#I’ve been due for a more intricate piece for awhile and here we are

[dannybobany]

BLOOD WARNING ⬇️

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Pov: Cecil experiencing the horrors (dying and coming back to life isn’t as fun and funky as you’d expect)

In other news, I was gonna do something different with the red lake, but the red lake as a concept is too cool to change, I’ve decided it transcends the fnaf multiverse and thus wouldn’t be different in this au

[ladyideal]

Wedding Bells

Pairing: Aragorn x Reader

Word Count: 2164

Warnings: mention of injury but fluff

Summary: requested by anon: Hello, may I request an Aragorn x female!ranger!reader fic or headcanons list? I’m not sure about how much detail you prefer but something along the lines of Aragorn realizing his love for the reader before the War of the Ring and him confessing while they’re in the Fellowship, and ultimately marrying her after the war. You’re welcome to change anything you’d like or add a bit more of a backstory. Thanks!

A/n: Ahh first lotr and it's Aragorn! This came out not bad for first request. Or normally first one always comes out a little stilted and awkward. Hope you like it, anon!

The church bells rang. 

Your arm linked through your father's, trembling slightly. Today was the day that you were going to marry your love, the new King of Gondor, Aragorn. Today was the day that you'd yearn for so long to happen. Today was the day that two became one.

"That's our signal," Your father gruffly spoke emotionally, as any father would be on the day his daughter would be wedded to another. "If only your mother was here to see you all grown up and pretty."

You blinked away tears as much as possible, doing your best to not mess up the light make up. In light of your mother's death so long ago, your father had taken down the shop he'd owned to take care of you. Everything you knew as a Ranger was from him. 

How to hunt, how to ride horses, how to fend for yourself, and ultimately how to be kind and love others. It was the way as a Ranger, he'd said, to protect Middle Earth from forces of evil. 

"I love you," You murmured, descending carefully down the stairs and towards the entrance. 

"I love you too, princess," Your father, your rock, your first love, squeezed your hand once more. Not for the first time, you wondered how you even got to this position.

Two Years Ago

If anyone asked, chasing after orcs was not a fun leisure pastime to spend your days. Chasing after orcs itself was not fun, especially when you were sporting an injury on your dominant arm. Cursing yourself for being so careless, you hunkered down under a grove of trees, and started a small fire. 

Dink!

Without thinking, you notched an arrow and aimed your bow towards the direction of the sound. 

"Show yourself!" You ordered into the silence. 

"What is a lady doing out here all alone?" A familiar voice spoke from the shadows, hands up and palms outward in surrender.

You gasped as the figure moved towards the fire light, slowly illuminating his features. With a grin, you lowered your bow. 

"I could ask the same to you," You sat back down on the uneven ground, patting the spot beside you. "Prince Aragorn."

"Am merely a Ranger, m'lady," The Ranger sat down in your offered spot, settling himself comfortably. The edges of his lips curled upwards, despite his efforts. "What brings you here, Y/N? Shouldn't you be back at Minas Tirith?"

"Orcs," You grumbled, checking on your stew you'd hastily threw together at the very last minute. "Been following them for a couple days now."

Silence.

Confused, you turned to him, only to find that his attention was drawn towards your still not dressed injury. Gently, his fingers ghosted on the bleed, and you winced. He gestured towards your arm, while breaking out his kit.

"I know what you're gonna say, Aragorn. You are careless, blah blah blah. The sword got me," You rolled your eyes. "I can stitch it up myself. Just lemme get this stew bubbling first."

"And make a mess of yourself again like last time?" He snorted, shaking his head as he worked. 

"It was just that one time!" You exclaimed, drawing a slight pout at him. "I'll be okay."

He was silent, focusing on the task in front. With your non injured arm, you fetched out two bowls and a ladle. By the time he was done, two bowls of piping hot stew sat in the center along with some leftover lembas bread. 

"Y/N," He addressed you, tightly tying the bandages together. "When I heard you were gone, I thought something had happened. I've tracked you for weeks, thinking the worst."

You handed him his helping of stew, glancing into his grey eyes. 

"And I realized that I missed having you by my side," He took your offering with a nod of thanks. "I'm coming along with you, Y/N. Lest you trip and fall on your own sword due to your clumsiness. "

"Aragorn!"

"No buts, m'lady," He started on his stew, all the while smirking at you.

You rolled your eyes at him.

He could get used to this bantering, he thought. You by his side was all he would ever need. 

You were greeted by the cheering people of Gondor, and two lines of saluting soldiers on either side. The magnificent, intricately carved, ceiling to floor doors were splayed widely. With a tentative smile, you entered the Great Hall.

Family and friends on both sides of the aisle stood up respectfully, all grins and happiness on their faces. Glancing ahead, you brightened up as Aragorn stepped out from a nearby door all dressed up.

Gone were his well known dark green cloak, and worn out leather boots. Instead, a pair of black boots, and black hose was kept. He also wore a sleeveless robe of red velvet, edged in gold. The three buttons of silver were engraved with a star. Another robe was added, black, made of leather and again edged with gold. 

It was fastened with claps made of silver. The robe held the device of Gondor, the White Tree surrounded by seven stars, detailed in silver. A finely made cloak of black was made to complete the outfit; and this was fastened to the outer robe by clasps of gold and silver. The winged silver crown sat on his curls, and his ring was proudly displayed.

He was impossibly handsome, much more than you'd ever seen.

It took your entire will and your father's steady hands that kept you sprinting towards the altar. You did your best to walk down the impossibly long aisle in the same beat as the musicians. You gave a small smile at your soon to be husband, quietly giggling at his amazed look at you.

"Absolutely not, Y/N!" Aragorn paced in front of you. "I can not allow you to join the Fellowship."

"Aragorn," You spoke, desperately keeping the annoyance out of your voice. "I can keep myself safe, thank you. I'm going with you whether you like it or not. Someone has to watch your back."

He had bickered again, but finally admitted defeat. As the Fellowship was formed and set off towards Mordor, he only wished that you would make it out safe and sound. 

It was three months in before the prince acted on his feelings. A sly smirk from the elf prince Legolas, a laughter from Gimli, and a fit of coughs from Gandalf was all it took for him to gather his wits and to speak with you.

Getting to his feet, he approached your cot.

"A word with you, Y/N?" Aragorn spoke. Looking perplexed, you took his offered hand and pulled yourself up.

"Where to?" You asked, confused. It was Legolas that had first watch tonight. Did the elf call you? Bringing you some distance away from the fire, he turned to you.

"Y/N, I-," He stopped, shaking his head. "It has occurred to me that I'm glad you came, despite putting yourself into so much danger. I realized that I need you by my side, and I just want to say that I lo-."

"I know, my love. I've known for awhile now," You interrupted the Ranger, pulling the dark green cloak off your back and placing it on your lap. "I know when you watch me behind my back, your soft lingering touches, your knowing smile that only I know of, and your everlasting need to drive me crazy. I know, Aragorn. I love you too."

"I can't deny that I know what lies ahead or how it'll end. What I can tell you is that my love for you has always been steady and true. I'm not a man who throws caution into the wind, but I'll do it if it means having you by my side till the end."

You scooched closer to him until practically your knees were touching his. He cupped your face with his hands, gazing adoringly into your eyes. 

"What do you say we take our chances together, Y/N?" He breathed, brushing your cheek with a calloused thumb. 

"I say yes," You crashed your lips onto his.

It almost felt like years before you finally met Aragorn at the front. With a sad smile, your father handed your hand into Aragorn's. He nodded once at your father before turning to you.

"Hi," You mouthed, grinning at your lover and King.

"Hello," He returned, equally grinning from one ear to another. 

The officiant started speaking, and you honestly did your best to stay attentive. Minutes in though, you shuffled your weight between your feet, eager to just be wed as husband and wife. Then be crowned queen, so you could tow Aragorn from all the pomp and flair, and return back to your room. 

In the meantime, all you could do was gaze around at the decorations fit for the royalty. Then at your family and friends. Prince Eomer was there, Prince Legolas beside him, Gimli, the hobbits, and even Gandalf sat in the second row. Honestly, you appreciated them all after so long on the road in the fight against Sauron.

"Aragorn!" You shouted from within the bottom level of Minas Tirith. "I'm coming with you!"

"Keep the women and children safe in the caves, Y/N!" Aragorn retorted. "I'll lead the men!"

You gave him a frown, but there wasn't any time to argue. Suddenly, you found him fiercely crushing your lips. You stayed like that before you were forced to break for air.

"I'll come back for you, m'lady," He growled. "And I'll marry you then and there."

"Come back to me in one piece first, Aragorn," you replied breathlessly. 

"Here," He got down onto one knee, and slid off his signature twin emerald snakes ring onto your left hand. "I swear to you, Y/N. You are my life, my soul, my sun. This is my promise to make you my wife. I will return for you, understand? Rohan will answer the call for help, and we will win once and for all."

You bit the bottom of your lip, scared and unsure. Gently, you placed one hand on the side of his face. Answering your unsaid plea, he nuzzled your palm, then turned it over to kiss your knuckles. You pulled him up again.

"Fight hard, Aragorn," You whispered. "I will wait."

This was the one time he was glad you didn't listen to his orders, and went out onto the battlefield to join the fight. At first, you'd bolster the archers along with Legolas and Gimli onto of the many castle levels. However as the orcs breached the defences, you found yourself pulling your sword out of its sheath and fighting for your life and for Middle Earth.

It was a red day, many lives were lost on both sides. You laid on the grass, surrounded by many dead Uruk-Hai, regrettably injured in so many ways. The sun was up, and the land bled red.

When the war was won, Aragorn's first thought went to you. As the women and children were allowed to leave the caves, he left them hastily when there was no sign of you.

"Any sign of a women?" He called out to the men dragging the dead to the side, and bringing in the injured.

"Why would a women be on the field?" One of his men answered him. 

He cursed as he stumbled around the field, half delirious in his quest of finding you. No, you couldn't be dead. He wouldn't allow it. 

"Sir! I've found her!" A distant voice called from a distance. 

Sprinting as fast as his legs could bring him and with dread coiling tightly in his stomach, Aragorn hoped- yearned for your safety and love. You were the only woman he loved, and will ever love. With you gone, would only destroy him. Upon reaching your broken body, he made a strangled sound and dropped to his knees.

"Y/N!" He cried, grabbing your thankfully still warm hand.

Your eyes fluttered open, and brightened up when they met his grey eyes. "Did we win?"

"We did," He nodded. "Now all you need to do is lay back and relax. The healers will have you patched up. Can you do that for me, my queen?"

"Anything for you, Aragorn."

"Will you, King Aragorn II Elessar Telcontar, take Lady Y/N Y/L/N as your lawful wife to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health, until death do you part?"

"I do," His voice rang clear.

"And will you Lady Y/N Y/L/N, take King Aragorn ll Elessar Telecontar, as your lawful husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health, until death do you part?"

You caught his gaze, and smiled.

"I do."

Permanent Tags: @mournthewicked @asraime @cuddlememerrick(if you want to be tagged for a specific fandom or in general, please let me know!)

[daesungindistress]

not sure if you've been asked this before but do you think you will return to writing fic about bb and if so, would you include sr in your stories?

The last time I was asked this was back in March or April. And it’s difficult to give a final answer. I want to return to writing. The thought of abandoning all my WIPs and notes and ideas forever is a depressing one. And if I’m being honest, the longer I go without making something, be it art or fic, the emptier I feel.

Do I think I will? Return to writing? That I’m less certain about. The events of this year have left me feeling a bit disillusioned. Disenchanted. Disappointed. Yeah, they all kinda have the same meaning, but I guess I’m just trying to convey how this thing with Seungri, this tragedy, and the ongoing struggle within the fandom seems to have slowly stripped away my ability to separate BB’s public personas (and private selves) from the fictional versions we as writers play with. It’s broken down some necessary barriers.

The situation we’re in is too serious, too real, too heavy. And in my heart I feel there’s still too much uncertainty about their future. That uncertainty is steadily chipping away at the compartmentalization that let me comfortably turn them into characters and use them to tell stories. When I sit down and stare at all these notes from a happier, easier time I no longer see what I once did. I wonder, “Who wrote this? When? And how?” There’s some guilt too. Like, who am I to toy with them like this, to reduce them to fanfic fodder when so much has gone so wrong? Some fans have successfully escaped into fiction this year to forget; for me it’s the other way around. It’s been nine months but in a way the scandal is still front and center in my mind, and fanfic can’t overpower that. If anything, I’m almost… afraid to touch it again.

For example… the one fic I finished and posted this year, Sugar Kiss, was a smutty ToDae oneshot… and, regrettably, a sequel to a DaeRi fic. It was something I started late last year and had mostly completed by January, well before the scandal reached a boiling point. All the fic needed by then was a little polish, and it took me until July to find the energy for it. The teaser/summary was “It’s Daesung’s turn to be a bad influence” because in the fic before it he and Seungri had gotten up to some ~naughty fun~ together and Daesung decided he liked it enough to pass it on. So in Sugar Kiss Daesung shares what he learned from Seungri with Seunghyun. The joke was that Seungri persuaded him into mischief. Seunghyun even has a line in which he calls Seungri “a bad influence,” which one reader got really upset over, but I didn’t mean it in a bad way when I initially wrote it earlier this year. It was meant to be tongue-in-cheek. Just some silly, sexy, lighthearted fun, nothing more. I felt a little iffy posting it on the heels of Seungri’s scandal but in the end threw caution to the wind and went ahead with it.

Then, a few days later, the news about Daesung’s building broke and suddenly people were saying, “Daesung might be in on it!” and “He’s just like Seungri!” and “Daesung said they’d become close recently!” And I was like 😰 I had a few days to feel accomplished, after that it was pure regret. It’s like nothing is safe. Things I enjoyed before without thought or care… just aren’t that fun anymore. It’s really sucked the joy out of storytelling using real people. The thought lurks: what if some of the questionable stuff I write about them turns out to be, well, real? And then I have to either denounce or defend what I’ve written. People are still leaving kudos on that fic and its prequel, and every time I get the notification I wonder what they really think of it.

Anyway, to answer your other question: even though my view of Seungri has soured significantly since spring, my feelings on the matter of his involvement in my future fanfics, if any, have remained… largely the same. I think. The last time I talked about this I said I might continue to include him, but clarified that it would depend on the timeline (pre/post 2019) and setting (canon compliant, alternate universe). And also what role needs filling. Even after all we’ve learned about him, Seungri is still an interesting character to me with traits that I consider useful for the types of stories I like to tell. He’s a good foil for Daesung due to their opposing personalities, interests, lifestyles, values…. and for this reason I’ve always had a tendency to depict him as someone who brought conflict to the group in some form or another. His fans who found their way to my fanfics sometimes asked me to be kinder to him. Let’s just say now there will be no more pressure to pull my punches. That said, I expect any parts he does have will be small and fairly insignificant. A line or two, maybe even just a mention. My goal isn’t to pretend he never existed, just to avoid giving him undue attention that might, y’know… encourage people to like him.

…there is, however, one possible exception to that. Carnivores. Don’t think I’ve touched on this here yet? I had tentative plans to continue that series one day. Yes, even though I swore it was over. The story and setting is still meaningful to me and those characters feel more divorced from their inspirations, the Big Bang members, than any of my others. “They have lives of their own,” a reader once said to me, and I have to agree. You could change their names and I would still recognize them. I hoped it would be nothing too serious this time, nothing too intricate, just a oneshot catching up with the pack in their new home a year or two down the road. Here’s the problem though: Seungri was finally going to get something he’d always wanted. Something hinted at in the final scenes of Innocence & Instinct. And I wanted to scratch the surface of how they dealt with that.

Too bad 2019 has all but blown those plans to pieces. Carnivores!Seungri is not Big Bang’s Seungri or Lee Seunghyun, he is just a fictional character bearing his name and likeness, but even so, the absolute last thing I want to do right now is give him something he’s always wanted. No matter how I look at it, the thought of writing him into an important role comes off as really distasteful to me right now. So if that’s ever going to materialize, yeah, it’s gonna be awhile.

But wait. What if I give him something he’s always wanted… and then take it away. Sounds familiar, doesn’t it? It came to me one day months ago, how I could work the events of this year into the series. Some parts of Carnivores do mirror real life events involving BB (such as Jiyong, Youngbae, Seunghyun, and Daesung confronting Seungri in Dreams Like Ashes over fears that he’s going to leave them for his newly formed group of human friends. Though I sort of glossed over it, this was based on things they were saying about him back in 2016, which was when that fic was written). So working his recent rise and fall into a future installment wouldn’t exactly be a new approach for this series. You could even say I’m a little intrigued by the idea.

Still, it’s too soon. Too fresh. And I don’t know how it ends, in this world or that one, or if I even have the creative energy to tackle something so… disruptive. Reality is hard enough. So until then, those plans will stay right where they’ve been all this time, boxed up in a dusty corner of my mind. I hope that one day I can reach back inside that box and share what I find with you all. Until then, I think what I need is a clearer sense of direction from BB… and more time to work up the courage to try.

[bazypitchandsimonsnow]

Happily Ever After?

Rating: T

Genre: Angst/Fluff

Word Count: 14501

Summary: Sir Snow is a heroic knight. Lord Pitch is an evil warlock who kidnaps the princess. Sir Snow defeats Lord Pitch and saves her every time. That's how the story is supposed to be. Right?

Read on AO3

AN: Hey, I did it :) It took awhile to figure out exactly what the plot should be but with some help from the amazing @carryonmylovelies​, I hammered it out. I hope you guys like it :D

Tags: @sourcherrysconess​ @purplenarwhal19​ @wo2ash​ @pixiecodesnowbaz​ @sharkmartini​ @alixanderthequeer​ @the-lincyclopedia

———————————————

Simon

He’s going to show up. I can just feel it in the air, or in my bones, or in my stomach. Though that could just be hunger. I’m always hungry. I bite into my sweet bread while my eyes dart around.

“Good Lord, Simon,” Agatha says, “what did that bread ever do to you?”

I flick my eyes over to her. She’s walking next to me through the market stalls. The sunlight glitters beautifully across her gold and diamond tiara. Wind pulls at her soft pink skirt. She looks very pretty. There are two guards walking in front of and behind us, (not that they’ll do any good if he comes.)

“He’s going to show up today, I can feel it,” I grumble.

Agatha sighs heavily, shaking her head. “You always say that.”

“I mean it this time!”

“Like you meant it last week, and the week before that, and the week before that. But when was the last time he showed up? Two months ago?”

I frown, almost bordering on a pout. “I mean, yeah, but that just means he’s due to show up again. He never goes away for too long.”

“Unfortunately.” Agatha looks like she almost has a scowl. But she’s been trained to be a proper princess too well to actually do it. “I wish he would just stop it.”

“Me too, Ags,” I sigh. “Maybe if he went away, your parents would finally let us get married.”

“Hm, yes.”

She goes all calm, proper princess again, looking out at the dirt road in front of us. I wonder if she’s thinking about our wedding. It’s going to happen someday. Everyone knows we’re going to get married. We’ve practically been betrothed since school. We’re meant to be. Princess Agatha, heir to the throne of Watford, and Sir Simon Snow, the greatest knight in the land. We’re meant to be. So we’re going to get married, someday at least. Maybe after I finally defeat him. My time is too occupied with that to think about marriage.

We start walking through the town square. The people greet Agatha, and she talks to them graciously. She’s never patronizing, just kind. Some of them come up to me, asking about my adventures across the land. I do my best to answer them but my mind is far away. I’m thinking about where and how he’s going to appear. A big explosion? Massive tidal wave? Riding a dragon? He would ride a dragon, the tosser. He likes to be all dramatic and shit. It’s infuriating how good he is at being an all powerful, majestic evil warlock.

There’s a loud crack in the sky. Everyone freezes. I look up. The sky has turned grey all of sudden, when it was clear blue two seconds ago. Thunder groans and rumbles around us all. Everyone starts gasping and mumbling. I inhale sharply, hand immediately going to my sword.

“He’s here,” I mutter.

No less than a second later, there’s another crack. The clouds part, and lightning flashes, illuminating his silhouette. He’s standing on a cloud, dressed in a glittering dark silver jacket and trousers, night black cape flapping in the harsh wind along with his hair. He poses dramatically above us all, and I can see that stupid smirk on his face.

“Baz,” I growl.

“Good afternoon, Snow,” he says smoothly, voice dripping with annoying smugness. “You don’t have to try with that sword, we both know it’s useless against me.”

Stupid bastard. I growl again and unsheathe my sword, because fuck him. He makes a dismissive snort, which just makes me more angry. “How about you come down here and fight me properly? Or are you afraid you’ll lose again?”

He crosses his arms over his chest and his thin lips curl into a scowl. It’s annoying how beautiful he still looks when he’s mad. “One lucky shot does not a hero make, Snow.”

“Says the guy who lost. So let’s have a rematch.”

Baz tilts his head to the side, showing off his long neck. He does that a lot, showing off. Thinks he’s so fucking perfect just because he’s a strong, graceful, ruthless warlock. “Now, why would I do that, when I can just do this?”

He pulls his ivory wand from his sleeve and points it downwards, right at Agatha. I look her in the eye just before she soars upwards. She screams as she zooms up into the sky, gown flapping and tiara falling onto the cobblestone. Baz pulls his arm in and Agatha zooms towards him. She floats next to him, arms and legs frozen by her side. She looks unbelievably annoyed. She used to be scared the first few times this happened, but nowadays, she just gets perturbed.

“Bring me ten thousand gold pieces,” Baz calls out grandly, “or the princess will never return. You know where to find me, Sir Snow. I look forward to your surrender and my ransom.”

The clouds pull around both of them, and the dark storm flies away unnaturally fast. I try to chase after it, but it’s past the horizon when I reach the edge of town. My lungs are burning. I heave, bent over with my hands on my knees.

“Shit,” I pant. “I need my horse.”

I turn on my heels and race back towards the castle. It’s on the other side of fucking town of course. People part for me, thankfully. They know who I am, and they saw the weird storm clouds. Everyone knows what’s going on. This has happened a lot over the last two years. Some took a few days to resolve, some a few weeks. We do this over, and over, and over again.

I shake those thoughts from my mind as I reach the castle. The stables are right there, and I can see Penelope already standing with my rucksack and holding the reins of my horse, Cherry.

“I saw the sky from my study,” she said. “Storm clouds this time? Really?”

I sigh as I take the reins from her. “Yeah, I know. His cape and hair were flapping in the wind and everything. Dramatic twat.”

Penny scoffs, arms crossed over her chest. “Well, we’re fully aware of that. When will you be back?”

I shrug. “Dunno. Hopefully a week at most.”

“Alright. As long as it’s not a month.”

“Nah, don’t worry, I won’t get lost this time. I know the route off by heart now.”

“Mhm, alright. Got your mirror?”

I pat the side of my rucksack, where I can feel something smooth in the side pocket. “Yup, always. I’ll call you as soon as I make first camp.”

“Good.” She puts a kind hand on my wrist. “Be careful out there, Si.”

I peck her hairline. “Always am, Pen.”

It’s a familiar mantra we have, for every time this happens. She knows I’ll be alright, I have been for the past two years. But it’s still nice to know she cares.

With familiar ease, I get on Cherry’s saddle. She’s a good mare, very well trained, and she likes me so that’s a plus. I give one last smile over my shoulder at Penelope, then I flick the reins. And we’re off. To get to Baz, to save Agatha, to adventure.

Again.

———————————————

Agatha

We land on the top turret of Baz’s manor, the wind dying around us with a low whine. My hair falls in my face. I try to blow it out the way but it’s useless.

“My hair’s a mess,” I grumble.

“Terribly sorry,” Baz says, voice genuine and kind. He stopped being mean to me “If it’s any consolation, my hair is a complete rat’s nest too.”

I scoff. “Serves you right for using such a ridiculous spell.

“I suppose so. Come along, you can freshen up in your room.”

Contrary to what most people believe, Baz doesn’t keep me in a dark, dirty, cold little cell in some dungeon. He tried that the first time he took me but I kicked up such a fuss he let out me out and put me in a warm little storage closet instead. After the fourth time, he gave me my own room. It’s nice. Not as nice as my one at home, but better than a cell or a closet. We walk down the hall towards it. Baz opens the door for me. He can be quite the gentleman. But he’s still my captor.

“I’ll go get supper ready,” he says. “Lamb stew alright with you?”

“Sounds lovely. My throat is dry from that stupid storm wind.”

He chuckles as he walks away. I gently close the door behind myself. There’s a simple cotton dress laid out on the bed. Baz started having clothes ready for me after the sixth time. He’s very considerate, actually, for a kidnapper.

I change out of my itchy gown into the dress. It’s soft and smells freshly laundered. Baz must’ve been planning this for a bit. I sometimes wonder how much he plans for these things. It seems he did for this one, at least.

As I walk through the halls to the dining room (I know the way by now), I look around, taking in the details I’ve forgotten over the past couple months. The house is all dark wood with intricate carvings, probably made with magic. Low burning torches burn across the walls. Portraits of very stern, proper people look down at me. Baz has told me about this manor. It’s been in his mother’s family for generations. After her death during the battle between her land and Watford, his father moved them back to his own family home. But once Baz was of age, he took back his this manor and vowed to make Watford pay. That’s when and why he first kidnapped me. Though I’m very sure that’s not the reason anymore.

The dining hall is as grand as I remember. The table is a massive ebony line. It probably could’ve fit a hundred people at it’s capacity. Now it’s just Baz and I. We used to sit at the opposite of the very long ends, but now we’re across width wise. Still apart, but closer.

Baz is already sitting, still in his silver jacket and raven cape, black ceramic bowl and red wine glass in front of him. There’s a setting for me too with white wine. Baz knows I prefer white over red by now. I take my seat, politely putting my napkin on my lap. Baz lifts his glass to me.

“Cheers, your majesty,” he says. He still says that, even though I’ve told him to call me Agatha.

I raise my own glass and clink it with his. “Cheers, Lord Pitch.”

We drink our soup and wine in peace. This used to be tense but we’ve settled down quite a bit. Though it’s more tense for me tonight, because I have something I need to say.

“Baz,” I say, “why do you keep doing this?”

“Doing what?” Baz replies. “Eating? I need it. Despite what Snow believes, I’m not actually a vampire.”

“No, Baz. Why do you keep doing this? Kidnapping me?”

Baz tenses up, already statuesque body going even more rigid. “You know why, your majesty.”

I roll my eyes dramatically. (Learned that Penelope, the best court mage ever.) “Yes, yes. Your land and Watford fought, your mother died in said fight, and when you came of age you returned here to get vengeance for her death and did so by taking the Watford heir. I got the whole speech during kidnapping number one.” I point my knife at Baz, which is absolutely on purpose. “But that’s obviously not working, since that speech was sixteen kidnappings ago. So, answer my question, why do you keep doing this?”

He somehow gets even more tense. I swear his muscles are made of rock. “My reasons stay the same.”

I groan and roll my eyes again. And I thought Simon was frustrating to talk to. Simon mumbles and stutters, but Baz is a stone wall. He doesn’t let anything out, even when it’s so obvious. “Drop the act, please.”

“I have no idea what you mean,” he says while looking pointedly at his soup.

“Stop pretending, Baz! Despite what people think, I’m not an spoiled royal moron, I notice things. Like how I noticed the way you looked at Simon when he wasn’t watching!”

He drops his spoon into the stew, making brown liquid splash up and coat his hand. He immediately goes for the napkin and cleans it off, but his fingers are shaky. Yup, I know I’m right. “What on Earth are you talking about?”

I point my knife at him again. “Two months ago, last time Simon rescued me. We were riding away when I looked back over my shoulder, just out of curiosity. You were standing there all bloody from your fight with Simon. But you didn’t look angry or defeated. You looked sad, Baz. And longing, for something or someone you were looking at. For a second I thought it was me, but I quickly realised you were gazing at Simon’s back, not mine.” I lower my knife slightly, trying to look as sympathetic as possible. “That’s why you keep taking me, right? So you can see him again.”

“That would be ridiculous,” he grumbles.

“Exactly. It is ridiculous that you insist on randomly stealing me from my home instead of just bloody talking to Simon.”

He snorts. He’s good at that. “Snow is more of a ‘hit first, ask questions later’ kind of bloke, we both know that. I doubt he’d be willing to talk to me.”

“He won’t if you keep acting like a prick and kidnapping me.” Baz doesn’t say anything. I sigh and put my utensils down. “Baz, look, I understand how hard this must be for you. You and Simon are supposed to be enemies and it’s obvious you care about him instead. That must be hell. But, that doesn’t mean this is okay.”

Baz looks up. He seems genuinely worried. “What are you speaking of?”

I glare hard at him, trying to funnel all my frustration into one look. “Don’t play dumb, you know exactly what I mean. I hated being your pawn when I thought you were using me for revenge, but I’m even more annoyed that you’re using me just to see Simon again. I’m not some object for you to steal because you’re so emotionally inept that you can’t admit your affections!”

Finally, Baz’s stone face cracks slightly. He looks incredibly remorseful, which is even worse, honestly. It would be so easy to hate Baz if he was a straight up villain, but he’s not. He’s a person who has made a lot of mistakes, but still a person. He slumps a bit into his chair. It’s barely noticeable, but I notice. I’ve known him long enough.

“Look,” I sigh, “I really do understand. But that doesn’t make it okay. Using me as a dangling carrot to attract Simon is wrong. Using me period has always been wrong. You can’t keep doing it, and I won’t tolerate it anymore. I’m tired of it, Baz. So, you’ve got one more chance.”

“What does that mean?” he asks, voice slightly strained.

“It means, this is the last time you steal me from my home. Simon is going to come to get me in a few days time. You have until then to decide to tell him. If you don’t, that’s it. Because if you kidnap me again, I’ll escape again.” I stand up, leaning over the table to glare at him through the candlelight. “And then I will come back here myself, with the entire army of Watford behind me. Do you understand, Basil?”

In the years I’ve known Baz, I’ve never seen him frightened. He’s not scared now, just shocked, which is the closest I’ve ever seen. I don’t think he expected me to be so assertive. But I’m pretty sure that no matter how much sympathy I give, Baz won’t admit his true feelings. So scaring him into no longer kidnapping me and finally fucking talking to Simon seems like the better option.

I stare him down for another long minute, until the mask pulls over Baz’s face again. He dabs the corners of his mouth with his napkin then stands up, straightening his coat and picking up his bowl.

“I’ll be taking my leave for bed now,” he says calmly. “Feel free to finish your dinner, your majesty. I will see you tomorrow.” He used to say, don’t try to run, but that stopped after kidnapping number ten.

Baz turns and starts walking away. He looks like he always does, graceful and poised. But I notice the small tremor still showing in his hand. I hope this wanker bloody well listens to me.

———————————————

Baz

The speed at which I walk to my room, after depositing my dishes in the kitchen, is almost inhuman. Maybe Snow is right and I am a vampire. It would explain why my heart feels dead inside. Well, it’s not dead actually, just fucking idiotic.

I enter my room and close the door a bit too hard. I immediately start pulling at my jacket frantically. Stupid thing feels like it’s choking me. I actually hate these glittery, stiff clothes, but it completes the image I’m trying to create. Luckily, I don’t need them here alone. I throw off the jacket, and the trousers, and the fucking cape. Then I flop on my bed, dressed only in my white tunic and linen underpants. Finally I can breathe.

Today has been a day. First the kidnapping, which I planned, then bantering with Snow, which I looked forward to, and then Wellbelove giving me an ultimatum, which I did not expect. I know she’s not the weak flower others think she is, but that was still a surprise. She’s right though, kidnapping her all the time is very wrong. She deserves better than being my pawn. I should have stopped ages ago. I didn’t though, all because of my...feelings.

Fuck my feelings. They’re stupid. I’ve known that since the moment I saw Snow for the first time, when he first rescued the princess. He burst into my manor in all his golden glory. He was beautiful, brave, strong, fucking perfect. Even when he was yelling at or fighting me I was so dazzled by him. But it was stupid, and I instantly hated myself for it. I still do.

What would my mother think? Falling hopelessly in love with the champion of the kingdom that killed her. And can I even call it love when I haven’t talked to him properly once?

Looks like I’m going to have to now, or lose my final chance.

After magically snuffing the torches, I curl under my thick fur blanket, nearly in the fetal position. I close my eyes and try not to think of him. But my dreams are still filled with blue eyes and bronze curls.

———————————————

Simon

I don’t make camp until well into nightfall. Probably not a good idea, but I want to cover as much as ground as possible. I want to be back in a week, like I told Penny. We ride until we reach the edge of the plains that mark the end of Watford’s territory. All flat grass with few trees, but there’s one tree, which is my spot. It’s all dirt with a bit of blackened wood from my last fire. I won’t start a fire tonight. It’s warm and I’ve got some snacks that Penny packed.

Cherry and I stop next to the tree. I throw her reins over a branch even though I know she won’t leave, it’s just to be safe. I stroke her mane as I feed her a carrot.

“Good girl,” I whisper, “you did a good job today.”

She neighs happily. If she were a person, she’d be grinning.

I set up my own cot on the dirt and immediately flop down. My legs and arms throb with exhaustion from riding for so long. Two years later and the first ride still wrecks me. I can feel exhaustion start to seep into my bones, but before I pass out, I grab a packed scone and my mirror. While I’m eating the lovely treat, I tap the mirror twice. Magical ripples go across the glass. Soon Penelope’s face appears in front of me.

“Hey,” she says.

“Hey,” I reply.

“It's late. You shouldn’t wait this long to make camp, Si.”

I sigh, rolling onto my side. “I’m fine, Pen. I’ve done this before.”

Her lips twist a bit. That’s her worried friend face. “Yeah, you have. Aren’t you getting tired of this?”

I shrug and take a violent bite of my scone. “I have to do this. If he keeps taking Agatha then I have to keep going to get her.”

“That’s not what I asked, Si.”

Fuck. I know that she’s right, but I don’t know what to say. I look down at the ground. “I should get some sleep. Night, Pen, I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Simon-”

I swipe across the mirror and Penelope’s face ripples away. I eat the last chunk of my scone, then roll on to my back. The stars are beautiful tonight. They sparkle like the gems on Baz’s jacket. Stupid wanker, thinks he’s so great because he’s so powerful and gorgeous. I’ll show him. I’ll defeat him and get Agatha back. Again. Like I’ve done sixteen times before. Like I’ll probably do for sixteen times after.

The thoughts start to creep into my mind again. I turn on my side and force myself to bed, just so I don’t have to think about it.

———————————————

I wake up before sunrise, barely having slept four hours. My eyes feel gummy and my muscles feel tired. Nightmares again. I’ve had them my whole life. Usually they’re of Agatha and Penelope dying because I couldn’t save them, or the kingdom falling to pieces, or worst of all, the orphanage. The memories of that place will never go away, I guess.

Cherry is just waking up as well, whinnying and shaking her light brown mane. I calm her down easily. Luckily she likes me quite a bit. (Can’t say that for a lot of humans, unfortunately, but I prefer my horse over them anyway.)

It only takes a few minutes to pack everything up. I’ve gotten good at it over the past two years. I get on to Cherry’s back again, stroking her neck.

“Good girl,” I coo.

With one flick of the reins, we’re off again. We fly over the grass with the wind whistling in both our hair. I try to let the air wash away the nightmares and remind me of my mission. Get to Baz, get Agatha back, be a hero. Just like always.

———————————————

Baz

I bet Snow has many theories on what I do when I’m not kidnapping his princess. Probably that I conjure dark forces or sacrifice tiny animals or drink blood. Well, contrary to his beautiful pea brain, I don’t do any of that. Blood would be disgusting. Usually, I’m just in my garden.

It’s a lovely place, filled with bright flowers and useful herbs. It was an overgrown mess when I first came back here, but two years later and I must say, I’ve done a bang up job restoring it. Everything is thriving and the plants are each put in a good place, yet it all still retains its wild charm. I’m quite proud. And I just like gardening. I like maintaining the greenery, making sure everything is growing right, using the herbs for potions and remedies. It keeps my mind off everything, especially him.

I’m in the middle of the garden, watering the lilies. The sun is beating down on me brutally. I pull at the tight collar of my scarlet jacket, feeling drops of sweat roll under it. Usually I’d be wearing simple linens for gardening but with Wellbelove here I need to keep my ‘grand warlock’ image up. Though tending to pretty flowers might hurt that appearance already.

“It's looking lovely.”

I turn to see Agatha standing behind me, wearing a cream dress and her golden hair in a braid. She's beautiful, the kind of girl my father would want me to marry. And I would, if I had any interest in women. (Or anyone besides Snow.)

“Thank you,” I say. “The lilies turned out well this season.”

“They certain did.” She walks forward, arms swinging at her sides. “So, are we going to talk about last night?”

In lieu of answering, I turn my back and march towards my rosemary plant. It needs watering too. Unfortunately I hear her steps follow me.

“You can’t run from this, Baz,” she says.

“Watch me,” I grumble.

She scoffs very loudly. “You kidnapped me and now you’re avoiding me? That’s rich.”

“If you’re going to keep bugging me, then yes, I will avoid you. I’d rather talk to my plants.”

“They won’t give you any advice.”

“And you will?”

“Yes!” I hear her get closer. “My advice is put down your wand, tell him to put down his sword, and just try to actually talk.”

I snort as unkindly as I can, just to get my point across. (Though I’m not sure what my real point is beyond “that’s impossible” and “I don’t want to.”) “Like the great hero will want to talk to me.”

“Yeah, I think he actually will.”

What? I look over my shoulder at her curiously. “I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean.”

She sighs, fiddling with the end of her braid. “I was going to tell you this last night, but you left before I got the chance.”

“Tell me what?” I’m getting frustrated, and concerned.

She chews at the corner of her lip. “Well, I don’t want to get your hopes up too much, but I will tell you that Simon talks about you an inordinate amount.”

I snort again. “Yes, because he hates me.”

“I don’t think you spends ages going on about how pretty the hair and clothes are of someone you hate, Baz.”

My head snaps up and I inhale sharply. What?! I spin around to look at her. “Wait, seriously?”

Agatha nods slowly. “Honestly, most of his conversation topics revolve around you. When you’ll strike next, what you’ll do, and definitely how annoyingly perfect you are. It’s a miracle if I can get him to talk about anything else. I promise that your obsession isn’t one sided, Baz.”

My cheeks become more red than my jacket. It’s involuntary and completely fucking stupid. Wellbelove obviously notices, shown by her tiny smile. I can’t tell if she’s happy for me or mocking, but either way it’s not good. My feelings are far more obvious than I ever wanted them to be.

“He wants to marry you,” I blurt out defensively.

She shakes her head. “No, he thinks he’s supposed to marry me, because I’m the princess and he’s the knight. But he definitely thinks about you a lot more than he thinks about me. More than a hero should about his rival, I think.”

My stupid fucking blush gets even worse. The very thought of that makes my heart nearly explode. Agatha can clearly see it. I should talk to her about it. I haven’t talked to anyone about it in the past two years.

But unfortunately, I’m a certified coward.

“I have tonics to make for the townspeople,” I quickly say. “Feel free to roam the garden, and your books are still in the library. I will see you for supper.”

Once again, I run away. I walk calmly while the princess can see me, but the second I’m alone, I sprint across the stone. I stop only when I reach my lab/study. There are three shelves of pristine leather bound volumes and multiple many shaped glass bottles filled with iridescent liquids lining the walls. Papers with multiple notations are spread over my dark wood desk. There’s quite a lot of paper. It’s either a beautiful testament to my intelligence, or strong evidence of my growing insanity. Most likely a horrifying concoction of both

I sit heavily in my desk chair, staring blankly ahead at the large chart in front of me. (It’s sixty five different tonic recipes. I’m more than a bit obsessive.) I’m still processing Agatha’s words. So, Snow never stops talking about me, be it about my plotting or apparently my hair. What does that mean? Is he just a hero obsessed with his villain? Or...could he possibly feel something close to the horrible, wonderful things I feel?

No, never, not really. Why would he? I’m his evil warlock who kidnaps his love. I can’t be anything else. And it’s not like I’d actually know what to do if he wanted me back. I’m not capable of even showing affection properly. I’m so emotionally stunted that I kidnap a princess just so he’ll come to my manor again. How could I ever give him the caring and kindness he deserves?

I can’t. I never could.

———————————————

Agatha

I just watch him as he literally runs away from his problems, again. I hoped telling him about Simon’s obsessiveness would help, but it seems to have just made him panic more. Honestly, I do feel a bit bad for him. He’s obviously extremely tortured by this. Which makes sense. I’d be tortured too if I was in love with my mortal enemy. He must be in agony.

Still, it doesn’t excuse what he’s doing to me. I shouldn’t have been part of this game to start with, and I refuse to continue. I hope he figures out his own heart soon. I don’t want to storm his manor because he’s a lovesick moron, but I’ll have to if he doesn’t stop.

———————————————

Simon

Cherry and I make good time. She must just as determined to get to Baz as I am. We get past the plains and reach the edge of the Wavering Wood. It’s a massive old forest, filled with ancient trees, hanging vines, and sparkling lights. It’s a treacherous, horrible place. The first time I came in here, I fell in a bog. The smell didn’t come off me for a two weeks. Baz called me a smelly troll with that stupid pretty smirk.

Fuck the Wavering Wood.

I slow Cherry to a trot. There’s one good path I’ve found through a lot of trial and error. It’s thin, but mostly free of poisonous animals or fucking bogs. Cherry carefully walks across the dirt. I keep an eye out for any wayward wildlife, hand on the handle of my sword. Luckily, nothing decides to jump at me for once. Compared to my previous treks through here, this is quite peaceful.

That is, until I get to the end.

There’s only one exit for the Wavering Wood. Well, unless you want to cut through a mass of overgrowth that could hide any number of horrible magical things. It’s the one little open archway made of bending branches. I don’t know if it was made by sword or magic, but I don’t care. I just want to get out. However, one wor: bandits.

He’s right in the middle of the exit, wearing a brightly coloured coat and holding a curved sword. He's young but looks full grown, with strong, visible muscles. This guy must be new, I’ve never seen him before. He’s got his chest puffed out ridiculously big. Cherry and I approach him slowly.

“Who goes there?” he announces grandly.

“Sir Simon Snow of Watford,” I reply. “I’ve already paid the toll here before.”

“Not to me.”

I groan. “Look, sir, I’ve been through this bef-”

“Silence.” He points his sword at me with flourish. “If you won’t pay in coin, then pay in blood.”

I sigh, shaking my head. “Fine, if you insist.”

I get off Cherry and lead her to the side. She’s seen me fight before, so I know she’ll stay calm. I take out my broadsword, swinging it back and forth lazily. It’s a heavy sword but I’m strong. (I may or may not be showing off a bit.) We both raise our weapons and take stance. I already notice that his legs are too wide. Pfft, amateur.

“En garde,” I say.

He doesn’t reply, just goes straight for a swing down. Wow, very rude. Guess young bandits don’t like dueling etiquette. I easily block his swing, despite the strong arms, then push back. His poor stance makes him stumble and flail like a turned over bug. I step forward, going for a more direct swing at his weapon. I’m really not trying to hurt this kid, I just want to disarm him. He blocks me with far more force than necessary. Again, amateur. One quick twist of my foot and I have the upper hand, pushing him back again. Dueling is like dancing, and- Well, I’m a shit dancer, actually, but dueling comes way easier. The rhythm of the fight flows through me like a rushing river as I parry every one of his hits and keep forcing him to give ground. This is good actually. I’ve been tired, and this is something I still enjoy.

We go back and forth for a few more minutes. He screams in frustration and throws a huge swing. It breaks the rhythm but I block it. He puts all his weight behind it, which is his mistake. I hold back for a few short moments. And then I step to the side.

“Gah!” he screams before falling face first into a mud puddle with a resounding splat. I can’t help but snort and giggle.

“I think I won this duel,” I say.

“No,” he growls, “this fight is not over. I will-

“Niall! Enough!”

We both turn to the voice. I grin ear to ear. There she is, with two guards around her, in all her golden coated glory, the Queen of the Bandits. She walks with her cane in one hand and sword in the other. She looks amazing as always.

“Miss Possibelf,” I say, “good to see you.”

“And you too, Sir Snow.” She glares at the mud covered boy. “Apologies about Niall. He’s new and still learning.”

I shrug, the smallest pleased smile on my mouth. Kinda the way Baz looks at me sometimes when I mess up. It’s infuriating but I sort of admire it too. “I think I taught him a few things.”

Miss Possibelf grins too. “I certainly think you did.” She pats my shoulder. “Get a move on. You’ve got your princess to save.”

For some reason that makes my chest strain. Right, that’s what I’m supposed to do. Saving Agatha, being the hero, fighting Baz. I can’t stay here, even though I want to chat with Miss a bit longer.

“Yeah,” I sigh, “I should go. See you next time?”

She pats my shoulder once again, looking at me with a soft smile. “Yes, we will.”

I get Cherry and remount on her. I give one last wave to the bandits (Niall glares at me) and ride off back onto my path. I refocus my brain on my quest; Get to Baz as soon as possible.

———————————————

I try to ride all the way to the Pitch land border, but Cherry gets tired. I can’t push her any further without hurting her. I won’t do that. Luckily, we get to my favourite inn, Pritchard's. I put Cherry in the stable next door, bringing her to the feeding trough, then go in the grand front door. I open them with a bit more flourish than I meant to. It’s a lot like Baz, honestly.

“Simon!” The patrons cheer happily. They come up to me, ruffling my hair, hitting my back a bit too hard, asking many questions about my most recent quest.

“Same old, same old,” I chuckle. “Baz has taken Agatha again.”

“Such a strange bloke, that one,” a man grumbles.

“Very pretty though,” a barmaid comments.

“Definitely,” I say, “it’s so annoying. Evil people shouldn’t be allowed to be beautiful too, it’s not fair to us good guys. Their prettiness makes it hard for people to stay on the good side.”

That makes both of them laugh. At least my sense of humour is appreciated here.

I go up to the bar, where Cook Pritchard is. She smiles at me happily. “Hello, Simon, nice to see you.”

“Nice to see you too, Cook.” I put some coins on the table. “Got a pint for me?”

“Always.” She pours a large wooden mug for me. I drink down a few large, throat burning gulps, and let out a sigh. I don’t have much of a taste for alcohol, but Cook Pritchard makes it very well.

“Thanks, Cook.”

“No problem, Simon. Need the bed for tonight?”

“Yes, please. I can’t feel my feet anymore.”

She chuckles and pats my head. “Of course, I’ll get it ready for you. Always glad to see you again, Simon.”

I smile back. Even though this quest is tiring, there are some good parts. This is one of them. I just wish I didn’t need an evil warlock and a kidnapped princess to be here.

———————————————

Baz

Over the years, I’ve found walks help clear the mind. Or at least quiets it for a few moments. I walk around the walls of the manor. I put them here two years ago, in theory to keep the princess inside, but really it’s to keep everyone else out. Perfect metaphor for my life, I’m aware.

Out here, I like to practice my magic. The nice kind, not the scary kind I use with Snow. I’m waving my wand around, creating patterns of light in the air. Sparkling streams of violet, crimson, and rose fly through the air, then dissolve into the wind. I smile to myself. Part of me wishes that Snow could see my magic like this, not the frightening way I show it to him.

I just finish a rainbow figure eight when I hear the smallest sound. I freeze, immediately thinking something nefarious has reached my family home’s walls. I spin around, wand outstretched.

“Who goes there?!” I shout. “This is my property, you will not get through!”

There’s nothing for a long moment. Just the whistling of wind through the branches and nighttime hoots of owls. I stand there still, a fixture in the nature around me. Until there’s a rustling behind me.

I whip around so fast my hair hits me in the face. I spit out the strands in a very undignified fashion. And when my vision is clear, I come face to face with with a pair of bright yellow eyes.

“The fuck?” I say.

It blinks up at me. For a second I think it’s a wolf or a raccoon, but as it steps into the dim moonlight, it’s all too clear; my intruder is a cat.

It’s very, very small grey cat with incredibly fluffy fur, limping it’s way out of a bush towards me. Those big yellow eyes keep blinking at me. It makes the tiniest little meow up at me. And I must say, it’s adorable.

“Hello,” I say, lowering my wand, “who are you?”

The cat meows again. It sounds weak, and there’s blood on it’s left leg. Injured, probably by some larger, stronger animal. My magic feels a storm coming very soon. Without help it’s not going to survive out here in the cold rain. Logically, I know it’s my responsibility to help. It’s a cat, it’s nature, shit happens. I don’t have to do anything. I’m busy, I shouldn’t.

It blinks it’s big, glowing eyes up at me and meows pathetically again.

Fuck.

I take off my black cloak, sweeping it off my shoulders. I reach out my hand to the little thing. It sniffs my hand for second, then gets closer, nuzzling it’s tiny fuzzy head against my fingers. Slowly, I pick it up, wrapping it up in my cloak. The cat burrows down into the fabric, and I can feel it purring softly.

Fucking hell, what am I doing?

———————————————

Agatha

“For fuck’s sake, stop scratching me, you brat!”

When I hear Baz shouting from the kitchen like that, I assume he’s working with some sort of hell creature he’s summoned from the dark depths. What I don’t expect is to see Baz, all powerful lovesick warlock, trying to put bandages on a very small cat.

“Baz,” I say surprised, “what are you doing?!”

He looks over his shoulder with wide eyes. He looks incredibly embarrassed. “Um, I found something outside.”

“I can see that, but what you doing?”

“The animal is injured. I’m trying to bandage it’s legs.”

I raise my eyebrow. “You can’t use magic?”

He shakes his head. “My healing spells are meant for larger human limbs. I don’t know any animal ones. So, bandages.” He tries to leg again, but the cat scratches at him, and he yelps. “You little rat,” he grumbles.

I sigh, shaking my head this time. “Hold that cat’s paw out, I’ll do it.”

He blinks at me in surprise. “You know how to do this?”

“Yes. I work with animals. Mostly horses, but I’ve helped the castle veterinarian with cats too. So gently hold the cat down on their side and I’ll take a look at the wound.”

Baz still looks doubtful but thankfully does what I say (that’s a first). The cat squirms and whines, but doesn’t escape. Baz isn’t too forceful though, just holding them gently on the table. I take a look at the cat’s little paw.

“Alright,” I say, “it’s not a deep wound, just a scratch. You’ve got skin cleaner?”

Baz pushes me a little glass vial and linen bandages. I rip off a tiny piece, soak it in the clear liquid, and put it against the cat’s paw. The poor thing yelps and whines. I’m about to reach out to pet them, but Baz beat me to it. He brushes the back of his long fingers against their tiny head. The cat bends towards his touch, even closing their eyes.

“There there,” he says quietly, “it’s alright, you rat. It’s helping. You’ll feel better soon.”

The cat doesn’t struggle at all as I wind the bandage around it’s leg, not even a little. I’ve never seen an animal so calm without the use of a tonic or a spell.

“Okay, all done.” I’m a bit curious, so I lift the cat’s leg slightly higher. “And this cat’s a girl, by the way.”

“Good to know,” Baz replies. He carefully gathers her back up in his black cloak. The cat snuggles into the fabric, closing her eyes and audibly purring.

I look up, and Baz’s expression is complicated. His mouth is a tense, thin line, the muscles in his jaw obviously straining with effort. But his grey eyes are incredibly soft. The only other time I’ve ever seen him look so vulnerable was when he gazed at Simon’s back.

“What’s wrong?” I ask. Because something’s wrong, I know it.

Baz rolls his lips together. “I don’t know why I did it.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Did what? Brought the cat inside?” He nods slowly, still looking pained. “She was injured and she’s small. Taking her inside was the right thing to do.”

“I don’t do the right thing,” he grumbles. “I hurt other people for my own means. I’m not even nice, I’m a class A arsehole.”

“You help the people in your town.”

He shakes his head, clutching the cat closer. “I do that out of duty. They’re my subjects, I have to care of them. This was just a random animal wandering around. I almost left her. Why didn’t I?”

Baz looks so distressed. I’ve never seen him so...not scared really, just perplexed, and anxious. This little cat is causing him so much confusion.

“Baz, it’s called compassion-”

He scoffs. Not at me, I think, more at the concept. “No, no, I can’t. I’m evil and cold. I’ve had to be. I can’t be anything else.” He scratches behind the cat’s ear. “I’m not good...”

I sigh again, but less at Baz and more at this situation. He doesn’t think he’s capable of being a good person. So that’s why he refuses to talk to Simon. Idiot. I stand next to him, arms over my chest.

“Baz, you don't think you're a good enough person to be happy, right?” His silence and lack of eye contact is a good enough answer. “Well, here's a revelation; you don't have to be cold and evil if you don't want to be. You can be a person who takes in injured cats, helps others out, doesn’t hurt people for his own ends, and lets himself show his love for someone.”

His face tenses up. If it were anyone else, I would say he was on the verge of tears. He pets the cat, probably without even thinking. I walk up to him and put my hand on his arm. He flinches but doesn't pull away. That’s an improvement.

“I know that terrible things have happened to you,” I say as kindly as I can. “Your mother dying must have been awful, along with losing your home and whatever else you went through. You don’t have to pretend all that doesn’t hurt, but it doesn’t make you too broken for happiness either. You’re obviously miserable living like this. So maybe it’s time to start trying something different.”

Baz stares down at the little grey cat like it’s a piece of the universe itself, beautiful and terrifying. I scratch on her chin, making her lift her head. I flick my eyes up to see Baz smiling softly.

“Think of a name?” I ask.

“I don’t know,” he says quietly. “Maybe Rat, because she’s grey and kept scratching me.”

“That’s a mean name.”

“Rat it is then.” I give him a deadpan look. The bastard is still smiling. “My cat, princess, I get to pick the name.”

I smile back. “Your cat, huh? So she’s staying with you?”

He nods slowly, petting Rat’s head. He looks me in the eye without any sign of fear or cold mask. “No matter what happens with Snow, I won’t take you ever again, Agatha. I promise.”

His voice is firm, and his expression is serious. I know he’s telling me the truth.

“Good,” I say. “I hope things go well with Simon.”

Baz’s smile is a bit strained, but his eyes are brighter than I’ve ever seen them before. He’s trying. That’s good. That’s very, very good.

———————————————

Simon

It takes awhile to get out of the tavern. Cook Pritchard gives me three scones to keep me fed on my way, making me promise I’ll eat them. Then every tavern patron wants to say goodbye to me. I’ve gotten to know them quite well. Maybe I should come here when I’m not on a quest. That would be nice, to be here without the weight on my shoulders.

I give Cherry a thorough brush before we go. She deserves it for being so good through all this. After she’s well cleaned and fed some carrots, we set off again.

Luckily, there aren’t anymore bandits or treacherous magical forests on the path to the Pitch Lands. It’s mostly tall grass and a few trees. There’s only an occasional garter snake that spooks Cherry a bit, but she’s good. She’s faced dragons and giants. Snakes are nothing for my brave girl.

At late evening, we crest over a hill that marks the border of the Pitch Lands. I see a small cottage in the distance with little white dots around it. I grin ear to ear, then spur Cherry into a run. The wind rushes through my hair as we descend. I can’t control the rapid beating in my heart. As we get closer, the little white dots come into focus. Their fur, hooves, horns, and finally their adorable faces. I stop Cherry and swing off her with ease. I kneel down, scratching their little heads

“Hi, kids,” I coo, “good to see you again.”

“They’re happy to see you too, Simon.”

I look up and see exactly who I expect. Ebb looks about the same. Old red sweater, large wooden staff, and short blonde hair. The dying sun lights her up perfectly so she looks like an angel. Which she is. Ebb is probably the best person I know.

I stand up. I’m a bit taller than her, which makes it easier for me to hug her tight. She chuckles and hugs me back. “Hi to you too, Ebb.”

“Hi, darling.” She pulls back but keeps a hand on my arm. “How are you?”

“I’m alright,” I sigh. “Could use some tea if you got any.

"Course I do. Want to tie Cherry to the post?”

I look over my shoulder. Cherry is happily prancing on the grass. “Nah, she’s fine. She won’t go too far.”

“Alright. Let’s get some soup and tea.”

We walk in to Ebb’s little cottage. It’s a wonderful place, made of softwood and covered in vines. There’s a main sitting area that takes up most of the place. It’s got a stone fireplace, two wicker chairs, and a very colourful rug. There’s a small kitchen to the left and Ebb’s room to the right. Her brother’s old room is behind the wall with the fireplace. That’s where I stay when I’m here. It means a lot that she lets me, considering what happened to him.

After getting the fire started, something I’m good at now, I sit in my usual chair, putting a knitted throw blanket over my knees. My muscles throb with the exhaustion of the past few days. Even resting can’t get rid of the persistent ache in my bones. I sigh, sinking into the cushion. I hear Ebb chuckle.

“Tired, Simon?”

I crack my eye open. She’s smiling at me from over the kitchen counter, where she’s magically heating up some bowls and cups. “Yeah,” I sigh. “I’ve done this so many times but it still takes a lot out of me.”

“Hm, yes, it is quite a journey. All the more reason you need some sustenance.”

She puts the tea blocks in the water, then walks over and places the clay bowl in my lap and the mug in my hand. Heat tingles through my whole body. “Thanks, Ebb.”

“How are you doing?”

Ebb settles in her own chair, placing her staff next to her. “You’re welcome, dear.”

We drink the soup and sip on the tea. It’s a warm vegetable broth with potatoes and carrot bits. It tastes so good. I love Ebb’s soup. Once I’ve drank the entire bowl, I put it down and turn to Ebb, who’s softly blowing on her tea.

“How are you doing, Ebb?” I ask.

“Oh, I’m doing alright, love,” she says. “Me and the kiddies have been okay. Delilah is doing very well.”

I smile brightly. Delilah was born the last time I was here. I even helped Ebb deliver her. But she was born very weak. We did our best with her magic and my bandages, but when I left to fight Baz there was still a chance she wouldn’t make it. Two weeks later, I got a letter from Ebb saying Delilah was getting much stronger. I was so relieved. I’d fought dragons and saved a princess more times than I could believe, but hearing that I helped a little baby goat survive felt like my greatest victory

“That’s very good to hear,” I sigh.

She smiles as she sips her tea with a smile. “How are you, Simon? Off to save Princess Agatha again?”

I groan, letting my head loll back on the chair. “Yeah, again.”

“How many times has it been now?”

“Sixteen or seventeen, I think. I met you at number five.” My weight shifts forward, making me curl in on myself, clutching my mug tighter. “I don’t get it. Why does he need to keeping doing this? He’s got a huge manor and amazing magic and perfect clothes. He doesn’t need Agatha or the money.”

Ebb shrugs. “Maybe it’s just to hurt Watford. Your kingdom did kill his mum.”

That makes me wince. It’s not a nice reminder that the kingdom you fight for killed someone, especially the mother of a five year old boy. (I’ve read a lot about Baz. That’s how old he was at the time, apparently. Only five.) Watford has fought a lot of wars in a lot of places, actually. Watford has caused a lot of pain...

“But why doesn’t he just blow us all up?” I blurt out the second the thought comes into my mind, drowning out everything else. “If he wants revenge, he could just make the castle explode. Wouldn’t that be easier? Does he just like torturing me and Agatha particularly?”

Ebb shrugs again. “Don’t ask me, Simon. He’s your villain. You know him better than anyone.”

“Exactly! But I don’t get it!” I groan, slumping forward even more. “I’m just not sure what he wants anymore, Ebb.”

“Maybe you could ask him.”

I whip my head to look at her. She’s actually being serious. “What?! No! I can’t do that! I-I can’t just ask him. He’s the villain, I’m the hero, so I stop him. W-We’re not supposed to ‘talk it out.’ That’s not how it works!”

She gives me a look of genuine concern. “But Simon, is that what you really want? Just doing this over and over forever without knowing why?”

I open my mouth, but no words come. My entire body deflates, like every bit of strength has been sapped out. Honestly, I’ve been feeling like that for awhile, it’s just easier to collapse right now because of how safe I feel right now. Ebb’s cottage has always felt safe.

“I don’t know,” I mumble. “I just do it. I’ve tried not to think about it, but I just...don’t know. All I know is that I’m really tired.”

“Long ride today?”

I shake my head. “No, not just that. Everything feels tired.” I sink into the chair. I want to sink into it forever. “I’m so tired, Ebb.”

Suddenly, something touches my knee. I crack an eye open. Ebb’s hand rests on me, patting me kindly. “Then you should get some rest, dear. Sleep on all of this.”

I nod slowly. I push myself up and out of the chair, taking my rucksack with me. We go to the room behind the fireplace. Ebb’s hand is shaky as she pushes the door open. It’s just like her own room, cozy and nice. The bed is in pushed against the left wall, right near the fire. It’s always warm at night.

When I look at Ebb, I see a few tears fall down her cheeks. I put an arm around her shoulders, and she leans into me. She used to pull away but not anymore.

“I still miss him sometimes,” she whispers. “Poor Nicky. He should still be here.”

I hold her tighter. Nicodemus, Ebb’s twin brother, died years ago, but Ebb still gets sad over him a lot. He made connections between shady people apparently. And one day he crossed the wrong shady person. Poor guy was stabbed in the gut, bled to death for hours behind a building. Other people think Ebb is too weepy. But I would be weepy too if my brother was murdered in cold blood. It’s such a kindness that she lets me sleep in his old room. I wish I was as kind as she is sometimes.

“I know, Ebb,” I say. “I wish he was here for you too.”

She squeezes my hand, her calluses scratching me slightly. “Thank you, love. I’ll be alright. I’ve got the kiddies. And I love having you around when you pass by.”

Pass by, yeah, that’s all I do. I should come see her more, when I can stay longer. I want to tell her that, but I’m too tired to say the words. (And it’s not like words come to me easily then I’m alert.) So I just hold her a bit tighter. She pats my chest kindly.

“C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”

Ebb helps escort me to the bed. The second I sit on the firm but soft mattress, I know I’m done for. I’m really, really tired. I flop down on the pillow, not even bothering with putting on my linens or pulling up the quilt. I just need some rest.

“Goodnight, Simon,” I hear Ebb say, though her voice is distant as I drift off.

“Night, Ebb,” I reply, muffled by pillow.

There’s the low click of the lock, and I’m shrouded in darkness. I try not to think about the stresses of the day. But when I dream, all I see is Baz’s stupid, smug, pretty face.

———————————————

Baz

The only thing I enjoy almost as much as my garden is going into town. Pitch Town was founded by one of my ancestors. Ever since then it’s been my family’s job to take care of its citizens. I take that job very seriously.

I dress in my simple clothes (no need to be flashy for normal citizens), load my bag with my wand and healing potions I’ve made, and put on my best boots. It’s a half hour’s walk and I don’t want blisters. In theory, I could float myself there, but why waste magic like that? And why intimidate the citizens? They don’t need to be scared of me. Though now I’m wondering if Snow needs to be scared of me either.

As I’m putting on my brown wool cloak, something brushes my leg. I make an undignified yelp and jolt away. I look down, and frown.

“Rat,” I sigh, “you scared me.”

She meows up at me, blinking her pretty yellow eyes like she’s done nothing wrong. Cute little brat. She keeps rubbing against my ankle, purring softly, nuzzling me in that absolutely adorable way. I try to move away but she follows.

“What do you want? I’ve already fed you, brushed you, petted you so much my fingers hurt. What else could you possibly want?”

She keeps nuzzling and blinking up at me. Fuck, I think I know the answer. I sigh, shaking my head.

“You’re ridiculous.”

I lean down and scoop up Rat, placing her in my wicker basket. She curls up on top of the soft cover and purrs happily. It’s probably a good idea to get her out of here. She used to live in the wild. The manor must be a big change for her. And it’s nice to have a companion on this trip for once. I sigh, scratching behind her ear.

“I don’t know what you see in me,” I mumble to myself more than her, “but I do appreciate it.”

She meows again in some form of answer. I do up the last button of my cloak, and we’re off.

———————————————

The walk itself is quite peaceful, save for Rat nearly jumping out of my basket to chase a butterfly. (She barely makes it out, what with the injured leg and all. Adorable moron.) Over some green hills, across flowery fields, until I see the red brick houses of Pitch Town. They’re like shining flowers on the green surface.

I walk down the cobblestone roads, waving back at the people who wave at me, writing down if they have any concerns I need to address next time I’m here. I even magically repair a wall for someone. Their child laughs as the bricks swirl up into place. It’s a lovely sound, and it reminds me of my siblings. I wonder how they’re doing. I’ve been so focused on Pitch Town and Snow that I haven’t had time to think about my family. I should send them a letter.

I go down my list of people that need potions. I knock on doors and everyone answers me with a grin. It still astounds me when people are happy to see me, but I’m trying to stomp those self loathing thoughts down more. I’m trying to let people be happy around me.

Eventually, I make my way to the main square. The stalls are colourful and bright, lots of people hawking their wares and laughing and talking. It’s so much better, so much happier. I’ve always just considered it just my duty, but maybe Agatha has a point. I’ve helped here. Maybe I should feel good about it.

I walk up to a particular stall. The man in it raises his head and then grins in full force. “Lord Pitch!” he says with his booming voice. “Good to see you!”

I shake his strong hand. “Good to see you too, Mr. Hawkins. How have you been?”

“Oh wonderful since you gave me that tonic. Leg pain is completely gone.”

“Good to hear. I’ve got some more for you.” I reach into my basket, and Rat decides this is the perfect time to wake up from her nap. She tries to nip at my hand and I yelp. Mr. Hawkins starts laughing heartily.

“I see you’ve got a new friend,” he says with his smile.

“Yes,” I grumble, “very adorable and annoying new friend.”

“She got a name?”

“Rat.”

He chuckles. “Very good. My husband just calls our cat Stupid.”

Rat tries to gnaw on my finger again, and I gently push her away. “That may be appropriate for this one too.”

Mr. Hawkins laughs at me again. He reaches out and offers his thick finger. Rat bites at it, but his calluses are so thick he doesn’t even flinch. He plays a little tug of war with her which she seems to enjoy.

“She likes you,” I chuckle. “Do you know if I should feed her anything in particular? She’s-”

“You guys got any scones? Sour cherry maybe?”

I freeze. My entire body goes rigid. Fuck, I know that voice. It haunts my fucking dreams. Sweet, lovely, strong, usually yelling at me to surrender. I flick my eyes to the left. Fuck my life, there he is, wearing his light armour with that infernal sword on his hip. Blue eyes, bronze curls, goddamn beautiful Simon Snow, standing right at the other end of the market with his bloody horse. I know I’m supposed to talk to him but not right now, I’m not ready, I need to be ready.

I quickly flip up my hood. “Sorry, Mr. Hawkins, I-I need to go. I’ll see you in a couple weeks.”

“Alright, have a good day, Lord!”

I wave as I dash off. Rat is disturbed by going so fast though, so I slow down to a slightly frantic speed walk. Even with magic to fly back, it’s going to take me fifteen minutes to be ready. I pray to God that Snow is as easily distracted as I know him to be.

———————————————

Simon

I’m gnawing on my scone (blueberry not cherry unfortunately), holding Cherry’s reins, as I walk through the town. It’s really nice. I’ve never been here before. I always take the more direct route straight across the fields, but Ebb suggested I try somewhere new to help get out of this tired funk. Penny agreed when I called her this morning. She was very cross that I hadn’t called her for days. Maybe I can find something to bring back for her, to say sorry.

We walk past a booth and I stop. It’s filled with lovely ceramics and glassware, twisted into wondrous shapes. My mouth hangs open as I stare.

“Anything I can help you with, good sir?”

I look up, then up, then further up. This man is huge. He’s like a giant, and I’ve seen those before. “Uh, hi. Is this your stuff?”

“Yes it is,” he says with his booming voice. “Anything you like?”

“Yeah. Like, all of it. You’re really good.”

“Thank you, Mr.- May I ask your name?”

“Oh, yeah, it’s Simon.” I hold my hand out. “Nice to meet you.”

He shakes my hand, his grip firm and strong. “I’m Mr. Hawkins. Lovely to meet you too, Simon. I’ve never seen you around. New to our town?”

I let his hand go (and don’t let him see the way I shake mine out, damn he’s strong.) “Yeah, never been here before. It’s really nice.”

“Yes, we’ve done quite well in the past few years, considering what we were like before.”

My brow furrows in confusion. “What? What do you mean?”

“Well, our town was falling into disrepair not too long ago. After Lady Pitch’s death we were easy targets. People were raiding us, looting, everything. We were getting sick too, what with no mage to help our ailments. But ever since Lord Pitch returned, we’ve been doing much better. He’s been such a big help.”

My eyes bug out and my jaw falls so far open I could catch flies. “Wait, what?! Lord Pitch helps you?!”

He looks at me like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, when really it’s the most insane thing I’ve ever heard. “Yes, of course. His family have taken care of us for generations and he’s no exception. He does a lot for us. He just gave me some new tonic for my leg.”

“Wait, Baz was here?!”

Mr. Hawkins is taken aback, his expression saying he thinks I’m crazy. Which I don’t blame him, it feels like I’m crazy right now. “Um, yes, he just left a few minutes ago. He gave me the tonic and let me play with his cat. Very nice young man.”

My mouth falls even further open. This is completely nuts. So Baz, the evil warlock who ransoms Watford’s princess, takes care of a whole town, brings people medicine, owns a cat, and is very nice. And strangest of all, he was just here, so he must’ve seen me, but he didn’t try to attack me. Doesn’t he hate me? Why wouldn’t he try? What the ever loving fuck is going on? It feels like everything I thought I knew about Baz is shattering into itty bitty little pieces. He’s nothing like I thought, not like that at all.

“Okay,” I say quietly, “wow, that’s, uh, wow.”

“Are you alright, son?” Mr. Hawkins asks.

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine. I just gotta, I gotta go. Have a nice day.”

“You too, Simon.”

I start rushing through, past the bustling main square and all the smiling faces. It’s astounding to think that all of this could be Baz’s doing. And in a good way. There are so many questions swirling in my head, and I need answers. So I think it’s time I ask.

———————————————

Approaching Pitch Manor feels different this time but it really shouldn’t be. It’s still the same tall, dark place, with thick woods and walls. I leave Cherry tied out front of the large entrance like always, take out my sword on instinct, and push the doors open. It’s the same receiving hall I’ve been in sixteen times, made from dark wood and filled with scary carvings. And there he is, standing in the middle of the room like always.

Baz is dressed in his bright white sparkling jacket and trousers with his black cape. It looks good on him, like always. He’s got his hand behind his back and shoulders straight. His expression is unreadable as always. But it’s less cold, I think. Just, neutral.

“Hello, Snow,” he says flatly.

“Hi, Baz,” I reply, “I’m here.”

“I can see that. And you’ve got your lovely little sword. Plan on using it well?”

I open my mouth to retort, but then I think of the smiling faces in town. And I wonder how much of an arsehole Baz actually is. If there’s something else underneath. For once, I want to know more. For once, I want to be kinder to Baz, be more like Ebb. So I toss my sword to the side, letting in clunk on the stone. Baz’s calm mask breaks, his eyes going wide.

“No,” I say firmly, “I’m not. I don’t want to fight.”

Baz looks very taken aback. “Oh? Are you surrendering for once? Makes my job much easier I suppose.”

“Actually, I just want to ask you some questions.”

“Oh,” he says, voice cracking. Baz clears his throat then straightens up again. “Well, if it’ll make this all go quicker.”

“Can you drop your wand? I don’t want to get zapped.”

Baz pulls his arms out from behind his back and shows his empty hands. “I don’t have my wand.”

He offers no further explanation even when I gape. He just stays still, though there’s a twitch to his lip that I can’t figure out. I don’t understand. But I nod and step forward.

“I’ve gotta ask,” I start, “what’s up with you?” He cocks an eyebrow. “I mean, you keep doing this whole thing of taking Agatha and demanding the ransom, but it never works. I stop you every time but you keep doing it.”

“I’m stubborn,” he replies.

“Yeah, but you’re not stupid. I’ve fought you, you’re smart as fuck. So why do you keep doing something that keeps not working?”

I start stepping closer. Baz stays still. “Watford killed my mother.”

“So why don’t you just blow up the whole bloody kingdom? You’re powerful enough, I know that too.” I’m only five feet away from him now. “Except, I’m-I’m not sure I know anything about you anymore.”

“Oh? You thought you knew me in the first place?”

“Yes! We’ve been seeing each other pretty regularly for two years now, Baz, I’ve gotten to know you. You’re brilliant, powerful, strong, and I thought you were, y’know, evil too. Now I’m not sure.”

Baz inhales sharply. I’m close enough I can hear that. “I see. You do make stupid assumptions, I shouldn’t be surprised.”

I roll my eyes and groan. “Can you stop being an arsehole to me for like, two minutes?”

I wait for a retort, but Baz’s face softens. He lets his arms fall to his sides. “I suppose I can try.”

Well, as if this say isn’t already full of surprises. I step closer. “I thought you were evil, but evil people don’t take care of a town, make tonics for them, apparently own a bloody cat, or,” I get even closer so there’s only three feet between us, “let their sworn enemy go when he’s just down the street.”

He gulps, and I think I’ve finally got to him. “So you talked to Mr. Hawkins.”

“Yeah, I did. He told me what you did for their town, and he said you left a few minutes before I showed up. You could’ve fought me right then and there, but you didn’t. Why?”

I can see and hear him take a deep breath. “Maybe, I didn’t feel like fighting then.”

My head tilts to the side in curiosity. “Do you feel like fighting now?”

The way Baz’s expressions shifts is fascinating. All those calm, unfeeling walls melt away like butter on a hot stove. He doesn’t look like the emotionless arsehole I know, or even the calm statue I saw a few minutes ago. He doesn’t look like a villain. I don’t think he’s a villain, actually. I think he’s just...a boy.

“No,” he says quietly, “no, I don’t. Do you?”

I shake my head instantly. “No. I’m tired of fighting.”

He sighs, and it sounds like relief. “Me too. I’ve been tired of it for awhile.”

Huh? That only confuses me more. “If you’re tired of it, then why did you keep taking Agatha? Couldn’t you have stopped?”

“Yes, I could have, and I should have. But I didn’t want to.”

“Why? To hurt Watford?”

“No, because...” He looks me in the eye with the most vulnerable, human expression I’ve ever seen on him. “Because, it meant a certain knight kept coming back here.”

I blink at him in utter disbelief. I hear the words but I don’t understand them, not at all. “You...you wanted me to come back?”

He nods slowly. “Yes.”

“But, why?”

Baz doesn’t answer with words. His sharp tongue seems to vanish in an instant. But I watch as red spreads across his pretty face. He’s...he’s blushing. Baz Pitch, terrifying warlock, is blushing. And I think I finally get it.

“Oh,” I squeak. “You...you feel like that?”

He nods again, eyes downcast and arms curling up over his chest. “Yes.”

“For how long?”

“A long time. Almost since we met.”

My mouth falls open. “Seriously?” He keeps nodding. “Then why didn’t you say anything?”

He looks up again, but it’s only to glare at me. “You’re the champion of the kingdom that killed my mother. It wasn’t good, or even possible I’m supposed to hate you, and I knew you hated me.”

My feet moved forward before I realise it. I’m so close to Baz now. I can count every shade of grey in his eyes. He has really pretty eyes. “I don’t hate you,” I whisper. I don’t need to be louder, he’s that close. “I thought I hated you, but I don’t think I do now.

His gaze widens in disbelief. “You don’t?”

“No. I mean, you’re kind of an arsehole.” He frowns, and it’s kind of...adorable. “But I don’t hate you, not anymore at least. In fact, I think you’re pretty amazing. It’s annoying how great you are.”

He looks even more shocked somehow. “What are you saying, Snow?”

What the fuck am I saying? I’m not sure myself. All I know is that I’m really close to Baz right now, but I’m not scared. Actually, I like it a lot. I like having him here, in front of me. Not fighting or off plotting something. Just here where I can see him and make sure he’s alright.

“I’m saying,” I step even closer, “that maybe a certain warlock is what brought me back here too.”

His eyes are so wide they look like full moons. “Do you really mean that? Because I don’t want to be toyed with, Snow.”

“I do. I really, really do.” I reach forward, and while he does stiffen, he doesn’t flinch away. So I carefully tuck a piece of hair behind his ear. It’s soft, just like I’ve always thought it would be

“Simon...” His eyes flick briefly down to my mouth. And for the first time ever, my impulses aren’t a bad thing.

I lean forward and I kiss him.

Baz’s mouth is cold, colder than a normal person probably should be. But he’s softer too. Like a cloud made of silk. It’s such an incredible revelation, and I want to remember it forever. My eyes slide shut, trying to sink into the feeling. But Baz is still rigid under me. I put my hand on the nape of his neck, running my thumb over his sharp cheek, moving my lips more, trying to coax him to relax. And suddenly, I feel the tension seep out of him. His body unwinds, and he finally starts kissing me back.

Our lips slide together like that’s all their made to do. Baz’s arms cautiously wind around my waist. I put both my hands in his soft hair. His arms get tighter around my waist. He presses into my back, like he’s trying to get to my skin through the armour. I desperately want it off right now so he can touch me, so I can feel his long, rough fingers. We keep kissing slowly. My mouth opens and Baz follows. I nearly collapse when our tongues touch. But Baz’s strong arms keep me upright and I hold him, pull him closer. I feel like I’m exploding and falling and just...amazing. Everything just feels better than ever before.

We pull apart, but keep our foreheads together. Our breathing is loud in the echoey hall. Baz’s arms don’t loosen on me. I don’t let go either.

“I like this,” I whisper against Baz’s swollen lips. “I like this better than fighting.”

He sighs and brushes his nose against mine. “Me too.”

We keep standing there, breathing each other in. I don’t know what we’re going to do, there’s still so much to talk about. But I’m not letting Baz go.

———————————————

Four years later

I wake up and immediately reach out to my right, but instead of tepid skin, I feel something furry. My eyes blink open and I frown. Baz isn’t there, but Rat is. She’s stretched out and purring in his spot. I lean up on my elbow, giving her a long pet. She bends towards my hand. Rat is a very lovely cat. I wish Baz hadn’t given her such a god awful name.

I look around our room. The curtains are still drawn over the window, but I see a little light bleeding in. It’s barely morning. And Baz isn’t here, which means he’s in his study. The damn bastard never stops working. Unless I get him to.

Slowly, I sit up, stretching my arms up. The blanket falls down a bit too far and I shudder for a second, a bite cold air hitting my bare skin. That’s what I get for sleeping in just my pants. It’s a good thing we live alone at the top of a hill. Sometimes I’m tired after a long day of goat herding and forget pajamas. Baz doesn’t mind at all. He likes to use my warm skin as his personal heater in these colder months.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed and slip on my fur slippers. They were a gift from Penny, to keep me warm in the wild. (This isn’t the wild but it’s a nice thought anyway.) Then I throw the quilt over my shoulders, pulling it around me like Baz used to do with his cloaks.

I pad through our cottage in my slippers. It’s a mile away from Ebb’s place and less than an hour from Pitch Town. Baz and I spent six months designing and building it. We made it from light wood, green painted metal, and clay tiles. It’s not very big, just enough room for us, Rat, and the occasional guest. (Though we can expand when we add little humans to our family. Which we will someday, when we're a bit older.) Others would call it cramped. I call it cozy. I love being here every day. It’s not a castle where I work or an orphanage where I was abandoned. It’s a home that Baz and I made together.

Once I’m through our living room, I enter Baz’s study. It’s made of almost all glass, so his potted plants can get proper sunlight. His bigger garden sits just outside next to Cherry’s stable. And there’s the man himself, hunched over his desk. I immediately drape myself over his back, encasing him in the quilt. He doesn’t flinch at all. It’s taken a few years but he’s not on guard all the time anymore.

“Hey,” he whispers.

“It’s too early,” I say, “come back to bed.”

Baz chuckles, leaning back into me. “I have to make a new healing potion for Mrs. Nelson, love. Her stomach is acting up again.”

“You can do that later. But right now,” I press my lips to his ear, “come,” I move to his cheek, “back,” under his jaw, “to,” and then his neck, “bed.”

I feel and hear him sigh. He leans further back, looping an arm around me to weave his fingers through my hair. “You’re a menace, Simon, always interfering with my work.”

“Mhm, and you love it.” I bury my face in his skin. He smells like his fancy handmade soaps, cedar and bergamot. His smell always makes me feel better. “And I love you.”

He sighs, turning his head to peck my temple. “I love you too, Snow.”

“You called me Simon before,” I tease.

“No I didn’t,” he says with a smile.

“Liar,” I kiss his pointy ear, “now leave your work alone for a bit.”

“I really have to do this, darling. But you should go. You have to be up in a few hours to get to the goats.”

I groan and hold him tighter. “Baz, we both need sleep. And I don’t know about you, love, but I sleep better next to you.”

It’s true. Ever since we started living here two years ago and I started sleeping next to Baz regularly, I’ve had less nightmares. And if I wake up from one, he’s right there to hold me and remind me none of it was real. I can sleep alone, but I prefer him with me.

“Alright,” he sighs, “give me a minute to finish this bottle.”

I grumble, but I know this is the best I can hope for from my workaholic healer mage lover. I press a kiss to the corner of his lip. “One minute. I’ll hold you to that.”

He chuckles, then turns his head to give me a proper kiss. My body feels like it’s melting, like it does every time we kiss. He pulls away smiling against my mouth. “One minute. I promise.”

“Mhm, good.”

He kisses me once more, and again, then we finally let go. I stand up straight and pull the quilt around myself again. Once I reach the doorway, I give Baz one more look over my shoulder. And he’s looking back. We both smile just as I turn the corner back through the cottage.

———————————————

Baz

It’s a struggle to turn back to my work. I desperately want to follow Simon, scoop him up, and snog him silly as I carry him to bed. The idea of that motivates me to finish faster though. I put the last drop of silver in the vial, then grab my wand and mumble the spell I need. It warms up and glows a soft blue. Perfect. I cork it and put it in my basket. Rat and I will make the journey into town today on Simon’s ridiculously lovely horse. No more half hour walks for us. Cherry makes the journey far easier.

I walk back towards our bedroom. When Simon suggested we make our own house, I was cautious. I spent so long trying to get back to Pitch Manor, it felt wrong to leave it. But in the end it was the right thing to do. The manor held so much pain and loss. I couldn’t move forward there. But here, in mine and Simon’s cottage, I finally feel free.

When I walk in, Simon is already mostly asleep again. He’s laying on his side with Rat next to his head on the pillow. She’s technically my cat, but I swear she loves Simon more. I don’t blame her. I love him more too. I slip in next to him under the quilt, throwing an arm over his side and pressing my hand to his chest. He’s so warm. I used to be so cold, but I haven’t been since the moment he kissed me.

“You’re here,” he mumbles.

“I did promise,” I reply.

“Hm, true.” He snuggles closer, and I hold him tighter. “We gotta start packing tomorrow, y’know. Penny expects us there for the winter solstice. The snow is gonna make the trip longer.”

“Don’t worry, love, I remember.”

We don’t go into Watford’s capital since I’m still not exactly welcome, (even though Agatha has forgiven for the kidnapping, the citizens are still touchy,) but we go to Bunce’s family home just a few miles outside it. Simon moved there after the two months he spent living with me post-first kiss. It was hard watching him leave, but we weren’t ready to live together properly then. There was still so much we had to sort out on our own. My guilt and grief, his knighthood and future. So we just sent letters, until I finally felt comfortable going to Watford.

It was very scary at first, but eventually, Watford stopped being the place that killed my mother. Soon, it became where Simon introduced me to his best friend, where he first told me he loved me, where he said he wanted us to stop just visiting each other and build our house. And on the winter solstice, it’ll be where I ask him to marry me. I’ve got the ring hidden in my study. I know he’ll say yes, he already said he wants to get married. I’m very excited.

“Mm, good. You and Pen can trade magic notes again.”

I chuckle against his neck. “Yes, I suppose we can. We can’t stay too long though, remember.”

“I know, I know,” he mumbles. “Gotta see your family too. At least they like me now.”

I can almost hear Simon grin. Though it took a bit for my family to accept Simon, they’re now just happy that I’m happy. And it does help that Simon is so good and kind it’s impossible to hate him. I figured that out years ago. “Hm, yes. Not sure about my brother though. He did spit up on you the first time you met.”

Snow makes a displeased noise. “Yeah. Luckily he’s cute. Kids are cute.”

My heart races at those words. We’ve discussed adopting children, taking in orphans like Simon. But we both want to wait until we're a bit older before taking on such a responsibility. Still, I can't help imagining it though. Little kids running across our hill, playing with Cherry and Rat, fake wrestling with Snow in our backyard, watching with awe as I create bursts of magical light for their entertainment. A big, joyous family. I never realised I wanted that kind of life before him. And now I want it so much.

But I can wait. I'm more than happy right now. And Simon isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. Not anymore.

I kiss just under his ear. He lets out a happy sound. I close my eyes, pressing my nose into his neck. “Sleep, Snow. We’ll talk more about family and travel plans later.”

“Okay,” he yawns. “Love you.”

My eyes slip closed. When I first saw Simon, I assumed I’d always be looking at him from afar, never allowed to have him. But here he is in my arms, in our bed, telling me he loves me. Like he will for the rest of our lives.

We’re no longer the strong knight or the powerful warlock. Just a simple goatherd and healer. And we’re far better off for it.

“Love you too,” I whisper, before I drift off as well.

———————————————

AN: Yeah, I tried to make the ending as fluffy as possible. They deserve it. Credit to @carryonmylovelies​ for Rat's name. Don't let her name your pets, lol. Any who, hope you all liked that. I tried my best to show their growth which leads Simon and Baz to decide to break the cycle. And I hope you didn't mind that they weren't with each other for most of the fic, that's my biggest worry tbh. Idk, I liked it. Hope guys did too :)

So I've got a lot schoolwork (yay exams and finals) so I don't think I'll be posting anything again until late April or early May. Black Swan updates will still happen but that's all I can handle rn unforunately :/ But once exams are done, I'll be opening requests again. So I'll see you guys then :D

[dlamp-dictator]

Allen’s Rambling: The Four Dreaded Questions of World Building

Y’know, I was going to write this Rambling on my RP blog about why trying to mix world-building and RPing can make things confusing and difficult for your RP partners, but as of editing this I’m going to make this a bit more general.

For a lot us that want to make an epic fantasy or sci-fi world I’m sure we all took a few days or weeks to sit down and draft a bunch of notes on how we want to things to go down in that world. How people live, how they dress, how they talk, what kind of environments they have, and so on. Just... create a living, breathing world to get yourself and your readers lost in. I know the feeling, I’ve wanted to do that myself for awhile now. The issue is... how to exactly do that. Making a bunch of notes about a faction here or a faucet there can have building that world take forever. I’ve done a lot of thinking on this topic of the past few months, ultimately decided to not bother with it anymore due to my own... weaknesses as a writer. While I’ve personally decided to change how I write my original stories so I don’t have to worry about world building, I think I’d try and do a little good and try to share the system I made for world building before deciding to scrap it.

In short, world building can basically be boiled down to answering three to four questions:

Where/How does this group of people get their food?

What do these people do after they get their food?

Is there magic?

If yes, how does that magic effect how these people get their food?

You think I’m kidding, but that’s really it. Answering those 4 questions will lead to so many, many others. “But why the focus on food?” I hear some of you ask. A simple answer.

If there is no food, there is no world. 

If there is no grass for cows to graze, there are no cows. If there are no cows, there is no beef. If there is no beef, there is no meat for humans and predators to eat. You see my point? A few years ago I took a college course on ancient history as an elective, and that class went into great detail about how many great civilizations got started by the blessing of merely being formed by a river of large source of fresh water to grow crops. That history of Japan video that was floating around awhile back was a great example of my point, research ancient history in general is a great way to learn world building, but moving on.

Just to show I’m not all talk I’ll use one of my own worlds/societies that I’ve been trying to make. Awhile ago in one of my RP Ramblings I said that I had a group of female forest ninja that I was writing a story for. I’ve since then deleted that story due to... issues I was having, but I’ll answer those questions about that group here.

Where/How does this group of people get their food?

The forest ninja get their food by hunting and gathering in the forest they live in, eating while plants and forest animals like deer and bears. Most are vegetarians and only eat plants, but hunting and the consumption of meat isn’t forbidden.

What do these people do after they get their food?

Before actually eating, most will prayer in thanks of the meal. In terms of general activities most go through religious rituals. Prayer, dance, training in either martial arts or religious studies.

Is there magic?

No. At least not in this society.

See? Pretty easy right? 

WRONG. 

Now here comes the hard part. Answer those questions leads to so many others. Why do the forest ninja only hunt and gather? Do they grow their own food? Why don’t they if not? What kind of plants do they eat? If most are vegetarians why isn’t hunting and eating meat outlawed in their religion? Why do their leisure activities focused on religion? What is their religion? What are the tenets? What kind of god do they follow? Is it just one god or many? Are all members of these forest ninja religious? Why is there no magic? The list goes on, and on, and on. And even answering all of those questions will lead to others, and you just keep going, and going, and going until you run out of questions and every faucet of that civilizations daily life and existence is answered.

Sounds fun, right?

“No Allen, that sounds like a lot of work.”

Oh, you poor child, we aren’t even if at the fun part yet. There’s a fifth question in this I didn’t mention:

5. Do other groups/civilizations interact with your main character’s society? If so, how?

And this is the question that leads you asking the previous four at least 1 more time.

You see what I mean? You understand why this is a pain to do properly? And don’t even get me started on magic and superpowers. I’ll spare you all 5 paragraphs and just link these two great videos on Hard and Soft Magic and how they relate to world-building made by a Hello Future Me. The long and short of it that magic changes everything about your world. 

If your characters can spawn fire out of their hands to cook food it means harvesting firewood isn’t a thing that people need to do as frequent, which changes how much wood is gathered in your society, which changes how wood is viewed in your society as a resource. If your characters can shoot out lightning it means industrial-level uses of electricity works very differently, which my lead to certain jobs not existing and your economy running in a completely different way than our own. If you characters can spawn and control water it means that water distribution and droughts are probably not a thing, which mean there is likely a huge population boom due to the abundance or clean drinking water, which means a high disparity between rich and poor and large city areas in general, which mea- 

You see my point, right? World Building is complicated.

Thankfully, there’s a nice way to get around, which is to explain literally nothing about it. This was covered in that soft magic video, but a tumblr post I reblog a while back explains it much quicker than that video does, and I’ll just quote it here for those that don’t don’t want to be view several tabs.

Either explain it or don’t.

When authors include things that don’t fit within the real world–magic, time travel, anachronisms–there is an impulse to explain how it works. Which can be fantastic for worldbuilding, but if you don’t know what you’re talking about, it can make more problems than it solves.

Stephenie Meyer tried to explain some bizarre thing about chromosomes, and it made the biology of vampires and werewolves make no sense. Suspending disbelief worked better in that case before she tried to ground it in the real world.

Lemony Snicket, on the other hand, just has random anachronisms that are never explained, but because there’s nothing even close to resembling an attempt at an explanation, we can just shrug and go, okay, that’s how it works. The magic in Harry Potter seems to basically not be grounded in anything, but we can believe it within the context of the story because she doesn’t try to ground it in anything.

In Jim Butcher’s Codex Alera, on the other hand, he goes into a lot of magic theory, and it gives us a strong feeling of worldbuilding. There’s enough logically coherent explanation for it to feel grounded within itself.

It is possible to go too far (see: Orson Scott Card’s Xenocide and Children of the Mind) where the plot ends up so tied in the reader understanding intricately detailed scientific and pseudo-scientific minutiae that the story is incomprehensible without it.

Generally, though, if you’re going to make something up, either say it exists and leave it at that, or entirely figure out how it works. Halfway is always less believable than nothing at all.

So, while I could go through all the effort of explaining how the forest ninja live their lives, I could also just say forest ninja exist and show off all the cooler more interest parts I want to show off and not worry about explaining any of it. The major flaw in doing this however is the lack of immersion and the risk of losing a reader’s suspension of disbelief by having something really nonsensical happen.

So... why write about this? 

Honestly, I just... wanted to get my thoughts out on this topic before redoing my forest ninja story. I plan on moving to writing more short stories and little vignettes with my original pieces as opposed to writing longer, chapter-based stories since trying to do something longer will always lead me to writing myself in a corner. That’s a topic for another day, but for now... I suppose that’s it. Thanks for bearing with me folks. Feel free to reblog with your own tips about world building. I’ll be playing Under Night In-Birth in the meanwhile getting my butt handed to me by Merkava and Gordeau mains.

[pandatypewriter]

B.A.P Le Noir AU (Himchan): Ch. 12 No More Games

Yeesh! It’s been a while since I posted a chapter for Le Noir...or at least it feels like it’s been awhile haha! So I wanted to post this before I started to hit the todo list in my submit box so please don’t attack me if Ch. 13 takes a while >x<  Instead enjoy the fun reactions and some scenarios that I will be pumping out! :D Bright note this chapter is pretty long so yayz! And the mystery continues! Wooooosh! hahah

You froze in place. One foot in the door, while your hand still twisted the knob. You noticed a wire coming from your door knob. You followed the intricate trap set before you to only see it all connected to a handmade bomb packed with C4. Shit. You were careless. With the emotional rollercoaster you had just went through, your instincts and wits had begun to dull. You could feel small beads of sweat build up on your forehead. You knew the moment you loosened the grip on the knob, you and the rest of this floor would be sent sky high. The strain in your wrist and fingers from maintaining a statue-like position, however, was making the task of remaining still fairly difficult.

“Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!” Himchan growled as he examined the bomb resting in plain view in your living room. How could he be so stupid? How could he let you be in harms way again? A thousands thoughts ran through his mind. Who did this? The Black Scorpios were eliminated….his thoughts then trailed to the small remainder of the Emperor Dragons. He glared at the contraption. The Emperor Dragons weren’t known for making bombs though. They were more of the rain of bullets type of people. But he supposed that an old dogs could learn new tricks.

“Himchan, calm down…” You tried to keep your voice steady. All your nerves were shot up in attention. You were scared. No doubt about it, but there was no point in you panicking or Himchan panicking. First objective was to get that bomb out of your damn home!

“I’m sorry, Y/N…” He let out a deep breath, bringing his heighten nerves back to ground zero. “I’m sorry...I should have...I was suppose to protect you…” He cupped the side of your face gently.

A small smile spread across your face as you nuzzled into Himchan’s hand. Himchan had pure intentions. For a gang boss he had so much and love for those he cared about. It was so easy to forget that he was the mastermind of some of the biggest heist of this town. There was a sense of ease about him. Comfort. Like you could pour your soul out to him and he would simply pull you into a hug and embrace every broken piece of you. This sense of trust and confidentiality was something you hadn’t built with another human being in quite awhile.

“It’s okay Himchan...we both should have known better.” Your smile brought a sense of ease to Himchan. He didn’t know how you didn’t. How in one moment you could have his sense of high alert, sporadic, and in the next moment he felt that everything could be alright. He could be on fire right now, but your words alone could make him feel assured that he was going to be okay.

Himchan gave you a slight nod and a small smile, a hint that he understood your words. “I’ll get you out of here…”

He took a peek into your living room, scanning the surroundings in order to ensure that there no other immediate dangers present. After he convinced himself that there was nothing in the room that could harm you, he cautiously trudged through the living room until he reached the homemade device. He analyzed the bomb before him, gingerly picking up a few wires in order to get a better understanding about how the device worked. He had seen quite a few bombs in his days, but nothing quite like this. It was too elaborate for even the Emperor Dragons to conjure up. There didn’t seem to be a single wire that would deactivate the bomb. And based on the design, any slightly movement of the device itself would activate the bomb.

Himchan let out a frustrated groan as he ran his fingers through his hair. He didn’t have time to mess around. Didn’t have time to be incompetent. Didn’t have time face his inadequacies. He clenched his fist tightly, the white of his knuckles revealing themselves. Memories that he wished never existed poured into his mind. Memories he thought he was over with. Memories that he thought he outgrew.

“Move you little piece of shit.” Himchan’s ‘father’ growled as he pushed Himchan aside. His small frame hitting the wooden floor in a thud.

Himchan furrowed his eyebrows, but kept his mouth shut. He knew if he said anything, even looked his ‘father’ in the eye, he would get a beating. Sometimes Himchan wondered if the man before him was really his father. He never received a loving touch from the man. Wise words from a father. Caring hugs from a parent. Those traits seemed to be non-existent in their father/son relationship. No matter what Himchan did. No matter what he said. He would always be seen as a son of a whore that his father knocked up.

“Useless, mutt. Don’t do anything and walking round here wasting space,” His father spat, before glaring down at Himchan. Inadvertently, Himchan returned the glare, causing the flames of his ‘father’s’ rage to burn. “You glaring at me, you mutt!?” His father raised his fist to give Himchan the usual punishment.

“Woo-jin!” A booming voice echoed through the thin paper walls. A chiseled, well-groomed man wearing a padded kimono trotted down the hallway, a glare plastered at his face as he stared Himchan’s ‘father’ down.

“B-Boss…” Himchan’s father lowered his fist, his aggressive fire now waned to a flicker.

“Go talk to Michael about collecting some dues. It seems that the gangs down south haven’t paid back their debts yet.” The man nudged his head to the side, signalling for Himchan’s father to get out of his sight.

“O-Of course…” Himchan’s father mumbled before scurrying off to do the task at hand.

The man sighed and shook his head in dismay before coming up beside Himchan, squatting down so that he and the 6 year old boy were at the same height. Himchan instinctively flinched back, knowing that the man before him had power and influence. The man simply smiled and ruffled Himchan’s hair, assuring Himchan that he intended no harm towards him.

“Don’t listen to your father’s words. Everyone has a purpose in life. It doesn’t matter who you were born to. Whether you be a son of a rich man or a escort,” The man chuckled as he gently picked up Himchan, carrying the him and smiling at him as if Himchan was his own son. “You’re a bright boy. I’ve seen you help the rest of the men with ever you can. You’re a fast learner so don’t worry about the weakness your father spouts at you. You’ll overcome them.”

Himchan took a deep breathe. This moment was simply one of those weakness in his life. He just simply needed to overcome them. Not only for his sake. But for your sake. He grabbed his phone from his pocket, deciding that it was better to call someone more experienced in bombs and explosions than he was.

“Yongguk, I need you to get to Y/N’s apartment now.” Himchan tried to keep his voice steady. Calm. The last thing he wanted was to get the other members riled up. He glanced over his shoulder to see you standing there, as still as a statue. When you met his eye, you gave him a slight smile to assure him that you were fine, though you could barely feel your arm at the moment.

“Huh? What happened to Y/N?” Daehyun voice was filled with concern. Himchan let out a small curse at himself. He had forgotten that he set his phone calls to group chat to increase the efficiency of communicating information.

“It’s nothing.” Himchan slightly growled in the phone, warning the rest of the members that they shouldn’t venture with the questions.

“Himchan…” Yongguk’s low voice echoed through Himchan’s ear, knowing something was wrong.

“We’re going there.” Youngjae spoke out, saying what was exactly on everyone’s mind.

“I said it’s nothing big! I just need Yongguk to come!” Himchan practically shouted into the phone.

“Himchan!” You shouted from your position, glaring at him to calm down. “There is no point in hiding or sugar coating the situation!”

“Y/N?” Zelo’s voice echoed through the room. “What the hell is going on!?”

Himchan let out an exhausted sigh. He was grateful for your action. He was getting riled up. Scared. Angry. Frustrated. A mixture that was toxic for a leader. “There is a bomb.”

The line went silent. Everyone comprehending the information that they just heard. “The rat’s don’t seem to give up.” Jongup broke the silence. His voice was slightly vicious and annoyed.

“Now we’re all coming for sure.” Daehyun noted.

“No! I told you guys that I just need Yongguk….I don’t want to drag you guys into this…” Himchan sighed. If he could he would rather the fatality only be him. If Yongguk couldn’t stop the bomb perhaps he could get you out of here in one piece. The idea of the rest of the gang coming here. His entire family in close enough proximity that they could be blown to bits. It sickened him.

“You should've thought of that 6 years ago.” Yongguk’s low chuckle filled Himchan’s ear as he and the rest of the members hanged up their phone. Only leaving Himchan to let out a huff of disbelief at his members’ stubbornness and release a small chuckle.

“I knew you were a softie,” You chuckled as you watched the scene before you. “100% mom material.”

“You’re really chatty for someone who might be blown up anytime soon,” Himchan rolled his eyes as he came up to you, placing his hand on top of yours. “We can switch places, Y/N. If you can slip your hand off and-”

“Oh no you don’t. No one is playing the sacrificial hero here,” You gently took Himchan’s hand off of yours and gripped his tightly. “Who ever set this bomb clearly wants to get rid of me so this is my problem Himchan. And I refuse to let someone die for me.”

“You are too damn stubborn sometimes…” Himchan couldn’t help but chuckle in disbelief. He couldn’t win with you. You truly were one hell of a woman. That’s why he was so scared of losing you.

“I heard it could be quite endearing.” You smirked.

“Your husband has extremely weird taste,” He smiled. Though the word ‘husband’ still felt bitter on his tongue, he enjoyed the atmosphere the two of you had made during this time of terror. It was the one he felt comfortable with. That he could be himself with. Not pretend to be this mature, cold leader. To be this confident, all-knowing leader. Just him. And hell he would he destroy this atmosphere over petty jealousy. “But I guess that makes my taste weird too.”

Your eyes opened wide for a moment, understanding the implications to his words. But were you ready for them? You didn’t know. Whether it was the adrenaline running through both of your veins by being so close to death or his true feelings. You didn’t know. If his words were true. The emotions real. You opened your mouth for a moment, preparing to say something. Anything.

“Himchan.” Yongguk and Zelo quickly appeared around the corner of the hallway, the breathes haggard from running. Soon Jongup, Daehyun, and Zelo followed.

“Hey there boys.” You nonchalantly waved at the boys.

“Are you okay?” Daehyun came beside you, scanning your frame to make sure you were all in one peace.

“I’m fine...I’m actually surprisingly calm...or at least I’ve convinced myself that I am.” You flashed them a small smile.

“I haven’t seen a device like this anywhere…” Yongguk mumbled as he examined the device. “But I’m pretty sure there is a failsafe somewhere, just in case something goes wrong.”

“You think you can figure it out hyung?” Zelo peered closer to the machine, before glancing at Yongguk.

“Maybe...Just give me a sec.” Yongguk motioned for everyone to back up so that he could have more space to do his job. He examined every nook and cranny of the machine, making sure he didn’t miss anything. He noticed a single small wire on the bottom of the device. Yongguk gently tugged on the wire to see where it led to. It connected the C4 to the tripwire. Yongguk bit his lip, unsure of what he should do. If he cut this wire, there was a high chance that he could send everyone to their graves, but at the same time, there was a chance that it would deactivate the device completely. He glanced back to you and the rest of the members, looking for some semblance of an answer. Reassurance that his decision would be the right one.

You glanced at Himchan for a moment, trying to get a read from him. He looked at you, giving you a firm nod before returning his Yongguk and giving him the same message. Yongguk let out a sigh before sucking a deep breathe as he grabbed a pair of wire cutters from his back pocket. He gingerly pulled the wire out enough for him to cut it. He gripped the wire cutters tightly before. Snip!

“God damn…” Youngjae let out the deep breathe that he held in.

“Well wasn’t that thrilling.” Jongup chuckled as he entered the apartment.

You released your grip from the doorknob, letting out the breath that you held in and shaking your sore arm. “I’m glad that was over…” You murmured, plopping yourself down on the couch. All the strength and courage from the adrenaline seemed to dissipate from your body.

“Good job, Guk,” Himchan patted his friend on his back, but Yongguk’s expression remained hardened. “What’s wrong?” Himchan raised an eyebrow.

“This is a dummy. A really elaborate one…” Yongguk mumbled as he dismantled the bomb. “We could have thrown it against the floor and it wouldn’t go off”

“What?” Himchan stared at his friend in disbelief. Who the hell would set this elaborate trap to just keep you all in one piece? A psychopath? He chewed his bottom lip trying to figure out what the actual hell was going on.

“It’s a warning…” Daehyun glared at the device before taking it from Yongguk’s hands and slamming it against the ground.

“From who?” Zelo glared at the device, kicking it aside.

“I could venture a few guesses.” Jongup chuckled, picking up the battered bomb and tossing it to Youngjae for further examination.

“Well we’ll deal with those guesses later,” Himchan ran his hand through his hair. “We need to get Y/N to a safe place.”

“Let’s take her back to our hideout. It’s the safest place we got.” Zelo noted, which Himchan agreed with. Their headquarters was a large abandoned mechanic shop that was left to rot while, but the boys had renovated it to be an adequate hideout.

“Do I get a say in this or do I just stand here and look pretty?” You glared at them. You didn’t like the idea that they were simply making plans without asking you. You had the girls to worry about. Le Noir to care about. You couldn’t simply abandon them.

“Y/N….” Himchan looked at you, almost pleading you to be complacent with their plan. Unfortunately you were not having it.

“I refuse to put my life on my pause because of some dumbass men who think they can have their way by playing these childish pranks…” You sighed, removing yourself from the couch. “The girls are in danger now...I can’t just disappear on them. And then Le Noir...I can’t abandon my home.” You massaged your temples trying to figure out what to do.

Himchan let out a sigh, knowing that when it came to the girls and Le Noir you wouldn’t falter for anyone. “Then at least for tonight. So we can at least figure out what to do.”

“Okay, but first thing tomorrow I’m going back to Le Noir,” You relaxed shoulders a bit, the tension leaving your body. “Can you all do me a favor and make sure that the girls don’t come into work tomorrow…”

“Of course.” Yongguk smiled as he gently placed a hand on your shoulder. You smiled at the boys. Who would have thought that you would have become so close to BAP of all groups. You didn’t want trouble. You wanted to live your life as peacefully as your occupation allowed you. But look at you now, fully thrown in a mess, but I ironically you didn’t hate it.

“Sorry about the blindfold…it’s a precaution” You could hear Himchan murmur as he gently squeezed your hand.

“It’s fine,” You chuckled. “This hasn’t been the first time I’ve blindfolded.” You smirked and cocked your eyebrow.

Zelo nearly spit out his water at your comment as Daehyun bursted out into laughter. Jongup had a sly smirk on his face. Weren’t you a kinky puppet. Youngjae rolled his eyes at the boys’ immaturity though a blush was dusted on his cheeks. Yongguk couldn’t help but smirk while Himchan chuckled in disbelief. You were definitely a woman full of surprises. It was no surprise that they were so attracted to you, attached to you. You were a part of their world, but not. You were strong to handle your own, but soft enough to care for others. And you were sexy as hell.

“We’re here…” Zelo murmured, his face bright red. The hyungs chuckled at the sight of little lamb, causing the giant baby to growl at them as he helped you out of the car and remove your blindfold.

“What the hell happened…” Himchan growled, his fist were clenched tightly as he witness the wreckage in front of him. The garage to their hideout was wide opened, the inside looking like a tornado had gone through.

The rest of the boys followed suit examining the mess that was made. Files everywhere. Cabinets pried opened. Data files searched through. Their respective rooms tumbled through. Whoever trashed their hideout was very meticulous in their search. After examining the initial impact, they rushed to underground storage. They all raised an eyebrow when they saw all the guns they had stolen. The stacks of cash that they had received during their last heist. Some of the priceless art that they hadn’t sold off yet. Everything was left untouched. As if nobody ransacked their hideout.

Himchan furrowed his eyebrows. If this was simply a rival gang then they would have wiped them out clean. Why leave the guns, the money, and the art? Why just ransack the place? What were they looking for? And more importantly, how the hell did they find out about the hideout!? He quickly climbed up the stairs to find Youngjae fiddling through the files that were in disarray.

“They’re gone…” Youngjae mumbled as he angrily through the files down to the ground.

“What’s going on?” You looked around confused and lost. Explanations needed to be made. Now.

“Youngjae….what did they take…” Himchan tried to keep his voice as calm as he possibly could, but the anger that threatened to boil out was on the edge of overflow.

“The files that contained all the information about the Emperor Dragons other deals and INF,” Youngjae ran his fingers through his hair, aggravated at the current situation. “They’re all gone.”

“Damn it!” Himchan growled.

“But how would they have found this place…” You mumbled, trying to figure out how they could have even the decipher the location of BAP’s hideout. “And how did they know it was the perfect time to…” Your voice trailed off when you realized the answer to one of your many questions. “God Damn it!” You let out a frustrated growl causing Youngjae and Himchan to jump at your words.

“Y/N…” Himchan looked at you confused, his formerly hot temper going down to a simmer.

“I was the distraction….If it weren’t for me you guys would have stayed at the hideout…” You scratched your head vigorously. You were played. Used. Like a chess piece for someone’s sick game and it made you furious.

“Y/N, it’s not your fault…” Youngjae attempted to assure you, but your temper was becoming out of control.

“Tell that to your ransacked hideout,” You sighed. “I should have sent you away Himchan. If you didn’t walk me back to my place then the boys wouldn’t come and then…”

Himchan came over and squeezed your shoulder gently, attempting to assure you that you had  no fault in what occurred. “Listen, Adenium. I wanted to walk you home. Hell I would have done it whether you sent me away or not. This is not your fault.”

“Plus they didn’t stop us completely…” Youngjae shuffled in his back pocket, pulling out a usb. “I was able to copy half of the files to a digital copy. It’s not much, but it’s all we got.”

“That’s fine…” Himchan’s expression darkened. The rest of the boys coming up from the basement after accounting for everything. “We can just ask the Dragon Prince the rest,” Himchan grabbed his machine pistol from the mess of papers and files. “I’m getting tired of these shitty games…”

Thanks for reading! Comments and feedback are much appreciated! (Plus I’ll love you more haha XD XD)

[xxdarby31xx-blog]

The Incarnation of Reptar of the Right

Before anyone reads this next mischievous entry of creative literature, a little background information is necessary in order to shed some light and provide insight behind a piece of satire that may possibly trigger some internet users. I wrote this months back and for awhile was trying to figure out when to allow other sets of eyes to read the piece for themselves. Now is that time. 💁🏻‍♂️ Here's the reason why: 🇨🇦In Canada, there is a law in legislation that if passed would require citizens to use the specific personal preferred pronoun of those who identify beyond the traditional gender groups. These individuals fall between the other "totally real" 76 gender types or either as an breathing entity that does not identify as a human being but rather an entirely separate species all together. Yes, for those uninformed Trans-Species is actually now being considered as an real fucking thing. 🤦🏻‍♂️ If one decides to not comply with this proposed mandate they will be instantly susceptible to legal action and be punished for beholding a different opinion and using such "reckless and hateful" rhetoric 😔. This has to be the most ridiculous attack on free speech ever derived. I am fucking appalled and ashamed that we live during a time where society deems such importance on such idiotic madness. 😤 Now I want you to imagine working overseas and living life as a child labor victim, forced to endure 16 hour workdays. These slave shifts only consist of putting together iPhones and perhaps stitching up Nike footwear. Even worse, this form of torture is implemented simply for the purpose of American consumption. A country whose many inhabitants are in fact intelligent human beings, along with the total retards that perpetuate the insane bullshit of identity politics. It must be devastating and depressing having to experience and survive everyday life that is comparable to Hell. Can you honestly say that you would be able to gain any sort of understanding or feel remotely compassionate towards these first world gender identity "victims", if you were the one forced into child labor? 🤔Or would you not even have the time, because of the U.S.'s high demand for I Phones? 📱. Wrap your mind around the fact it's 2016 and our society is still arguing about race, gender, and now fucking pronouns. All while some hopeless kid somewhere is being victimized by an incredibly evil form of abuse. A hideous and immoral instance of abuse that occupies, infects, and ultimately wastes away the constantly fleeing moments of an temporary existence, that we call life. Hopefully now you can see the point I'm trying to make and somewhat understand my point of view when I wrote this piece. I personally believe whole heartedly it's extremely wrong that such absurdity now trumps imminent world problems that knowingly exist. Child abuse, domestic violence, homelessness, world hunger, cancer, sex trafficking and drug abuse just to name a few examples. I don't care what you do or identify as. Just don't let such actions infringe on my right to exercise free speech and behold a different set of beliefs. Okay enough with all the seriousness and now onto a direct product of being an individual, and exercising my right of free speech. A creative, outrageous, and silly piece of satire.😝😝😝 The Incarnation of Reptar of the Right Today I go to social media in order to confess something very personal and intimate. Truth be told my whole life I have always felt so incredibly uncomfortable and empty inside. I simply cannot deny it any longer! I will no longer identify myself as a human being. Truth be told I have always known deep down in that I am in fact actually a vicious, blood thirsty Tyrannosaurs Rex. (Unfortunately trapped in a human body 😔) I'm completely serious, so If anyone beholds any insensitive opinions or comments please refrain due to the fact my regular safe space location has unfortunately already reached maximum capacity. I can't put into words the joy of this weight being lifted off my shoulders. I thought I was possibly mentally ill and alone most of my life. That all changed once I saw the comedy classic Step Brothers. This movie is where I witnessed a scene where the father character openly discussed his want and burning passion to be a T Rex Dinosaur with his son. I was instantly inspired by such bravery. I was also extremely overjoyed to finally discover that I wasn't totally alone in the universe. SPOILER ALERT.....the prehistoric identity struggle is very real people. Can you even imagine the struggle? Me as a juvenile forced to engage in school and even partake in athletics daily with an entirely separate species. All the while, possessing a constant want and ambition to roam around the backyard with my arms all scrunched up T Rex style, wreaking havoc with each and every emphatic dino stomp and scream. I began to realize very quickly that you humans consider that'd to be an unhealthy and abnormal lifestyle, but for us dinos it's a way of life. I was destined to spend the rest of my days terrorizing backyards just like my ancestors before me. We have come an extremely long way and as a result really progressed dramatically as society. Now is the first time in history that I no longer have to be ashamed to admit that I've watched Jurassic Park a billion times and admittedly reenacted every T Rex scene alone in front of my mirror for hours at a time. (I'm not gonna lie either, I'm a pretty good actor.) So good in fact that when my private bedroom auditions take place, my roommates totally think I'm just watching the J Park films in my room. Just saying 😎 Do human beings partake in such activities? I think not, but then again I cannot be certain because I am only capable of having T Rex thoughts. 😐 Furthermore, I personally don't feel like the name "Gregg" is suitable for a T Rex such as myself. So I've decided that I will now only respond and answer to the name "Reptar". It's very fitting don't you think? As a T Rex it just came to be inherently natural I suppose. Referring to me as anything other than "Reptar" would highly offend me and not to mention hateful. Reptar is and always has been my one true identity. Don't get it twisted 🙅🏻‍♂️. It's simply amazing this ignored and incredibly courageous community, is now responsible for the most important movement occurring in the U.S. 🇺🇸and other areas of the world. My hope is that this will inspire more individuals who identify as a dinosaur to open up and come out from hiding. Whether you refer to oneself as Barney the Dinosaur or perhaps Bosh the Raptor, it makes no difference. You are not alone!!! Let's turn this place into our own Jurassic World. Sincerely, Reptar of the Right Update: I am happy to share that I will be pursuing an opportunity to ensure my physical appearance resembles that of which is my true identity. While it's not as intricate or expensive as medical procedures, it is still a gallant decision to make. Let me clarify, I'm totally not calling myself a hero or anything. Just that if one thing leads to another and you do decide to label and portray me as one, I won't fight it. That'd be lame and total dick move. 😝 Anyways, turns out my uncle knows this guy who works with this other guy, and this other guy has a brother. A dude named Stevie, who (GET THIS) works on the set of the upcoming motion picture Jurassic World!!!! My boy Stevie has received word of my courageous journey, and has since reached out and offered to aide me in my time of transitioning.