the deaths of others.' She felt the area around her chest become cold.

A second later, she was suspended in the air. 'He's warping me.’

When she regained her senses, she was in the reception room of Grannvale's Chalphy Castle.

Emperor Arvis was sitting on the throne.

She walked up to him, then bowed to him in a manner worthy of the emperor. "It's been a long time since I saw you last, your Majesty. I hope you have been well…"

"Ishtar, about the twenty children arrived a short time ago. I heard that they were brought here by your order. Is that incorrect?" He sounded as if he was blaming her.

"Y-Yes, it is.."

"Was it ordered by those who normally carry out the child hunts?"

"Yes. It was by Lord Julius' orders that I do it…"

"Please return the children to their parents. Tell Julius that I said to do so. I think that even you do not truly wish to do this job.”

"Y-Yes, Your Majesty."

Just then, Julius appeared between the two of them.

"Father, your selfish actions are causing trouble. Ishtar is my subordinate!"

"Julius! You…"

"You still do no't seem to understand, Father. You just recently promised not to speak out about what I do, did you not? Or are you planning to try to banish me again?"

"No…" Though he denied it, Arvis glared at Julius. 

Julius calmly glared back. Their eyes were locked in a battle all it's own.

Finally, the one to look away first was the father. "I know it would amount to nothing even if I did oppose you. I won't say anything further." There was no power in his voice. It was the voice of a man who knew all of his hopes and dreams in the world had been destroyed.

"So long as you understand. Miletos Castle will fall any moment now. The rebels will target this castle next. Of course, Father, I believe I asked you to guard this castle. Have you sufficiently prepared to do so?"

"I have, but I will go check the unit's deployment status once more." The betrayed father said before walking out of the room.

"Now then, Ishtar, you look tired. Shall we rest for a bit?"

"N-No… It is my duty as well to protect the capital. I must prepare, and…"

"What's wrong? Do you want to run away from me now?"

"No… not at all! I love you."

Julius chuckled. "It's fine, you know. I won't stop you. I never lose, but you should prepare yourself until you feel at ease.”

"Thank you. Excuse me.. "

Julius, now alone, sat on the throne, and relaxed. 

Archbishop Manfroy soon appeared from behind him.

"Is that you, Manfroy?" Julius asked, not moving an inch.

"Yes… Arvis is now only the emperor in name alone. What a miserable man."

"Don't speak of other people's affairs. Nobody else sticks their nose in your business, do they? By the way, how is Julia doing?"

"I moved her from here to Velthomer yesterday."

"Oh, really? Has her memory returned yet?"

"Yes, completely."

"Then I shall go to Velthomer as well. She is my blood sister, after all. I should speak with her at least once before she's killed. You're coming too, Manfroy."

“As you wish, Your Highness."

Julius' body was bathed in a beam of light, and Manfroy followed soon after.

-

Arvis, upon returning to the castle, called the priest of Chalphy, Palmark, into his room.

"How are the children who arrived today doing?”

"The Loptrian priests put them in the dungeon." Palmark answered vaguely.

"I see." Arvis muttered with a grim look on his face, then sat in front of a small desk. He wrote a few words on a piece of the emperor’s stationary. Then he lit a red candle and pressed the melted wax atop the paper. Finally, while the wax was still soft, he pressed his ring on it to make his seal.

"Tonight, while the members of the Loptr Church are asleep, show this to the guard, and have him unlock the children. Then, take them and run. If you cross the bridge over the strait before dawn, then the rebel army will be just beyond there. No, I suppose I should call them the liberation army. If you are found by any soldiers along the way, you should definitely show them this. But it has no effect on Loptrian priests, so be careful. If you’re alone with children, chances are, they won’t overlook the fact that you are taking them somewhere.”

The message on the stationary read, “Palmark's word is my word. Emperor Arvis.”

Palmark took the letter from Arvis. "I will follow my heart, no matter what.”

"There's one more thing I want you to take." Arvis said, then walked up to the wall and opened a hidden cabinet. He took out a single sword and gave it to Palmark.

The scabbard’s design was simple and made of silver, but the guard and hilt were finely carved, and the tip of the hilt was inset with a glittering blue gem.

"Th-This is..."

"You served Duke Byron, correct?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Then you should know very well what this is."

 "I-I do."

"Then go. Take care of the children."

"Yes, I will. I will, Your Majesty."

-

When night fell, Palmark went down into the dungeon.

The guard didn't give him any trouble, but it was difficult to awaken the children. And some of them screamed the moment they woke up, making Palmark's heart skip a beat every time. It took much more time for the children to understand the situation and silently follow his orders than he'd thought it would.

They otherwise had no choice but to open the castle gate, so he decided they'd go out the emergency exit instead. The soldiers guarding it also silently let them through at the sight of the emperor's stationary.

Luckily for them, the moon was full, and they didn't need any torches.

Once they were a short distance away from the castle, they reached an area where some soldiers had set up camp.

'There's Loptrian priests among them, so it's too dangerous.’ Palmark thought, and decided to take a detour.

He distanced himself far from the campsite without being noticed by anyone.

'Now no one will be able to hear the children, even if they raise their voices.' Freed from his nerves, Palmark shouted out without thinking, "Children, we're safe now! All we need to do is head straight south and cross the strait."

"Really?"

"He said we're safe!"

"Yaaaaay!"

"He said we should go south!"

"I know which way south is! We should follow that star!"

"Let's go! Hurry, let's go!"

The children started to run away. Some even skipped.

Palmark followed after the children as his breath became ragged. "Hey, hold up! Not so fast! I can't keep up!"

However, the children were so happy that his words had no effect on them.

"He said we should go to the sea!"

"We're almost there! I can smell the saltwater!"

"Let's hurry!"

"Wait! Please, wait!" Palmark finally yelled very loudly.

And the children finally stopped running.

But when he caught up, he realized the real reason why they had stopped.

They were at the edge of a steep cliff. Beyond it was nothing but dark sea waters.

The children all made scared faces and looked up at Palmark.

'The bridge! Where is the bridge?' He strained his eyes and looked left to right, but couldn't see anything nearby that even resembled a bridge.

Finally, he realized that they'd gone the wrong way. 'Oh gods, what we should do?'

"So what are we gonna do now?"

"Are the dragon knights gonna come get us?"

'Gods, I don't care what happens to me. But please save the children.'

"I'm tired!"

"Me too!"

Palmark was completely exhausted, too. "There, there, we can rest here. We'll wait until sunrise."

At his words, everyone sat down. One child even put their head on his lap and started to fall asleep.

'Maybe we'll be able to see a bridge that will lead us over the strait once it is light out.'

However, knowing where a bridge was didn't necessarily mean they'd know where to go. And there might even be a mage somewhere along the way.

'If there's a mage, I'll think of what to do then. For now, all we can do is wait until daybreak.'

The next time he opened his eyes, he felt terribly drowsy.

"Mister? Hey, Mister!"

A little girl's voice woke him up. Before he'd realized it, the night had ended. 

"Some guys are coming this way!" The girl's voice trembled with fear.

"What?"

He looked towards where she was pointing, and saw five or six mages coming towards them in the distance.

And the bridge over the strait was past them. If they ran from the mages, they would be distancing themselves from the bridge.

"What should we do, Mister?"

"They're gonna kill us!"

"How do you know that?"

"Cause that's what happened to the last children who ran away!"

It was indeed the way of the Loptr Church to kill to set an example for others.

"Come on, let's run away!" Palmark said, and started running.

He was moving in the opposite direction of the bridge, but right now, the childrens' lives were at stake.

The mages were moving slowly, so Palmark and the children were able to widen the gap between them, and soon, they were unable to see their enemies.

'Maybe, just maybe, they might not notice us here.'

However, that hope was soon crushed.

Ahead of where they'd run to was the tip of a small cape, with a steep cliff on all three other sides.

'The mages knew the road ended here. That's why they didn't panic.'

Mere moments later, they could see the mages’ heads on the horizon, and their whole bodies soon after.

"What are we gonna do, Mister?"

"Are they gonna kill us?"

"Everyone, close your eyes and pray." Palmark said.

"Um, to who?"

"To the Crusaders?"

"Yes, pray to whoever comes to mind. Ask them to please save us." And so, Palmark began to pray. 'Gods, please save these children.'

[rustdream]

Mustache Kid makes a New Friend hee hoo

Yea! A smol story for @promisedangel‘s roleswap AU! I wrote this at night so some things may be grammatically incorrect. I hope this is good!

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The air was full of tension as Mustache Kid stood infront of the ice walls that surrounded her destination. By some sort of miracle, they were perfectly intact, despite the immense heat the forest gave off daily. While it’s a neat discovery all on its own, it would mean that she would have to bust her way in. She was taken out of her thoughts when she heard a chuckle behind her. The voice belonged to none other than the Matriarch, the ruler of Subcon and the pain in the butt that’s been threatening her into doing favors for her. “It’s quite the feat, isn’t it?” The shadowy being asked, floating besides the girl.

Mustache Kid sighed in annoyance, causing the ghost’s angelic features to distort. “Now don’t take that ton with me, child. This will be different than the other favors you’ve done!” The passive aggressive tone had set in, as she feigned cheerfulness. The Matriarch clasped her hands together, “You’ll be delivering a gift to my special Prince for his birthday!” Mustache Kid turned to her as the gift box was born from red flames, the embers forming the luxurious bow. As much as she hated to admit it that box had a pretty darn cool shade of red. “Okay…but why don’t you do it? Since it’s your gift.” Mustache Kid questioned, as the Matriarch’s expression softened. “Oh, how I wish I could give him the gift myself! Unfortunately, my temper had gotten the better of me and…we got into a fight. Now the poor thing’s scared of me.” It was clear that queen of Subcon was being exaggeratingly dramatic right then, as she had no qualms about threatening children with execution twice fold. Still, the kid didn’t have much choice, as the box was shoved into her hands. Mustache Kid had a couple of moments before she realized that her bombs were gone. “Hey!” 

“Oh and, by the way. The Prince is very finicky, so these,” The Matriarch held the bag of bombs in her hands with the heat threatening to set them off, “are out of the question. Now get to it.” As Mustache Kid jumped through the ice pillars infront of her, she could her the cold-hearted monarch say something about burning her if she was to break the box. But she was used to those threats, and there wasn’t much to worry about anyways. She continued, occasionally having to break the walls with the fiery fruits and Dwellers hiding around. Eventually she had made it to the other side of the labyrinth of walls and was immediately hit with the extremely cold weather. She adjusted her cape to cover herself and waded through the thick snow, in the direction of the manor in the distance. When she neared the front porch, she could see glowing yellow eyes peer at her through the attic window for a quick second, before blinking out of sight. Hopefully, this ‘Prince’ wouldn’t be as much as an immoral jerk as the Matriarch was. She went to knock on the door before the wood had turned to ice and being rendered unopenable. Mustache Girl groaned as she kicked an ice statue near, but her attitude quickly changed to fear when said statue came to life and tried to smash her head open. Running from living creatures of cold terror, she had ducked into the cellar in the back and shut the doors. While one might think this wouldn’t stop them from breaking in, it did. In fact, they seemed to leave as soon as the door had locked!

Well, she already made it in the house, might as well deliver it personally. She skidded through the cellar floor, the spilled wine having been frozen over the years. Managing to make it upstairs without busting her bust on the slippery ice, she was relieved to find that the rest of the house’s flooring wasn’t in the same state. Mustache Kid wandered down the hallways, the carpeted floors keeping her footsteps quiet. Suddenly, she had heard the sound of glass breaking coming from the room besides her. In an act of impulse, she opened the door, leading her to the library. There didn’t seem to be anyone in here. A broken vase sure, and an ice sculpture that was whispering to her. Wait. On closer inspection, it was a Wally! Though, he was frozen everywhere but his head. “Hey, Little Mustached Child, why are you here?” He asked, his voice shaky and low. Before she could answer, the air grew darker as footsteps could be heard. “Quick! Hide, Get out of Here!” Mustache Kid wasn’t about to question it, she simply slid under the low bookshelves, the gift box conveniently fitting through with her. Just in time too, as a shadowy figure entered the room. It had the same aura that the Matriarch gave off, but its figure was slightly deformed and monstrous. It was safe to assume that this was the Prince that she was referring to. His yellow eyes scanned the scene, panic present in them. 

His head snapped towards the Wally as the frozen man panicked. “H-hello Best Friend! I was being clumsy and um, knocked it over-” He frantically tried to explain, as the shadow interrupted him. “You promised, you promised that you wouldn’t break any more stuff last time you broke these. You broke my things, gifts to you last week and you said, ‘Wally will fix that’, ‘Wally won’t break stuff again’. But did you live up to that? No nononono, you didn’t you just lied and lied, and you know how I HATE liars.” The Prince ranted, as the ice on Wally’s body consumed more of him. Mustache Kid watched as he was frozen completely and smashed to pieces by this raving lunatic. The shadows mad shrieks soon dissolved into tears, burying his head in his hands. Mustache Kid slowly crawled out of her hiding spot, placing the gift behind the sobbing mess. She then tried to tip toe her way out of the room before a voice stopped her in her tracks.

“Who are you?” The Prince spoke through sobs, as the girl turned to meet his gaze. She seemed to stammer quite a lot, obviously nervous. The royal’s gaze slowly drifted to the nicely wrapped gift between them, the sight swinging his mood straight into a happy delirium. “Did you bring this gift, a gift for me? I’m good enough for gifts?” He asked hopefully, pure joy blooming inside his chest when she had nodded. The Prince chuckled as he suddenly swooped both the box and Mustache Kid in his arms, straight to a bedroom. This caused the kid to become upset, not understanding why he was doing this. But, he simply placed her on a pile of pillows, as he ‘sat’(more along the lines of coiled on) the bed with the gift in his lap. As he tore open the wrapping, Mustache Kid looked around to determine her situation. Everyone but the two of them were frozen solid. Some of them are seals, cats, a lot of them Wallies. “Great, this might as well happen.” She mumbled, as she heard the Prince gasp in surprise. Well, she’s kind of stuck here, might as well find out what the gift was!

A pile of bacon. That was literally it. It wasn’t even good, all of it was charred to crispy charcoal. However, the Prince was very happy to receive this gift. He started scarfing it down quickly, as if as soon as he stopped it would be all gone. He then froze up suddenly. He could hear them. His friends, they were hungry too. They deserved this gift more than he did, and he’s just hogging it like the selfish friend he is. He doesn’t deserve such a nice thing as this, with how horrid he was being. Of course, Mustache Kid didn’t hear any of that. She just looked on in confusion as the Prince went around the room, trying to shove bacon down the ice statues’ throats. Though that went as well as you’d expect it to, as it either fell out (with the Prince eating it anyways) or it just stayed in the mouths of the frozen creatures around him. He made it to Mustache Kid, offering her a handful of burnt bacon. “Oh um, no thanks. I’ve already. Eaten on the way here you know and, snacks aren’t my thing?” She refused, thoughts of an elaborate escape plan flooding through her mind. The Prince sat back on the bed, facing away from everyone as he consumed the rest of the food on his plate. After he was done, he turned to Mustache Kid and held her hands in his freezing cold hands. “Thank you, thank you, thank you for this wonderful gift. I’ll cherish it, I’ll love it. Never forget it, thank you new friend!” He repeatedly thanked her, his breath hitching as he started to mumble incoherently to himself. He then stood upright, seeming to have snapped back into reality. “It seems like it’s getting dark! None of you, none of you are leaving, r-right? GOOD! Good, I guess that means that we can have a slumber party. You – YOU will join us, won’t you New Friend?” He asked the child, as ice started to form on her legs.

Mustache Kid sat on the pillow pile on the floor, bored out of her mind. Since her bombs are gone and this guy can freeze her in an instant, fighting her way out is out of the question. So is straight up running for the exit. For now, she just has to play along with it. However, the only entertainment right now was watching him start up conversations with the frozen people besides him. And even then it wasn’t really funny. Just sad. She would perk up whenever he spoke to her though. Mainly because he could kill her if she didn’t answer. “Oh, sure! I agree! No way!” After a long while of talking, the Prince stood up. “Okay everyone! I’ve gotten everything prepared for tonight! A nice view, snacks…wait. No, no snacks??” His head rotated 180 degrees (grossing the kid out a bit), facing the empty table meant for housing the refreshments. How could he forget? He should have thought this through! He has a new friend he needs to impress, and this is his first impression? A forgetful dumb stupid idiot who disappoints everyone he meets? He could feel the hateful stares burn up as he backed out of the room. “I’m, I’m going to go get the, snacks. Friend! New Friend, can you come with me?” He practically tugged Mustache Kid out of the room, and downstairs into the kitchen. 

Mustache Kid gathered up what small amount of treats she could find in the abandoned cabinets on the table, as the Prince got ready the tea. A couple of crackers, and some preserved fruits. She turned to the Prince, who was shaking as he continuously stirred the tea. At the very least, he was a lot nicer than the Matriarch. “Not many snacks…are there?” She questioned, more out of concern for how he’s been living all this time. While she figured that ghosts don’t need to eat to live, it seemed to cause the Matriarch pain when she missed a meal, imagine living with only this. The Prince put the tea kettle on the tray, along with the cups, before answering. “Hang on, there’s more, I’ll get them.” He walked hurriedly to a hollow spot in the walls, before sliding it aside to reveal some bigger snacks, such as a bag of fish chips of the CC brand and a slice of velvet jelly cake. All of it seems to have been frozen to last, the velvet jelly was absolutely solid when he placed it on the table. Mustache Kid grabbed the snacks, as the Prince carried the tea tray upstairs. “By the way, I’m sorry for being so forgetful. It’s really awful on my part, I hope you can forgive me.” He told her, as they set the tea and snacks down. Of course she’d forgive him, it’s not like he has anything he needs to apologize for.

The night seemed to have gotten better. The two were now talking about law, and frankly hearing about this planets views on justice and law enforcement was pretty interesting. Until he got into the nitty gritty details of it. Not that it was boring, it was just the simple fact that they have all these policies and fallacies and such. But it isn’t complex! There are bad people who need to be arrested, like the Matriarch, whole there are good people who arrest the bad, like herself! Still, she listened intently to his rambles about law theory. Something the Prince isn’t used to! Usually when he rambles to people, they ignore him. It always made him feel like he didn’t matter but when he asked Mustache Kid if she was listening she actually responded! Mustache Kid took a sip of her tea, and grimaced. The tea was ice cold. Which was understandable since the person who made the tea could freeze things with his bare claw hands. But there was also the fact that she actually wasn’t a tea person. The Prince caught on to this. “Is there something wrong? Is it not good enough? I’m sorry I’ll make a new kettle if you hate it-“

 “It’s good, it’s okay!” Mustache Kid assured him, almost becoming numb from the ice that had formed up to her knees. It was thin, luckily. She placed a hand on the Prince’s shoulder as he calmed down. “Oh, I’m sorry I just got worried and…” He eventually stopped talking as he leaned into her arms, humming as she petted his head. He liked this, it’s nice. She’s nice. Most of his other friends didn’t hug him like that, they didn’t even tell him nice things. He’s heard of BFFS, Best Friends Forever. Maybe people that nice are BFFs? The Prince never had enough friends to tell. He’ll need to hide her from Vanessa. She’ll come and burn him again, and maybe even burn his new BFF like everything other bit of happiness he hoarded. He didn’t want to think of that. Whenever he did his mind devolved into this dark place he can’t get out of. “So what’s the next event on our list of fun?” Mustache Kid asked, distracting the Prince from his thoughts. “A dance.”

[youwerenevermeanttofeelalone]

Somebody Sweet to Talk To ❁︎ 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑

Pairing: Harry Osborn x Plus Size Reader

Word Count: 4.3k

Gif credit: @buckeybarns

Summary & Warnings || Series Masterlist

Extra warning for this chapter: reader has a panic attack near the end.

𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭

𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐨 𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝

❁︎ ・・・・・❁︎ ・・・・・ ❁︎ ・・・・・❁︎

Harry fixed his hair in front of his bedroom mirror three times before leaving the room. His father was being served breakfast already, he saw the maid pouring coffee as he entered the dining room.

Not a glance was spared at him when he sat down at the table, but as soon as he took his cellphone out Norman reprimanded him.

“I’m sorry,” he spluttered, “I was going to ask my girlfriend if she was busy.”

His father stared at him. “Who is she?”

“(Y/N) (L/N).”

“How did that happen?” Norman moved his butter knife so Harry would continue.

“Peter is friends with her, his aunt now lives at The Avenger’s Compound with Stark’s driver so he does too.”

“I want to meet her.”

He took a sip of his coffee to hide his smirk. “She’s free on Saturday evenings.”

“Next Saturday,” Norman said in the most neutral tone he had used the entire week, “invite her for dinner.”

“Of course.”

Telling you would be very different, he had to prepare you for the kind of comments and questions his dad could make... fuck, it wasn’t such a good idea now that he analyzed the situation more carefully. It was done, and the only thing he could do was hope for the best.

He made a few stops before getting to The Compound. Outside, about to knock, he found himself second-guessing appearing there without having told you he would— or Peter. But he was there already so he sucked it up and rang the doorbell.

“Oh!” May exclaimed after she swung the door open. “Hi, Harry.” She stepped to the side so he would get in.

He closed the door, thanking her. “Is—“

“Pete isn’t home.” She pouted sweetly.

“I’m not here to see Peter...” he lifted the roses in his grasp, hoping the woman would understand.

May smiled, sweetly still. “Kitchen.”

He bowed thankfully. While following the familiar path to the dining area, music started filling his ears. Familiar with the melody because Gwen loved Taylor Swift, he wondered for a moment if May hadn’t guided him toward the incorrect person.

She hadn’t. Harry saw you measuring ingredients, head moving to the rhythm to the song. He cleared his throat loudly to not startle you.

“I didn’t know you were coming,” you greeted him, attention still in the flour you were now sifting.

He swallowed. “Neither did I.”

The song changed at that moment, a radical change if he had to be completely honest. He knew that one too, and couldn’t help the curiosity overcoming him— what other types of music did you listen to? Did you enjoy every genre as you did with movies?

“I brought you flowers,” he interrupted George Michael’s Don’t Let The Sun Go Down on Me to say.

You gave him your attention at that, blinking at light speed. Putting the mesh strainer down, you took the bouquet he was offering while Elton John started singing his verse. You turned around to withdraw a vase from one of the doors under the cupboard with one hand.

He unconsciously hummed to the song, making you smile as you gave him your back. Undoing the bow the flowers came tightly in, you arranged the roses in the vase before filling it with water.

You pursed your lips not to laugh when the song changed again. Seeing Harry do the same when you turned around to go back to your prior task, you snorted. “Sorry, it’s my mixed playlist.”

“I see,” he nodded. “It’s cool.” You lifted an eyebrow, right hand picking the strainer up again. He lifted one too, “What? You don’t think your own playlist is cool?”

You shrugged. “Everyone finds it kinda hectic. I only play it when the place is empty or almost empty.”

“What are you doing?” he changed the topic, pointing at the ingredients on the island.

“A cake for later.”

“Want some help?”

“Do you want to help?”

He shrugged, “you would have to teach me, but yeah.”

You nodded, pointing at a small door next to the oven. “You can find an apron there.”

Harry learned many things that day: what a double boiler was, how to whip a mixture to ribbon stage, what ribbon stage looked like, the differences between a genoise and a sponge cake, how to make folding movements to not ruin a mixture, the easiest way to temper chocolate, the fact that coffee enhances chocolate’s flavor... in between each one, he learned you were more patient than you let on, that you would be a good teacher, that your mother used to bake often, the different ways you found to change a few ingredients for healthier alternatives, and your favorite cooking techniques of which you explained a few.

You built the cake, three layers of chocolate sponge and three of buttercream with a crumb-coat. Putting the cake to chill in the fridge, you explained you would have to wait for that coat to harden before decorating it properly so it would stay firm and smooth.

The two of you washed everything you wouldn’t use anymore by hand, flicking each other with water just to tease. He scrunched his nose, scratching it with his knuckles. Fuck if he didn’t look attractive while doing it... shaking your head, you moved out of the way when he put a hand on the tap from where water was running to make it rain.

“Harry!” You squealed, a laugh bubbling up in your throat.

He bit his bottom lip to try not to laugh and shut the faucet off, considering if it was a good moment to tell you. “So... I told my dad this morning.”

“I haven’t told anyone, I woke up to an almost empty place and May didn’t ask.”

“I’m sure she knows,” he nodded toward the flowers. “She opened the door for me and told me where you were.”

Humming, you rested your back against the edge of the counter to look at him. “What did your dad say?”

He scratched the nape of his neck and you knew you were up for something. “Told me to invite you over for dinner next Saturday.”

“Isn’t it too soon?”

God, you sounded so alarmed... not knowing what to say, he just stared at you. You were expecting him to answer the question, and he was expecting you to say something else. If you said you didn’t want to meet his dad, everything would be over for sure.

“Dad’s like that.”

“Well, mine would probably act the same...” your father would now that you thought about it. Maybe it had to do with the fact that this was your first supposed relationship.

Harry let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding.

The timer from his phone went off; you had used his so it wouldn’t cut through the music you were playing from yours. You rushed toward the fridge, taking the cake out carefully and placing it on the counter.

Smoothing buttercream was hard, Harry learned that too while you tried not to laugh at his attempts. You helped him, guiding his hands with your palms on top of the back of his. The trick was on rotating the turning base at an even pace that was dictated by how agile his other hand was— at least that was what you said, he was too busy trying not to blush.

The cake was finished quickly after that, you let him sprinkle the chocolate shavings all over it and then taught him how to write with cream or in that case chocolate too. He marveled at the movements of your wrist as you wrote the Welcome Back Home sign on top, and at your cursive calligraphy that he didn’t even know you could write in.

“It looks so good!” May said as she leaned to see the cake.

You smiled tightly. “Thank you. Harry helped, maybe that’s why.”

He huffed a bashful laugh, prompting May to coo which made him flush a little bit, just a pinch.

Steps broke through the moment and May hurried to receive the arriving people. Harry carried the cake to the fridge as you opened the door for him to slide it in. You were pleased with your work, and he was happy with having learned to do something new.

Pausing the music, you took your cellphone from the counter, disconnecting it from the speakers. He suddenly remembered something: “I forgot to tell you, but on my way here I stopped at the farmer’s market when I saw a gigantic orange.”

You saw him pick something from the dining table, lifting the fruit with a hand. You laughed at the sight, walking toward him. When you had to hold it with both hands was his turn to laugh. And what a melodic laugh he had, you almost sighed dreamily while hearing it and only composed yourself because you heard approaching stomps.

“I think this beats the flowers.”

“Good to know my girlfriend is a simple woman,” he teased back.

Knowing what he was doing, you continued with the show. “Good to know my boyfriend remembers the things I like.”

A clear of a throat, a very fake one, made you both turn around to see Bucky leaning on the edge of the dining room’s entrance. “You should be baking a cake, sweetheart.”

“It’s in the fridge,” you assured him, putting the kind of heavy fruit down and wondering if it would even taste good.

The soldier didn’t seem to believe you because he crossed all the way toward the fridge, rounding the counter. Impressed, Bucky with a hand still on the door he had just closed, craned his neck to see the... couple. He saw you two share a complicit look, and he wasn’t the only one because Pepper laughed, patting each of your backs with a hand.

“Now we know dating won’t distract you, (N/N),” Pepper teased lightheartedly.

Harry spoke proudly, “I’ll simply help her.”

“Help who?” Peter asked breathlessly, eyes widening when he saw you were there too.

You faked a smile at your best friend, “me.”

Bucky pointed at the flowers on the back counter, “did you buy flowers for Steve? He likes peonies, not roses.”

You and Harry snorted at the pathetic attempt. You shook your head and moved around the room to pick the vase up. “They’re mine, but if you want I can go and buy some for him. Just let me put these in my room.”

“Give me that,” Harry took the vase from your hands carefully, “I’ll carry it.”

Peter trailed behind you as you walked toward the elevator, questions about what was his best friend doing there, why he didn’t know, or if Gwen hadn’t talked to him filling his mind. He didn’t know what to ask first or how to, you could get in a bad mood like the other day.

The normalcy that Harry sat down on your bed with startled Peter and the way you simply sat beside him was not comforting at all. The shorter young man sat beside you, watching your dangling feet swing.

“You look like a kid,” he teased you, “Harry’s your dad, I’m your uncle.”

Harry and you shared another look. “I’m not into incest, it’s gross,” you deadpanned.

Peter changed the subject then, “do you know what you will wear for Mr. Rogers’ homecoming?”

“The dress laying on the couch.”

Both males leaned to see the dress. It was a simple plaid one, but Harry knew you would look great in it because green and blue suited you amazingly. He told you so, almost smiling when your gaze dropped bashfully.

“How do you know?” you blurted, inwardly cursing yourself for your eagerness to be complimented.

He made you rest your head on his shoulder, arm around both of yours as his hand dangled from your farthest one. “Because I always stare at you, I’ve seen you wear almost every color.”

“Har,” Peter interrupted the two of you, “can you drive me to buy a tie? I just remembered!”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded, standing up from your bed without taking his eyes off your face.

“(N/N), can you help Pepper with Morgan until I’m back?”

You nodded, standing up too. Harry and you were aware that Peter was trying to make you spend less time together, but it made you feel uncomfortable instead of good. Your fake boyfriend lifted his eyebrows slightly and you slowly blinked downward, hoping he’d catch it. He did and leaned down, leaving a soft kiss on your lips that you didn’t really get to reciprocate because of its shortness.

As soon as the door closed behind the two young men you exhaled heavily. What mess were you truly getting yourself into? You supposed in the end it would be worth it, but the sensation of doubt couldn’t be shaken off no matter how hard you tried. The buzz Harry’s lips left on yours couldn’t either.

Looking at the time, you decided to take a shower before helping Morgan get ready for the evening. It was a quick one, you had showered in the morning and were only doing it to make sure you were perfectly clean after the sweat you shed due to the warmth of the oven.

As you dropped the laundry in its basket, you realized Harry’s cologne had lingered on the fabric and for a mere second thought of retrieving the items to sleep in them before reminding yourself you were acting like a fool. An hour later both Morgan and you were ready, the little girl dressed in a pink dress and you in the plaid one.

Peter hurried into his room to get changed as May yelled for him to need to pay more attention the next time. You walked slowly with Morgan who insisted on guiding you with her smaller hand tightly griping your fingers.

Your cellphone buzzed in your other hand, but you didn’t check on it until you all were in the living room in expectancy of Steve.

Send me a photo of you in the dress.

What for?

Phone wallpaper.

That’s... a bit too much.

Peter has Gwen and Gwen has Peter.

Gwen feeds Peter, do you want me to do that too?

With airplane sounds and all.

You burst out laughing, imagining yourself treating 6’1 Harry like a child when he was taller than you. Realizing you were crying out of laughter as your imagination wandered toward standing on a stall to reach him, you cleared your throat and wiped the tears from your face.

Put (Favorite Artist) on a plaid shirt, they look better.

Absolutely not. Is Rogers there already?

He won’t get here in other 25-ish minutes.

Come out? Pete thinks I left.

You sprung up from the couch, directing yourself to the main door in the longest strides you could muster. You would chastise your own self for your eagerness later on, at that moment you just wanted to get out of there for five minutes or a little more.

He had the back of his thighs against the hood of his car, cellphone in hand as he looked down at it. The sound of you closing the front door prompted him to look up; as he caught sight of you, he locked the device and dropped it into his pocket.

“Take a picture, Osborn.”

A smirk curled up in the left side of his mouth, hand sliding into his pocket to retrieve the device he had just stored there. You rolled your eyes at his antics but quickly widened them when he lifted the cellphone to truly take the photo. You turned your head to the side so he wouldn’t snap anything, but he still did.

“It looks kind of artsy if you ask me.”

Realizing he was trying to show it to you, you shook your head. You didn’t consider yourself photogenic, at all, and weren’t in the mood for getting insecure in front of anyone.

“It looks fine. I’m not a bad photographer, I promise.”

You stood quiet, his skills weren’t the problem but the model and telling him would be boring him to death with something you only spoke about with Bucky who understood feeling bad because of looks.

He got closer to you, moving his head to get into your field of vision. You looked down, attempting to ignore him. Harry wasn’t having any of that and lightly took your chin between his thumb and index to gain your attention.

“I should get back inside,” you murmured, fighting the urge to stare at him. “Tony will freak out and it will be a mess.”

Shifting his hand, he rested it on your cheek like he had done the night before. That made you lift your gaze and realize he was staring at your lips. Not processing what you were doing, you licked your bottom lip and he leaned down, prompting you to stand on your tiptoes so he wouldn’t hurt his neck as much.

His eyes clenched shut at the brush of your mouth on his. This time he dared to deepen the kiss more, his other arm coming to wrap around your waist as your hands rested on his shoulders to not lose balance. Harry was about to pry your mouth open when a cough made you part.

To his damn luck, it had been Steve Rogers himself who had both eyebrows lifted impossibly high. You smoothed your dress, smiling at the soldier. Steve hung his head a little bit, smiling back.

“I’ll see you on Monday,” you told Harry, not daring to look at him in the eyes.

“Yeah, have a nice rest of the weekend, babe.” Fuck, where had the pet name even come from?

Steve coughed again and you inhaled deeply. “Steve, Harry; Harry, Steve,” you moved a hand between them to introduce them.

Both men shook hands a little awkwardly. They definitely weren’t feeling more awkward than you were, but Harry couldn’t be too far off.

The soldier didn’t make a motion to enter The Compound until Harry’s car had disappeared from your sight, making you think he would say something. Nothing came, thank God, and you pushed the front door open, allowing Steve to enter first.

Greetings were so effusive that no one seemed to realize you had entered with Steve and you were so thankful you could’ve cried. Your heart was still beating fast from the kiss, lips tingling, face burning, and hands slightly shaking— you had shared many kisses but none of them had felt so real.

What was happening to you? It was a fucking kiss, people shared them all the time. Friends did, and couples, and strangers— it was a mere sexual expression. But it could be romantic too sometimes... shaking your head harshly, you sat down with Pepper and May to make light conversation and think about something else.

The table was full of food, people, and chatter. Everyone was catching up with Steve, naturally, and he was extremely interested with his kind eyes and all of that you weren’t really paying attention to. The smell of Harry’s cologne didn’t leave your senses with anything, nor the chocolate you tasted from his lips and as you tried to focus your eyes on anything to distract yourself, you caught sight of the gigantic orange.

Flowers, oranges, chocolate, movies, music, chess, ice cream... he was giving a lot of things you liked a new meaning. Were you falling for Harry Osborn? Fuck, no, no, you couldn’t be in love, you weren’t suited for relationships, and whatever was happening between you was a lie— you needed to remember that, it was imperative.

“(N/N),” Carol placed a hand on your thigh, shaking you softly.

“Yes?” You turned to look at each side of the table.

Steve lifted an eyebrow. “I asked how long have you been dating Harry.”

“Oh! Uh— technically an exact week.”

“That didn’t look like a week relationship thing...”

Yeah, it didn’t feel like that either. “First relationship,” you pathetically excused. Hyper aware of everyone’s eyes on you, you took a gulp of wine to not blurt out you were freaking out more than them.

“Where did you meet him?”

“He’s my best friend,” Peter explained, glaring at you.

“Yeah, we go to the same university and all of that,” you nodded, the reminder of having to see him around the halls after the fiasco finished suddenly causing a pang on your chest.

Focusing on your plate, you continued eating as the conversation moved to Peter and his career.

Dessert time arrived, and praises for the cake were thrown your way. If only they knew they were only causing you more distress! As you served it, you couldn’t shake from you mind Harry’s face as he paid attention to what you were explaining, the way his semblance lighted up when he understood the steps, his eagerness to help, how endearing he sounded when making a follow-up question, that attractive thing he did with his knuckles...

A sudden wave of nausea hit you, prompting you to push the chair off the table and stand up abruptly. You hurried to the closest bathroom where you allowed the contents of your stomach to come out through your mouth.

Letting yourself fall onto your ass on the bathroom floor, you started sobbing uncontrollably. Your hands were now shaking thoroughly, chest tightening so much you felt you would choke. Your brain didn’t allow itself to reason or process anything other than the fact that you were utterly terrified, every fiber of your being screamed there was danger near you and you were certain there was because there couldn’t be any other reason to feel so much weight and anguish.

The flush of the toilet made you jump, Tony’s kind eyes worriedly gazing into yours. It only made you cry harder, making the man kneel in front of you to pull you into a hug. His metal arm was around you like Harry’s had been earlier and you let out a cry at the thought, hiding your face on your mentor’s chest as his hand rubbed your back lovingly.

Soothing sounds resonated in his chest. Tony rocked you both, trying to mentally find a song to hum that would help you relax. When he did, he started humming Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door. By the end of the song he felt you hug him back, clinging to his body in a way you had done less than five times.

Curled up on your bed, you avoided Bucky’s eyes. Tony had asked him to substitute him while he showed Steve to his new room and the Sargent was more than happy to comply.

“Sweetheart,” he whispered, “I just want to know what triggered it so no one does it again.” You shook your head. “Please, I won’t laugh.”

“I like Harry.”

“I know.”

“I don’t want to like him.”

Bucky crawled on the bed, closer to you, “Why?”

“I just... don’t.” Silent tears streamed down your face, the sensation of the temperature contrast of their hotness against your cold due to the AC cheeks only reminding you of the times you cried yourself to sleep as a child.

“He likes you too,” Bucky assured, side-hugging you. “It’s okay to like people.”

“Of course not. Liking people means giving them a reason to hurt you.”

He sighed in exasperation. “Who told you that?”

“Life.”

“If you don’t want to like him, why go out with him? Or kiss him? Steve told us with details what he saw, that sounded like two people who really like each other...”

“People kiss all the time, Buck—“ Tony slipped into the room, closing the door behind him and kicking his shoes off to sit on your bed too. You remained silent.

“People kiss all the time and then what?” Bucky pressed.

“And that’s it. Human beings aren’t typically asexual although they of course exist... my point is that kissing someone doesn’t mean anything.”

Tony frowned. “Kiss me then.”

“You’re married and like my second father.”

“Kissing someone doesn’t mean anything,” he repeated your words, presumably trying to give you a lesson.

You groaned, resting your head on Bucky’s side. “Tony, what I clearly mean is that it’s not proof of really liking or loving someone. Maybe instead of talking about this, we should research androstadienone and its potential as a pheromone.

“You’re telling me you go out with Harry Osborn because of his pheromones?” You nodded. Tony shared a look with Bucky before turning to stare at you. “You’re starting therapy on Monday. It’s not a question.”

“I have a job, Anthony.”

“You’re in no condition to do your job.”

You pushed yourself off your comfortable position against Bucky to sit up. “You’ve never said that when I get panic attacks!”

“You’re talking about feelings as if you weren’t human!”

“Who cares?! That has nothing to do with my job, I’m a scientist.”

“I care,” Bucky said firmly. “And Tony does too. He is right.”

“No!” You burst out crying again, shaking your head as your breathing quickened. “He thinks he is right because he doesn’t know how I feel, none of you do!”

“You had a panic attack because you like your boyfriend. It’s worrisome.” His hand rubbed your upper back soothingly.

“I’ll break up with him,” you sniffed, “but don’t take my job away from me, please.”

Wide-eyed, Tony shook his head. “You don’t have—“

“Yes, I do.” Wiping the tears from your face, you sniffed again. “Could you two leave so I can call him?”

“No,” both said. Bucky continued, “you deserve to have a relationship, and he might be a little weird but he treats you right.”

Your bottom lip trembled and you groaned, throwing yourself back onto the bed. You always got attached easily when people treated you right because it didn’t happen often, but you had never felt so strongly toward someone. A week was all it fucking took you, it was a new record— it took Quentin a month. But Harry wasn’t like him, was he? As fake as the relationship was, he had been honest about it...

[austrohungarianwriteblr]

WIP DVD Extra: Andras Kiraly’s Terrible Guide to Hungary

yes lads it’s the celebration that i do when i reach over 40 followers for some reason

So here’s what happened: I was reading Dave Barry’s Only Travel Guide You’ll Ever Need (because apparently I am a fifty-year-old man), and I got an idea, and then I wrote some nonsense.

All of this is based on research I did from that one time I went to Hungary and at a veggie burger that was just fried cheese.

(wip tag list, ask to be +/-:  @writingonesdreams, @booksnotbookies, @ren-c-leyn, @kiesinger, @ella-writes-words, @fields-of-ink, @halleiswriting)

A Guide to Hungary, circa 1873

Hello, and welcome to Hungary, the finest nation in Europe.

I have to be honest: ever since I moved to Vienna for school, I’ve spent a considerable amount of time telling my friends completely incorrect facts about my homeland. This is for two reasons: one, it’s funny, and two, I can usually get away with it. It’s not as though any of my friends from the opera company have ever been to Hungary themselves, much as they keep promising me they’ll visit.

But due to this web of amusing lies I’ve woven, no one I’ve ever interacted with actually knows any true facts about Hungary (I assume), and so I am taking it upon myself to record several genuine facts about where I grew up. Please note that although I am attempting to be truthful, some points may be inaccurate because I did not pay attention in primary school, because I was too busy thinking about arpeggios.

History

Hungary was invented at some point in the past when a group of nomadic warriors from the Far East arrived in Europe, realized there was not yet anywhere to get a good meal, and parked their horses in the Great Plains. They did an assortment of perfectly ordinary things like conquering Bulgaria and wearing pointy hats before King Stephen took over and told everyone to behave themselves and start going to church.

Several more interesting historical things happened after this but none of them were particularly relevant to yours truly until 1811, when Franz Liszt was born.

Recreation

The national sport of Hungary is arguing. My family is excellent at this. As an example, two of my sisters have had an argument going for six straight years about whether that man in the market was really the Prime Minister or not. 

Things to See

Budapest is a beautiful and lively city containing culture, excitement, and rude waiters. Much like Paris. However, unlike Paris, most of our food is fried and therefore much better (more on this later).

The intrepid traveler will find many amusements to fill his time on both sides of the river, including looking at the castle (but probably not being allowed in), climbing up the hill to the observatory for some pleasant views, and sitting in the Turkish baths with a bunch of old men clad in towels. This may sound mildly awkward at best, but my father swears it’s done wonders for his lungs. 

The only other place I have ever been is my grandmother’s house in Siofok. If you enjoy being shouted at by mustachioed old ladies about your haircut and then being fed shocking quantities of sausages, you will have a very good time there. Another benefit of visiting the area is that it’s an opportunity for young children to learn to swim, much like I did when I was five years old and my father threw me in Lake Balaton.

Language

Don’t be fooled by the rumors: Hungarian is actually a logical and very beautiful tongue and not, as my wife puts it, “a nonsense language invented by Attila the Hun to confuse enemy soldiers.” (What does she know about it, anyway? Her first language is German, which was invented by a cat clearing its throat) 

Of course, in the cities, many of the people you meet will speak German and other small, useless languages like English. But learning a few Hungarian phrases will enable you to communicate with many interesting people and, more importantly, earn my father’s respect.

Believe me, if you plan to spend any time on Szerdahelyi Street, the latter is crucial.

Food

I’m going to be completely honest here: Hungary has the best food in Europe if not the entire world. After you’ve eaten just one meal here you will never be able to eat your home country’s food again. When I went to music school in Vienna at the age of sixteen I spent the first month unable to taste any of the food I ate because by my standards it was bland.

Some of the best dishes that you can find in the restaurants or attempt to make in your own home include:

Goulash: The Superior Stew. Is it technically just beef, potatoes, carrots, and spices? Yes. Is it so delicious that when I go a few weeks without having it I cease to function? Also yes. The absolute best recipe for goulash is Pa’s, but unfortunately I cannot give it to you, because it is a secret.

Lángos: Take some flatbread. Fry it. Put sour cream on top. Delicious. In the words of our downstairs neighbor, Mrs. Farkas: “You’ve got to have another serving of lángos, my dear, it’ll put meat on your bones. I swear you get thinner every time you come to visit, don’t they feed you in Vienna? Those Austrians wouldn’t know a good meal if it bit them on the nose.”

Words to live by for all of us.

Halászlé: Also known as Fisherman’s Soup. My gran makes this and while I’m not exactly sure what kinds of fish are in it, I know there are a lot of them. Halászlé follows the usual Hungarian rule of cooking which is: if it’s not bright red, you made it wrong.

Conclusion

I trust this guide has been helpful, and if not, I trust that you will not blame my primary school teacher Mr. Szabo for failing to deliver any information to my memory. He tried his best, he really did.

[starsfallings-archived]

Hello!

I’m Samantha. Random facts until you get a clearer picture of me:

I love books. My all-time favs are: Throne of Glass - Sarah J. Maas, the Dregs duology and King of Scars - Leigh Bardugo, the Infernal Devices and the Eldest Curses - Cassandra Clare, the Folk of the Air - Holly Black, Miss Peregrine’s - Ransom Riggs

I’m a cat-loving hufflepuff. And I worship Crookshanks.

I write fantasy and fantasy only, though other genres are often incorporated into my stories

I live somewhere in Asia

I’m straight but I support anyone who identifies as LGBT+. You will be forever welcome here. 

This writeblr aims to:

provide a larger platform, so more people can read my wip

allow me to have more fun writing

inspire more writing (but I don’t create prompts, merely prod your imagination a little)

TLQ will be released on Wattpad in August [you can find me at awritingcat]. But before then, there’s plenty of goodies I’d like to share with you, here, that readers on Wattpad won’t get to see (unless I decide otherwise, I guess).

So, you must be wondering, what’s TLQ about?

Well, it’s a found family-type trope (yay?) in a science fantasy setting. It takes place on future Earth and the Dome, a place specially created for the story. I have six differing POVs, four female and two male. (We’ll get into this later.) Four of them are immortals, by which I mean they have a quadrupled lifespan of about 400 years compared to the average human lifespan of anywhere from 60-100 years. The story follows their journey as they come together under difficult circumstances to save the world before the determined antagonist ruins it.

Now, that was a little vague. Over the course of the next month, I’ll be revealing more about my characters (these will be titled Character Cheatsheets, or CH^2) and facts about the Dome (these will be labelled Worldbuilding, or Wb). You will get facts, snippets of various drafts in various states of vagueness (but never incorrect grammar), and little secrets that may or may not eventually come up in the story itself.

Every week, you will be shown one Ch^2 and one Wb. These will include the snippets and secrets. When I release them will be completely random. Occasionally, you may see a Bonus post that can include anything from more snippets to completely random out-of-context quotes I came up with in the middle of the night.

I’m new here, and I need accounts to follow. So, if you see this, and post about any of the following, please either reblog (preferred method) or send me a message.

writing tips

WIPs that are about fantasy of any kind, and those that include faeries

WIPs that are about dystopian worlds

WIPs that include LGBT+ characters, because the more I know about this community the more well-written certain characters will be

anything remotely related to writing (even if they’re just hilarious memes and the like)

Thank you so much for reading all the way here, I really appreciate it :)

Edit: A (somewhat) daily section will be uploaded, called Writing Log (or WL). In it, you’ll be able to see how many words I wrote and for which draft and chapter.

Second edit: I’m starting a taglist, so if you want to skip straight to all the TLQ posts, send a message or ask!

[ladyxxdaydream]

47 (Texting the incorrect number but continuing the conversation)

Well, this was a fun way to spend my sunday morning (✿◠‿◠).

These are meant to be a little rough–spur of the moment writing with little editing–while I’m working on my longer fics. If I get enough requests, I may add a drabble section on my Ao3 page, and polish them up to post over there. Thanks for the request, tea! Hope you like it.

ʕ≧ᴥ≦ʔ You can submit your own from the list here. ♡

☆゜:。*。。*:゜☆

Kakashi couldn’t sleep. He grabbed his track pants he had discarded on the floor, removing a wrinkled piece of paper out of the pocket. Gai had finally entered this century, and gotten a cell phone. He had scrawled his number on top of a flyer for his personal training program—Green Beast—before Kakashi had left the gym earlier today.

He punched it into his phone and sent a text.

Yo, what are you doing?

Binge watching the newest season of Icha Icha instead of grading exams. God, it’s so terrible.

Wait, what? Kakashi knew for a fact that his best friend didn’t watch Icha Icha, much to his dismay. Gai was a crossfit trainer; he’d have no reason to be grading exams. And Kakashi imagined that his friend’s exuberance would translate through text. There wasn’t nearly enough yelling in the form of all caps and exclamation points. Did he have the wrong number? But then why would this person be answering like they knew him?

And what was that crap about Icha Icha being terrible?!

He couldn’t help himself.

Then why are you watching it if it’s so terrible? He typed out, annoyed.

It’s like being stuck in traffic over a car accident, and you’re cursing the people who keep slowing down to stare, while vehemently telling yourself you won’t act like everyone else, but then you get there, and you become that bitch. You can’t help but stare.

Kakashi couldn’t hold back his laugh. It rang out in his empty apartment.

Hm. Sounds like you secretly like it.

Of course I do. What, you think I have no self restraint? You know me better than that.

Shit. What was Kakashi doing? He should really tell this person he accidentally sent a text to the wrong number, but it would be weird now. He already continued the conversation.

Another text came through.

LMAO I can’t believe Lori went after Gavin. Good lord.

Kakashi’s face broke into a grin. He knew the exact moment this person was talking about. He’d already watched the season, twice, despite it being released on Netflix yesterday.

God. This puts my students drama to shame, which is rather impressive. Speaking of, Naruto ‘accidentally’ kissed Sasuke today, and Sakura ran out of the classroom crying.

Kakashi answered without thinking.

How do you accidentally kiss someone?

You don’t? That was his wording when I asked him what all the fuss was about. Guess he’s not ready to admit he kissed a boy on purpose. I’ll tell you about tomorrow. What time did you want to meet at Blackberry Cafe?

Oh god. Kakashi had a terrible idea.

10? He typed out.

Can we make it 11? I’ll probably be up all night watching this bullshit.

—-

Kakashi was sitting at a table in the corner of the patio, inspecting the customers. It was 11:15. So far he’d narrowed it down to three people. One was a woman, who had just answered her phone, which immediately eliminated her. The speech pattern didn’t match. That left two men who were sitting alone. If Kakashi was being honest with himself he was hoping it was the cute one with the ponytail—

—who had just glanced at his watch, sighed, and pulled a stack of papers out of his messenger bag, along with a red pen.

..watching Icha Icha instead of grading exams…

Bingo.

Kakashi got up and walked over, standing in front of the empty chair across from the teacher.

“Uh, hi.”

“Hi?” the man replied, giving him a small smile as he wrinkled his face in confusion.

Kakashi’s heart skipped. Fuck.

“Is this seat taken?”  

The smile grew a little bigger. A blush coloring his cheeks.

“Actually, it is. I’m waiting for someone.”

Kakashi thought he saw the slightest bit of disappointment flicker across the man’s face. It was enough to encourage him forward with his ridiculous plan.

“I think that someone is me.”

The man put down his pen, giving Kakashi his full attention.

“Clever, I’ll give you that. But I know that it’s not.”

“No, really. It’s me.”

The man scratched at the scar the cut across his nose and over his cheeks, his irritation apparent.

“I’m flattered by your effort, but pushy persistence isn’t attractive to me.”

Oh boy. Well. He’d already come this far…

“I’m not being pushy. It was me you were texting last night.”

The man narrowed his eyes. Kakashi tried not to wince under his glare. It was formidable.

“What?”

Kakashi pulled out the chair and sat down, as the man nearly squawked with disapproval.

“My friend wrote his number on a piece of paper. There was one number that could have been a 4 or a 9 and I guess I got it wrong.” Kakashi said, matter of fact.

He watched as the man face contorted through several reactions.

“Are you insane?” he hissed.

Well, maybe, but…

“Not clinically. I’m not a serial killer or anything, if that’s what you’re asking.”

The man widened his eyes.

“Ok, sorry, that was a stupid thing to say, considering.”

“Try idiotic.”  

Kakashi bristled.

“Well, what about you? My number can’t have been in your phone, yet you spoke like you knew me.”

“I just got a new phone yesterday! None of my contacts transferred. I thought you were Izu—my friend. The number looked vaguely familiar I—this is fucking absurd. Why the hell would you come to meet me?”

“You seemed interesting.” Kakashi shrugged.

“After a ten minute text conversation?” he asked, incredulous.

Kakashi rattled off other reasons in his head. How he’d had a terrible fucking night. How he couldn’t sleep because he was plagued by painful nightmares. How he was seconds away from taking enough anti-depressants to knock him the fuck out for a few hours, when their texts had distracted him enough to forget about it completely.

“I was having a bad night and you made me laugh,” he settled on saying.

The man scoffed, yet there was a softness in his eyes.

“How can I trust you? It’s not like someone can vouch for you—“

“IRUKA!”

Gai was mid-stride to their table, before he froze.

“K..kakashi!? You two know each other?!”

“You two know each other?!” Kakashi countered.

“Iruka’s my newest protégée! We just started training a few weeks ago,”—Gai’s eyes lit up—“Why have I not thought of this before?! This is absolutely perfect! What incredible genius set you two up?!”

“Uh, actually, you did, Gai. I misread the number you gave me and well,” Kakashi spanned his hands out in front of him to say here we are.

“What luck! How beautiful! It was meant to be. I’ll leave you two alone,” Gai said, quickly making himself scarce.

“You know Gai,” Iruka deadpanned, both eyebrows raised, as he leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest.

“He’s my best friend.” A smile crept across Kakashi’s face. “How’s that for vouching for me?”

[aintnouseofpretending]

Many Years Away

Mr D (John Deacon) x Tomboy!Reader x Mr M (Brian May) Time Travelling reader AU imagine

You're a college student in 1973, that also works as a session musician—guitar and bass—and a part-time music instruments store clerk. One day you and one of your friend—also a session musician, are ringed to come, just in case needed,

At the end of the taping, you're asked to stay by one of the producers and watch over the small band that's going to tape last, the band is named Queen. Because it's only been recently they start to record regularly in the studio, you've never met them, and you used this opportunity to finally see them,

They absolutely amaze you, a brilliant performance you've never seen or heard before. And hell, you've never been more eager to introduce yourself to the future big guitarist and bassist of the group, learn a thing or two of their techniques,

Both Brian May and John Deacon still astounded you with their plays as you go home. You wish to catch them again soon because you didn't make the good first impression—Taylor thought you were a guy from your gestures and "uniquely progressive” fashion choice, as he said it, insults you whilst he’s at it. And lady luck stays for the night; the studio ring you the second time, you actually got to play both guitar and bass—showing off your dynamic and fluid skill, and at the same time when Queen is already there,

Nothing beats the feeling of getting your skills recognised by fellow guitarists; quickly you, May, and Deacon become friends. Ever since then, you might not get called, but you always come to the studio just to see Queen recording and learn more from May and Deacon,

Also because you took a deeper interest in the men themselves,

You're getting closer and closer to both of them to the point that you're expected backstage on their every plays—gigs, but you purposely use an incorrect term to piss off Taylor,

One day, though, you can't come to the next one because you've got to do your thesis—much to their shame. So Taylor jokes; "Listen to our cassettes if you miss us, love." Despite receiving a couple smacks from your guitarist best friends, in the end, they agreed, whilst they listen to your demos,

Though there's a slight issue; you can't listen to the cassette of their debut album without feeling slight headaches, every damn time, as if you're not supposed to do it. At first, when you bought it, you think you're just a bit stressed or under the weather, so you force yourself and listen to the cassette till its finishes, but it always happens; and the headache become increasingly painful the more you try to listen and go through the album,

Of course, you never told them about it, because of; 1, you listen to them live when they're taping each song, listen to them rehearsing, and you always feel normal. 2, you'd rather endure the spinning effect than telling them the truth that you might pass out listening to it. Eventually, you are angered by the mysterious symptoms, you chose to keep forcing yourself and listen to their album before they're back,

And you actually passed out. It frustrates you to lie to May and Deacon about that; so you listen to them very seriously when they rehearsing after they came back. And of course, nothing happens to you, despite the fact that they played the songs that are in the cassette,

When you're about to completely accepted that maybe you have a rare case of not being able to listen to any processed sounds ever again, something strange happens; both May and Deacon suddenly looks very old for a split second,

And that didn't stop; the more you spend time with them, stranger things keep on coming. It's no longer just May and Deacon, all of them will change into the old version of themselves, but there's one more bizarre thing that earns the crown of the odds and curious,

You feel like you didn't belong there. As if all this time you're put in that world by accident, but you fit in for some reason, whatever happens to you refuse to tone down. You hallucinate something of neon and colourful but dark and grey world, sky-high buildings, technologies you've never seen but more familiar as if you've known it since birth,

You try to hide it, despite almost getting yourself fired, and worst; dropped out when you're about to graduate. It’s also not helping that whenever you see May and Deacon, they keep on growing older. You're absolutely sure you have Schizophrenia—but you don't think it's known wide by the public yet. Wait, how would you know?

Your unusual demeanour eventually brings May and Deacon knocking on your door. Of course, in the end, you can’t lie, especially to May that catches you doing it in the speed of light, and there’s no other way but be honest,

After telling them, you aren't even surprised that the episodes' become milder so abruptly. You took the opportunity to analyse it, find out what's wrong. Nonetheless, you're glad everything is back to normal... Except it didn't, the imagery is back and even more vivid than before,

You're thankful May and Deacon is there to aid you. Finally, in one of your episode, it’s like the last puzzle piece was finally put in your mind, you remembered; you were from 2039. "2039? What are you talking about, y/n?" May asked.

"I-I think that's the year... Where I came from..." You answered, "all the hallucinations make sense... I... Might've been dreaming all this."

"Or it's simply one of your absurd images. That means nothing, y/n. You're here. You're real. You're not a time traveller."

"What if I am? And I have to go back?"

"Otherwise the rest of my life will be agonizing."

If you were any more out of your mind, you might miss that. But neither of you chose to mention it further, seeing you so out of your zone. May soon escorted you home safely. Just like before, when you tell him or Deacon about it, the visions become blurry before it gets even crystal clear,

But you knew all along, you're not from there, and when the gears' start working, your clock is ticking, and the images from where you came from has stopped completely. You don’t feel right being there at all, you can see the dream is about to end, and it’s inevitable,

You enjoy the rest of your stay, never have you stopped saying you're grateful to meet them, to hang with them, to be best friend with May and Deacon. On your last day, you make excuse to throw a goodbye party till morning—that you're actually going somewhere for a bit to meet your relatives after graduating. Spoiling each member of the group,

You didn't expect for May to come back after the party ends, and he saw you deteriorating into neon lights as the sun is rising. He tried to stop it from happening, but it is the end. You tell him; "Dream or not, please be happy and live your life. Remember me. I'll miss you, May."

You're back to 2039; a college student that works in a guitar store and a session musician. You saw the Cassette you bought yesterday and listen to with your grandma's old radio; Queen's debut album. It might've been a dream, you've discovered the legendary rock band Queen because of your grandma, and had been listening to them nonstop since then; maybe that's why you dream you're a time traveller after listening to '39, Brian May is your guitar hero after all,

Not to mention you're going to be one of the session musicians to receive the honour of working with him next week. "Big fan, sir." You say after you're introduced by the producer. He asks to see you perform before the others come, and you’ve never been this nervous in your entire life, even more so because of that damned dream,

"Perfect. Sounds just like yesterday..."

"Thank you, sir. You're a very big influence on my entire career."

"Just call me, May. We're going to work together again anyway."

You pretend to ignore the last bit and says; "I'm sorry, I'm afraid I respect you too much to just call you like an old friend, sir."

"But we are."

"Whatever do you mean—?"

"Were you not to told me you're from 2039, how would I be here? Specifically picking you? Let alone wrote '39? You even play, dress, and worked as a session musician, exactly like that day. It's already impossible to forget, now it feels like we're still in that awful studio, taping, the way you cannot seems to stop calling it. Annoyed Rog so much he throws his sticks at you. How many times was it?"

"... May?"

"You've missed many of our plays. John misses you, y/n. And so am I. Much more than you can imagine."

End?

+ ———— - ———— + ———— - ———— + ———— - ———— + ———— -

There’s a high percentage that I will write this since I’m a sucker for a love triangle and slow-burn romance, and because I have lots of fun coming up with this Imagine!

By the way, feel free to request imagines, especially that involves Tomboy Reader, but of course it doesn’t close to just that particular genre, I also open for another spectrum of readers as well! Don’t be shy to be specific! I will fulfil it since I really need something fun to do amidst studying for upcoming exam @_@

[goonlalagoon]

The Academy of Witchcraft and Wizardry || Leagues and Legends

A few months back I wrote a Leagues & Legends/Hogwarts AU as a birthday present for a friend who’s also a huge fan of the books, and figured I may as well post it here!

When Laney Jones goes under the sorting hat, her back is perfectly straight and her face is placid, relaxed. Her hands fold neatly in her lap, and none of the students and professors think she’s anything other than calm, maybe even disinterested. 

Internally, she quite seriously threatens the Hat with a fiery death if it spits out her secret. The threat alone would probably merit Gryffindor, but the Hat isn't easily swayed by mere stunts. When the rip along it's hem opens, it sends her to Slytherin.

(Such a thirst to prove yourself. You'll do well there)

She's practically a squib. She makes no attempts to claim otherwise, because if you say you're Merlin reborn everyone watches you, but when they think you're a step away from being a muggle they take the fact that you got some coloured sparks as a victory, even if you're supposed to be turning a matchstick into a needle. Pride is one thing, but Laney knows that sometimes you have to let people think poorly of you so they won't look too close. 

She excels in herbology, potions, and magical theory. She won't excel at History of Magic until her second year, because she is unequipped both for professor Binns and for the way all of the magical history she knew was geographically removed from everything they covered in class.

(Laney Jones isn't a squib; her mother is a squib, so that effectively makes Laney a muggle. Her brother is a wizard, though she hasn't seen him since she was eight. She scours the Prophet every morning, because she still thinks her big brother is the centre of the world)

Rupert Hammersfeld had already read every History of Magic text book on Hogwarts' seven year book list at least once by the time he was ten. He stays awake in Binns' classes making detailed notes anyway, but most of them are his own thoughts and recalled external sources. Rupert likes history; his mother is a curse breaker, and so he knows plenty of non euro-centric history from her, and his uncle made sure to teach him at least some of the history of the parts of India their ancestors hailed from as well. He writes out theoretical alternate lesson plans when he's done transcribing his years-old notes on the British goblin wars.

He's read a lot of textbooks over the years, curled up in the Hogwarts library in the holidays. He watched years worth of students pass through the halls before it was his turn, helping his uncle with the paperwork and quietly finding the homesick kids at weekends with his palms full of hot-chocolate and handkerchiefs tucked into his pockets. 

His uncle fretted, sometimes, that he couldn't give Rupert as much time as he deserved. The world outside thought he did, of course he did, the headmaster of Hogwarts having to raise a child, it was a wonder he had any time for the boy at all. They sniffed and murmured about how irresponsible, how unseemly, it was for that Elizabeth to have not only had a child out of wedlock but to have then left it with her respectable, long-suffering brother to raise while she ran wild. 

He was pure-blooded (that his father had magic at his fingertips was one of the few things Rupert knew, not because his mother gave two figs about blood status but because one of the few stories she shared of him included the elegance of his preserving spells), from a line that could trace itself back to the Founders, and he just wanted everything to be orderly, calm, and safe. He spends ten and a half minutes under the hat, discussing where he should go. The hat is quite adamant, but Rupert knows how people would talk and takes a while to convince.

(Usually, the hat accepts a direct request to go into a certain house - but this is from a self-imposed sense of obligation, and under it there’s a strong sense that the hat’s option would be really nice, actually, so it insists)

The Hufflepuffs and the Slytherins don't have any first year classes together; for historic reasons they tend to be paired with the Ravenclaws, which suits Rupert quite well. He's from a family of Gryffindors, but they can be a bit...much, sometimes. He’s all for chivalry and protecting those who need it, but from a lifetime in the castle he’s familiar with just how often the Gryffindor common room exists in a state of chaos.

He's aware of the black almost-squib in his year anyway, of course. He watched his fellow first years arrive on the boats, matching names to faces as they were called up to the front of the Great Hall, noted houses. And you could never escape the gossip - a castle full of teenagers lived on rumour and hearsay.

Rupert sneaks down to Hogsmede regularly, to meet up with Sez and Bart. He slips past Laney in the halls or out on the grounds, unseen, and he says nothing to anyone - not that there was a student out of bed, or about the mix of muggle tricks and magical practical jokes she was carefully practising with, night after night.

They don't meet properly until third year, when they chose between the optional subjects and classes became more widely mixed between the four houses. Laney takes Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, Care of Magical Creatures and Muggle Studies. She doesn't particularly like the sound of muggle studies, but she knows her own grades - the extra work is worth it, she figures, for that number of perfect grades to outweigh her abysmal practical demonstrations. Besides, she's eyeing the idea of a political career, and she figures it wouldn't hurt to be officially Able To Speak the Muggle Lingo.

Rupert signs up for all of the same subjects except for Muggle Studies as well, so their schedules rather abruptly align almost completely. It's several weeks into third year before Rupert (hesitantly) offers her the recipe to a colour changing powder he'd found in a market stall, one summer visiting his mother. Laney had been hiding dyes up her sleeves and hidden in bracelets for years, turning mice green when she was supposed to make them into a pin cushion. The Dozen Drop Dyes she’s been using are expensive, and require active enchantment to make. A powder is in several ways easier to hide, and it’s something she can make herself with the help of a few magical ingredients.

She drops her Magical Theory books down next to him in the library the next day because he'd been struggling with the underpinnings of Gamp's Exceptions (again. It just didn't make sense! What was different about food? He could conjure wooden furniture, but he couldn't conjure spices that were made from dried bark. It wasn't logical) and Laney was painfully aware of anything even close to a debt.

By the end of the year, she would be trading notes and explanations because it was easier to study together than alone. He would be occasionally transfiguring things in class for her, always partially and always incorrect, and talking her through the non-magical defences he'd learnt over the years of helping Sez and Bart track down dangers in the streets of Hogsmede and the edges of the Forest.

At the start of their fourth year, there are  two arrivals of particular note. One is a red-head who towers over the first years, and the other is short even by the standards of his cohort. Farris, Jack, goes into Gryffindor. Sanders, Grey, has an extended period under the hat and is finally sent to Ravenclaw.

(Jack thinks the hat sounds a bit grudging about it)

It turns out that Jack is actually in their year, a transfer student. When asked where from, he shrugs and says "here and there", which people generally take as either home schooled, or expelled from every other magical school in the world, because it turns out that Jack gets into fights the way most people breathe.

It isn't even duelling; magic is rarely involved. Rupert half-suspects that's intentional. After all, when you're fighting someone over the fact that they've just said something dismissive about the muggleborn, sending them to the hospital wing with a broken nose without drawing your wand at all does rather illustrate the point. Rupert lectures him about fighting and files neat, official complaints and sends home form-written teacher’s notes where it will help.

(Grey slips safely beneath the radar, by and large. He doesn't get letters at breakfast, but occasionally he'll find a book he's never seen with his name on the fly leaf in the Ravenclaw common room. Spider had been at Hogwarts, once upon a time, and he used to slip out to Hogsmede, and after all -  the Ravenclaw tower was guarded only by riddles.

This was all immaterial, given he could also turn into a spider at will, but at heart Spider appreciated the detail of these things)

Laney and Rupert quickly discover that it is very difficult not to like Jack. He seems permanently cheerful, but has a streak of dark humour that never fails to make Laney snicker. His magic is all over the place, which Rupert marks down to his haphazard teaching. Some of the fourth year material  is old hat to him, and some of their first year spells are novelties.

He also has a distressing (to Rupert, at least) tendency to wander at will into the Forbidden Forest. Rupert makes sad sounds whenever he catches Jack wandering in or out of the trees, and ignores the guilty awareness that he's been gradually working on containing an acromantula infestation in there for years. 

Laney tells Jack she isn't even an almost-squib, magically speaking, early in their fifth year. She had thought about it the summer before but she couldn't bring herself to do it. She's too used to secrecy, and she can't just hand this over to someone without knowing for certain that they won't let it slip. He stares at her, delighted, and immediately produces a battered jacket imbued with a shield charm. She pours over it, and he promises to write to the friend who made it for him to see if she can be persuaded to share her secrets. 

Laney and Rupert are too busy with their own studies to help Jack catch up on the patches in his own past learnings completely, so he’s had a mismatch of tutors since the professors first realised he was missing several foundations. Somehow he ends up being taught second year Charms by the runty first year he shared a boat over with. Grey trades off time running Jack through old class notes borrowed from Laney and Rupert to explain things he hasn't necessarily studied yet himself for time going over the material the fifth years are currently studying. 

(Grey is vaguely considering taking his OWLs early, except then he'd take the NEWTs early too, and he'd be stuck out in the world with stunning grades but no legal guardians, too young to do things like rent a flat or get a job even with his forged papers placing him as a few years older than he actually is)

Jack gets letters sporadically, usually accompanied by pictures covered in sticky fingerprints. They rarely seem to be delivered by the same bird twice, until he goes home to Mexico for one winter break, Grey in tow. They have a great time, even if Grey complains about the heat, but he also notices that none of the family know anything about what their youngest has been up to for the past six years. 

He corners Jack about it once they're back at Hogwarts, in a roundabout way, and it spills out - the one magical son in an entirely muggle home, except for a mother who had some magical relatives and extended family friends in several different countries. They'd fabricated an excuse for why he was leaving home, and Jack hadn't gone back since. His mother had been insistent that it would be good for him, better than staying at the local underground schools or going to the closer boarding school in America, even if she hadn't been able to verbalise why. She just knew.

His mother had been quite keen to hear what he'd been up to since he ran away from school, but Grey knows he wasn't supposed to have heard that conversation and won’t be getting any answers if he asks.

Laney listens closely, peers sidelong at Grey, and smirks at them both. 

"Well, I had to forge enough paperwork to get onto the Hogwarts register and fool my mother." While Grey splutters at the new information, Rupert tilts his head and asks ‘why Hogwarts’. She's never spoken about this before, and he hadn't wanted to pry. Laney shrugs. 

"Uagadou acceptance can't be faked, and I was actually born in England - mom and dad were over for a year living with my uncle, diplomatic stuff - so it was just feasible that I would have gone onto their register not Uagadou's." She smiles, sharp. "And anyway, everyone at Uagadou uses gestures not a wand, so magic would be a lot harder to fake."

They derail into a conversation about different schools of magic. If Rupert or Laney find it odd that Grey goes quiet when they mention Mahoutokoro, the school of magic closest to his home town (though they don't know this, precisely, just that he has a certain face structure and accent, and a tendency to slip into Japanese when he’s grumbling over books without realising), neither mention it. 

Jack waxes unexpectedly, passionately lyrical about how colour coding robes is harsh and minimising and biased anyway, because it rewards grades not effort, and some of the more flashy, non-grade related ingrained colour shifts follow no reasonable pattern, with no care for context.

Did you know that if you kill an aggressive giant with a third year spell you'd use to play pranks on your friends every week (and a lot of luck), your robes turn shimmering gold for 'services to the community'? But if you kill a rampaging dragon as it tries to eat you after razing an entire village with a curse you've only heard of and never dreamt of using, they'll go white as snow.

The year Laney, Rupert and Jack reach their sixth year of school, Grey is finally old enough to go to Hogsmede with them - well. According to his paperwork, anyway. They had offered to take him before through the hidden passage Rupert preferred for getting to the village to meet Sez, but he'd waved an ink specked hand to decline because he was too recognisable, too obviously not old enough to be on a Hogsmede trip, and that meant he wouldn't be allowed into the bookstore, so what even was the point?

Jack cheerfully trails Grey into the bookstore, holding a growing pile of books and trying (and failing) to see any kind of rhyme and reason behind the collection. Laney peels off to the joke shop to buy a few new toys. She comes out with a mental list of other purchases for Rupert, Jack, or Sez to pick up for her later to make sure nobody draws too many connections to her.

Rupert wanders around the local houses with his pack full of gifts he's carefully brought down from the castle - a pepper up potion brewed with better ingredients than a family could afford, a handful of pages carefully transcribed from an old rare book that only existed in three collections in the world for someone's research, several bags of cookies baked in a corner of the kitchens (the house elves had gotten used to this when Rupert was a child and didn't panic too much nowadays) to hand out to anyone he knows is having a bit of a rough patch, or will just appreciate a friendly visit.

They meet up at Sally-Anne's place as always, because it's good, cheap food and Rupert wouldn't dream of going anywhere else unless required by circumstance to be a Noble Example of a Pureblood Son.

(Sally had inherited the Hog's Head not more than a couple of years ago, but she's been practically running it since she was fifteen so everyone thinks of it as Sally-Anne's)

When Rupert arrive there are already textbooks scattered over his favourite booth. He, Jack and Laney all have a Care of Magical Creatures group project to work on. Grey is theoretically working on his own History of Magic essay, but is actually pouring wide eyed over their notes. Jack is waving his hands as he talks at length about dragon communications to an increasingly fascinated Grey and a frustrated Laney, because none of this is in any of the five books she's read, Farris, where are your sources - Rupert nudges her as he sits down, because while the mystery of Jack's sporadic yet strangely specific knowledge base is something they both agree they need to get to the bottom of, they've also agreed they should probably make sure they do it somewhere they can't be overheard, given how much he slides away from it.

Halfway through doodling a dragon (it's supposed to be a Liondragon, but Jack knows it's a poor copy of the carved sketches he's spent years watching George leave on tables, support beams and pieces of firewood) Jack feels a chill on the back of his neck, and shrugs it off as residual paranoia. 

The window explodes a moment later, and he pushes himself thoughtfully up from the scattered glass.

"Huh, so I guess that was an anti-apparition ward being set." He tries to explain this to the aggressive fellow Gryffindor who's loudly threatening to go fetch the aurors, and winds up tearing up his robes to act as a tourniquet because he isn't carrying any dittany and it's not like he's going to be given his wand back to actually repair the splinching wound anyway so he needs to do something.

Laney catches his eye as the two searching men start tearing up the floor in search of the rumoured tunnel to Hogwarts. She's fiddling with the bracelet on her left wrist, a dark wooden bangle with - if Jack remembers correctly - some constellation etched onto it. Rupert goes very still beside him, eyes apparently fixed on Sally shouting furiously at the Wizards tearing up her pub.

The hidden compartment on Laney's bangle flips open, and the room is abruptly plunged into night as it fills with dark mist. Jack lunges forwards towards the wizard holding their wands, and rolls cheerfully to his feet amid the sound of them clattering to the floor. From somewhere off to his left he can hear the loud oof of someone who has just been punched in the guts and probably hasn't been in a fight other than a magical duel since he was ten and doesn't remember how to roll with the punches.

In the dark, Jack grins.

[taehyungiesnoona]

02 | My Life With Bangtan

⇢  pairing: female reader x OT7

⇢ genre: luckyfan!au

⇢ rating: SFW

⇢ warnings: very minimal uses of profanity

⇢ word count: 6.3k

⇢  A/N: Welcome back to another chapter of MLWB. I’m glad you guys enjoyed my rewrite of the first chapter! I have so many plans for this series that it will be my main focus. I am working full time so I won’t be able to pump out chapters in the way I want to. Please bear with me. Also this story takes place around the LY: Her era, keep that in mind. Anyways lets see what will happen next for Y/N, shall we? Happy Reading~ 

Chapters 01 || 02 || 03 || 04 || 05

»»———— CHAPTER TWO ————-«« 

I continued to stand there in complete awe.

Bangtan Sonyeondan was literally standing in my checkout lane! Was this truly reality or was this a figment of my imagination? Was I that worked up over dealing with rude customers today that I began to hallucinate the seven beings that brought me joy? Those seven pairs of eyes now began to grow extremely wide from the sentence that had slipped from my lips. I was still not one with the world, my mind still trying to put the pieces together.

“Someone has a dirty mouth.” Suga scoffed to my comment in Korean, a smirk evident on his face.

It then occurred to me, all those lessons and self studying had seriously paid off. I was able to comprehend every word that he said! Which brought me back to the situation at hand, I just cursed in front of them. I was the worst when it came to first impressions, this was merely proof of the fact.

“I-I-I’m so sorry! Where are my manners? You all just took me by s-surprise.” I fumbled with my words as I dipped my head low.

Their eyes seemed to grow even bigger knowing I was able to speak the same language as them. I could have sworn that I saw V’s jaw drop a tiny bit. I never really got to talk much in Korean, so for them to just stand there as I attempted to speak it, made me worry a bit about any errors I would have made or if I just sounded flat out weird.

“Wow! She speaks Korean!” Jimin’s eyes lit up, a wide smile growing across his face.

“She sounds almost like a native speaker!” J Hope added as his smile grew in size as well.

I was still very much confused as to why of all places, they were here at my shitty job. Taking a look at their empty hands it was clear they weren't here for groceries. So what exactly was the reasoning for this encounter? A small part of me had a feeling that it was far more than just a coincidence.

“May I ask...what brings you here?”

“It’s quite simple actually.” RM was the one to answer my question, smiling as he exposed his dimples. “We’re here because of your letter.”

He held up an envelope that was indeed the one I sent two months ago. A little worn out from the trip it must have gone through but was mine nonetheless.

“Which by the way, was written very well.” he added. “We assumed you had someone write it for you but it seems you proved us wrong, knowing now your Korean is spot on.”

I couldn't help but become shy at the compliment that was presented to me. I had been so worried that I was saying something grammatically incorrect. His praise said otherwise, a rush of relief making its way over me.

To be honest, I had completely forgotten what the contents of that letter was. I wrote damn near a book to them, my heart pouring out on the front and back of each page.

Forcing my mind to go back in time, I had to replay the events of that day, remembering myself sitting at my desk as my pen was flowing across the lined pieces of paper that were in front of me. I had already begun a tangent and was just spewing whatever the hell was on my mind. While writing that letter, a thought came to me, reminiscing on the dream I had the night before.

I had the craziest dream ever last night.

It got me thinking of what it would be like to go on vacation with you guys.

I bet it'd be so much fun! I’m sure we’d have so much fun! I need to soak up a bit of the outdoors more.  I need to intake some more UV rays.

Because...I actually don't go out much. Or at all. Quite frankly it's due to the fact I don't have any friends.

The only ones I consider to be my friends, are you seven...

Sounds pretty lame, right?

We've never met and... in our lifetimes, the chances of such an event are pretty slim.

This letter is my way at reaching out to you. To vent to you what I normally hide from others.

Thinking back on certain parts of that letter, I couldn't help but cringe. What the hell was I thinking that day? I had no clue whatsoever. I knew I had a lot on my mind, everything literally pouring out.I felt super embarrassed for what felt like the millionth time, wanting nothing more to do than hide myself under a rock for the rest of eternity. Breaking my train of thought was RM’s voice, noticing that I remembered the contents of the letter.  

“We’d like to make your letter a reality. We were all touched by your words that instead of just writing back to you, we came up with the crazy thought that we just meet you in person, something we really haven't done.”

“What RM Hyung is trying to say is that, we’re taking you on that vacation you mentioned~” V chimed in.

No fucking way. There's just no fucking way this is real!

The sentences that seemed to never want to leave my mind. This time of course, keeping it to myself. I needed to fully be able to process everything that was being said, it all was hitting  me pretty head on and I still felt like this was just a dream or something. My eyes soon found themselves looking over at Jungkook, who had been pretty quiet the whole time. Our gazes met while he offered me a soft smile. That’s when I realized, how would any of this happen? My head swung back to make eye contact with RM, the person who had been doing most of the talking thus far.

“Wait, but how? I mean. There’s no way that I can ask for time off. My manager is kinda a prick.” My faced frowned a bit at the thought of the boss, the one responsible for my paycheck every two weeks.

Though he rarely came out of his office, he enforced pretty strict rules from time to time thus making the working environment like some sort of prison. And with those strict rules, he never would allow anyone to request time off without a good enough reasoning behind it. You literally had to be on your deathbed in order to get an approval from that man.

RM nodded his head. “You’re absolutely right. Which is why you’ve already been approved for the next thirty days.”

My mouth flung open at his statement. “What? Really? A whole month???!”

J-Hope scooted closer to RM, patting him on the back. “You can thank this guy for that. He spoke to your manager and let’s just say he was quite...persuasive.”

Impressive. I was indeed quite impressed with them. The fact that not only they convinced my boss to give me time off but a month at that...was truly astonishing. But my thoughts, once again, started coming up with the “what ifs”. It seemed like I had a question for everything.

“Okay, but what about you guys? I’m sure you all are super busy. Would you even have time for something like this? With just a normal girl like me?”

Bringing out of his silence, Jungkook spoke, spooking me a bit in the process. His voice was so calm, more so in person versus when I would hear it while watching a video or something.  

“No need to worry. It’s all been taken care of. Besides we’re on a bit of break from promoting anyways.” that sweet smile was once again on his face.

“There might be a few appearances planned out, but you’re more than welcome to tag along with us.” Jin finally made his presence in the conversation as well.

It was then at that moment that I was finally able to come to terms with everything that was happening. This was no dream at all, this was very much real! I had to have been the luckiest person on the earth. The fact that I was going to spend not one, not two, but thirty days with my ultimate group still blew my mind. Of all the letters they received on the daily, what made mine so special? The urge to ask them this question lingered on my mind but I took it upon myself not to proceed with it, to just go with the flow.

I needed a vacation anyways, it had been long overdue.

“I’d love to!” biting down on my bottom lip, my cheesy smile presenting itself.

We then went on to introducing ourselves, getting the formalities out the way and what not, even though I knew who they where. One by one, they stated their stage names as well as their actual names, giving me permission to call them by it. In addition, their ages were given, their Korean ages that is. Seokjin was twenty-six, Yoongi was twenty-five, both Namjoon and Hoseok were twenty-four, Jimin and Taehyung were twenty-three and Jungkook was twenty-one. After they gave their introductions, all seven of them looked to me, waiting for me to take my turn. No longer feeling awkward, I raised up a hand and waved to them.

“It’s nice to meet you. My name is Y/N. I’m twenty-five years old….internationally??”

The last part coming out more as a question. I knew I must have sounded silly but it seemed like it was overlooked as Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook’s eyes grew once more in size.

“She’s a Nuna!” Taehyung pointed at me, his voice becoming a bit high pitched.

Hearing the word nuna and being called one, felt a bit weird at first. I’d always hear that word being used in a drama, having it being directed at me, took me back a bit. Not in bad way, just a little surprising to be referred as one. I was pretty sure Jimin caught on, grabbing Taehyung’s hand and lowering it as he spoke.

“Are you okay with being called Nuna?”

“I am.” a light chuckle came out. “It was just a bit weird hearing it for the first time, that’s all.”

“Well we definitely want you to feel comfortable around us, so call us whatever you’d like to~” Hoseok adding into the conversation with a radiant smile across his face.

Looking back down at my register, I noticed that it had been roughly around fifteen minutes since the end of my shift. It wasn’t long but time really seemed to fly by since Bangtan made their appearance. Would this mean that our time together would fly by also? I was really hoping not but I would save that thought for another point in time. My main priority would be to just live in the now, there was no need to question what the future would hold for me.

The boys and I decided to meet up after I clocked out. We were going to share our first meal together, and to say I was excited was an understatement. I was ecstatic, getting the opportunity to spend any time with these seven, I knew I would cherish these moments so much. I’d go to my grave with these memories so I wanted to ensure that I was making the most of out them.

Originally I had planned to clock out at an extremely alarming rate but knowing I was now going to meet up with BTS to have dinner, believe me when I say I did it Sonic fast. I wasn’t in the best shape and I could feel my chest heave from the small bit of vigorous activity I had put it through. As soon as I opened the door to my cute little light blue VW Beetle, my body almost gave out from the exhaustion I had placed upon it. Still attempting to catch my breath, I pulled down the visor above me to take a good look at myself, turning the ignition on in the process.

My cheeks were red, and strands of my now frizzy hair were sticking to my forehead from the small amount of perspiration that was apparently visible now. I looked absolutely horrible. A bit terrified seeing myself disheveled, I opted to open my glove compartment and search for something, anything to fix myself up. To my relief, I kept an “emergency kit” there in case something were to ever happen while I was on the road. Rummaging through it, I managed to see that there was minimal makeup, a few feminine hygienic items, some spare cash, a flashlight and lastly a package of those wet wipes.

Snatching them as soon as I had them in my sight, I took a few out and placed the cool toweling against my skin, easing my cheeks from the hot sensation that was present on them. Shortly after I took another one out and folded it neatly before placing it against my forehead, allowing the sweat to soak up as bit as I threw my noggin against the headrest of the driver’s seat. My eyes remained closed as I continued to enjoy the effect the wet wipe was having on my poor skin.

Bringing my phone up into view, I noticed the time. It was a little after 5:30 PM. It had been already thirty minutes since I was face to face with my bias group, shocking still that I was the lucky one who was given this opportunity to spend a whole month with them. We were supposed to meet up at a local dinner, since we all agreed upon eating burgers and I knew of the perfect little spot to do so. It was a Ma and Pop kind of place. Very small, but the experience there was like none other. The owners really took care of you, making you feel right at home as soon as you walked through the entrance.

Also, since not too many people in town knew of this hidden gem, it was a perfect way for the boys to relax and not have to worry so much about being bombarded with fans. Something that seemed to happen more frequently since their popularity was on the rise. To be completely honest, I also intended to make a better impression on them since I kept replaying the scene in my head, how my sailor mouth made its appearance within the first minute of meeting them.

Cheeks returning now to their normal temperature as well my heart rate finally coming down to a normal pace, I removed the wet wipe from my forehead and placed it in the passenger seat. I grabbed for the few cosmetic items I had stowed away, nothing extravagant, just an eyeliner pen as well as an extra tube of my favorite mascara. Normally I didn’t care too much as to physical appearance, that due to my lack of self confidence but having seen how terrible I looked, I opted to just apply very minimal makeup.

Quickly swiping a thin line across my eyelids and applying a few coats of mascara to my eyelashes, I looked back at the reflection before me. I wasn’t drop dead gorgeous but for the simple occasion of having a casual dinner, it would definitely suffice. My hair no longer was an unruly mop on my head, I patted it down with the palm of my hands and slightly detangling it with my fingers. Looking once more in the glove compartment I was able to score a loose scrunchie I had lying in there and wasted no effort in styling my hair in a simple side braid. I was successful in making myself look like I put a lot of time in when in reality it was the complete opposite.

Satisfied with how I was able freshen myself up, I brought my phone up to my view once more to check the time. It was now roughly 5:45 PM and I had about fifteen minutes before we all were going to meet. The diner we were going to be at was not far from the supermarket, so I knew I had a few more minutes to spare before taking off. I took it as an opportunity to compose myself, shake the jitters that seemed to spew up periodically throughout that past hour.

Inhaling and exhaling a few times, my eyes found themselves shut as I looked back on everything that had happened that day. What I presumed to be a crappy one turned around in the end. The corners of my mouth found themselves curling up, just from the thought of the end of my shift. The thought of Bangtan Sonyeondan. After relaxing for a bit, I shifted the car into reverse and backed out of the parking spot I was in, shifting the gear into drive and took off with a huge smile on my face as I made my way to the diner. I’d never been this excited about dinner in my life.

Pulling into the diner’s parking lot, I noticed a white van on the side. Instantly I knew it was the boys. I hurried to get the parking spot beside them, despite knowing this place wasn’t a busy one. I felt the urge to make sure that no one would occupy it but myself. Easing my way next to their van, I begin to see waves being thrown my way by Hoseok. It surely got the others attention since soon they were exiting the van and waiting right outside the driver’s door.

“Ayeeeeeeee!” they roared in unison, not even letting me get a foot out the door.

My eyes couldn’t help but grow large from their enthusiasm, causing me to release a faint chuckle. Even only having officially met, I noticed a definite change in my mood. The very affect they would have when I would see them on my laptop screen. I seemed to have forgotten about the negativity I was feeling before they approached me. It was as if their very presence flushed all those toxic feelings out of me. Something that I seemed to struggle with so much over these years.

Soon after saying some brief hellos, the eight of us entered into the restaurant and was quickly seated in a large booth that was in the back of the diner. I occupied the very center of it while the members of Bangtan surrounded me from left to right, making me feel a bit nervous once more seeing their gazes upon me. Our waitress came towards us and recognized me right away.

“Oh, Y/N right? You’re dining in for a change?” Her eyebrow rose in curiosity as she grabbed for her pad and pen from her apron pocket.

She then took notice of the seven men that accompanied me, her eyes taking in each one of their appearances and then found its gaze stuck on a particular person, Yoongi. She looked down at him and smiled, her sight not leaving him. I picked on immediately that she took a liking to him. It looked like he didn’t seem to pay any mind to her, his attention was firmly on the menu that was in his hands, skimming over the different burger options there were. She proceeded in taking our orders, each one of the boys giving their order to her in English, which to be honest, was actually really adorable to see first hand. Namjoon was able to do so very smoothly, which was to be expected, but the other members took their time when they spoke in English, making sure not to make any errors. After our waitress went to put in our orders, I found myself looking down laughing,Hoseok noticing right away.

“What’s so funny?” he asked while smiling my way.

“I was just...you guys have come a long way. Your English has definitely improved. I must say I’m quite impressed.” Returning the smile given to me, I looked at the others as well.

“Y/N, may I ask how long you’ve been an A.R.M.Y?” Seokjin’s voice causing me to turn his direction now.

“Oh! Let’s see...it really has been a while. I’ve been a fan of yours since...a little after your debut.”

I could feel my cheeks rise in temperature as I looked back on all the years that had passed since I first came to know who Bangtan was.

“I was casually browsing on Youtube and the MV for No More Dream was in the recommended,I got really intrigued by the concept you guys went for. From there...there was no looking back. I’d been supporting you guys ever since.”  

“We truly appreciate all your support Y/N” Namjoon brought his hands up in a gracious manner, his dimples indenting each cheek of his. “Like that means so much to us knowing you’ve been here since the beginning.”

“I’m glad to have to seen you guys grow so much over the years, as cheesy as it sounds.”

Our waitress had came back and began handing out our drinks, still paying extra attention to Yoongi. As she placed his cup in front of him, her arm continued to linger there, most likely looking to gain his attention or something. I felt a bit bad for her, though her attempts were really subtle, none of them seemed to be successful. Yoongi was lost in thought, his gaze seeming to be anywhere but in that booth. What he must have been thinking about? I couldn’t give the answer to that.

Tuning out the other’s chatter around me, I found myself glancing his way, studying him. His tongue seemed to be clicking on the side of his mouth, he was seriously lost in whatever thought he was having. His facial expressions were a bit hard to read from the angle I was viewing him at, up until our eyes locked onto one another. Shock hit me as my eyes grew large, was he a mind reader of some sort? Did my glances burn at his side causing him to look my way? Whatever the reasoning, his piercing eyes bore into mine and my only reaction was to jump a bit in my seat and look down, hoping his attention would go elsewhere once more.

To my knowledge, it did.

Taehyung’s voice would be the next I would hear, his question was one I was not expecting to asked.

“Since you’ve been supporting us for all these years, do you have a bias? I know many other A.R.M.Y do.”

Quickly shaking my head in response, I replied to his inquiry. “No bias here. I’ve always had a hard time with picking favorites or anything of the sort. Besides it’d be super hard to choose one of you over the other. I adore you all equally.”

Jimin brought a hand up to his mouth, covering the pretty evident smile that was growing across his lips. “That’s so cute Nuna!”

Looking to my left and right, not only Jimin but the others began to smile due to the response I had given. Taking a quick glance his way,  even Yoongi grew a sly smirk in the corner of his mouth. I was glad that my answer was one of their approval, the way those seven reacted made it seem like it was something they had never heard before.

Had they never met someone who wasn’t biased in any way or fashion?

Gaining all of our attention now was the enticing aroma of our food being brought to us. I could feel my mouth beginning to water as one by one our waitress handed our plates to us. As if right on queue, she placed Yoongi’s plate in front of him, subtly brushing the tip of her finger against his arm. I wasn’t sure if anyone else caught on, but for certain I did. As well as Yoongi. His shoulders seemed to tense up from the contact, his eyes growing some in size as he slightly flinched his arm.

“Let me know if there is anything else I can get for you guys. And I mean anything.” the last word coming out of her mouth was in a very flirtatious manner.

Though she was failing to capture her intended target’s attention, I had to give this girl props. Never in my life could I do something as bold as flirting with a member of BTS. Well...anyone of the male species to be more accurate. It had been an awfully long time since I had been in a relationship, not that it was a problem. But when it came to guys in general, I was a mess when it came to flirting or making moves. If I ever got the courage to do that one day would be the day that pigs can actually fly.

“So Y/N..”

As I was bringing up a french fry to my mouth, Namjoon called out to me causing me to turn towards him mid chew.

“A little more about our vacation together. As you know now it’s going be thirty days and the location has already been picked. Also, aside from hanging out with all of us as a group, you’ll get the opportunity to spend some time with each member individually.”

I don’t exactly know what it was about what he had said but it made me very nervous on the inside, my stomach turning completely upside down as I dropped the fry I was holding in my hand, gracefully landing in the center of my lap. I tried my best to play it off coolly, and it had seemed to work with the others, that was until I heard Yoongi’s voice from the edge of the booth.

“Is there a problem?” he asked while taking a sip of his soda.

“N-No. Not at all.” I struggled to get out sounding as normal as possible.

Yoongi looked my way once more before smirking and returning to his plate of food as did I. Keeping to myself for a while, I took this as a chance to just sit there and observe the members of Bangtan. Just like Yoongi, Jungkook mostly stayed to himself, throwing in comments here and there. Seokjin, Namjoon, Hoseok, Jimin and Taehyung seemed to be quite talkative compare to the rest of us. Hoseok always beaming that smile of his, Jimin and Taehyung playfully bothering Jungkook while he tried to eat, and then Namjoon and Seokjin seeming to have a interesting conversation about something I had no idea about, Seokjin throwing in his dad jokes at the most random times.

They literally were no different than what I was accustomed to seeing at home, a bunch of dorks despite the fame and popularity they continued to experience. It didn’t feel like I was sitting at a table with a group of idols, instead it felt like something that was a bit distant to me.

It felt like I was just a casual dinner with friends. My heart grew happy at the thought.

Several days had passed since meeting Bangtan and I was putting in the final touches as far as my packing went. The boys had been extremely helpful in the whole process for me, even going as far as to speaking to my landlord and informed them of my extended vacation. They truly had their way with words, the end result being my landlord giving me a prorated amount to cover the rent while I was away.

As the day I was leaving was upon me, I hurried around my apartment making sure I didn’t forget a single item for this trip. Scurrying around in a frantic mess, I checked my bags then went off the bathroom making sure to grab my toothbrush.

“I can’t believe I almost forgot this” I chuckled as I moved my hair out of my face.

Making my way back over to the living area of my place, I stuffed my toothbrush into whatever space I had left. Sifting my gaze to the side, I noticed my phone vibrating. Picking it up, I unlocked it to see a new message. After our dinner that night, we all exchanged numbers and began a group chat amongst ourselves. I was truly shocked that I was able to even obtain confidential information that was their phone numbers. They all assured me that management was completely fine with this and there was nothing to worry about. Opening up the group chat, the new message was from Taehyung.

Taehyung: Nuna~

Taehyung: Are you excited?

Taehyung: We just wanted to let you know that we will be waiting for you at the accommodations. Here’s the address we had been given---

A map attachment was then sent showcasing the address I was to meet them at. The location where our home would be for this vacation wasn’t a super far drive from where I lived. From the address that was sent to me, it looked like we would be heading to a secluded getaway that had access to a small but somewhat busy city that I had heard of before but never took the chance to visit it beforehand. I had heard so many things about that city and was really looking forward to exploring it with the boys.

I had really become excited about this whole trip. As I was about to respond back to Taehyung’s message, another incoming one appeared on my screen, this time from Namjoon.

Namjoon: I thought we all agreed I would be the one to inform Y/N...lol

Taehyung: Oops. You snooze you lose~

Seokjin: Taehyungie is going to hear it later

Hoseok: Right? haha

Y/N: lol

Namjoon: Be careful on the road Y/N. We’ll see you when you arrive.

Y/N: I will. I’ll see you guys later then 😊

Seokjin: Take care!~

Hoseok: See you later~

As I placed my phone back down, I looked around at my place one last time. This would be the first time I ever would be away from my sanctuary for so long. Normally, I would have done everything in my power to make sure such a thing would not happen. But given the circumstances, I was more than willing to step foot out of my studio. I couldn’t wait to get to my destination. I couldn’t wait to spend the next thirty days with the men who brought me joy through my darkest times.

Me stepping foot outside with the few suitcases I had packed was all the confirmation I needed. Opening the driver’s side door, sitting down and buckling myself made me realize once more: this really was happening. I was about to drive off onto the road to meet up with Bangtan Sonyeondan. The excitement was literally taking over my body as I drove out of my apartment complex, heading towards the highway that was close by. The goofy grin I was very much used to now made its way onto my face. I couldn’t remember that last time I was able to smile for that long. To be quite honest, I really didn’t care.

I opted to drive with the windows down. I mean, that’s what you normally did on road trips right? Not wanting to play any music in the background, I held one arm out of the window allowing the wind to brush against my arm. The road seemed to be never ending but that wasn’t enough to faze me. I had never been on this highway before so when I had the chance, I’d take a quick peek at the scenery. It was like a desert out there. Canyons could be seen and there wasn’t a sign of any wildlife or people for that matter. A quick glance to my GPS that was mounted to my dashboard, I looked at the remaining time that was left for my drive. Approximately two and a half hours were left. I had already been on the road for about three.

It amazed me that time was zooming on by on the road. I noticed that I was soon going to be needing gas so I looked once more to my navigation to see where the nearest gas station was. If there was one. Thankfully, there was a small shop that was about six miles from where I was at and they offered gas. Shifting my attention back to the road ahead of me, I continued to drive down the straight road ahead of me. Once I got to this shop, I made a note to grab a few snacks as well as a soda because I could begin to hear my tummy rumble a little bit.

Those six miles seemingly flew by and I soon found myself pulling up to the one pump that was available at that shop. After coming to a halt, a short older man wearing a navy jumpsuit came from out the store and towards my car. He waved towards me as I was getting out of my car.

“How much gas you needing sweetie?” he asked me as he grabbed for the gas pump.

I had always been so used to self service pumps that I was shocked to see that these types of services still existed. No one’s  ever pumped gas for me so I was a bit surprised that this sweet old man was willing to do it for me. The wrinkles that were spread over various portions of his face stretched as he looked to me, smiling as he awaited from my response.

“Uh...thirty dollars should do the trick.”

“Thirty dollars, you got it. You can go inside and look around while I get this taken care of for you, sweetie. It’ll be about five to seven minutes.”

I smiled back as he gestured towards the shop behind us. As I opened the door, a bell chimed signaling my entrance, a friendly elderly woman on the opposite side of the counter greeted.

“Hey there hun! Go ahead and have a look around and let me know if you need anything.”

The hospitality at that place was simply wonderful. The elder couple that ran this place were some of the friendliest people I had ever come in contact with in a very long time. Aside from the nice couple who ran the diner back home. I began skimming the aisles, picking up a bag of chips and a few candy bars before making my way over to the coolers that held all the drinks. The cool air hit my forehead as I swung the glass door open and reached for my favorite soda. Both arms fully loaded, I made my way to the counter and placed my items down neatly.

“Long trip?” the gently woman asked.

“Not that much longer left.” I nodded towards her. “I have about two and half hours left.”

“Oh?” she rang up my candy bars. “I’m assuming you’re going to the next city over then? Seems the tourism there has really picked up over the last few years.”

“Yup. I’ll be on vacation for a whole month and can’t wait to explore it.”

I noticed a few items she kept behind the counter with her. A bunch of cameras were aligned as well as some stationary and souvenirs. My eyes felt compelled to the polaroid camera that was directly behind her. It was one of the newer models and it was a cute bubblegum pink color. Directly next to it was a journal of the same coloring. The urge to get both the items was very strong, I didn’t try to resist the compulsiveness in me.  

“Can I get that camera and journal as well? Oh and also thirty dollars worth of gas?”

The elderly woman turned her back to me and grabbed for the items I requested. She placed them in a separate bag from my snacks, not even ringing them up which stuck confusion for me. I was about to bring it up when she stopped me.

“These will be on the house as well as your gas. Think of it as a little gift from us. Just promise me you’ll make the most out of you trip and create beautiful memories.”

I was extremely touched by the generosity that she offered to me. I felt tears wanting to well up in my eyes because I was extremely touched by her kindness. Both the woman and man would be two people I would never forget from that day on. I looked to her and smiled, my heart growing soft in the pit of my chest.

“I promise.”

As I walked back to my car, the older man waved once more to me before heading back to his wife.

“Take care now sweetie.” he yelled.

Sitting back in my seat, I leaned back and thought what the woman had said to me. To make beautiful memories on this vacation. Thinking of the group of guys who were waiting for my arrival, I knew that these next thirty days would be just that.

Memorable.

I wanted to make sure that I would cherish whatever happened for the rest  of my life. Which is why I wanted to grab the journal and camera as well, I was going to record this trip as much as I could so when it was over, I would always be able to look back on it. Revving the car in motion and shifting the gear to drive, I was once more on the road. In two and a half hours my life would begin an exciting new chapter. A chapter that I only thought would happen in a dream.

That chapter being--my life with Bangtan.

A/N: The real fun is about to begin! Ahhhhh! So sorry this took me long to update, work has really been draining me plus I’m preparing to see the boys in concert in September, making sure my accommodations are all set. Now that the intro stuff is pretty much out the way, we can finally enjoy vacationing with Bangtan! Also nice to see Y/N in better spirits. Bangtan really does have that effect on her. Stay tuned for the next chapter~

♡ masterlist