#Planning on giving these out at my local pride. Either to folks I meet or just putting em on a table somewhere probably

[caniethenondogsartblog]

First round of pride valentines/prints. Im honestly so in love with these I think I’m going to keep a few to frame for myself. Just HEGGFHGHHHJIFHB I really like them.

happy pride y’all :,] ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

[strabbyshortcake]

champy’s charhouse

Gramble and Boots meet for the first time.

tw for mild violence.

Champy’s Charhouse sat smack dab in the middle of a whole lot of nothing, along a lone strip of highway that ran east to west through vast cornfields and strips of forest and swampland. True to its name, the steak was always overdone, but the potato skins were to die for.

Gramble usually went with one or more of his housemates, but Wambus was tired, Triffany was busy with grading papers, Yosie had a cage match tonight and Bronica had plans with her girlfriend already. That was alright, though. Gramble could have a good time on his own.

He borrows Triffany’s car, pulling up in the dusty parking lot as the sun’s about to set. The parking lot is already full of various mud-splattered beaters and pickups, many of which he recognizes. Funny that he could think of himself as a local now and feel a hit of pride about it. The bright orange neon sign buzzes above his head as he walks in, heading right for the bar to find a seat with a good view of the stage. True to form the place smells like burnt meat, but even as a vegetarian, it’s a comforting smell, mixed in with sweaty fur and soil and beer.

Triffany had gotten him into one of her favorite rock bands, the Velvet Knives, so he’d borrowed one of her old band tees to wear for the sets some of the local bands were playing tonight. He settles in, orders his potato skins and a coke, and watches as the first band gets their equipment set up. Once the music starts, everybody seems to be having a great time, clapping or singing along. That is, until the front row starts getting restless.

“This sucks!” calls a bright orange grumpus from the bar several seats down. His buddies laugh, a few of them hurling their own insults to the irritation of the other patrons. Several of them wear jackets with the letters of a nearby college fraternity on them. Rowdy college kids were nothing out of the ordinary though. Gramble was sure they’d be kicked out if they kept on heckling.

The band, in good humor, plays on, finishing their song before the singer decides to address them. “Sounds like we got a couple ornery hogs in the audience,” she says, grinning, showing her fangs. “Well, ain’t nobody keepin’ you here. If you go on squealin’, someone’s liable to shut you up.”

One of the frat kids hurls a bottle. It smashes against the back wall of the stage.

“Hey, now!” the band’s drummer calls, ducking. “C’mon, there’s no need for that!”

The grumpus next to Gramble, who seemed to be a part of that group, grabs his own bottle and starts to move his arm back. Gramble grabs him by the wrist, using his other hand to yank the bottle out of the other grump’s paw. “Cut it out!” he tells them, baring his own teeth. Out the corner of his eye he can see the two coolers the bar employed moving toward the bar. They’re both big, but so are the frat kids…

The guy he’d grabbed snarls, ripping his arm out of Gramble’s hold. He’s got golden fur, and two sets of slightly-crooked fangs. “You want me to throw you instead, pipsqueak?”

“You wanna lose a hand?” Gramble snaps in return. “Quit actin’ like you were raised by raccoons, you goddamn fool!”

He hears glass shatter as one of the other frat kids jumps off their stool, swinging a paw at the cooler who’d reached him. The rest of them seem to take this as a sign to do the same, converging on the coolers with teeth and claws bared. However, Gramble doesn’t see what happens next as the grumpus next to him grabs him under the arms and slams him onto the bar. Gramble yelps, coughing as the wind is knocked out of him.

“You hicks take everything too personal, you know that?” The frat kid growls, looming over Gramble. “Ain’t even worth it to bite you. I’d probably get some kinda disease.”

Gramble kicks him in the chest. He grunts and staggers a little, enough to give Gramble a second to sit up, only for the frat kid to come back and punch him directly in the nose. Gramble sees stars, reeling and nearly tumbling off the bar, digging his claws into the marked wood of the counter to keep himself from falling. Blood dribbles from his nose and lip, bitter and metallic. Hopefully the jerk had cut his knuckles on one of Gramble’s teeth.

Still dizzy from the punch, he feels strong hands seize him by the shoulders and twists around, blindly snapping his jaws shut over frat kid’s arm. The frat kid curses, grabbing Gramble by the neck with his free hand. He digs his claws into the thick ruff surrounding it, either to try and yank Gramble’s jaws off or strangle him. Gramble had let his fur grow long and shaggy around his neck and shoulders and it thankfully keeps those claws from getting in too deep.

“Asshole! You’re gonna wreck my jacket!” he hears the frat kid cry as they struggle together. Maybe, Gramble thinks, he should have thought of that before starting a bar fight. In the darkness of the roadhouse he can see the other kids still embroiled in a brawl with the coolers and several of the other patrons, though it’s impossible to tell who’s on what side by now. Nothing he can see but a lot of flying fur and flashing fangs under the neon lights. He shoves the frat kid’s arm away from his neck, wincing as those claws tear some of his fur out.

A building roar from outside catches the attention of some of the patrons, who extract themselves from the brawl and look towards the door. It’s the guttural growl of a motorcycle, a huge one from the sound, drawing closer until it stops in the parking lot and sputters out. Most of the patrons scurry back to their tables, leaving the frat kids standing by the bar, puzzled and disheveled. The guy holding onto Gramble lets him go so he slides off the bar and falls onto the floor with a thud, knocking one of the stools over.

“What?” he hears one of them grunt.

The doors swing open as another grumpus enters, ducking slightly just to get through the doorway. Even from the other side of the room, Gramble can see she towers head and shoulders above most of the other patrons and is broader by at least half, and these were not small grumpuses. Each thump of her dinner-plate-sized paws on the floor makes the cutlery laid out on the tables jingle musically as she approaches. Her fur is the color of pine needles. The bar lights glint ruby in her eyes.

She frowns down at the frat kids, at their neon orange leader. “Is there a problem, here?” Her voice is a deep, husky growl, the sort you could feel in your ribs. In the bar lights Gramble can see the glimmer of a badge pinned to her leather jacket.

“No problem,” the leader holds his hands up defensively, a cowed smile on his face. She doesn’t even have to bare her own teeth. Her sheer bulk is enough. “We were just havin’ a good time.”

“I know your kind. You’re too stupid to have a good time.” She lashes out, grabbing a fistful of his scruff and dragging him towards the door like a kitten. He briefly tries to struggle before giving up, letting her hurl him out of the roadhouse like a sack of stale hamburger buns. As she turns back to the rest of the group, they sheepishly file out, the one Gramble had bitten clutching his bleeding arm.

“Thank you so much for comin’ by, officer Timberheart,” Gramble hears the bar’s owner (not Champy himself, but his son, Shester) say as he emerges from the office he’d been hiding in. Timberheart, huh, Gramble thinks to himself. So that was her name. It sounds so sturdy. A perfect fit for her.

“Aw, it’s no problem,” Ms. Timberheart tells him. “I was already in the neighborhood.”

“Can I get you anything? Something to drink?”

“Maybe next time, but thanks.”

With the commotion now died down, the conversation of the other guests begins to filter back in as everyone takes their seats again, resuming whatever they’d been doing before the fight had started. Gramble starts to pick himself up but stumbles, grabbing for one of the barstools. Maybe he’d been hit harder than he thought…

The noise gets Timberheart’s attention. She turns towards him, picking up the downed stool as she crouches. Even now she towers at least a good two feet over him when he’s standing. He blinks up at her concerned expression. She’s got a very soft face, now that he can see it clearly. Her eyes are big and gentle, her features framed by her thick, fluffy coat. Her nose is even shaped like a heart.

“You alright there?” She asks him. “Looks like they roughed you up good.”

“Ah…” Gramble’s not sure if he’s still reeling from the punch, but his stomach for sure feels knotted up, and he hadn’t even been hit there. “…y-yeah, I’m alright. I tried to stop one of ‘em from throwin’ stuff at the band. He didn’t appreciate it...”

“Good of you to try.” She grabs a handful of napkins from the counter, handing them to him. “Here, get yourself cleaned up. I swear, these out-of-towners think they can just swagger in here like they own the place, cause a ruckus and then leave when things start to get a lil’ too spicy.”

Gramble presses the napkins to his bleeding nose, noting with a twinge of disappointment that she’s got a gold wedding band around one of her fingers. Ah, well. Nothing stopping him from getting to know her. “I dunno how some folks can act like that… Like they were raised by wild animals.”

“That’s a little unkind to wild animals, don’t you think?” She chuckles. “What’s your name? Haven’t seen you around, I don’t think.”

“Oh, it’s… I’m Gramble.” Sniffling, Gramble smiles, hoping there’s no blood still on his teeth. “I guess I’m kinda new in town. Been livin’ here for about a year, now.”

“Gramble? You’re a friend of Wambus and Triff’s, ain’tcha? They said they were entertainin’ some sorta house guest when I saw ‘em a while back. Anyway.” She offers him a massive paw, one he could easily fit both his own in with room to spare. “Name’s Beautricia, but everyone just calls me Boots.”

Gramble accepts the paw, giving it a firm shake. “Nice to meet you, Boots! I hope I’ll see you around?”

“Oh, you will.” She smiles, showing just a hint of her fangs. “Take care now, Gramble. Enjoy the rest of the show.”

[greenwaterskeeter]

i finally have a coherent personal narrative, and here it is. It’s quite long, but i think of some interest, and might be encouraging!

-Mentions of suicidal ideation, emotional and financial abuse, emotional incest, fatphobia, misogyny, capitalism. Whatever the qpr equivalent of romance is. Ends happily-

I felt for a long time that i should have died when i was 20. Not in the sense that i deserved to, but in the sense that by then i’d accomplished as much as i ever would and was therefore obsolete– taking up resources unnecessarily.

When i was 13, i felt forced to choose between my parents. My bus driver/karate teacher, a kind person who i very much admired, advised me to flip a coin and then, if i didn’t like the result, pick the other. I chose my mother and (privately) pledged absolute loyalty to her (I was obsessed with LOTR at the time and felt that it was the purpose of my life to be a Sam for somebody).

While she was single and struggling to keep the farm and raise my brother (a toddler then), that devotion was used and rewarded. There were times i thought with satisfaction that i might as well be her husband, as well as a parent to my beloved brother. I was proud. I felt righteous. The joy of supporting and protecting her was real. The intermittent anguish of being a minor who could legally only do so much to help was also real. (I believed in laws then).

When I was 17, she remarried (a perfectly nice, wealthy man, as devoted as me and much more powerful) and i went to college. I slowly imploded across all four years, though I didn’t realize that until nearly the end. I think now it was because nothing i could offer her was needed anymore. Every time she treated me like a child instead of the valued partner i had been, i was crushed. Emasculated. i began to feel positively Tortured without understanding why. It sounds like a villain’s origin story, doesn’t it?

When it started affecting my performance, i could only think the trouble was that i was pining for a married professor, as you do. I had fallen in love with him, and made myself his best student (and then his TA, and then began to feel gross about it, quit, and started avoiding where i knew he’d be, all without telling anyone). Once my decline became known and answers were demanded, this was all i could offer in explanation.

I didn’t blame anyone consciously then, but i think now i felt betrayed by how my friends and family reacted. They all thought i must have seduced him (or vice versa if they were generous) to be so torn up. It was too foolish to become suicidal over a crush. They didn’t believe me, or accused me of grandiosity, when i said the professor didn’t even know how i felt. I have always struggled to keep in touch with people, and once my oldest friends gave me the Adultery is Bad talk, it was hard to keep trying.

Everyone did their best and we were all very young. I didn’t understand any more than they did. But still, i can acknowledge now what it would have meant to have just one person who believed in me regardless of understanding. On a deeply hidden level, i felt that my mother, at least, owed me that, after years of faithful service.

But horribly, once it became clear my suicidality was almost entirely passive, she turned on me. She was very frightened. I guess she had also been thanking her lucky stars all that time that i wasn’t turning out like my dad, but here i revealed myself at last to be a freeloader, just like him. I was supposed to go to medical school. I had been the pride of the extended family, the eldest and purest of my generation, a marvel of the local intelligentsia, and i wound up dragging myself back home inept, directionless, cringing, the same as so many unfortunate young cousins and neighbors who’d used to have me pointed out to them as an example. Who would my brothers look up to now?

I endured living at home for a few years. My mom couldn’t keep up the punishment constantly, so although there was no telling when she would start in on me again, or whether she might finally go through with evicting me, there were beautiful things too.

I worked for her husband’s business for no pay, which i understand now was abusive, but i have always enjoyed working with my hands, and when they left me to it, it felt like the old days, like i had a use, even if it was now peripheral. My brothers weren’t sure what to do with me, but we still had fun when we could. The animals comforted me, and it’s special to be able to give affection and gentleness to a creature who depends on you. The woods and mists and early mornings and silent moonlights were still beautiful, and gradually i could appreciate them again. When i was with people, i felt my disgrace abjectly. But on the farm there were many chores to be done alone.

The more i recovered, the more trapped i felt. I even, very alarmingly, spent about two hours one afternoon silently consumed with resentful feelings towards my mother (this hadn’t happened since i was 10). I began to be afraid of losing control and doing something desperate (I totaled two different trucks during this time, on roads i knew well, for no apparent reason). I had given up my spot at a medical school i would not get into twice, and the obvious escape was to reapply elsewhere. I attempted this, and sabotaged it, multiple times.

I got a job at a nursing home, which was hard on my back but full of wonderful people, and was forced to quit when it made me late to my shift at my stepfather’s business too many times. By this i understood that a local job was not getting me out of there. I asked for money to get an EMT certification and was refused. I applied to many online jobs, none of which i had enough time to make money from. I called up one or two branches of the military, and was rejected for being too fat, thank God. I applied to medical school again, and managed to not sabotage it enough that i was accepted into a master’s program instead. It was across the state, five hundred miles away.

And still it might have come to nothing, as i had no conscious plans, actually, of staying away once i was done with this master’s program. The expected thing would be to go on to medical school, but i was only anticipating the first day of being free and couldn’t imagine anything more than a week in the future. I looked at the amount of debt i was taking on for this, knowing in my heart that i would not get a job that could pay it back, and was only relieved that they hadn’t caught onto me and i could still get loans.

There are a lot of things in my story that aren’t what they say is healthy or proper. I shouldn’t have romanticized my own parentification, i should not have had feelings for a 50 year old man, i should have kept trying with my friends, who have good hearts and only made one mistake before i ghosted them, i should have kept telling the truth, i shouldn’t have taken moral injury from things that weren’t my fault, i should have been properly angry with my mother at some point, i should not be grateful that my tendency is to harm myself rather than others.

One person alone should not have been able to save me.

In the second month of my year away, i was in a study group with my roommates and some of their acquaintances, and i laughingly shared some anecdote or other that i thought was harmless. I don’t remember whether anyone else laughed, but one person said: “That sounds kind of fucked up.”

“Oh,” I said, embarrassed. “Eh, well.”

Nothing more was made of it, and we went on studying. Later, this same person saw me sitting in the cafeteria alone and came to sit with me. We met to study again, just us two, and they showed me a video about white tears and watched me closely for my reaction. We compared ideals and found them the same. We came up with a project to collectivize flashcard-making for our class and had to meet frequently to carry it out. “We’re colleagues,” my new friend said, firmly, when people asked if we were together. We discovered ethical problems with the program and protested them, formally and informally. We were accused of being too insular. We talked about our families, and they said things like: “That’s not okay, you realize that, right” and “I think if more people loved the way you do, I’d have a reason to smile in the morning.” It became normal for my eyes to be sore from crying.

Neither of us got into medical school that year. We got an apartment together after graduation, and worked together too until i was fired (I was new to challenging authority and not very subtle in my distaste for our bosses). My friend’s parents wanted them to quit too, to come home while they reapplied, but they said: “Not without Autumn.” So after some negotiating, we went to live with their folks for a while…

We’ve been together for 5 years now. At first I did the same as I’d always done, but my partner made it clear they don’t want self-abnegation from me. I started trying to have boundaries, paradoxically, to make them happy. I’ve dipped into therapy as money allows. I’ve been reading and thinking and writing. Above all, I’ve been loved.

And all this time, I’ve still been deeply ashamed. I’ve spent the last ten years in some degree of emotional pain 24/7. But somehow, two weeks ago, another thing happened that shouldn’t, and i suddenly knew that i was a human being like any other.

I still feel that I should have died when I was 20, but now it’s in the sense that people say, “You shouldn’t have survived that! What a miracle!” Still existing feels like a bonus. I might live a long time from now and i might not. Either way, I’m incredibly lucky to turn my face to the world and know that i am a creature in it, like other creatures. I am well. It’s good that I’m alive.

[angrylizardjacket]

i keep digging myself down deeper // charlotte&lola

Summary: Lola takes Charlotte to confront her mother after finding out that she lied about Lola’s dad’s death. Lola is plotting a murder. Charlotte is trying to fix her moral compass. They still end up in a graveyard.

A/N: tagging @misscharlottelee as always, and @local-troubled-writer . this made me so fucking sad folks. also i think lola is overall a better person in this au and im so sad about the main story too now. wrote it at work.

[run to paradise au]

“Take Charlotte,” Doc says, like it’s the easiest thing in the world, like he knows Lola’s on a knife-edge and can trust the younger woman to pull her back. He says it like he’s trying to throw a wrench in whatever malicious scheme she’s concocting that she thinks he doesn’t know about it. 

Take Charlotte. Unlike you, she’s good. Is what Lola hears, and it sets her teeth on edge. It could have been Tommy, but Doc knows better than anyone that Lola’s got that man wrapped around her little finger, though he’s the backup if Charlotte won’t go, because god knows Lola hates Mick enough to murder him on a trip out of state, and she and Nikki together will never do anything good. He could ask Vince, but that’s asking for trouble, and Vince has actually kind of settled down. Lola on a rampage is liquid heroin, and Vince is finally in recovery. So take Charlotte, somehow the only stable one of the lot.

“We’re going to pay respects to your dad, right?” Charlotte’s got a backpack full of clothes for if they stay longer than intended, and Razzle on her heels, offering to drive them both to the airport. Lola confirms. “And Doc doesn’t trust you?”

“No he does not,” Lola grumbles through her teeth, throwing a glance over her shoulder at Nikki, on the sofa wearing only his boxers, covered in scratches and hickeys.

“He’s a smart man,” Charlotte says with a smile, but Lola’s not matching her energy, just rolls her eyes. That being said, Lola’s at the very least grateful that Charlotte’s not walking on eggshells around her the way everyone else seemed to, Nikki notwithstanding, since she’d found out her father had died when she was nine, and her mother had lied about it to her, and she’d believed that he’d just left because she was a bad kid ever since.

But now she was out for revenge, had told Doc she’d just wanted to visit her father’s grave, but the moment she’d been given the go-ahead, she knew she was heading home to confront and kill her mother for everything she’d put Lola through.

When they get on the plane, Lola’s pretty sure she can see Razzle waving from the terminal, and when she points this out, Charlotte leans over her and waves back, despite Lola’s noise of disgust.

“Don’t be like that Lols, notice how I didn’t say anything about your hickeys and band aids on the way here? You look like you had a raccoon try and rip out your jugular,” Charlotte tells her with a smirk, sitting back before avoiding her gaze, “and I don’t think Nikki would give it up that hard if you were still really grieving, so what’s your real plan here?” Cutting straight to the point, she’s so unbelievably no-nonsense about it, seeing through Lola before Lola had even fed her a lie. Lola knows she could convincingly lie to Charlotte in a heartbeat, but it’s not worth the effort; either way she’d have to tell her.

“I’m gonna kill my mom,” Lola tells her under her breath, before smiling at the stewardess doing final checks, while Charlotte sits in stunned silence.

“You’re gonna murder her?” Charlotte matches her volume, though her voice is full of disbelieving rage. They haven’t even taken off yet. Lola hums in agreement. “What? Just gonna shoot her in the face? You don’t even have a -”

“A plan? Of course I do. I’m gonna burn her house down. With a flare gun,” Lola fires back easily, before adding, “shooting her is Plan B. Also with a flare gun.”

The flight is only a few hours long, and Charlotte spends it fuming in silence, not wanting to cause a scene on a plane, in the airport, or in the taxi to the hotel. There’s no words for the rage, for the betray, for the being an accessory to murder, and she’d probably fight Lola if the older woman didn’t have biceps the size of a rotisserie chicken.

Lola leaves, claiming to get dinner, and comes back with a greasy burger and a flare gun, and Charlotte wants to cry, wants to scream, wants to believe this is all a bad dream.

“You’re fucking kidding me,” is what she says, and Lola gives a patient smile.

“Charlie, please just remember she set me on fire,” and she puts the flare gun on the bedside table, puts her trash in the bin, and goes to bed.

Maybe Charlotte considers taking the gun and throwing it in the ocean. But she doesn’t. Deep down, she’s pretty sure Lola’s not capable of murder, enough that she leaves the gun there; it’s trust. Lola wouldn’t make her an accessory to murder. Probably.

“You’re only an accessory if you come,” Lola tells her over a room service breakfast, and Charlotte feels like she’s going to be sick, “go sight seeing, meet me at the airport,” she shrugs, “if the cops ask you questions, just play dumb, like you do every time they come looking for Nikki or Tommy.”

“You’re not going through with this -”

“I’ll be done by midnight,” Lola’s not usually so focused and sincere, seemingly trying to ignore Charlotte’s negativity.

“Please, Lols, don’t do this; don’t do something crazy that you’ll regret,” Charlotte almost begs her, and Lola’s teeth stretch into a snarl.

“So I’m only allowed to be crazy when it benefits you, right?” She snaps, finally, and Charlotte swallows hard, eyes going wide in surprise. “Because when we rock up to your cheating ex’s house and I’ve got a baseball bat, you can call me crazy and be proud -”

“I never called you crazy,” Charlotte says through her teeth, completely unprepared to handle Lola, who’s never actually lashed out at her before.

“No, Duff called me a psycho, and you believed him, didn’t you? But I was your psycho, wasn’t I, Miss Lee,” Lola’s voice turned cruel and mocking, “it’s okay if I’m a psycho so long as you can wind me up and point me in the direction of whoever you want fucked up -”

“After fucking everything we’ve been through, you’re gonna accuse me of just using you?”

“No,” Lola said easily, flipping from feral to collected with an almost terrifying speed, “we’re friends, Charlotte, I know this, I just don’t think you’re used to my anger not benefiting you.” Her lips twitch into a cool smile, “I think you forget that we’re very different people, Charlie; before I met you, I was blowing cops to get me and Nikki out of trouble every other week, and all that’s changed is that Nikki has started bribing his way out.” it almost seems like a point of pride, and Charlotte has no fucking idea what to say to that. “But sure, I can be crazy when we’re hurting the boy who broke your little heart,” she coos in a mocking falsetto, before her expression just turns cold, “but when it comes to the woman who abused me during my formative years and set me on fire, sure,” she rolled her eyes, miming screwing a lid on a jar, voice dripping with sarcasm, “I’ll put a lid on it, for your sake.” She spat.

“I’m sorry I don’t want you to commit fucking murder,” Charlotte blurts out, realising far too late that she’s crying, and Lola’s hard resolve instantly crumbles, “I’m sorry if it seems like I’m just, just, just using you for your anger, I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry,” and she’s just crying now, sitting in the hotel with her head in her hands, “obviously I don’t think you’re a psycho.”

“Yes you do,” Lola sighs, but it’s neither angry nor an accusation, its defeat, a label she’s worn for a long time finally spoken by one of the only people she actually respected, “and I am; there’s nothing you can do to help it.” 

“Please don’t hurt anyone, Lols, please,” Charlotte begs, and Lola heaves another deep sigh.

“Go home, Charlotte, go back to Razzle and pretend this was all a bad dream; I don’t want you living in my reality. You’re better than that.”

“You shouldn’t live in this reality; Lola, you’re scaring me, I’ve known you for half a decade, and for the first time,” Charlotte snifled, sitting up a little straighter and avoiding Lola’s dark gaze, “I’m fucking terrified, okay? You’ll go to jail for the rest of your life.”

“Small price to pay,” Lola shrugs, and Charlotte’s going from guilty to frustrated fast, but Lola’s voice turns hard, “go home, Charlotte.”

“No.”

“You’re not a felon,” Lola finally snaps, voice flat and angry, “you’re a romantic at heart with terrible taste in friends.” Finally, Lola stands, and Charlotte’s shocked into silence. 

“You’re the worst friend I’ve got,” it’s like it’s finally hit her, voice a little breathless, a little disbelieving, and Lola gives a wry smile.

“Now you’re getting it.” And she leaves. In the middle of the day. Leaves Charlotte alone and fragile in the hotel, off to do god knows what, possibly off to commit murder.

Charlotte calls Razzle; she’s never been scared of what Lola’s been capable of, maybe it’s that she’s never really thought Lola could commit murder, but now she’s afraid. The only thing that’s ever terrified Lola was her mother, and now, knowing what she knows, the truth about everything she’s been through, in some twisted way Charlotte can easily see how Lola’s made herself believe that the murder is just. Charlotte’s never known a killer, not really. Razzle reassures her over the phone, tells her that Lola’s just gone to blow off steam but that she’s got a good heart under all of it. She’s motivated by loyalty, not revenge. But then it hits them both; Lola’s mother besmirched her father’s name for years, the first person Lola ever truly loved and looked up to. The only man she’s been even more loyal to than Nikki is her father; and she’d kill for either of them in a heartbeat.

“I need to stop her,” Charlotte’s still got tear tracks drying on her cheeks when she sits bolt upright, phone still to her ear, “do I- should I call the cops?” She asks, and Razzle hesitates. It would be a betrayal that would send Lola spiraling further. 

“Go to her, you know you can talk her down; she loves you, she listens to you,” Razzle tells her, and when he says it, so sweet, so gentle, so self assured, she almost believes him, “I love you.”

“I love you too.” She tells him, before sniffling loudly, “wish me luck.” She tells him, feeling far more capable than she had minutes before; Razzle was good like that, was supportive like that, knew just what to say when Charlotte needed to hear it.

Charlotte knows the address that Lola was given, and heads there first, but the street is quiet, the house is quiet, and there were no signs of Lola to be seen. She drives for a bit down the road, heart beating in her throat, anxious and mind jumping to all sorts of terrible conclusions, but there’s no signs of any disturbance. Lola had been on foot, and had left only an hour and a half ago, she couldn’t have gotten far. 

At the end of the street, there’s a park, and Charlotte comes to realise that school must be on break, because it’s teaming with parents and children, and she searches, wonders, thinks she sees someone who looks a bit like Lola, but doesn’t stick around to make sure. That woman looks too old to be Lola. 

She checks bars and liquor stores and gas stations, and finally has a hit from a cashier who sold her two bottles of vodka, and the gas station attendant who had given her a pack of smokes, despite her having already gone through a quarter of a bottle in the half-mile between stores.

The only thing at the end of this street was a graveyard.

Lola’s wasted, unable to stand, sitting with her back against a faintly worn grave, mumbling to herself. 

“How could she do this to us, dad?” Is the first thing Charlotte hears from her, an angry growl. With one hand around the neck of a mostly empty vodka bottle, the other comes to forlornly pet the gravestone. Catching sight of Charlotte out of the corner of her eye, Lola’s entire expression crumbles, and for the first time in their whole sordid history, Charlotte watches Lola begin to cry. Angrily, almost defiantly, she searches her pockets, before pulling out a cigarette, lighting it.

“Dad,” Lola says to no-one in particular, looking out ahead instead of at her best friend, face scrunched with angry tears, “meet Charlotte,” she announces, and Charlotte’s words die in her throat; “Charlotte, meet my dad,” and she nods to the headstone she’s leaning against. 

“I thought -” Charlotte tries, but no words come to her.

“We’ve just been catching up,” Lola takes a long drag from the cigarette, coughing when she follows it with a swig of vodka.

“What happened?” Charlotte asks quietly, approaching like Lola was a wild animal. Lola grumbles something unintelligible, mostly under her breath, and Charlotte gingerly sits beside her.

“He was a really, really fucking good man,” Lola murmurs, forlorn, resting her head on Charlotte’s shoulder, startling the younger woman, who wasn’t quite sure how to deal with this situation just yet, “he would have loved them, Motley,” she clarified, and she takes another smoke, “he was always a huge fan of rock, always had the hair to match. Mom would call him a long-haired yahoo but it was never malicious, it just-” she was crying now, and she had to pause, “she would have loved them too, back then, but when he was gone, I think she just started hating everything that reminded her of him.” She pauses, taking another drink, her voice defeated when she finally spoke, “probably why she hated me so much." 

Silence, then;

"She has a kid.” Its the most defeated she’s ever sounded. Even Charlotte feels it like a punch to the gut. “She gets to play happy families, and I get to slowly dig myself an early grave,” she finishes her cigarette and immediately lights another.

“Lo, what happened?” Charlotte asked once more, and Lola turns to her, eyes bloodshot and mouth in a thin, unhappy line.

“Nothing.” It sounds like it hurts to admit, “because I’m not a psycho,” she says quietly, “I’m not gonna hurt that kid.”

“Your… sibling?” Charlotte almost winces as she says it, but Lola laughs in an almost disbelieving way, leaning her head back against her father’s gravestone.

“My little brother; Milo, I think. I didn’t stick around long… she doesn’t even know I’m here." 

Charlotte wraps her arm around Lola’s shoulder, pulls her in for a hug, and Lola melts into her, lets herself be pulled into hug, her head on Charlotte’s shoulder as she cries unashamedly. They sit on the grave of Lola’s father until it gets dark, wrapped up in each other, giving comfort and getting drunk, and there’s stories spilling from Lola that she’d never told anyone; happy times from before her shit got dark, before her father passed, stories she’d thought she’d forgotten. 

"Did you mean what you said?” Charlotte asks finally, voice fragile, vodka burning through her veins, “do you think I have bad taste in friends?” Lola contemplates for a long while before humming.

“I think you deserve better than me. And Nikki. I think you’ve got good friends, Peach and Eileen, they’re good friends,” Lola nods resolutely, “they wouldn’t drag you down to Boston just to argue with you and watch them chicken out on murdering their mom.”

“They don’t wanna murder their mom to begin with,” Charlotte agrees with a half laugh, her arm tucked into Lola’s, resting her cheek on Lola’s shoulder. Lola hums an agreement. Gently, she rests her head against Charlotte’s.

“I’m sorry, Charlie.”

They gaze out into the graveyard, tired, drunk, and world-weary beyond their years. Moments like these are a sharp reminder to Charlotte, of just how terrifying Lola’s world can be, and just how lonely she once was. The way Lola clings to the band, to Charlotte, it very suddenly made clear and perfect sense. 

“You’re not the worst friend I’ve got, Lols, not even close; you give a shit when it counts the most. About me, about our band-family; you give so much of a shit you’d kill for us. You’re probably the most loyal person I’ve ever met.” Charlotte tells her honestly, and Lola’s quiet, before sniffling loudly, and laughing.

“Stop it, Miss Lee, I promised Tommy I wouldn’t have a thing for any more of his family,” Lola jokes, but hugs Charlotte tightly as she squawks with horrified amusement. 

Its a considerable walk back to the hotel, but as Lola crashes onto the soft mattress of the bed, she feels worlds lighter than when she’d woken up.

[justice-for-shayla]

The Shadow and the Soul

A/N: This has been finished for hours but I couldn’t post it without a title. The prompt I received (Many days ago) was Historical AU and Secret Relationship, only one of which is a focus for this part. I have a second part planned but it may need a third to wrap things up. 

Word Count: 4000 

A note on Historical Accuracy: The inaccuracy here is intentional. I will break all rules of history in order to steal the aesthetics of a time period, (in this case the Antebellum South, without all the nastiness. I’m not going to write characters I like as former or current slave owners, that’s fucking gross.) Don’t send me messages or write comments about how this isn’t true or wouldn’t work. I don’t care.  

Warnings: Historical Inaccuracy, Civil War Mentions, Death Mentions, Melodramatic Period Piece Tropes, Smut in Later Chapters (18+ Only) 

The locals called them leeches and parasites, the Northerners who’d descended on New Orleans in the wake of the war, but Aurelie never flinched at their hurled insults. She never flinched at all, in fact.

Long ago, she had learned that it was better to be seen as sweet. Sweet girls who never got into any trouble could get away with anything, because no one could imagine a “Sweet girl like her” getting up to any trouble.

Four years of war time had toughened even the sweetest girls, and Aurelie was no exception. Her once round cheeks had grown sharp and narrow when rationing had started, and her soft fingers had become calloused with all the times she’d pricked her fingers sewing up uniforms or burned herself on the water they boiled to bring to the hospitals.

Losing all three of her brothers had toughened her too. By the time they’d lost Henry, Aurelie didn’t even cry, only stood near her mother, somber and steady while her mother sobbed and fell to her knees. Henry had been the oldest, and the one she’d thought most likely to live, but even he had fallen, shot dead on a battlefield far from home. 

Lucas had been first, the first time her youngest brother had ever been the first to do anything, and Jean-Paul had been right in the middle, as always. It had destroyed her mother, the loss of all her boys, and in an effort to help her regain her health, the family had decided to move down to New Orleans to stay with relatives.

Though she had said she was looking forward to living with her sister, Aurelie’s mother never seemed particularly excited about the idea, even as she stepped off of the train into the sweltering air. 

Aurelie was neither excited nor perturbed. Her life up North had been boring until the war and difficult during it, leaving her feeling restless and purposeless now that it was over. Though being sweet had always been a lie for her, now act was heavy against her skin, itching like wool underclothes and cloying like a too-tight corset.

The only thing worth looking forward to had been the presence of her cousin, Eugene, the only young male in the family to make it out of the war. Aurelie sought him out now and found him lounging against a large tree in the garden.

“Is my mama looking for me?” He asked her, politely setting his pipe aside, though she wouldn’t have minded if he’d kept smoking.

“No, just me,” She said, taking a seat beside him and carefully arranging her skirt around her.

“You alright?” She had remembered him as an awkward and sickly boy, but he had come back a sad-eyed man, stronger than he had been before, but wounded in a different way. Aurelie never asked him about it, but she sensed that he was pretending to be well in the same way that she pretended to be sweet.

“You met Sidney yet?” He asked.

Aurelie groaned. “I’ve done nothing but meet Mr. Phillips. There are too many mothers trying to match us; it’ll be the death of me.”

“They just want something happy, I think. He’s not a bad one, you could do worse.”

She just shrugged. “I don’t care either way about him, and that’s just the problem.”

“Well, every surviving young man with any kind of money in New Orleans will be at your welcome party tonight, so if you’re ready to announce an engagement, now’s the time.”

Groaning, Aurelie gave up trying to keep her dress nice and flopped all the way onto the grass. “God, I’d love to make them happy but I can’t get engaged just to see my mama smile, Gene. I just can’t do it.”

“I don’t think you should, even if he’s my friend. You oughta wait.”

“Wait for what? For all the surviving men who fought in blue but live in New Orleans to get married to the other girls everyone’s shipping from up North?”

“Then at least you won’t have to be one of them.” Eugene shrugged.

“And what about you, Mr. Sledge, are you hoping to make your mama smile tonight?”

He rolled his eyes. “She smiles plenty because I came home. She only had one son and I came back. Your mama sent three and didn’t get any, I think she might hate me for it.”

“She doesn’t hate you,” Aurelie protested, “But you look like Henry, if she squints and turns her head right. I think you make her sad, but I’m sure she’d like to see you wed and naming babies after her boys.”

Eugene shuddered. “Not yet. Maybe not ever.”

Aurelie accepted this without question. If she’d had other options, she would have said Not Yet about marriage and babies too, but her choices were limited. “I oughta go inside and start dressing.” She shifted but didn’t stand, not wanting to leave her quiet moment with Gene.

“Can I ask you a favor, Rellie?” He asked, using the nickname he’d given her when they were children, before he’d mastered the pronunciation of her name.

“Of course.”

“I invited a friend of mine, Merriell Shelton. This isn’t really his type of party, so it might be nice if someone… helped him. I know he’d like you.”

“Why’s that?” For all the time she’d known him, Gene had only had one friend-- Sidney-- so the idea of him having someone else, someone who didn’t quite fit with the rest of their circle was intriguing enough on its own, but Aurelie fished for information anyway. She was hoping it might reveal something about this mysterious friend.

“You’re pretty, but you’re not soft. You’ll look him in the eye and not let him give you shit, which he will try to do.”

Aurelie smiled, picturing a bold sort of man who wouldn’t be afraid to make jokes around her, and wouldn’t flinch if she accidentally used some of the swears she’d learned from hanging around the nurses during the war.

“Sure, Gene, but only if you try to have some fun.”

Gene sighed and looked away from her, a shadow passing over his face, which he’d tried to arrange into a smile for her. “I’m doing my best, Rellie.”

She nodded and turned away, hating that sadness that clung to him like mud, but unable to do anything about it.  

“Rell?” He called, just before she was out of earshot, “He says he’s got a way with women; watch out.”

Laughing, Aurelie tossed her words over her shoulder. “All men say that, Gene; I’m immune.”

Submitting herself to the terrifying ordeal of getting ready for a party was distracting, but did little to lift her spirits as she was pinched and pulled and powdered until she looked like a perfect little doll nestled on top of a skirt wider than most door frames. Her mother had picked the dress and her maid had picked the hairstyle, she could barely recognize herself underneath all of it.

“Miss? It’s time; folks are waiting.”

She nodded, stealing one last glance at her reflection and defiantly tugging one red curl out of its place and letting it hang next to her eye. It was a small flaw, but with no time to fix it, she would be allowed to keep it, and with it some semblance of herself.

The Sledge’s ballroom was packed with people, though the festive atmosphere felt forced and oddly turbulent, like someone holding a match next to a powder keg. It was obvious that not all the people in this room had fought on the right side of the war, and tension ran high as everyone wondered who would start the first fight.

Aurelie hoped it wouldn’t come until later. She hoped it might not come at all. She wished the boys in gray could all just go home and lick their wounded pride in private, rather than frothing about it at every society party people felt obligated to invite them to.

Though she’d only met a few of the assembled guests-- Eugene’s oldest friend, Mr. Phillips, among them-- Aurelie felt like she knew them all. They were rich and polite and would spend many hours making small talk and pretending that less than a year ago they’d all been trying to slaughter each other. Aurelie hated to pretend, but she plastered a honey-sweet smile onto her face as she swept down the staircase and into the ballroom.  

Her eyes found the person who didn’t fit in almost immediately, and she knew that she’d spotted the friend Eugene had told her about. His suit almost fit perfectly, but even if it had been properly tailored, she would have seen his discomfort in it. This was not a man who spent his time at parties making small talk.

He had spotted her, caught her staring at him.  

His gaze was intense as she stepped lightly through the crowd, greeting people and smiling shyly, always gently dancing away before someone could pull her into a conversational circle. She was an expert at this type of weaving, and she made it across the room in record time, only stopping when she was standing in front of the stranger.

She held out her hand, as much a challenge as an introduction. “You must be Mr. Shelton. Eugene told me about you.”

He took her gloved hand, holding it gently. “Nice to meet you Miss…”

“Aurelie,” She said, flinching slightly when he kept his grip.

“Aurelie…” His voice lilted over her name, reducing it to something smooth and melodic, completely new to her. “Nice to meet you.”

His wasn’t an accent that one found in most society ballrooms, but Aurelie loved it immediately. For a long moment they stood like that, with her fingers still gripped in his hand. She glanced around, sure that someone had noticed this odd interlude, but no one was looking at them.

“Have you been staying with the Sledges long?” Aurelie asked, trying to find a normal conversation with a man who was very, very far from her normal.

“Not staying with them; I’ve got a place in the city. Sledge invited me and I’m not one to say no to a party like this.”

She nodded and then impulsively said, “I might have said no if I could have.”

“Why couldn’t you?” No one in her circle would have asked that. No one in her circle would have had to.

The question made her stumble and answer honestly. “Because this is my job.”

“Your job?” He tilted his head, studying her.

This time, it was his intense stare that caused her uncharacteristic ineloquence. “It’s what I do; it’s what I’ve been trained to do since I could walk and talk. I smile and dance and make conversation with the right people.”

She sounded like a doll, or some sort of teachable puppet, and she inwardly cursed her idiocy.

He looked around, apparently unbothered, though new tension hardened his face when his eyes fell on a coupe of men across the room from them. “I don’t think I’m the right people, but I’m better than those two.”

He pointed to two classically handsome men, similar enough to be brothers. “They fought with the rebels and show up here claiming they were just doing what they were told. Cowards.” He spit the word, glaring at the two, who had noticed his stare and were looking back.

Flushing when she made eye contact with one of them, Aurelie turned away, hoping they wouldn’t comment on her impropriety in front of her parents. She felt that men like them had no business on the Sledge’s property, but her parents weren’t as discerning. If they had money, a decent name, and no wives, she would be introduced to them with the same hope her parents expressed whenever she spoke to any man.

“They’re staring at you,” Merriell said conversationally, watching them over her shoulder.

“Don’t stare back, maybe they’ll go away.”

“They’re coming over here.”

“Damn.” The word was barely out of her mouth when the men approached. Up close, Aurelie could see that one of them was slightly taller, and the other had a very square face, but both had a bitterness in their eyes and stance that made her immediately wary of them.

“Miss Aurelie; it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. We’ve heard so much about you.” The taller one said with a smile that looked like it had been carved into his face and a drawl like thick syrup, poured too heavily over his words and rendering them sarcastic.

“Charmed,” Aurelie said in a tone that indicated she wasn’t. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced, Mr…”

“Simmons. And this is my cousin Frederick Pierce.”

She nodded, allowing the conversation to stall in the hope that they might leave.

It didn’t deter them. “Is this man bothering you?” They studied Merriell with barely disguised scorn that made Aurelie bristle, though she didn’t let it show.

“Not at all!” She plastered on her best smile. “In fact he saved my favorite cousin’s life in the war, so I feel I owe him quite a debt.” She took Merriell’s arm in a slightly bold act that would send a clear message. *****I am not one of you.*****

This made those marble smiles falter on their faces, and Aurelie tried not to outwardly cheer for her victory.

“Most ladies don’t pay their debts with their company,” The shorter one-- Mr. Pierce-- said, nodding in a mockery of politeness before he and his cousin walked away.

Aurelie was fuming. “Those bastard sons of whores,” She muttered, glaring at their backs.

Merriell was laughing at her and a sudden flush crawled up her neck and into her cheeks; she’d sworn in front of him. She’d sworn in front of a gentleman! If her mother found out she would die on the spot. “I’m terribly sorry you had to hear that--”

“I’m not.”

“--I just got so angry at what they implied. The audacity of coming into my family’s home and suggesting that--” She paused, realizing that he was watching her pleasantly and seemed utterly unphased by the entire situation. “You’re not?”

“Not sorry I heard that. I kinda liked it.”

The flush burned even hotter, probably leaving her pale skin blotchy and scarlet under her freckles. “I…” She couldn’t think of anything to say.

He held out one improperly ungloved hand. “Dance with me?”

Any polite conversation she might have tried to make died in her throat. “I… Yes, thank you.”

Aurelie didn’t expect him to be good at dancing, and she was correct. Her massive skirt mostly hid his errors, and she was good enough to guide him through the rest without too much trouble, though she caught Gene’s eye and saw his sympathetic smile as he stood off to the side.

“Is he alright?” She asked Merriell as she eased herself carefully into a turn, subtly pushing hm in the right direction. “Gene, is he… happy?”

He looked at her like she was insane, bringing yet another hot flush into her cheeks. “No.”

“Of course, it was an idiotic question, I just… we’re worried about him. He used to smile so much, and he was much… brighter, I suppose. I don’t want to lose him too.” The last words slipped out without thought; they were inappropriately honest, but Merriell didn’t seem to notice or care.

“He’s right there.”

“He’s changed--”

“That shit changes you.” Abruptly, he dropped her hand, stepping away from the dance and leaving her where she stood. It was an awkward rush to go after him before someone noticed that he’d left. Leaving a girl on the dancefloor was an insult, and though she knew she had offended him first, it was hard not to feel the sting of it.

“Please, wait,” Reaching out, she caught his arm, once again surprising herself with her boldness. Though she had thought about it many times, she couldn’t remember ever having grabbed a man like this before. “I didn’t mean it like that. Everyone’s changed after the war, I know. I just… we all lost so much, I can’t bear the thought that he might not get better.”

“Better doesn’t mean same as before,” Merriell said.

“Of course it doesn’t. I’m sorry.” Ducking her head, Aurelie thought about moving away, returning to the comfortably familiar crowd with their predictably polite conversations. Whatever this was with Merriell, she preferred it to the artiface that surrounded them.

“Seems like you’re the same as you were before.” Perhaps he didn’t mean it as a challenge, but she couldn’t help but take it as one.

“You didn’t know me before,” She said coolly, “And you don’t know me now, so you’re hardly in a position to judge that.” She wanted to believe that he was somehow clever enough to see past the carefully constructed mask of words and behavior, rules and etiquette, that she wore constantly.

She met his gaze boldly, waiting for his apology or his next move, swallowing the pain that his words caused. &&&Just because you can’t see that I care doesn’t mean that I don’t care.&&&&

When he didn’t say anything, she turned and walked away from him, avoiding looking at where she was sure Eugene was standing and watching them, unable to hide the guilt she felt at breaking her promise to him.

She spent the next couple hours dancing with various men who were paraded in front of her by her mother or theirs, having the same conversation over and over as they did the same steps to the same dances, with few exceptions made for different songs. The men were, to her, utterly interchangeable, and her eyes drifted back to the only unique face in the crowd, before they would snap right back to her partner’s face, forcing herself to pay attention to whatever droll observation he was making about the weather.

When it all became unbearable, she stepped out into the garden, breathing the thick, warm night air deeply. Underneath the smell of heat and mud that permeated the garden, she caught a faint whiff of cigarette smoke, and considered investigating before its source stepped out of the shadows.

“Miss Aurelie,” He said, his accent once again smoothing out her name until it sounded more like a collection of notes than a word.

“Mr. Shelton.”

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” He said rather stiffly, after a too-long pause.

“You didn’t,” She lied instinctively.

He watched her, clearly spotting the lie.

“I have changed,” She said, daring to be honest in the dim garden, surrounded by night air that felt as heavy as a wool coat. “I never liked all this, but after the war I could see how pointless it all is. Now I’m… I’m so angry it takes my breath away sometimes. It scares me.”

“Makes sense to be angry.” He paused as if considering his next words. “You don’t look angry.”

“Ah, well, you know ‘Look like the innocent flower but be the serpent under it’,” She quoted, smiling at him.

He nodded, glancing away but not before she saw the confusion on his face.

“It’s Shakespeare,” She explained. “It… It’s a man’s wife telling him how to commit a murder.”

That made him laugh, and she stared, transfixed, at his smile until it had faded off his face. “You planning on killing anyone, Flower?”

The nickname brought back her blush, which she hated. “No, of course not! Though I wouldn’t be sad if Johnny and Jimmy Reb over there happened to not make it through the night.” It was by far the boldest joke she’d ever made in front of a gentleman, and she felt a rush singe through her veins when he laughed.

“See, before I never would have said that; I would have been too polite.” She told him, laughing with him and savoring it.

He nodded. “I’m glad you said it. Been thinking the same thing all night. I didn’t like what they said to you.”

A group of people passed the window nearest you, their voices carrying out into the night, and Aurelie stepped closer to him, into the shadows where she wouldn’t be seen.

She hadn’t been paying enough attention, and she ended up directly in front of him, only a breath away from being pressed against his chest. He looked down at her, his strangely reflective eyes studying her face in the darkness.

The polite, proper thing to do would have been to step away, to apologize and then to take his arm and allow him to lead her back into the ballroom, away from this compromising position. She didn’t do that, though the thought occurred to her, just like it always did. Just because she knew what she should do didn’t mean her mind was made up about what she was going to do.

Even though she was certain she knew what she wanted to do. “I’m different than I used to be,” She said, not sure if she was talking to herself or to him.

“I believe you.” His head bent lower as he breathed the words, so quietly she had to lean even closer to hear them.

At that point, she was too close not to do anything, so she lifted her lips the final inches they needed until they were pressed against Merriell’s. His hands started on her waist, brushing against the satin of her dress before one slipped up to cup the back of her neck, drawing her even closer as his tongue slipped between her parted lips.

She had been kissed before. She had done more than that before, with a soldier the night before he left, his blue uniform in an untidy heap in the corner of her bedroom. All of those kisses had been tinged with the desperation of a man who knew he was going to die, and needed one last thing before he could go.

Merriell had none of that desperation as he kissed her. He was slow, exploratory, and thorough, leaving her breathless when he finally moved away from her, taking a full step back.

“I can’t do this,” He said.

Aurelie stared at him, flushed, wide-eyed, and mortified. “What?”

“You’re Sledge’s cousin, practically his little sister--”

“He’s barely older than me!” She stepped closer, her blush now brought on more by anger than embarrassment.

“--He’d never let…”

“Eugene doesn’t let me do anything,” She insisted. “And he likes you! He wanted me to talk to you, to keep you company tonight--”

He shook his head sharply. “Don’t say that.”

“Say what?”

His hands found her hips again, pulling her close. “Don’t say you’re keeping me company tonight.”

The alternative meaning of her words struck her when he said them like that, with his warm breath against her ear and his hands strong on her waist. “Oh.”

Her lips fell open again, and he hesitated for the briefest of seconds before kissing her again. It was another perfect kiss, possibly even better than their first, but once again Merriell pulled away.

“People like you and people like me… They won’t allow it; you know that.”

Aurelie did know that, but she refused to admit it. “They don’t have to know.”

“You’re my best friend’s cousin.”

“You’re my cousin’s best friend,” She retorted, unphased.

“If he found out--”

Cutting him off, she kissed him again, savoring the feel of his lips as they moved over hers. “I have secrets already,” She told him when they parted. “What difference does one more make?”

Merriell still didn’t reply as he looked down at her, his face a mix of emotions she couldn’t decipher.

“Please, think about it,” She said, dipping into a slight curtsey before she left him in the shadows and reentered the ballroom. She felt warm and strange and powerful and scared, all things she had to tuck away into the back of her mind so she could pretend to be the girl they all expected.

Beneath her placid smile, she let herself relive every moment outside with Merriell, where she’d been allowed to act on impulse, to yearn and pursue and feel in a way that she never had before.

Immediately, her mother appeared to force her back into Mr. Phillips’ waiting arms for the final waltz of the evening. While she spun across the smooth wood floor with him, she felt a pair of eyes, burning into her back, and hoped that Merriell had made up his mind. She wanted her moment of freedom back, she wanted to be allowed to be the girl she’d been with him again.

Before he left for the night, he thanked her briefly, bowing rather clumsily over her hand. When he stepped away, she could feel a scrap of paper in her hand, barely noticeable through her silk gloves. 

In the privacy of her room, she unfolded the note and read his bold, messy scrawl. Our secret. 

[wtfzodiacsigns]

Same Signs: Marriage or Murder

Capricorn:

Marriage: You’re the perfect couple. The Prom King and Queen. Super ambitious couple, competitive, probably insta-famous. You really are the sign that can have it all and juggle it all. White picket fence amazingness.

Murder: Y’all can be some inconsiderate motherfuckers. If it doesn’t benefit you, you don’t want it. This can work the same for your partner. Both of you could neglect the relationship and assume it will hold. It won’t. Also, finance struggles are fucking HARD on Caps cause you are all about materials and having the best in life (however you define that).

Aquarius:

Marriage: I’m biased. We’re fucking fantastic. As a couple, you’re the weirdos at a party. You have adorable inside jokes and can go in depth about topics that literally NO ONE cares about. You’re goofballs, and can be ultimately authentic with one another. We also make phenomenal parents because we encourage originality.

Murder: Two things can sink an Aqua/Aqua coupling… our innate need to be one of a kind, and our extreme want of freedom. Aquarians LOVE being different. We thrive there. So if someone tries to top us, or be more original/steal our thunder- MOVE. GET OUT OF THE WAY. Aquarian wrath is rare and therefore strong af. Also if you want to take too much time away from each other, you could experience the severe isolation that only Aquas can feel.

Pisces:

Marriage: Pisces are dreamy and empathetic, so this is a vvvvvvv soft relationship. They can see beauty in such small things. Like, leaving tiny romantic notes around the house, reading Pride and Prejudice aloud to each other, lots of cuddling and soft blankets and clean smells. This couple 100% owns those ‘linen’ scented candles.

Murder: Pisces can be super self-destructive and pity seeking and clingy. They know good things when they see them, but they oftentimes have the mentality of ‘I don’t deserve this’ or ‘I don’t deserve better’ which is why they can find themselves exiting good situations or settling for mediocre situations when they could do better if they just tried. If things were bad, this would be the most depressing couple to be around cause odds are they’d stay together even if they were both fucking miserable because Pisces oftentimes can’t handle being alone.

Aries:

Marriage: This would be a fun af couple. They’re all about doing stuff… no sitting at home for these folks. They’re at wine tastings or a basketball game or a fucking drag show. If something is happening- they are THERE. The intellectual convos between the two will be top notch, and since Aries are proud and determined and strong, this couple could literally take on the world. They’re huge show offs if their significant other does something great. Expect lots of annoying #wcw #mcm posts that are actually hella genuine and pure. In my experience, they also have the best sense of humour, so laughter is gonna be guaranteed with a good Aries couple.

Murder: Don’t fuck over an Aries. Fucking don’t do it ever. Aries know the exact thing you hate most about yourself or a situation, and they will point it out in a fight. So Aries Vs. Aries? Cue the flames. This sign runs hot but is also surprisingly sensitive, and if you hurt them deeply, there isn’t forgiveness. SO this the perfect example of a sign that can find a fault, pin it down, and make their other Aries BLEED. It’s brutal. Also, for being so determined, they can be huge procrastinators, and if their priorites aren’t the same, this could spell murder for Aries.

Taurus:

Marriage: This couple has everything… and they definitely got it on sale. Taurus are really materialistic, but unlike Capricorns, they can never justify spending money on luxury items. So the Taurus’s home is so perfectly curated, but it’s definitely all from Home Goods. They are the ultimate supporter when things are positive… and HOLY SHIT will this be a positive couple. They’re upbeat about everything, including each other. They deal with pain and pleasure in a grounded way, and they’re really adorable when they get excited about something. A very ‘childish fun’ type of couple.

Murder: Hi. Welcome to the weirdest and stupidest fights you’ve ever heard of. Tauruses HAVE to be right. They’re often not. But THEY FUCKING HAVE TO BE. AND YOU MUST SEE THEIR SIDE. YOU MUST. So if two Tauruses disagree about something, good God just let them be. Call the cops, then let them be. Tauruses are just fucking children, so they’re going to fight like children. I’m talking silent treatment, “but she said it first!” kind of asshole fights. Also, they suck if things are negative. If you complain about anything, literally a Taurus will drop you so fast you’ll never see it coming.

Gemini

Marriage: This couple is all about communication, they’re fab with each other about it. Also, Gem/Gem couples are good because they can understand the unpredictability of the other. They’re broad-minded people, and they embrace differences while also being the magnetic cool kids. This is the couple that everyone wants to be friends with because they have the exclusive invites to insider events that they got from some co-worker in the elevator this morning. They’re bizarrely lucky, and also total gossips, which makes for a couple that is NOT for everyone, but actually works really well together.

Murder: These bitches cray. Like, clinically. They’ll do insane things that make no sense, and if their fellow Gem doesn’t approve then they better GTFO. They’re also very quick decision makers, unlike fellow airs Aquarius and Libra. If they don’t like you, you’re dead to them. They will drop you like yesterday’s shirt even if you do something mildly stupid or weird that they’re not a fan of. Like Aries, they can find your weaknesses and prey on them. They will waste NO TIME doing such.

Cancer

Marriage: These bitches sure know how to nurture. In their finest forms, Cancers are basically the physical embodiment of a nice knit blanket and a mug of warm tea. They’re very in touch with their feelings, so heart to hearts with this couple are the best. They will get to know you on a deep deep deep level, and be really trusted with that information. This will be a wonderfully romantic couple who eats takeout like 90% of the time.

Murder: Hello sensitivity. Cancers are the least rational and can get weird about THE WEIRDEST things. I knew a Cancer once who literally ranted for a half an hour because the dishes people were bringing to her Thanksgiving weren’t ‘traditional’ dishes. They were still bringing food… it just wasn’t the food she wanted despite her never saying anything like ‘hey, bring traditional food’. Cancers want you to be mind readers, so if you can’t do that, why tf are you here. They have high expectations of everyone, but ESPECIALLY of other cancers. They’re also clingy af, so even if this couple does break up, they’ll still text flirt for like the next six months. Unhealthy.

Leo

Marriage: This couple is probably famous. They’re HUGE on big, romantic efforts. They want their marriage proposal to go viral on YouTube. They’re also big on events in general… anywhere where they can be seen and show each other off is good. A+ couple to bring to boring work functions… as no doubt this pairing is charming af.

Murder: Holy arrogance. While Leo’s are not necessarily considered clingy, if you don’t show them the attention they believe they deserve, they’ll drop you like a hot potato. With two Leo’s vying for attention in a relationship, SOMETHING’s got to give SOMETIME. Also, they are a jealous sign, so god forbid one of them flirts with someone else at a bar. Fists will be thrown. These are some needy motherfuckers. Also, if a Leo couple is fighting, call the local news crews. Something is GOING to go down. It might be arson, it might be an impromptu theatre performance. Who tf knows.

Virgo

Marriage: The cleanest house ever. Like wtf they keep this place organized. They also dress in matching outfits sometimes and make it weird for everyone else. Virgos can be so analytical that they’ll see something and be like, “Is this what the normal people do?” and just go for it. Slave to trends for sure. This is the ‘old people’ couple out of your friends. They catch up on the latest netflix show and then are in bed by 10pm. You have to plan things with them AT LEAST three months in advance because they are HORRIFIC at texting back. They’re adorable and a little robotic which is just fine for them.

Murder: JUDGE CENTRAL. They’re not always known for it- but Virgos can be hella judgemental. Especially of other Virgos, because they expect them to be better. Virgos expect the top effort, always, and so falling below that line can lead to fights. They’re super goal orientated, and so if they don’t meet those goals, or their Virgo partner doesn’t, then it is certainly game over.

Libra

Marriage: Oh hello there romance! This couple wants their love life to be an actual Nicholas Sparks movie. They both want to be loved more than anything on this planet, so fellow Libras are great for fulfilling that need. They’re soft and lovey and really exceptional cuddlers. This couple are also great at settling arguments. They can see both sides of things, and hate arguing, so disagreements are easily solved. A good libra/libra couple is like a good spa day, just really blissful and relaxing to be around. Refreshing.

Murder: Honestly? This couple couldn’t make a decision to save their goddamn lives. It’s why most won’t work out. Here’s the thing, if a Libra makes a decision, that’s it. They’ve already analysed every possibility. They’ve run the numbers. If someone is their end game, that’s it. Problem is, if the other Libra has not come to that conclusion, you’re gonna have a bad time. This is a stalemate of a couple… and if you’re happy where you are when you start the relationship, it could end well, but if either of you are still in development, it’s best not to even try.

Scorpio

Marriage: Best. Sex. Ever. Passionate af couple taking things to new levels. Trying crazy shit, cooking new recipes, watching porn to find new moves. You constantly stimulate each other both physically and mentally. Another ‘cool kid’ couple, but that’s because they give no shits. If they’re happy together, this couple won’t come down off their high.

Murder: These bastards are VINDICTIVE. If you hurt a Scorpio, you best hope they bury you close enough to the highway that the cops might be able to find your body. If a Scorpio betrays a Scorpio, welcome to the apocalypse. They expect a fellow Scorpio to KNOW that they’re insane, and to KNOW not to cross them. But Scorpios also love pushing people away. They are the ice of the water signs, and much like their totem of the scorpion, they will bite if you get too close. So two scorpions could easily drive each other out instead of just opening up.

Sagittarius

Marriage: This is the couple with their own travel blog. They live out of a fucking van and LOVE IT. They don’t like to be told they can’t do something, so like 90% of this relationship is just pushing each other to do something crazy. It’s basically one awesome game of truth or dare. They always have insane stories, and love throwing dinner parties just so they can sit you down and trap you into listening to said stories.

Murder: Bad Sags are BAD. This is because a hallmark personality trait of these guys is the fact that they believe everyone is dumber than they are. And also that Sags HATE being thought of as dumb. You see the dilemma. Sags are also the flakiest of the signs, so getting two Sags out on a date is gonna be hard enough. They’ll argue about EVERYTHING if they think you’re stupid, so dear Lord, get AWAY if you’re in a Sag/Sag relationship with a power struggle. Because unlike most signs who think they’re right, Sags are RARELY right.

Source: spookyscarysalamander

[becuzpurple]

NUMB, chapter 1 - Clean Slate

Well, chapter 1 is finally done - enjoy!

(link to previous chapter - intro)

CHAPTER 1 - Clean Slate

December

I ended the call, sitting alone at the small, corner table in disbelief.  After a minute I realized my feet were happy-dancing and I was grinning like a loon in public.

I glanced around the tiny cafe as I took another sip of my hot salted caramel mocha. Thankfully, no one was paying me any attention.

Well, I wanted to change things up, right?  Start fresh...clean slate?  This would certainly do that in a major way.

I got the job!

...

I had six weeks to get my life in order, not that there was very much to do in that respect, before leaving.  I’d already found someone to take over my lease. I still had a month before I needed to give notice at the restaurant.  I didn’t own a car, and had no outstanding loans or any other recurring payments, so there were no loose strings to tie up there, either. My sister agreed to take my cat and let me use her address as my own for any official documentation (banking, etc). And then...my new home would be on the road for at least the next year, assuming everything worked out.

It seemed almost too good to be true - work I love, good pay, lots of travel, and I’d get to practically disappear.  That last thought made me pause and wonder if what I was actually doing was running away from something, albeit legitimately. But, no?  I’d be working within my chosen career, and there was really no one or thing left to run away from.  I wasn’t keeping any secrets from family or friends - they knew about the new job.  I told myself that what I was doing was starting over with a clean slate.  That sounded much better than running away from mistakes and bad memories.

-------

February

I’d been hired as one of two head chefs for Ed Sheeran’s world stadium tour - to actually tour with him (!).  I couldn’t have known beforehand, but he and his team are apparently well-known within the industry for being very close-knit with and taking very good care of their people - even those in catering, it would seem.  I still can’t believe I landed this position.  And to think it never would have happened if Brandon hadn’t left - I’d still be in an unhealthy relationship, still cooking at the same restaurant with no opportunity for advancement, still living an unfulfilling life.  I don’t really believe in fate, or that ‘things happen for a reason’.  I think life is more a series of random happenings, influenced by any number of factors.  But I will say that in this case, losing Brandon seemed to have helped me land my dream job.

I’d so far met Ed briefly, a handful of times, and he was lovely. He’s down to earth, humble...very likable.  He remembered my name after meeting me only once, which surprised me, since I know he meets a stupid number of people every day.  He calls me ‘Samantha’.  I usually go by just ‘Sam’, but for some reason I’ve never corrected him.   

I inherited an abundantly stocked mobile kitchen, complete with state-of-the-art appliances and gadgets.  When I inquired about procuring one or two additional pieces, not an eye was batted.  Turns out I’m allocated a generous monthly budget just for things like that.

There are two catering teams, and a very nice man named Jonas Brandt is the head of the other one. He’s from Germany, in his late 40’s, with a wife and two young boys back home. He worked Ed’s arena tour last year, and is a wonderful friend and mentor to me.  He was quite happy with my hire, and confident in my abilities, so that’s a great boost of confidence for me, too.

This job demands a lot, and much of it doesn’t even involve food, directly. There’s a lot of planning involved.  I found I have to be about 5 steps ahead to make sure everything is ready when we get to each new location.  My team and I rotate with Jonas and his team - one feeds the advance crew as they set up everything days before the show while the other stays with the rest of the crew who don’t need to be there until the day before or day of the show.

In addition to the huge amount of background work and planning, I oversee the actual food preparation and service, as well.  There is a very strong social aspect to sharing meals - it brings people together, literally, and I want in on that. These were generally very nice, fun, happy folks, and I love being a part this wacky, traveling family of friends.

-------

March, Dunedin, New Zealand

I screwed up.  Well, someone on my team did, but that means it falls on me. My planned menu for that night sort of fell apart.  We were to serve Kiwi burgers as the main entree that evening, and Hokey Pokey ice cream for dessert - both local favorites.  Someone dropped the ball, and one of the main elements of Kiwi burgers, beetroot, wasn’t ordered, nor was the specialty ice cream. To make matters worse, I didn’t personally receive word of this oversight until food prep was already underway.  I made a few frantic phone calls, but it was too late to pull together an order as large as what was needed. I still had plenty of food for everyone, including gourmet burgers - just not Kiwi burgers...no local flair.  It was something I had started to pride myself in - the daily tie-ins or nods to the cuisine of wherever we happened to be.  I was...not happy.

At the very last minute I was able to score an enormous amount of Jaffas, the sugar-coated, orange-flavored chocolate balls that are a favorite among New Zealanders.  Between those and the supply of plain, old vanilla ice cream and mini apple pies we already had in the freezer, there were plenty of sweets for after dinner.  But that hardly made up for what I considered a failed main course.

I had no idea if anyone besides my staff and myself even realized that the meal wasn’t quite what it was supposed to be.  I must have been in the mood to punish myself, though, because I hovered near the food stations while everyone collected their meals, hoping to gauge their reactions.

No one appeared to even notice, and if they did, no one said anything.  They seemed perfectly oblivious to the beetless state of the burgers, and didn’t even realize they were missing out on specialty ice cream.  Leave it to me to build things up in my head like that.  I felt a little stupid about it, but I can’t help holding myself up to high standards - I’m a perfectionist.

Eventually, I started to make my way back to the kitchen, to take a moment and finally breathe, but before I made it back there I heard someone calling my name.

“Samantha!”  

I looked back to see Ed waving me over to the dessert station.  He’d apparently just filled several red Solo cupfuls of Jaffa balls which were lined up on the table in front of him.  I was a little surprised to see him - he practically never eats with us.  He’s usually either out with friends or busy working with industry colleagues when he’s not on stage - the man's schedule is insane.  So it was just my luck that the one time he was actually there to eat was when I had my big food fail.

I returned his smile with a slightly awkward grin and wave, and backtracked to the dessert station.

“Do you need help with those?”  Because helping Ed Sheeran carry hundreds of tiny chocolate balls would be a totally normal thing, right?  

What is my life? 

He gave me a quick look before returning his attention to the eight or so cups full of candies in front of him, biting his lower lip as he pondered.

“Nah, I think...yeah!”  He grunted triumphantly as he quickly arranged the cups into two groups of four, and picked them all up with fingers extended into each cup.  He looked like a happy lobster proudly waving his claws at me, but he was a little too exuberant about it and Jaffa balls were soon bouncing out of the cups onto the floor.

“Ohhh...”

He looked so abashed I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Um.  That’s not...that wasn’t supposed to happen...”

“Aw, and you were so happy, too,”  I giggled.  We both got down on our hands and knees to collect the wayward Jaffas.

He grinned right back at me lifting an eyebrow mischievously.  “I’m really sorry I dropped my balls on the floor.  Thanks for helping me pick up my balls.”

“I...wow.  You’re welcome, I guess?  Any time.”

I could feel my face flushing, and I know he saw it, too, because he gave me a look of amused pity.

“Sorry,” he murmured.

“No, no, it’s fine.  Here, give those over.”  I held out my hands.  I’ll toss them in the kitchen trash.” 

As he did so, a girl with long, curly brown hair passed nearby, curiously looking over at us on the floor.  She gave me a friendly grin, and then demanded of Ed, “What are you up to?  Are you bothering this nice lady?”

“No!  Samantha just...took my dirty balls...”

She looked at him blankly for a moment, then turned to me.  I held out my handful of Jaffa balls for her to see, only slightly mortified.

Shaking her head, she answered, “Right.  Carry on, then,” and continued on her way.

We both grinned after her for a second or two, and then got up and headed to the kitchen.  

“That was Lauren, by the way.  Have you met?”

“No, not yet, but I definitely like her.”

I dumped the dirty Jaffas into a bin and turned back to Ed.

“So, um, I really needed a laugh right about now, so thanks,” I murmured.

“Yeah?  Everything okay?”  We were standing fairly close - right about where personal space becomes defined, and all of his focus was on me.  He has a very sincere face, and really pretty eyes...

I mentally shook myself. Anyway... “Yeah, I was just...stressed about a job thing.” I tried to shrug it off but he was having none of it.

“What, this job? Here?”

“No, it’s nothing, really.  It's fine.”  

He looked so earnestly concerned, almost as if he was personally affronted that my job, which existed because of him, could cause me any stress.  So, I found myself telling him all about the Kiwi Burger Problem.

“Beetroot?”

“Yeah, it’s...a thing here, I guess.  You were all supposed to get an authentic New Zealand meal tonight.”

“Huh.  Well, if it makes any difference, I don’t think anyone here is the wiser. The burgers were fab.  I mean, I would have tried it, for sure...but beetroot on burgers does sound kind of weird.”

I huffed out a quiet laugh, nodding.  “Yeah. ‘When in Rome’, right?  Well,” I shrugged, “At least you got the Jaffa balls...”

At the mention of the Jaffas he looked back towards the dessert station, where he’d left the rest of his candies.  “Oh - gotta go get m’balls!”

I stayed where I was, leaning against the door frame, grinning after him as he made his way back to the dessert station for his...balls.  I knew right then, as he repeated his lobster claw-grab of the cups of candy, that I was going to immensely enjoy knowing him. 

“Been a pleasure, Samantha, see ya soon.”  This time he didn’t wave his already-occupied hands, but nodded at me instead, as he left.  

“Likewise.  Enjoy your balls, Ed,” I called after him.

Only after he was gone did I realize I forgot to even mention the Hokey Pokey ice cream.

---

(next chapter)

As always, I really appreciate any and all feedback.  Likes, comments, reblogs, messages/questions/comments...it’s all good!

 It’s really hard to find motivation to write when you have no idea if anyone likes or cares about what you’re putting out there.  So PLEASE share your thoughts!

-BP💜

[syrahnbloodfeather]

The Lord of the Glade

This was the first meeting since the attack on the Glade, and the first one Ijiro’s attended as a Lord, and not Syrahn’s esteemed retainer; if he had it his way, this would be the last one for a long time. He couldn't believe how much he missed facing the horrors of Northrend… at least then the enemy was right in front of you, not hiding behind fake smiles and practiced manners like cowards.

Ijiro sat in the high chair that was molded and shaped to perfectly fit his wife; the seat was large enough, admittedly to his amusement, but the discomfort from the elevated armrests rubbing at his ribs slowly chipped away at his smirk. He was apparently scowling far too much and for too long, as Syrahn reached up and gently squeezed his hand to try and calm him down. Ijiro met her gaze and her soft smile, but he couldn't bring himself to return the favor; someone in this room wants her dead, and he was determined to drag that coward - or cowards - out of hiding. As the Lord of the Amber Glade, it was well within his newly appointed authority to turn the Glade inside out to find them.

“Lord Bloodfeather,” Viridias called, “You seem to have something on your mind. Would you like to say something to the great houses, given recent events?” She couldn't hide her emotions like Miriam; he knew exactly what she wanted, and he had no qualms about doing just that.

Ijiro gave Syrahn’s soft knuckles a quick smooch before releasing his grip to pull himself out of that uncomfortable chair. “I've been informed that being Lord of the ruling house of the Amber Glade has its perks, yeah? The one that makes my word law has held my attention the most.”

“This is true…” Lady Tidebloom assured. “But… we have meetings such as these to offer our grievances for review. While your word is final, it never hurts to hear a second opinion.” She cleared her throat before adding, “With all due respect, my Lord.”

Ijiro glanced back at Syrahn for feedback, but all his wife did was anxiously stare at him in silence. “A High Justicar died on our soil. Not just any human, either… the only Blood Elf within their order, and the only one that kept their order neutral.” Ijiro turned back to face the other families. “... I heard we charged his family for damages to the Glade. How much was that, exactly?”

Lord Hearthdust fumbled with a few scrolls and his reading monocle before answering. “It was… six million, two hundred thousand, and seventy seven gold coins, my Lord.” He then glanced around at the others before saying, “Erm… for the destruction of a priceless statue honoring the late Lord Sunlust… my Lord.”

Ijiro’s scowl returned. “Is this the hill we want to die on? We rob a wife of her husband and a daughter of her father, yeah? Then charge a grieving widow and a weakened house a small fortune for the trouble? Do you not remember what happened to our kingdom when we pushed our allies away the first time?” He didn't bother waiting for an answer. “House Sun’rael could've stopped the recent assault on our home, but they were too busy bleeding from the gold we stole from them to assist us. This farce needs to be corrected. Now.”

Not a single person made a sound. The lords and ladies of these seven great houses stared at Ijiro with varying expressions on their faces, while he simply looked them over. Syrahn stared at the back of her husband’s head before looking around the room; she never dared to be so assertive to the other houses in fear of repercussions. Even now she still feared them. “Every house present will write a letter of apology to House Sun’rael for the irreparable damage we committed on them. The Amber Glade will also pay back the gold we stole, plus interest.”

“My Lord,” Lord Sunpath started, catching Ijiro’s attention. “This hardly seems appropriate… Alucieus laid waste to our home… it is only fitting th-”

“This isn’t up for debate. Or review.” Lord Bloodfeather turned to face the old elf. “We're giving back their six mil, plus two more mil for the trouble.”

Low voices whispered to each other in light of the news. Lady Starsurge piped up for the first time in recent memory. “How will we pay these reparations? This month’s tribute has already been collected.”

“Hopefully it won’t come to that.” Ijiro slowly scratched his chin and neck while he pondered the problem for a bit. “Lady Viridias, you’ve been doing a good job watching the Glade’s goldflow, yeah? Where could we get the funds for this dilemma?”

“We have a great feast planned for the end of the month during the Pilgrim’s Bounty, Lord Bloodfeather.” She proudly announced, glancing over at Lord Sunpath across the room. “Not to mention our Winter's Veil festival, and our New Year's celebration.”

“Cancel them all.” Lord Bloodfeather commanded. “Allocate the gold for House Sun’rael, and whatever we have left will go into rebuilding the businesses that were burned down or destroyed from the recent attack.”

Syrahn never once thought Ijiro would be so well suited for this position. Ever since she gained an interest in him, the thought of him blundering around the minefield infamously known as Sin’dorei politics kept her resistant to his charm for nearly a year. Yet here he was, once again succeeding her expectations. Her heart fluttered when he glanced over his shoulder to look her over; she felt a great sense of pride when he gazed at her with his single emerald eye, but neither her feelings nor her smile lasted much longer.

“Speaking of the attack, the Glade is currently under martial law, as you all know.” Ijiro almost immediately sounded out of breath - a surefire sign of his rising anger. He paused only to walk around his family’s table to stand in the center of the room. “Void Elves slipped into the Glade and ravaged plenty of homes, and businesses… and families. Lots of good folks died, yeah…? But something isn’t adding up. Lor’themar Theron himself sent the local Silvermoon Guard to comb Eversong clean of any Void Elves, but these monsters had to come from somewhere, right?” Ijiro began pacing back and forth, looking almost ready to start swinging. “I have reasonable suspicion at least one of you plotted to take my wife’s life!”

Lord Greyshade looked incredibly uncomfortable, but said nothing; the other lords and ladies present weren’t so respectful. They whispered in low voices to each other with most of them openly questioning Ijiro’s mental state to be making accusations like this.

“Now, I’ve done things I’m not proud of. Lots of things, in fact.” Lord Bloodfeather took in a deep breath before pointing an accusing finger at them. “I’m a wrathful man. Always have been… but my father also taught me about patience. Understanding… and above all… mercy.” He turned to glare at Lord Greyshade as he said, “If you admit to these crimes, I’ll banish you and your house on the morrow. But… no one will be harmed, yeah?” He then turned to face Lord Sunpath to get a good look at his hardened frown, then to Lady Starsurge, then to Lord Bladewhisper. “If I have to catch your scent and run you down… I promise you. There. Will. Be. Blood. So what’s it gonna be?”

There was only silence.

“So be it.” Ijiro’s posture finally relaxed. “My family and my two guard captains will stay here. The rest of you are dismissed.” Syrahn stared at her husband in shock while the others slowly shuffled out of the room; suddenly she felt very lightheaded, and only managed to regain herself once he began his return to her side.

“A fine mess you just made.” Miriam hissed. “Secrecy was our greatest asset, and you just tossed it out with the bathwater. Was threatening the entire Amber Glade a gut reaction, or did you plan this madness from the beginning of this meeting?!”

Ijiro eyed his new sister-in-law before answering. “Planned.” He then turned his attention back to Syrahn. “Two things are gonna happen now. Either they’ll be so pissed some lowborn trash made them a fool, and make more mistakes… or they’ll try to lay low so I don’t catch on. Either way, you’re safer. That’s all that matters.” Miriam opened her mouth to protest, but instead took another deep swig of her glass of wine.

“I quite enjoyed seeing the shock on their faces.” Viridias leaned back in her chair with a gentle shrug. “Do you have a plan, Lord Bloodfeather?”

“I want a list of every elf we can trust. From the heads of the great houses to the lowly stable boys. I need to know who our allies are before I can start my search, yeah?” He whipped around to face Lord Zaetan and Lord Victus, who both stiffened in attention. “Also I don’t need two guard captains. One of you needs to go.” Before Syrahn could open her mouth to speak, he pointed to Lord Victus. “I want your boots on the ground outside. Make sure the guards are on high alert until I say otherwise, and start rebuilding the Market Square. Every minute those people suffer without our aid, or money and morale drains, yeah?”

“At once, my Lord.” Lord Victus shot Lord Zaetan a smug grin before leaving to attend to his duties.

Zaetan let out a soft sigh before relaxing his shoulders. “I… don’t believe I’ve ever been fired before, my Lord.”

“Think of it more as a promotion. You can swing that sword, right? Or is it just to discourage petty criminals?” Ijiro asked, crossing his arms.

His eyes flickered for a moment while he studied Lord Bloodfeather before answering. “I’ve swung it well so far, my Lord.”

“Good. I want you to be Syrahn’s personal retainer. She needs someone who can defend her when I’m not around, and I need that snake in the grass Victus away from the Amber Castle as often as possible. And by Amber Castle, I of course mean my wife.”

Lord Zaetan straightened up with a satisfied grin. “I'll begin daily patrols in her tower. Thank you, my Lord.”

Ijiro shot a  glance over at Syrahn-and his two sister-in-laws. “Get the gold ready for the journey to the Sun’rael Estate. Syrahn, I think you should send a letter ahead, yeah? Your handwriting will forever be better than mine.”

“O-okay…” Syrahn managed to squeak out, stirring her husband to gently grasp her hands. When he went to release her, she only tightened her grip on his coarse fingers. “I… we need to tell you something important.” Both Viridias and Miriam took the cue to give them some space, and headed back to their duties without another word. “I haven't had a stomach ache all this time you've been home… Jiro…” Syrahn took in a deep breath before letting it out. “I'm pregnant with a son.”

Lord Bloodfeather suddenly looked like he was punched in the gut. He stumbled back a few steps while his eye snapped to Syrahn’s stomach, with shock and disbelief radiating from his face. “What…” Ijiro started, running a trembling hand through his hair. “Why did you wait to tell me this?”

“I didn't want you blurting it out in front of the other houses.” She answered calmly, but her brow instinctively furrowed before continuing with, “... are you angry with me?”

“Angry? Never.” Ijiro couldn’t help but let out a weakened laugh. “I must be a fool for not noticing, yeah? Didn’t think this would… happen so soon… despite our um… ‘meetings’ every time I was back for resupply, heheh…”

“Promise me you won’t tell the other houses.” A shiver ran up Syrahn’s spine when she said those words; as long as her attempted murderer was still hiding in the shadows, none of her family would be safe. Not even the youngest addition to House Bloodfeather. “At least until we can sort this nightmare out.”

Ijiro glanced over his shoulder to make sure they were alone before gently pressing his hand against her slightly extended stomach. “You have my word.” He glanced up into her eyes again. “Have you settled for any names yet?”

“I’ve mulled over a few good ones.” Syrahn answered. “But I think… I think I’ll name him Alu.”

Slowly Ijiro nodded before a faint smile spread across his lips. “Alu it is, then.”

Mentions: @alucieussunrael @k-sunrael @house-sunrael

[wonderlustlucas]

warmth - wong yukhei

⇢ prompt It’s like a breath of fresh air on the first day of spring, filling you to the brim with new life and you can't get enough. ⇢ pairing yukhei x female reader ⇢ word count 16k ⇢ genre fluff & slight smut ⇢ warnings oh my GOD the fluff in this killed me, resuscitated me, & then hit me with a car. if you squint really hard there is like a teaspoon of smut & implied s e x ⇢ summary Meeting NCT was definitely not something you or your best friend ever imagined would actually happen on your road to stardom, but Wong Yukhei falling for you never once crossed your mind. Lucky for you, a touch of jealousy, fifteen rounds of Fortnite, impromptu snuggling, and a splash of soju is the perfect recipe for falling in love. ⇢ a/n ok FIRST OF ALL since this is my first actual fic im posting i feel like i should warn u all & apologize for my use of italics, im a little obsessed cuz when i go over & read what ive typed i always put emphasis on specific words so ya just roll w that. secondly i tried sosososo hard to include every member but obviously some got more spotlight than others thats just how the cookie crumbled BUT I TRIED. and lastly the beginning to this is a little rough but i swear it gets better trust me on this, warmth is my bby rn & im proud cuz it gets real good as u keep reading. enjoy:)

“Kim Mina and ___ ___, welcome! Take a seat! How are you?”

Yuna’s greeting is welcoming but it barely calms your nerves. Your grip on Mina’s hand is like iron, but you finally have to let go and give your best smile before shimmying onto the high stool. Mina starts the small talk with the two anchors and you can’t help but silently thank her. Lord knows small talk was not your thing.

Meanwhile, you glance around the large room, taking it all in—from the brightness of all the screens to the professional video cameras facing in your direction and all the way to the small crowd of fans cheering outside. How did you end up here?

“So, tell me, what started this amazing journey the two of you have gotten yourselves into?” Seojun, the second anchor, asks with a beaming grin. You look to Mina and she nods to you in approval. Deep breathe. Don’t panic.

“Well, Mina and I have been best friends, if you’d like to put it that simply, since we were freshmen,” the three chuckle at your comment, “we both shared and bonded over our love for BTS, actually, and then Seventeen, NCT, Red Velvet, and so on.”

You pause to lick your lips and take a deep gulp of air.

“We both weren’t very active nor athletic. First, we played volleyball, then lacrosse, and we even tried golf but sports just wasn’t really our thing. So, we eventually settled for a gym membership and spent a lot of time there together, and over time we really got into shape,” you stop again to laugh when Yuna reaches out to poke at Mina’s very prominent bicep muscle.

“And so one-day junior year we were jamming to, uh, I don't know,” you laugh, glancing to Mina. “BBoom BBoom,” she says, “by MOMOLAND.”

You smile to yourself at the fond memory. “Anyway, Mina randomly suggested that we should learn the full choreography and not just random parts. At first, I laughed at her ‘cause I thought there was no way either of us was bright enough to remember the full thing. But she was so serious about it that I eventually just agreed to it to humor her, and we actually learned it by ourselves.”

“It wasn’t as easy as I thought, though,” Mina interrupts, “it took a really, really long time just to get the footwork and so many times I knew ___ wanted to shoot herself for agreeing to do this,” she laughs and the three of you join her. “But once we got it, we recorded it, and we were just amazed. Like, ‘Wow, we did that! That’s us!’ and we showed everyone we knew. The sense of pride motivated us to do it again. So we did Mic Drop by BTS, and when we uploaded it on YouTube it really blew up within our school,” Mina stops and looks at you to continue.

“Our friends and family really started spreading the word about us after the fourth or fifth video we uploaded. In the meantime, a lot of kids thought we were really weird for, you know, putting ourselves out there like that. But it was just so fun to dance that we really didn’t care about both the positive or negative feedback we were getting. After all, we were only seventeen, you know. But things really started getting serious about two months ago when we uploaded Baby Don’t Stop from NCT U and CLAP from Seventeen. Someone big must have stumbled upon our account because a week later we were in the newspaper. Something about ‘arising local stars,’ I think,” you pause when Yuna shuffles through her papers to pull out the exact article you were talking about.

“Yep,” she pauses to flip through the papers, “‘___ ___ and Kim Mina: Small-town Seniors to Stardom,’ wow, so you two really caught someone’s eye,” she comments as Seojun nods in agreement.

“So yeah, that’s basically it. We still plan to graduate high school and all, but right now we’re not sure if we want to go to college at this point. We have a steady income as of right now and hopefully, we can really make this into a career. It’s kind of our passion at this point, not just a hobby,” you finish, fixing the collar of the rather fitting romper you were wearing.

“Wow,” Seojun comments and brings his hands up to clap, “talk about an inspiring story.”

“Hopefully. We tell our followers that even if you may feel really lost in the world right now, you will find something that you’re passionate about, it’ll just take time and probably some stupid idea,” Mina concludes with a beaming smile and an arm around your neck, tugging you in close.

Yuna and Seojun coo in unison at the affectionate act and you can’t help but squeeze Mina back.

“So, we have a few more questions,” Yuna finally says after you pull away from your best friend. You sit up straighter in your seat and nod excitedly.

“This one’s easy. Who is your favorite group?” Seojun asks once he’s done flipping through the pile of note cards in his hands.

“NCT, for the both of us,” Mina replies easily, and you nod in agreement. “And do you have a bias, as I’ve heard you call it, in the group?” Yuna asks and you immediately feel the heat rush to your cheeks. It wasn’t that you’re embarrassed, you just don’t want to talk about it.

So, yeah, maybe you’re embarrassed.

“Uh-oh, ___ is red,” Seojun catches on and you squawk in embarrassment, having to hide your face from the cameras just so those watching wouldn’t be able to see you flush so badly. “Well, my bias is Taeyong,” Mina replies while soothingly patting your arm to get you to look back up.

“Yukhei,” you eventually squeak out after sitting up.

“Which choreography so far has been you’re favorite?” Yuna moves on instead of picking on your red-hot embarrassment anymore and you quietly thank the gods.

“Oh geez, I can’t choose one. CLAP, HIGHLIGHT, Burning Up, DNA, Cherry Bomb, 7th Sense, Baby Don’t Stop, Boss... all favorites. No way we could simplify it to one,” Mina laughs after naming off a few.

“Alright, last question before the surprise,” Yuna says, winking at the camera mischievously, “if you could go back in time, would you have started this journey earlier than you had?”

You glance at Mina and pause to think for a moment. Would you? Mina opens her mouth to say something but closes it again, clearly stumped by the question.

“No,” you speak up, “I think the way we did it worked out in the best way possible. It started as a joke for us, but the music we love turned it into something we’re passionate about. If we started this when we were any younger, we wouldn’t have been as mature and probably wouldn’t have gotten as much attention as we have. We would’ve looked like even more idiots to the public. It all happened for a reason, and I wouldn’t want to change it one bit, you know?” You rant, picking at your nails as you do so. Was that too much? Too little? Hopefully I didn't sound cocky.

“There you have it, folks! Wise words from eighteen-year olds ___ ___ and Kim Mina!” Seojun cheers and Yuna claps. Mina bows and you smile appreciatively. “Don’t leave just yet! After this commercial break, Mina and ___ will be performing live before the show ends! Stay tuned everybody!” Yuna finally announces and you can finally breathe again now that the cameras are off.

“Go on and get changed, kiddos. Don’t wanna miss your own performance,” Seojun smiles. “Thank you. And thank you for having us. This was amazing,” you reply, hopping off the seat and giving him and Yuna firm handshakes before storming backstage with Mina.

“You spoke so well! What the fuck? What happened to little ol’ ___ stuttering and dying when she has to present?” Mina exclaims excitedly, spinning you into a hug in the dressing room. “I don't know! I just—I have no idea! I felt so, so... proud, you know? Look how far we’ve gotten,” You speak hurriedly, peeling everything off your body.

“I know, this is crazy. I feel like I’m gonna shit myself,” Mina replies as you both unclasp each other’s bras to replace them with sports bras. “Me too. I don’t know why I’m so nervous to perform, we could do this choreo asleep, with our eyes closed, and our legs cut off,” you exaggerate, tugging up your ripped black skinny jeans and hopping around to get them up.

“With our legs cut off?” Mina laughs as she pulls up her denim shorts. “But no, I feel you. It’s because it’s live, we usually have the comfort of knowing that we can mess up without anyone knowing,” she explains as you push your arms through the sleeves of the cropped white tank you decided on.

The two of you finish getting dressed, quickly stretch, and hurry back out before you actually are late. “Good luck, don’t mess up,” Mina whispers, fixing your braids and giving your hands a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “Thanks, asshole. You too.”

Baby Don’t Stop starts from the speakers, extremely loud but too quiet and exhilarating but soothing all at the same time. It’s a natural habit now—the way your body moves to Ten’s absolutely panty-dropping voice and Taeyong’s aggressive rapping—arms twisting in ways that used to hurt and legs reaching new angles every second.

But it’s happening all too quickly—you want it to slow down so you can bask in the feeling of doing what you love for everyone to see.

You find yourself singing along like you usually do, and start to worry that it could be heard. What if you sound like a crow, squawking Ten and Taeyong’s beautiful lyrics? Focus. You mentally slap yourself when you lean over a minute and a half in to scratch Mina’s chin and head. So you keep going.

You always dance Ten’s role—it was something you begged Mina when you chose Baby Don’t Stop as the next choreography you two would learn. Mina had no problem with it, considering she wanted to dance her own bias’ moves.

Two minutes in and you were officially breathing heavier after the last few complicated moves you had to do. Then the transition to Cherry Bomb started and you took a couple much needs breathes before continuing.

These last two minutes of Cherry Bomb you performed were always the hardest, especially since it was mainly beats rather than actual singing or rapping. There were so many movements that needed perfecting, so many angles that needed to be reached, and so many changes that had to be done quickly all had your head spinning.

Your legs are burning. God, they hurt. You can feel the sweat dripping across your neck, down your spine, and into the waistline of your jeans like a waterfall. However, you receive an adrenaline rush sent by the heavens after the first time you have to fall back onto the floor only to quickly lean back up and do a few more grueling flips and tumbles.

After your very difficult part on the floor, you finally rejoin Mina for the last forty seconds to begin your descent to an almost-split before jumping back up and finishing the song.

The loud music is cut off and you are left with only you and Mina’s heavy breathing, blood rushing in your ears, and the loud applause coming from the crew, anchors, and friends and family off to the side.

Oh my God. We did it. You quickly turn to Mina and engulf her into the tightest hug of your life, not caring about the slick layer of perspiration between you. “I’m so proud of you,” you mumble into her neck, giving her one last squeeze. “Of us,” she quips as Seojun and Yuna stop next to her.

“Kim Mina and ___ ___, ladies and gentlemen! Thank you all for watching and have a wonderful night!”

You wave tiredly at the camera and give a weak smile, but all you can focus on is how heavy your breathing is and an annoying bead of sweat rolling down into your asscrack. Seojun and Yuna say something about relaxing for a while in the private lounge upstairs and as soon as you hear water and brownies you’re off, racing Mina up the stairs no matter how badly your legs scream at you not to.

“I can’t believe we did that!” Mina screams, spinning around and making a bee-line for the table full of beverages and food. You quickly yank your sweaty tank off your body, crumble it up in a ball, and toss it at her head. “Oh my God, you’re a disgusting, repulsive, ugly, sickening rat,” she hisses, swatting your outreaching hand away.

You chuckle to yourself as you grab a water bottle, pausing for a moment to grimace at the copious amount of sweat in your cleavage before cracking the cap off of the bottle and nearly inhaling the delightfully cold, refreshing liquid.

“You know, maybe we should just forget about this. I’m so tired of the way you treat me,” you start, finishing the bottle before cracking open another one without even glancing her way.

“___,” she starts to interrupt, but you don’t let her. “Like, the amount of disrespect I get is nauseating,” you continue while reaching for a brownie and basically shoving the whole thing in your mouth. “___,” she says again.

“I just don’t understand. I do nothing but love and support you, clean the house, nurse our children,” you pause to chew on a chocolate chip cookie, “pick up the dog’s shit, for crying out loud! And this is what I get back?” You finally end your sarcastic rant, popping pieces of cut fruit into your mouth before breaking into a fit of giggles.

“___!” she shouts this, and you finally look at her, wondering if you’ve somehow offended her. You follow her gaze once you realize she’s not even paying any mind to you or your shenanigans.

And there they are.

All eighteen of them.

Right across the room.

The water bottle doesn’t make it to your mouth this time but instead falls from your grip and onto the floor. You don’t even notice it, considering all eighteen fucking members of NCT are sitting only a few yards away, their mouths slightly agape and a shocked expression mirroring your own.

You don’t know how long it takes for one of you to finally say something. “Am I hallucinating or is NCT in our room?” Mina whispers.

You blink hard. Rub your eyes. Pinch your skin. “No. They’re there.”

And then you sob. You don’t know what happened, but something within you snaps and a choke sounds from your lips and tears swell from your eyes.

“Oh my God, don’t cry,” someone says and seconds later engulfs you in a hug.

They were here. In the same room as you. Had they watched you perform? Were they invited, or did they coincidentally have an interview here as well? You sob into the jacket of whoever is holding you, your knees buckling beneath you as they hold you.

“Why are you crying?” None other than Nakamoto Yuta asks quietly, his hand placed gently on your head rubbing soothing circles.

You finally pull away and wipe underneath your eyes. When you look up at him you nearly choke again. He’s so beautiful. “I—how? I just—where did you? What the fuck?” You cry again and nearly melt into a pathetic puddle when he wipes the tears from your eyes.

“Should we leave?” Yuta laughs, his hands resting on your bare shoulders. “No!” You shout, too loudly. You look down in embarrassment. “Okay, good. I was beginning to wonder you actually didn’t like us,” he chuckles again, and this time you look at his face and nearly faint when you see his gorgeous smile you’ve spent hours gawking over.

“No, never. I’m just... confused? How—who? How did you guys get here?” You stutter, shaking under his gaze.

“Well, we were kind of notified that you two would be performing our songs and thought it would be pretty cool to surprise you,” a new voice appears. You feel like throwing up when Mark Lee comes into view.

“I don’t—I literally don’t know how to talk anymore. How is this happening?” You whisper to yourself, hoping they don’t hear you but by their chuckles they apparently do. “Sorry we surprised you to the point you practically shit yourself,” another someone laughs.

Lee Je No has joined your little circle now too, and you reach out to the table next to you to stand properly. “Sorry, give me a moment,” you chuckle, not because you find it funny, but because you’re so entirely wound up you think death is quite possible.

After a moment or so of you controlling your breath and the three awkwardly standing there, you finally lean up and look over them again. Calm down, idiot. They’re people. People that you have read smut about way too many times and have cried your heart out over. But still people.

“Hi, I’m ___,” you eventually opt for, reaching out to whoever. Yuta takes your hand first, then Jeno, and finally Mark. They introduce themselves as if it was totally normal. Mina!

“One second,” you quip, shuffling over to see Mina in her own little circle of Park Ji Sung, Kim Jungwoo, Kim Dong Young, and Lee Tae Yong.

She was with Taeyong!

You scan over the rest of NCT some who are in their conversations or awkwardly standing there. After all, it was eighteen meeting two. Your eyes don’t stay on one person for too long, just because your excitement is so overwhelming and you need to see everyone.

Wong Yukhei. There he was. Six feet tall in all his glory, rocking on his heels as he laughed loudly with Qian Kun. “Lucas is here,” you say suddenly and to no one in particular.

Your statement comes off more as a question and the trio laugh. “Well, he is part of NCT, is he not?” Mark asks with a grin. “Shush, she’s going through a midlife crisis over here. You heard her earlier,” Yuta retorts with an elbow to Mark’s side.

“Oh God, did he hear me say that he’s my bias?” You hiss, slapping yourself on the forehead. “Well, we were all watching, so I’d say so by the way he blushed about a hundred shades red,” Jeno says, giving your shoulder a squeeze. He blushed?

“C’mon, you should meet everyone,” Marks luckily saves the day and changes the subject. He reaches for your hand and you take it gently, looking down in hot embarrassment. You aren’t wearing your shirt! You’re mouth forms an ‘o’ as recognition hits you like a train and you let go of his hand to pick up the crumpled shirt on the floor.

Even after you pull the damp tank back on you still feel incredibly embarrassed for having been so exposed to the boys and can’t seem to shake it from your mind until you start meeting everyone.

It’s awkward at first, but they’re all incredibly sweet—sweeter than they are online—and you fit right in. After thirty minutes or so, you’re finally led to the last few members.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Lucas. What do I say? Act normal? Pretend he isn’t my lock screen or the reason I’ve been up until four in the morning on so many nights? You have yet another midlife crisis and opt to just smile at him.

But you can’t look away. The tall, beautiful, genuine, hilarious, pure, wonderful boy you never in a million years thought would be so close. You can barely breath when his eyes lock with yours and every working brain cell disintegrates.

His lips. They were even plusher and poutier in person and you wanted nothing more than to touch them. His dark hair fell messily over his forehead while a few blonde strands brushed his long eyelashes and you nearly cried at how soft and fluffy it looked. Defined eyebrows, darkdarkdark brown eyes, sharp jaw, and the soft slope of his nose were the only things you were focused on and yet you couldn’t find yourself to care despite the incredibly long staring contest the two of you were having.

“I was just telling everyone that you’re my mini-me,” Ten giggles and it finally brings you back to reality. You look away from Lucas to quirk an eyebrow at Ten’s statement. Just how long were you staring? Long enough to not know what they’re talking about, clearly. “You know,” he elbows you, “you dance my part in Baby Don’t Stop.”

“Oh,” you laugh, curling into him when his arm drapes over your shoulder, “I wouldn’t say I’m a mini you. Nowhere’s close.”

“You’re lying,” Lucas interjects and it takes everything in you to look at him again. “I think you dance it even better than Ten,” he teases and when he laughs something deep within the confines of your heart sparks—it’s a loud, hearty laugh that you swear on your life is the best sound you have ever heard. Your mouth falls open at his compliment and can’t help the hotness that rushes up your neck and onto your cheeks.

“Ouch,” Ten fakes to cry, finally removing his arm to place his hand over his heart. What were you to say? You simply could not form a coherent reply and instead stood there like an idiot, completely starstruck.

Eventually, conversations start to slow down and everyone is sitting, either on their phone or piling junk food onto plants and chowing down. You find yourself gravitating to the empty seat next to Mina and as soon as you sit down, she grins at you.

“What have we gotten ourselves into?” You laugh, toying with rips in your jeans. “I don’t know. All I do know is that I don’t ever want them to leave,” she sighs, and the realization hits you.

They were going to have to go eventually, and no matter how close they lived to you or not, the chances of ever being able to see them were incredibly low. It was like a dagger to the heart, twisting and digging into you as the disappointment settled in. “At least we got to meet them,” you whisper, trying to be optimistic.

“I know, but now that I’ve had a taste, I want the full platter,” she mumbles and you feel like smacking her for having to sound so wise.

Before you can reply, Chenle appears next to Mina and leans on his elbows, wisps of blonde hair falling into his eyes. “Hey, so, would you guys want to come back to the dorms with us? We’re doing a vLive and thought it would be cool to have you guys in it. It’ll be a truth or dare kind of thing with all of us. You guys should come.”

You gape up at him. Go back to the dorms with them? “Could we take a shower?” Mina asks.

“Yeah, of course. vLive can wait,” he laughs, the high pitch of it makes you laugh as well. Mina looks at you, silently pleading to agree.

“I’ll have to ask my mom.”

It took a lot of pleading and begging and fake crying for both you and Mina’s parents to finally agree. After a whole lecture about boys only wanting to get into girls’ pants, arguing that they aren't like that, and making you promise to never leave each other’s sides, you were finally at the dorms.

After Jaehyun guided you both to the bathrooms, you finally got the shower you desperately needed. After shampoo and conditioner, you scrubbed the layer of dried sweat off your skin and simply stood under the warmth of the water. Your muscles were so damn sore, and you were so incredibly exhausted that you feared you would be knocked out and miss out on the fun.

When someone knocked on the door and teased you about taking forever, you started to feel bad and eventually turned the water off. You dried, brushed your damp hair, and swapped your towel for leggings and a black t-shirt that stopped mid-thigh all under fifteen minutes before finally exiting the bathroom.

You hear laughter coming from down the hall and aimlessly follow in that direction, hoping to find your newfound... friends and not walk into some important meeting. Although, who would be meeting at seven o'clock at night?

“___, we got pizza!” Johnny calls from across the room, being the first to notice your entrance. Wow. The dance practice room is even bigger in person? Your fingers trace the mirrors on every wall as you make your way over, completely entranced with the large room.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” Win Win asks, clearly catching onto your awe. “Yeah, I can’t believe how... how big it is,” you gape, spinning on your heels to take it all in again. Imagine how awesome it would be to have all this space!

“That’s what she said,” someone comments, and you look over to see Jaehyun smirking and can't help but laugh at his stupid line. “How original,” you snort while the rest of the boys roar in laughter.

“How did you manage to finish before me?”

You’re surprised when Mina appears by your side but also relieved that she’s finally here. “’Dunno, a lot of weird things have happened today.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Are you guys going to eat or did we order four boxes for nothing?” Taeyong asks and you roll your eyes while Mina mumbles something along the lines of ‘so damn aggressive’ in your ear.

You skip over to the table and grab at a slice while discerning where to sit. Were you to just sit anywhere randomly? By yourself? With someone in particular? This is awkward. Jaemin must have read your mind since he calls you over and pats the open spot on the windowsill next to him.

“Thanks,” you smile, pulling your legs up and sitting crisscross. “So,” he starts, and you glance up at him.

Damn.

Jaemin always had a special place in your heart, so having him right here in front of you made concentrating on one part of his face rather difficult. “So.”

“I thought you and Mina’s whole story was really cool. Since it started as a joke and such,” he says, casually leaning back against the window. “Aw, thank you! As much as it would be super cool to be able to tell people dancing has been our passion our whole life, that’s just not the case. We just lucked out, I guess.”

“Heck yeah, you did. I mean, look at you! It’s a shame you don't sing too—you’d really be a knock-out,” he compliments rather smoothly, crisscrossing his own legs so that your knees were now touching. You couldn’t tell if he was flirting or not, not that you minded, but quickly brushed it off.

“Nana, are you flirting with a girl older than you?”

You look up and nearly shit yourself when Lucas leans against the wall next to you, his muscular thighs just barely pressing gently against your bent knee. “That’s exactly what I’m doing,” Jaemin replies, clearly not fazed by Lucas’ sudden bossy front.

“Anyway, I’m off. Catch me later, yeah?” Jaemin beams, playfully bumping into your shoulder before hopping off the sill and walking away. Leaving you by yourself. With Yukhei.

“Hello,” he greets, his voice deep and his grin wide, making his big eyes scrunch up in delight. “Hi,” you squeak, voice quiet and rather pathetic. “I’m starting to think you don’t like me, ___, and I’m really hurt,” he sighs from his position still next to the wall. Very intimidating for such a soft boy. You take a deep breath. Act normal.

You scoff. “Ah, yes, Yukhei, I’m sorry to break it to you, but I don’t like you.”

“You know you can call me Lucas.”

“I’m aware,” you laugh, suddenly hyper-aware of the sudden lack of space when he leans even closer. “Then why do you call me Yukhei?”

You swallow the thump in your throat and force yourself to look at the boy you have once claimed your undying love for. “’Dunno. I’ll start calling you Lucas if you really want me to.”

“No! No—I didn’t mean it like that. I just—never mind.” Bingo. Finally broke his little facade. “Gosh, Yukhei, you shouldn’t be flirting with a younger girl,” you use his words to Jaemin somewhat against him, and the sudden confidence has you grinning up at him. His mouth hangs open a bit.

Before he replies, Taeyong claps and everyone’s attention is on him. “We’re starting the vLive so if everyone could somehow come over here that would be fantastic.”

You shift off the windowsill after popping the last piece of pizza in your mouth and look up at Lucas, who’s still looking at you with his jaw slack. “Sorry, I’ll go back to being nervous around you,” you tease before bouncing back over to the two sofas.

Despite everyone’s pleas for you and Mina to sit on the couch, you opt for the floor and sit next to Jaehyun who greets you with a heartwarming smile. “Have you ever done a vLive before?” He asks once you’re comfortably settled next to him.

“Oh yeah, we’ve done a few. It’s kind of hard when you’re still a senior and have a shit ton of homework. Plus trying to learn new choreography takes a lot of free time,” you laugh. “I mean, you would know,” you add, hoping to not sound cocky.

“I feel that,” he smiles, moving his arm from between you to rest around your shoulders. You can’t help but smile at it.

“And... we’re on!” Jungwoo cheers, finally moving away from the phone set up on a tripod a few feet away. Everyone cheers and waves so you awkwardly join in, hoping to somewhat seem as if you aren’t freaking out internally.

Taeil, Mark, and Renjun go back and forth asking everyone watching to drop questions along with ‘good dares because we’re not pussies in this bitch,’ as Haechan whispered from behind you. It doesn’t take long for the comments to start flooding in, and you watch from Mina’s phone that a lot of them are mainly asking who you and she are.

“Guys, this is Kim Mina,” Taeyong finally announces, patting her head from his spot on the floor next to her.

“And this is my best friend ___ ___!” Jaehyun shouts, pulling you into his chest. “Woo!” You cheer, your heart ready to burst at his outburst of affection. “If you guys didn’t catch their performance today, definitely check out their YouTube channel. Super talented gals,” Taeyong finishes.

“Except they don’t sing!” Jaemin shouts and you glance back to give him a playful glare.

“Actually, I heard ___ singing my part in Baby Don’t Stop today,” Ten interjects and you want to die. The boys break into a chorus of ‘oooh’s, turning their attention to him. “She’s pretty good, not gonna lie. Not as good as me, of course,” he giggles.

You laugh, more thankful that you apparently don’t sound like a toad from Hell itself when you absentmindedly sing along during performances.

“I found a question!” Yuta hoots. “Mina and ___, are you dating anybody?”

You glance at Mina and break into a fit of laughter. “If we were dating anybody we definitely would not be here right now. Plus no one in our school wants to date us, we’re losers. So no, we’re not dating anyone,” Mina laughs.

“Way to lighten the mood,” Chenle cackles like a dolphin somewhere behind you.

“Oh, I got a dare. Jungwoo, you have been dared to slap Doyoung’s booty,” Jaehyun calls from next to you. Ah, yes. You’d finally get to see Dowoo in action.

After a few moments the two get up and stand right in front of you, and Jungwoo gives the most aggressive slap he could have done that has the whole room roaring in laughter while Doyoung basically cries.

“Mina, someone asked you to marry them, what do you say?” Ten shouts. “Sure! I’ll marry you!” The pretty girl next to you says to the phone, adding a charming wink that has them laughing again.

“Wow, I feel left out on this one. But someone asked that Mina, ___, and everyone from the Firetruck music video perform the first minute of the choreo,” Jeno reads and your eyes nearly bug out of your head. More dancing? “I don't think my legs can take any more moving,” Mina sighs.

“I’m with you on that one.”

“Do you know this?” Mark asks, walking with you to push the tripod back so everyone could fit within the frame.

“Yeah, might be a little dusty though,” you laugh. “That’s okay, so are we,” Yuta reassures before getting into his position. The song begins and luckily it only takes you a few moments for it to come back to you, but the song is paused after at the minute mark even before you can really get into it or break a sweat.

“That was fun,” you comment, sitting back down next to Mina and Jaehyun. His arm goes back around your shoulders and you’re left thinking way too far into it, your heart beating wildly at the older boy’s sudden attachment.

“Truth for Mina again: how are you so gorgeous?” Chenle reads and you watch as her face turns a deep shade of red that has you all cooing at her. “I’m not. But thank you,” she rushes and you smack the back of her head.

“I got a dare! Ha. Jisung, you have to eat a raw egg,” Jungwoo giggles and everyone cries ‘eww’ in unison. “I hate you all,” he grumbles, getting up and jogging out of the room. Moments later the blue-headed boy returns, glass in hand.

“You’re all going to burn in Hell for this,” he says before bringing the glass to his lips and chugging the egg down like a shot.

“Ehhhhhhh, ew, oh gosh, ewww,” he whines second later, his tongue wiggling out of his mouth and his face contorting into a disgusted grimace.

“Dare for ___ and Mina! You guys have to do splits,” Johnny reads, glancing up from his phone to wiggle his eyebrows at you.

“I can’t do a split,” you grumble, stumbling up to your feet. You move away a little and suddenly feel incredibly self-conscious when Mina goes down once and gets it perfectly. Your mouth hangs open. “Yeah, I don’t do that.”

“Try!” Someone hoots and you opt for a straddle since you almost have that during Cherry Bomb. You start to spread your legs, going lower and lower until the muscles in your thighs are screaming. “You got it!” Mina cheers you on, “helping” you by pushing your back lightly.

Instead, you lose your balance and stumble over, groaning when your chin hits the hard floor. “Thanks, stupidhead,” you mumble, your face red in embarrassment because you just face planted in front of NCT and their fan base.

You stand back up and brush yourself off with a smile, trying to seem unbothered, especially when Jaehyun shoots you a sympathetic smile from the floor. You make your way to the table and pour yourself a cup of soda despite the fact that Lucas was right there, ignoring him altogether to avoid another awkward encounter.

But, unfortunately yet somewhat, fortunately, he has a different idea. Before you can manage to walk away, his large hands reach out, attach to your waist, and pull you down until your sitting rigidly on his lap, perfectly set within the space of his chest and the arm of the sofa.

You attempt to not think too far into it, reminding yourself of all the times members randomly pull one another into each other’s laps. But this was Lucas, pulling you onto his lap. Your heart is beating sporadically now, all the blood rushing to your head and goosebumps rising along your skin.

He clearly notices it, too, since his one hand still on your waist squeezes while the fingers on his other trace the bumps on your forearm. You twist your head to look at him. “What are you doing?” You hiss after it finally hits you—people were watching.

“Am I still you’re favorite?” He grins, obviously mocking the question posed by Yuta. “Not right now you aren’t,” you retort, eyes wide when he laughs loud and incredibly obnoxious. Now everyone was really looking.

“Sorry! ___ is just super funny!” He laughs again and your eyes go wide as everyone takes in the scene before them. After they all get over it and go back to the vLive, you look at him again.

“Are you on drugs? What’s up with you? You’re even crazier in person,” you whisper, your voice clearly shrinking when his hands go back to wrap snugly across your stomach. “Not crazy.” Is all he says.

“What, then? Are you suddenly super clingy or something? Or just drunk out of your mind?” You keep egging him on—you need to know what’s going through his damn head. “First Jaemin, then Jaehyun, and then everyone’s whispering about you,” he replies, his voice deep and raspy in your ear.

“Excuse me?”

“Gotta make sure I’m still you’re favorite,” he whispers, smiling innocently against your shoulder. Your mouth falls agape. What the fuck was going on? Since when? How? When did this all happen?

As the vLive dragged on, there wasn’t many dares or questions posed anymore, and everyone was just joking around and talking. At times when both you and Lucas were laughing, you thought you could make an escape but his long fingers became an iron grip on your ribs if you even tried moving. And he was acting so normal; still cracking jokes and making faces and acting like an idiot as if you weren’t even there.

So, you eventually give up and decide you might as well get comfortable, moving around so his hip bone wasn’t uncomfortably digging into you or that you weren’t awkwardly just plopped on his lap. After all, it’s not like your making out with him or doing anything bad. Sitting on laps was a fairly normal thing, right?

And oh God, did he smell like heaven. It was as if sandalwood and peppermint were clouding your brain, and every time you glanced up you got a little peek at his gentle features you had found yourself so in love with when he first debuted. How did you find yourself so close to someone that nearly fills up half of your camera roll?

“Anyway, guys, I think we’re gonna log out for tonight.”

You turn your attention back to the original reason you were even here, heart thumping against your chest and whole body on fire. You cannot concentrate with Yukhei’s body heat warming you head to toe and his breathing against your neck or his occasional laugh, let alone his long fingers spread across the dips of your waist and his thighs beneath your own. You blink until you refocus, quickly realizing everyone was waving and shouting goodbye. With an apprehensive and rather awkward wave, you watch in relief as Taeyong finally ends the live.

You hold your breath—what now? As soon as his grip loosens you’re up, moving a few feet away to stretch and simply breath. Lucas follows after a few seconds, raising his long arms over his head and stretching them with a yawn.

“That was fun,” he says with a smile plastered on his face. You glare at him, not entirely too sure what to say. What was there to even say? ‘Hey man, what the fuck was that?’ or were you to just act normal about it? And what were the NCTzens going to say or do, and how many questions were going to be asked? Hopefully, people wouldn't delve that far into it.

“You guys should always come over when we go live,” he says, rocking on his heels. Oh, was this what we were going to do? Act normal? “I don’t think your fans would like that very much,” you laugh awkwardly.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“I mean, or we could always use more members for NCT. Make it twenty,” he jokes and you truly laugh this time. “Yeah, no. I’m holding out until NCT Antarctica.”

“That would be exciting, you could impress everyone with your almost-there-but-not-really split,” he teases, laughing loudly again. There you go being embarrassed again, face burning red. “Shut up.”

“I’m kidding, I certainly can’t do that,” he says. “Gee, that makes me feel better,” you scoff playfully, rolling your eyes. He gasps. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Hey, I hate to say this, but are you ready to go? I’m so knocked.”

Before you can reply Mina is next to you, pressing her body weight onto your side. “Uh, yeah, I’m ready if you are,” you smile to her sympathetically. “Thank the heavens, I could sleep for a year.”

“Mina and ___ are leaving, guys!” Lucas suddenly shouts and everyone breaks into a chorus of ‘aww’s. Ignoring the painfully obvious disappointment, you and Mina say goodbye to each member, offering a hug and quick exchange of appreciative pleasantries.

“What’s your numbers? We’re adding you to a group chat,” Ten says after releasing you from a hug. “What?”

He beams at you and you stutter your number out, Mina doing the same, and watch in complete astonishment as Ten types them into his phone. “Thanks,” he grins again, bringing you into another quick hug. He and Lucas walk the two of you to the door, and when Lucas wraps his arms around your waist after hugging Mina you feel as if you’re literally flying—physically and emotionally—as he lifts your feet up off the ground.

“Bye, ___,” he mumbles after setting you back down. “’Night, Yukhei.”

“Am I still your favorite?”

“Yeah, don’t you worry.”

Forty-eight hours later when you’re in the middle of studying AP Chemistry vocabulary, you receive a text from a number not saved. When you swipe it open, it’s a group chat full of exactly twenty people, and the only name in there is Mina.

Seventy-two hours later you have plans for Saturday night.

Forty-four hours later, you are sitting on the same sofas from last week, watching NCT U practice Boss while the backup dancers give you and Mina the rundown.

You’re nervous. You’ve done this choreography before, basically have it memorized like the back road you take on the way home, but you never did it as a group. The version with just two people was significantly different; plus having to do it with NCT? You would’ve never dreamt of this in a million—trillion—years.

You spent way too much time watching the dance practice on their channel and practicing it with Mina. Both Jaehyun and Win Win were feeling ill, and although the live could have just been pushed back, Taeyong insisted the two of you came and joined in for ‘shits and giggles,’ as Mark texted.

Thankfully it was just a spur-of-the-moment thing and it wouldn't be uploaded anywhere. But it would be live, which meant absolutely zero mistakes.

Mina squeezes your hand when the two of you finally move to the boys and get in your respective positions, the live already started a few minutes ago. “You ready?” Lucas turns around from in front of you, offering a reassuring smile. You nod quickly, swallowing the lump in the back of your throat and focusing on the positives.

Hey, maybe this would help your future career. Being with NCT for the second time may shine some light on you and Mina and could possibly give you major popularity. Nothing but good could come out of this, you tell yourself.

The song starts and your mind completely goes into business mode, your brain remembering twists and turns correctly until you’re following each part spotlessly, especially Jaehyun’s solo part, no matter how awkward it is looking into the phone all to yourself.

And you can’t help but feel as if your pushing yourself harder simply because Lucas is there with you. Sure, you’re scared shitless of messing up, but knowing he might be watching most definitely gives you a push, even if you don't want to admit it.

But you mess up.

It’s minor—incredibly minuscule that no one besides you probably notices it. Your ankle twists in an awkward angle and a searing pain shoots up your Achilles tendon that has you breathless for a moment. You dance through it though, and the song ends before you even know it.

The only sound throughout the large room is the heavy breathing from everyone followed by a joyous cheer. “That was so fun, holy shit. Dancing with a group is so... so empowering,” Mina stammers with her hands on her hips, breath heavy. You simply nod in agreement, your mind too caught up in how much your foot burns. Fuck.

“Showers and pizza, yeah?” Doyoung asks, running a hand through his dampened hair. Everyone nods in silent agreement before splitting up in different directions in search of a free bathroom.

You wobble behind Mina and it doesn't take her long to realize something’s up.

“You're hurt,” she notes, watching the way you limp. “Yeah. It’s fine. I’ll be okay,” you mumble, shooting her a smile and ignoring the rise of her perfectly sculpted right eyebrow.

But it still hurts, even after your shower.

Simply trying to pull your cotton shorts up your leg is an ordeal and you’re left out of breath once you have them on. Instead of heading back to where everyone else is, you wander through the corridors for the kitchen and once you’re there, you open the freezer in search for an icepack.

“Whatcha looking for?” You practically jump out of your skin at Lucas’ sudden appearance, leaning on the counter. “An ice pack,” you grumble, shoving an ice-cream carton out of the way.

“Yo, yo, yo, no need to get aggressive with the Rocky Road, man. What do you need an icepack for?”

“Foot. Ankle. Tendon. That area,” you reply, lifting your foot and pointing to the now swollen area. “Foot-ankle-tendon, that’s new.”

“Shut up,” you laugh, lightly smacking his hand. “Sorry, sorry,” he laughs freely now, the loud, angelic sound filling the room. He scoots you out of the way and continues digging through the freezer until moments later, he comes up with a beloved icepack. You beam at him in appreciation.

“C’mon, follow me,” he says, linking his arm through yours and leading you down a different hallway. Once he opens the door and flicks the light switch on, you realize it’s his and Kun’s room and your mouth slightly falls open. “Sit.”

You do so quietly, watching from his bed as the tall boy rummages through a dresser and seconds later whips out an ace bandage. “I can do that, you know,” you laugh awkwardly, ogling at how his beautiful face scrunches up in concentration as he kneels down and begins to snugly wrap the whole area.

“You can also call me Lucas,” he retorts, pinning the bandage in place and kicking his door closed. Your heart beats faster now. “Oh my God, what’s wrong with calling you Yukhei? Unless you truly don’t like being called that,” you laugh as he plops down beside you and turns the television on. Your heart settles.

“No, I don’t mind. I’m just not used to people I’m not super close with calling me Yukhei,” he admits while flipping through channels. “Oh. I’m being honest, I’ll call you Lucas from now on if you want.”

“I’m teasing, you can call me anytime,” he looks over with a wink, but then his face falls, “wait.”

You genuinely laugh at him this time, watching as he frowns. “How did you forget the whole beginning to that pun?”

“I don’t know. Shut up,” he snickers, then tosses the remote down next to your leg with a huff. He quickly turns to you and you look expectedly at him. “Have you ever played Fortnite?”

You laugh again. “I’ve played mobile but never Xbox or PlayStation,” you admit, watching joyfully as his eyes light up. “Can I show you how to play? We can do duos. We have two TVs, Kun and I usually play together. I mean, only if you want, you don’t have to, but—”

“Yes, I’ll play!” You interrupt, your mouth truly hurting from laughing as the beautiful boy in front of you rambled on. “Really?” He beams.

“Really.”

“Oh my gosh, this is probably the best day ever. I’ve never been able to teach anyone how to play, it’s really so fun, well you said you’ve played before so you know, but still. I feel so bad for all the girlfriends in the world who don’t play and just get annoyed ‘cause they're really missing out, you know? I’m so happy you’re somewhat experienced though, that kind of makes this a little easier. But, ah! This will really be fun,” the tall boy goes on and on, and you simply listen with a smile on your face as he sets up the two screens.

“Oh, gosh, I’m sorry, I got super excited. I promise I’m not that weird,” he chuckles uncomfortably, looking at his feet while the Fortnite screen loads. “Pfft, don’t be sorry. And that wasn’t weird at all; super cute, actually,” you smile, surprising even yourself with your blunt honesty. The pink hue of his cheeks darken and your stomach leaps—you did that!

“Okay, this is just the lobby so I can show you some stuff before it actually starts,” Lucas says, sitting back on his bed and scooting to lay back against the wall. He passes you a PlayStation controller and cups your hands in his. “Okay, this is to move,” he demonstrates and you look up to your screen and back to his fingers.

He goes on and on from explaining the simple goal of the game to shooting, jumping, crouching, and so on, but in all honesty, all you can focus on is his soft hands on yours. Luckily once the game starts you sit in comfortable silence aside from random comments about finding a chest or ‘there’s a shield over here,’ until, alas, there are only twenty people left and you encounter another duo.

The two of you break into a chorus of shouts, warning each other and groaning when you mess up. Your aim isn’t horrific, but definitely not amazing, and you’re wasting ammo terribly. When you have to reload, the opponent shoots you dead and you drop your controller with an annoyed sigh. Seconds later, he dies as well.

“Sorry, that was my fault,” you grumble, wiping your now sweaty hands on your t-shirt. “Don’t worry, eighteenth place isn’t too shabby for your first duo,” he reassures you and sets his controller down.

“Are we going to play another?” You inquire and he raises a thick brow in response. “Do you want to?”

“Um, yeah!”

You play fourteen more rounds, ranging from fiftieth, seventeenth, sixth, and sometimes even fourth place. On your last round, however, Lucas dies and leaves you to battle the last duo.

With a clever jump while reloading, you’re able to quickly kill one player and when the last player hides behind a tree, you find the perfect angle and come in first place.

“Oh my God, we won! You won!” Lucas hoots, shaking you by your shoulders until you’re cheering with him. “Yes, yes, yes!” You shout, grinning ear to ear. “I’m so proud, now you can tell everyone I’m the best Fortnite tutor ever,” he brags, running his hand through his hair and you have to keep yourself from drooling.

You check your phone. 9:47 PM. You’ve been in here for two hours. “I think we’ve played enough for tonight,” he chuckles, turning one television off and switching the other to cable. Now what? Should I leave?

“Holy shit, Zootopia is on,” he suddenly gasps and you look over to see him wide-eyed. “I thought guys weren’t supposed to like stuff like this?”

“We’re not supposed to,” he shrugs, looking over at you with a wide grin, “but I can’t help myself.” You don’t reply and instead sink lower into the mattress, fixing the pillow behind your head in order to get comfier. You keep going back and forth from watching the movie and sneaking glances at Yukhei in his red sweatshirt, hood up and hiding most of his face. Regardless, you can still see strands of his soft hair falling into his eyes and the outline of his lips and begin to feel dizzy by something so incredibly simple but still so breathtaking.

Your eyes begin to grow heavy and burn from the brightness of the television compared to the darkness of the rest of his room and you force yourself to blink hard a few times to keep them from fluttering closed. Don't fall asleep now, he's so close. He was leaning his weight on you, slightly slumping on his side with his arm and thigh pressing against yours and you could feel him breathing.

You blink again, but you don’t open them right away this time just to give them a rest. A few minutes won’t hurt, right?

You quickly fall asleep to Nick Wilde telling Officer Judy Hopps that she needs to give him that pen.

Warmth.

That’s exactly what you wake up to—you can feel warm sunlight dancing on your bare arm and face as it shines shamelessly through the curtains, the white duvet tucked up to your neck engulfs you like a hug, and overall warmth surrounds you on this lovely morning.

Never getting up, you think to yourself, or maybe you even grumble it, you don’t know. You sigh softly and curl your arms and legs tighter around your body pillow, pressing your face against it and breathing in the familiar scent—

Wait.

You inhale deeply again. Sandalwood and peppermint.

Sandalwood and peppermint?

Your eyes are open in a millisecond, but you quickly squeeze them shut in fear of that what you think you saw isn't what’s actually there. You force yourself to peel an eye open again and nearly vomit at how breathtaking the view before you is.

“Yukhei,” you finally breath, barely audible, testing to see if he was up. He doesn’t budge or flinch or sigh—nothing. He stays asleep, his breath softly fanning over your chest from where he lies. The same soothing sunlight warming your skin makes his honey skin gold, and his eyelashes cast soft shadows across his cheekbones while his lips are just so pouty you aren't even thinking when your hand leaves his side to trace his Cupid’s bow.

If your phone was in reach you’d take a picture right then and there and selfishly keep it to yourself, something no one else could have because it’s your memory to keep. But you can’t seem to move. Instead, you stay still, memorizing every plane and curve of his face because you know nothing will ever be as ethereal as what you see right now.

One, five, ten minutes later, you have no idea nor do you care, you realize you should leave. This wasn't right, as much as you hated to admit it. Your heart was completely on the line here and you weren't prepared to be utterly heartbroken in the long run.

You start to shift, slowly, barely an inch at a time, further from the comforting warmth radiating off his body. You’re closer to the window now, and once you detach his remaining hand, you can easily lean up and make your escape.

You shakily reach for his long fingers spread across the small of your back and gently slide it off and lay it on his pillow.

Yukhei groans into his soft pillow and you freeze, hoping he’ll just turn away but no—both hands come back this time, reaching for your body. And once they find your waist you’re being pulled back even closer now.

He sighs against your collarbone and you start to melt. “Don't go. You’re so warm,” he breathes, turning his face so that his cheek lies flat on the center of your chest. “I think I should.”

“No, shut up,” he mumbles back, completely locking his muscular arms around your back.

You huff in defeat and rest your hands around his shoulders. He seems to already be back asleep, so you absentmindedly run your fingers through his hair you've been dying to touch and practically cry when he hums in response. So you continue to, gently scratching his scalp and untangling the ends until he's softly snoring against your collarbone once more.

Your heart genuinely aches—you can feel it in your chest, months and weeks and days and hours of adoration for the boy clinging to you swelling from inside and out and you cannot comprehend that you're even here with him. What did this mean? Friends who have only met twice and randomly texted throughout a single week did not share a bed, let alone spend the morning like this.

You sigh, mainly out of guilt but also sadness—you wanted to wake up like this every morning, stay up every day the way you had, fall asleep with him beside you every night. But would it happen? It was incredibly unlikely and you wanted to sob.

You huff again, pushing your thoughts into another corner of your brain and deciding to just relish in the moment now. You wiggle further down until finally, you’re face to face with perfection himself, his nose just barely brushing your own.

You close your eyes again, hoping maybe you’d fall back asleep and when you wake up again he wouldn’t be there anymore.

“I knew you wouldn’t leave.”

Your eyes are open in a flash, widening at his words and at the fact his own were staring at you intently. “Only because you asked. And you’re very comfy,” you admit, hoping he wouldn’t see right through you. “So I’ve been told.”

“Oh, yeah? By who?” You can't help but ask, not only were you curious but you genuinely wanted to hear his raspy morning voice again. “Oh, you know...” He trails off, and you’re not aware of his hands on your waist until they start tapping against your skin.

“Jungwoo?”

“Yeah, Jungwoo,” he breathes, nuzzling his face back into the crook of your neck and you can’t help but notice that he inhales deeply. “You alright?” You ask gingerly, placing your free hand back on his head and playing with an oddly darker strand of hair.

“Mhm,” he hums against your skin, “comfy. And you smell good.”

Your heart jumps over hurdles at his words and you’re so entirely grateful that he can't see the way your cheeks burn. You stare at the wall for the next few minutes in silence, your mind blank until he starts to breathe heavily and you can only assume he’s fallen asleep once more.

You must have fallen back asleep as well because when you open your eyes again the tall boy isn’t next to you, but sitting on the edge of the bed and prodding you awake. And by prodding, you mean attacking your sides and tickling you until your mind registers the dull pain.

“Stop, stop, stop!” You cry, leaning up and tearing his hands away. “I’m up, I’m up. Jesus,” you hiss, leaning against the wall and smoothing your hair.

He’s grinning so big you fear his face might break. “Sorry, you wouldn’t wake up so I had to do it the hard way,” he laughs.

“Did you try saying my name?”

“Yeah.”

“Poking me?”

“Yep.”

“Oh,” you sigh, “sorry. I guess I was really knocked.” He laughs. “Don’t worry about it. I would’ve let you just stay there all day but your phone was blowing up,” he explains, standing up and stretching. He’s already dressed, so when you check the time you aren't surprised to see that it’s noon.

Mina has texted you nineteen times. Some are from last night simply asking where you were, then calling you out for leaving her alone with Jeno, followed by texts from this morning calling you ‘such a thot and you know why’ and ending with something along the lines of ‘Taeyong isn’t my bias anymore;)’ and you’re laughing.

“What?” Lucas asks and you just show him, watching his expression grow until he’s laughing too. “I feel bad, I stole you from her,” he chuckles, running a hand through his hair. How were you supposed to reply to that? “That’s okay, she’s left me all by myself at parties plenty of times, this isn’t a big deal.” You notice the way his face falls but brush it off when he smiles softly and sits down beside you. “Good. How’s the foot feel?”

“Uh, better, I think. I haven’t walked it yet so I’m not sure.”

Goosebumps rise along your limbs the second he reaches for the white blanket and his knuckles brush your skin and you just pray he doesn’t notice. You watch silently as he unwraps the bandage and presses the skin around your ankle. “Well, it’s not nearly as swollen so that should be a good sign, right?”

“I suppose so,” you laugh, twisting your ankle in his gentle hold. Luckily there’s no major pain so you shimmy off the bed (as much as you don’t want to) and stand up, testing your weight as he watches on. “I think it’ll be okay.”

“Phew, thank Jesus,” he smiles, getting up as well and swinging the door open. “There’s still some leftovers from breakfast if you want some,” Lucas says as you walk down the corridor to the kitchen. Jisung and Haechan pass you on the way and when they wiggle their eyebrows, all you do is smile and look down at your feet.

“Breakfast sounds amazing.”

When you enter the kitchen only Mina and Jeno are in there, sitting on high top chairs at the counter. Mina sees you first and her eyes light up. “___! Look who decided to wake up!”

“Sorry,” you laugh, “I was super tired I suppose.”

“Mhm, I wonder why,” Jeno smirks and your mouth falls open. “NO!” You and Lucas shout at the same time and Mina and Jeno break into a fit of giggles. “We played Fortnite all night. And watched Zootopia,” you grumble, smiling appreciatively when Lucas passes you a plate.

“Is Fortnite a new code for f—”

Lucas glares at Jeno angrily and he quickly shuts up, turning to Mina with a grin. “When did that happen?” You scoff, pointing between them. If they were going to play like that, so would you.

“Well, when you two disappeared she was all alone so we hung out and even practiced Go,” Jeno retorts back. You roll your eyes in defeat and hold your plate out as Lucas spoons what’s left of scrambled eggs and toast on your plate. “Thank you,” you beam at him.

You eat in relative silence except for the occasional snicker when Lucas leans over to show you a meme on his phone. After helping to clean up, you and Mina finally deem that it’s time to leave and say goodbye to whoever is out and about in the dorms.

You find yourself wrapped in Lucas’ muscular arms once again and you can't help but feel at home in his warm embrace. Discreetly as possible, you scrunch his sweatshirt in your palms and breath in his alluring scent, praying, hoping that this won't be the last time you’ll ever be so close. “Text me, okay?” He mumbles in your hair.

“Yeah, sounds good,” you smile, finally pulling away from his hold.

And so you do. You’re lying in bed, fresh out of the shower on Tuesday night with all homework complete and Mina on FaceTime.

“Jesus Christ ___, just send it. You slept in the same bed for crying out loud,” she hisses and your face flushes at the recent memory. “Okay, okay. I’m sending it.”

9:53 PM - To Lucas: hey yukhei!!

“Oh gosh, I sent it,” you gasp, tossing your phone onto the floor and smacking your face. Mina looks at you with a raised eyebrow from the screen of your laptop. “I have to tell you something.”

Now, this makes you look up, completely forgetting about the text. “I hate that sentence,” you say, but luckily she doesn't seem too fazed. “No, it’s not bad. Well, kind of. I don’t know,” she sighs, worrying you, “remember when I texted you saying Taeyong isn’t my bias anymore?”

“I’m guessing you weren't just joking around?” You ask slowly.

“I wish. Well, when me and Jeno were hanging out all night I hadn't really realized until he was talking all philosophical to me just how cute he was. And once I did, I noticed how hardcore he was flirting,” she rambles, never looking directly at the camera, “so while you were sleeping in the same bed as Lucas I was, you know, flirting back, and we uh—we kissed. And then he apologized for rushing and I said that I was sorry too and, well, now we’re going on a date tomorrow!”

Your mouth falls open. Mina and Jeno? “I—wow. I don't know what to say,” you laugh, “that’s amazing!”

“You think so?” She’s beaming like a little girl on Christmas morning now. “Yes! While Taeyong is a god, he’s way too old for you while Jeno is our age. Plus, he’s a sweetie so I support.”

“Oh, gosh. He’s such an angel. He’s so adorable and so funny but if he thinks a joke is rude he always apologizes and God, he’s so sweet,” she goes on and you can't help but smile for her. Your phone dings from the floor and Mina stops to smirk at you. “That might be him!”

You squeal, leaning off your bed and picking up your phone.

9:57 PM - To You: Hello ___ !!!

“Oh my God, he replied,” you squeak excitedly, bouncing excitedly. “Yes!” Mina shouts and you can’t help but laugh. “Ask him how he is.”

9:58 PM - To Lucas: how are youuuu

“So yeah, I guess we’re going to have to double date now,” she giggles and if she was next to you, you would have smacked her. “I don’t want to mess this up, you know? It’s still so unreal to me,” you sigh.

“I mean, you’re already pretty good friends with him and you had a major snuggle session, plus I think you’re both whipped and should just marry now,” Mina says and you laugh at her honesty. “Ah, yes. Marriage is always the answer.

10:01 PM - To You: Im doing better now, how are u?:))

You can’t help but squeal again. “Anyway, I’m going to go. I still have to do these god-forsaken note cards,” she sighs, waving her blank cards dramatically, “have fun talking to your boyfriend. Text me if anything juicy happens.”

“Okay, I will. Goodnight sweaty, love you.”

“Love you too shithead,” she giggles before hanging up and you close your laptop to finally head to bed. Or, lie in bed while on your phone.

10:03 PM - To Lucas: im swell. school SUX tho

10:03 PM - To You: Aww I’m sorry, is something wrong?

10:04 PM - To Lucas: no, i just want to be out of there and live my life u kno?

10:04 PM- To You: Yeah, I understand:(

10:04 PM - To You: I have a question

10:05 PM - To Lucas: sure

10:05 PM - To You: Is my bed comfier than urs

The butterflies in your stomach are becoming painful now, stirring such emotions within you that you feel as if you might just explode. You’re grinning like an idiot, too, typing back quickly just so the conversation doesn’t die.

10:06 PM - To Lucas: it depends. theres a few factors that could change my answer

10:06 PM - To You: Such as?

10:06 PM - To Lucas: whether you would be there or not

You have to bite your lip to hold back another squeal of excitement. Where did this confidence come from and how did you just say that? You can’t believe you actually texted it and hope it’s as smooth as it sounded in your head. You could only pray he would flirt back.

10:07 PM - To You: Idk how to reply back smoothly but I hope u know Im smiling like a dork rn and Kun is making fun of me

10:07 PM - To You: How do you do that???

10:08 PM - To Lucas: <33

10:08 PM - To Lucas: do what?

10:09 PM - To You: Everything you say or do makes me smile. And idk why like even when u told me to shut up I couldn't stop grinning. Or when you pretend to be disinterested and lie so I can't see how u actually feel. It makes me smile and I feel weird when Im around u

You can't breathe at his text. Your head is spinning and you have to read it three times to actually comprehend that Wong Yukhei sent that to you.

10:10 PM - To Lucas: i could say the same ab you. you make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside

10:10 PM - To Lucas: gosh, was that too much? sorry

10:11 PM - To Lucas: sorry for always being a mess around u. u still make me nervous

10:11 PM - To You: Yeah. Me too

10:11 PM - To Lucas: really?? u hide it really well

10:12 PM - To You: Yeah man. U make me really anxious. In a good way. I know you won't but I always get scared you'll think im a weirdo

10:12 PM - To Lucas: i could never

10:13 PM - To You: I don't know how to end this conversation now Im too happy but Im super tired and I have practice tmrw

10:13 PM - To Lucas: hm. well. how bout one of us says goodnight and then the other says it back ?

10:14 PM - To You: Clever

10:14 PM - To You: Goodnight ___💗💗

10:14 PM - To Lucas: gnight lucas❤️

You don't fall asleep for another half an hour, your mind buzzing with excitement and affection for the boy who still is your lock screen.

Saturday evening Ten calls you. “___!” He shouts, nearly deafening you.

“Hello!” You shout back.

“I know it’s last minute but I have an invitation for you and Mina,” he’s still talking excessively loud but you find yourself not minding but just grinning at his clear excitement. “Ooh, an invitation for what?”

“If I’m being honest, an invitation for a terrible hangover and quite possibly things you’ll regret. But no, seriously, a friend of Johnny’s friend is having a big ol’ party in his disgustingly large frat house for the end of the semester and it’s open invite. So,” Ten explains, “some of us are going and thought, ‘Hey! Let’s invite our bestest pals Mina and ___!’”

A frat house? A party in a frat house? This would be a precursor to every party ahead of you if you do in fact go to college.

“We’ll be there.”

You should have mentally prepared yourself for this kind of party. You aren’t a very big high school party-goer to begin with, so when you entered the large house with Mina at your side you couldn't get over the sheer magnitude of it all.

Everything was extra—from the extravagant chandeliers and metal railing along the marble stairs to the large rooms seemingly bigger than your own home, to the swarm of sweaty students bouncing to the incredibly loud music, and even to the amount of liquor on counters and tables and the intense smell of hormones.

It was quite suffocating at first and you found yourself clinging to Mina, the extrovert between the two of you, and followed her around like a puppy. Eventually, you warm up after two drinks she passes to you, starting to feel more relaxed in Mina’s navy bodycon dress she forced upon you.

“I think I see Jaehyun!” She shouts in your ear even though you can hear completely fine. You watch against the counter as she jumps up and down like an idiot, waving her arm to catch his attention.

You’re even more surprised when it works. You can tell the gears are short-circuiting in his brain until recognition finally lights up his features and he smiles brightly. He turns for a moment, but then looks back and waves you over.

“Oh, sweet Jesus,” you sigh, downing your fourth shot in a weak attempt to wash all your insecurities away. You slowly follow behind Mina, hopping along to take your heels off so you don't end up embarrassing yourself.

“I didn’t know you guys were here yet!” Is the first thing you hear and it’s Yuta, standing up and grinning beautifully before enveloping you in a hug.

“Surprise?” You draw out once he pulls away.

“C’mon, everyone’s downstairs,” he continues, intertwining his fingers with yours and leading you through the crowd. “Who’s everyone?” You ask on your descent down the steps. “Ugh, well. Me, of course. Taeil, Johnny, Tae, uh...” he trails off, “everyone but Dream members.”

You want to ask if Lucas was there, of course, but you also don’t want to seem clingy and instead kept your mouth shut. After all, you had been texting quite a lot and he never mentioned if he was going tonight. Poor Mina, you think, Jeno won’t be here and their date went well.

“God, he’s already staring and we just got down here,” Yuta mutters, and it takes you way too long to process what he means. “Who?”

“Yukhei. He hasn't stopped talking about you since last week, and now you’re here when he’s been drinking? You’re in for a ride,” Yuta explains as you near the group, but you already feel the anxiety blooming inside your gut. “What does that mean? What do I do?” You hiss, walking slower now.

“I dunno. That’s something you gotta figure out,” he says with a shrug, tapping your forehead with his free hand. You swallow the lump in your throat and just nod, your head suddenly throbbing and you’re not sure if it’s from the soju or what Yuta just told you. Or the fact that Yukhei looks like a whole meal and he’s staring at you just the same way.

Your stomach flips as he scans you head to toe and back again, from your bare legs, up to where the navy lace stops at the expanse of your thighs, to the way the dark material hugs deliciously at your waist and dips sinfully to reveal cleavage that could give a nun a heart attack.

And you can't take your eyes off him. Why did he always have to look so... so good? He could wear a trash bag and still look like a model.

He’s in regular denim skinny jeans that, although he’s sitting, show off his thick thighs and leave absolutely nothing to the imagination. The white, long sleeve tee he’s wearing has a low collar and you can see his collarbones and the way his Adam’s apple bobs. His fluffy hair is messily parted down the middle to show off his forehead and his eyes are so dark you feel as if you suddenly can't breathe oxygen and can only survive off him.

You don’t know how long you’re staring at him until Mina accidentally bumps into you on her way to sit down on the carpet, shaking you from your thoughts. “You good?” You ask each other at the same time. She laughs obnoxiously, the alcohol in her system already in effect.

“I’m good, but are you good?” She asks knowingly, twitching her head in the direction you were just entranced by. “Yeah, just peachy.”

You don't know if you really are good, but what you do know is that that was the hottest checking out experience you had ever shared and can't shake the feeling of excitement setting fire to your nerves.

“C’mon, sit. I’ll get you a drink?” Yuta speaks up again, finally letting go of your hand and moving it to your back to walk you over to an open spot on the couch. “Um, yeah. Sure,” you smile, trying to brush away the feeling that Lucas is still staring, “thank you.”

He only beams back in return before he’s off, and you’re left sitting between Taeil and Kun. “How’s the party so far?” Taeil shouts from beside you and you’re fairly surprised that he initiates small talk, considering you haven’t spoken with him much. “I don’t know, to be honest,” you answer, realizing your throat is going to be dead by the end of the night with how you have to shout, “I’ve only been here like, fifteen minutes. And I’ve never been to a place so big!”

“Really?” He asks, clearly surprised.

“Yeah, not really a party person. High school parties are always in smelly basements and all there is is cringey rounds of truth or dare, spin the bottle, or seven minutes of heaven.”

“Still happens in grown-up parties, sorry to tell you,” he laughs, pausing to take a sip of whatever’s in his cup, “it’s okay though, it’s always fun no matter what we do.”

“I can tell. Except I feel like I’m going to go deaf,” you exaggerate, spinning to look at the monstrous speaker on the wall. “At least they play good music,” Taeil replies and you shrug, “I guess. It’s probably better when your dancing, though,” you say, turning back to him.

Yuta returns moments after that, holding out a cup and you take it and smile appreciatively. When you take a sip, you practically choke on how strong it is but swallow it anyway with a grimace. Once the burn goes away you take another sip and deem it’s not as bad as you initially thought.

“Jesus, slow down before you give him a heart attack,” Kun hisses in your ear, and you glance at him with widened eyes. “Who? And what about me? What if I have a heart attack?” You joke.

“I swear you’re clueless, but I’m hoping that it’s just alcohol shutting down your brain,” he sighs in defeat, “Lucas, of course. He looks away for one second and then when he turns back you’re doing something that surprises him.”

You roll your eyes. “What, am I not allowed to drink?”

“Well, you are underage. But no, seriously. I can tell he thinks it’s hot. Plus, I can practically smell his jealousness from here,” Kun replies, side glancing for barely a second before looking back at you. “You should have seen him when you walked down holding Yuta’s hand.”

You swallow, suddenly feeling guilty.

“Don’t worry about it, he’s not one to stay pissed. He’s obsessed with you already,” Kun smiles, but hides it by taking a sip from his cup, “but hey, next time you sleepover, warn me? Please? I walked into our bedroom the other night and nearly shit myself when I saw you wrapped around him.”

“Sorry, I probably would’ve shit myself too,” you giggle and when something moves out of the corner of your eye, you frown to see Lucas walking away. “He’s getting away,” Kun sings and you look back to him in a panic. “If I follow him I don’t know what could happen,” you sigh honestly.

Of course, you want to go after him just to talk to him privately, but Lord knows what could happen when you have liquor in your system.

“Bullshit! Don’t let that stop you,” Kun smiles, slipping his hands to your back and shoving you to your feet. You sigh, finally standing up and chugging the rest of your drink. “Do I look alright?”

“You look stunning, stop worrying. He went upstairs, probably to piss. Go get ‘em, tiger,” he replies, and you smile and lean back down to squeeze him in a hug. “Thank you,” you whisper, and then you’re off.

You don’t know if it’s the sudden buzz in your brain or not, but going up two flights of stairs leaves you way too winded and dizzy then it normally does. You lean against the wall to catch some air while scanning over the crowd from a higher view. C’mon, where are you?

“___?”

You practically jump out of your skin when he says your name and slides his hands around your waist, tugging you around to face him. “Ha. Hi Yukhei. I was just looking for you,” you gulp, suddenly losing brain cells with him being so close again.

“You were?”

“Yeah, I thought we could, um, catch up. Or something,” you chuckle awkwardly, mentally slapping yourself for being so nervous again.

“Actually, I have something to tell you,” he suddenly says, standing taller and you feel so small when he does that. “You do?” You squeak, afraid it would be something terribly disappointing or terribly heartwarming.

“Yeah, c’mon,” he says, reaching for your hand and guiding you to an open door. Luckily it’s not a spare bedroom but just the bathroom and you can’t help but sigh in relief once he’s locked the door and flicked the light switch up.

“So, we recently had a meeting with our managers and stuff,” he starts, and you can’t help the quiet ‘oh’ that slips from your lips. That was not what you thought he would be talking about.

“What?” He stops, a look of worry crossing his face.

“Oh, oh. It’s nothing. I was just, ugh,” you pause, racking your brain to say the right thing, “expecting you to say something else.”

“I’ll get there in a bit, don’t worry,” he smiles softly, bumping into you until you’re pressed against the sink and straining to look directly up at him now, “just listen to this first, yeah?”

You nod quickly, your throat completely dry and brain on fire with his body so flush against your own. “Anyway, we were talking about backup dancers, for the most part. And it occurred to me that we don’t have any female backup dancers. So I asked why and they kind of just... ‘I don’t know’ed it, you know?” He explains, and you genuinely have zero clue where this is going. You nod anyway.

“So Taeyong asked what they thought about hiring some female backup dancers. Like, long-term jobs, not just a one-song-and-done. And they kind of did a little manager huddle and said why not and to let them know of anyone we know so they can do auditions and stuff,” he goes on, and by now you can’t think straight. He hasn’t said it yet, but what if?

“We all thought the same thing, but I said it first and, so, I told them about these two girls I know and how talented they are and how, well, sweet and smart and genuinely amazing they are. And pretty, but that’s beside the point. So I showed them some videos and stuff. Anyway, that’s not important,” he pauses to lick his plump lips, looking at you directly now, “and so they said that if you and Mina came in and auditioned it would be a delight to have you on the team. If you want, of course.”

You don’t know what to say, do, or think. You’re hyper-aware of his large hands cupping your face, index fingers rubbing soft circles beneath your ears but also still have the weight of what he just said sinking into your brain. You don’t know whether it’s the alcohol or simply shock but no words come out, your lips staying parted in complete and utter surprise at such a bombshell.

“I don't—I can’t,” you stammer, shaking hands gripping his shirt to steady yourself, “thank you. Fuck. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Holy shit. Oh my God. I don’t know what to say, holy fucking shit.”

You’re breathless, slumped against the granite and nearly pulling the lanky boy down with you. “I have more to say,” he says, quieter this time. You gulp, eyes searching his face. Still, you can’t comprehend anything besides you and Mina may have just fallen into one of the best opportunities of your life.

“Okay,” he sighs softly, his large hands still cradling your face. “My first thought last weekend when I woke up with you beside me was ‘Fuck, what did I just get myself into?’ but when you said something about never getting up and whispered my name in that scared little voice I nearly lost it,” he goes on, eventually looking away from your face and fiddling with the lace material on the neckline of your dress. He suddenly looked incredibly innocent and you wanted nothing more than to hold him once more.

“And then you didn’t leave, even though I know you wanted to. But it suddenly felt so right, you know? Like everything that had happened that night ended with such a perfect morning,” he sighs, glancing up for a second to check how you were taking it all so far. When you offer him a warm smile, heart beating wildly against your chest, he returns it with pink blush adorning his cheeks.

“I thought you felt it too, but then later when I woke you up you had said it wasn’t a big deal, and I was so sad because I thought it was. I mean, how often do you play fifteen rounds of Fortnite, share the same bed, and wake up cuddling with someone you don’t have feelings for? And then I got even more confused when you texted me during the week, and fuck, everything you said had me smiling at my phone and Kun was making fun of me,” Lucas goes on, never stopping to breath until now.

“So, my question is, what are you thinking? Because I know I was your bias, or whatever the heck you guys call it before we met, and you still act nervous around me. And those texts and even this is not something just friends do. And you look so damn kissable right now, and while I want nothing more than to kiss you, I won’t in case that’s not what you want,” he finishes, his voice noticeably lowering as he tentatively leaned closer, his face and nose and lips only mere centimeters away.

You swallow once more, finally letting the reality of his words hit you. You swipe your tongue over your lips once, just in case, and he glances down just in time to catch it.

And that’s it.

He quickly surges forward, and the cord holding you together suddenly snaps when his lips are finally on yours. It’s like a breath of fresh air on the first day of spring, filling you to the brim with new life and you can't get enough. You both are doing nothing but everything at the same time, hands not knowing where to go but stinging skin in their wake. His lips make it impeccably wet and messy, teeth and tongue, but you don’t care, and your hands finally find the collar of his shirt and yank him to come closer, allowing his tongue to finally swirl with yours and you feel as if you’re drowning in him and the way he tastes and feels. It’s like sunlight in the morning, washing over your skin until it’s warmed all the way to your very being.

After what feels like an eternity you pull away, your head swimming with the fact he just kissed you. He leans back, breathless but seemingly more alert now, blunt fingernails digging into your bare thighs. His eyes scan your face again, searching for any trace of regret and when he finds none he comes back for more, kissing you softer this time. It’s so raw that it hurts, adoration and admiration flowing from the depths of your heart and you can’t fight it anymore.

You’re practically limp against him when his warm lips move from your lips to your jaw, down the column of your throat and to your bare chest. “God,” he breathes, moving back up to suck the delicate skin on the side of your neck between his teeth before going back with his tongue to sooth the pleasant pain, “I didn’t know if I’d be able to wait any longer to kiss you.”

Your head lolls to side as he continues his ministrations against your throat, completely lost in his touch. Your grip on his shirt finally slackens and you finally find the confidence to slide your hands under the fabric, leaning into him so you can further trace the expanse of his torso.

“Stop,” he suddenly hisses, pulling away to grab your wrist, “you’re going to give me a terrible boner and I’m not fucking you in this dingy house.”

His words made your stomach squirm even at the possibility and he clearly notices, lips quickly finding yours and hands holding your waist once more. You’re almost too busy trying to slip your tongue within the confines of his mouth to notice his right hand slowly descend until it’s resting between your thighs, pushing them apart and you gasp into his mouth.

You feel his mouth quirk into a sly smirk and can’t help but smile too, that is until his fingers slip past the hem of your dress and brush against the cotton of your underwear.

He breaks away and laughs at you when you whimper at the loss of contact. “Don’t frown,” he mumbles, keeping eye contact even as his fingers drag agonizingly slow along your clothed folds and it’s the most sensual thing you might ever experience.

A loud knock on the door quickly interrupts your faintest of moans and you suddenly feel incredibly exposed. “I swear to God, if you two don’t get out of there soon, we’re leaving without you. We’re going home, they ran out of Malibu and that’s apparently the only thing Jaehyun likes!”

You swallow, looking away from the door and back to the panting boy leaning on you, irises blown out and lips pink and plump.

“Do you want to have another sleepover?” He asks quietly and you can’t fight the smile that tugs at your lips.

"Oh my God,” you wake up with a low groan escaping your lips, a headache throbbing painfully in the refines of your skull as soon as you gain consciousness. Is this what a hangover felt like? You sigh, squeezing your eyes to shut out the sunlight. You turn away from that direction only to not-so-gracefully bump into something.

By the entanglement of limbs and bare skin pressed flush against yours, you can only assume something is actually someone and everything from last night crashes back, your headache increasing tenfold. Your eyes are open in a flash, not because you're scared or regretful, but just to make sure you were correct. And safe, not in some stranger’s bed.

Just like last week, Wong Yukhei is beside you, cheeks flushed pink against his warm honey skin and lips pouty as always. Except, this time, he’s awake, lying on his side and staring at you with wide eyes full of something you could only pinpoint as adoration.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” he replies, and not until now do you notice his hand on your very, very bare hip. “Do you want something for your headache?” He asks, voice low before leaning inches closer and pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. “Yeah, but I can wait—”

You don’t get to finish because he’s already rolling out of bed, taking most of the sheets off of you and you’re left completely naked, forcing you to grasp for the white duvet crumpled at your feet to cover your body.

Except, not that it matters, because he’s incredibly naked too, and you’re amazed at how tall he is when he’s like this, no matter the circumstances. You quickly look away in fear he’d catch you staring, a blush working its way up your cheeks as you suddenly become aware of the pleasantly dull ache throbbing in your abdomen.

He’s back at your side moments later, this time with pineapple print boxers on, holding out a half-full water bottle and two Advil’s. “Thanks,” you sigh, swallowing them quickly.

“This wasn’t just a one and done thing, right?” He asks suddenly, and you look up at him where he’s leaned against his dresser, fingers tapping the edge. You could quite literally cut the tension between the two of you and suddenly want nothing more than going back to sleeping in his arms.

“No! No, I hope not. I mean, unless you want it to, in that case, I’ll go n—”

“No, please don’t go! I just wanted to make sure, in case... in case I completely misread this whole situation,” he sighs in relief, finally moving away from his dresser and rolling back into bed beside you. “Did you mean everything you said last night?” You say quietly once he’s settled and pulled you back against him.

“Of course.”

“Okay,” you let out a sigh of relief, reaching up to play with a strand of his caramel hair. “I’m sorry, too. For when I said this wasn’t a big deal. I didn’t realize that you—you felt something. For me. Which is dumb, because it was kind of obvious. But it’s kind of scary assuming things when it comes to someone who didn't know who you were when you’ve been in love with them for months,” you talk absentmindedly now, not realizing the words are spilling out of your mouth until they’re already out. After all, you were a NCTzen before any of this and there was no way to avoid that when it came to your love for not only him, but the rest of the group.

“I knew who you were,” he laughs above you and you glance up in confusion, quirking an eyebrow. “One of your videos came up on my recommended one day and I was kind of obsessed with you guys since,” he admits and it’s by far the cutest thing you have ever seen.

“No way.”

“I swear on my life,” he grins brightly, wrapping his muscular arms around your back and pulling you up beside him so you were face-to-face. It’s quiet again, and you find yourself once again tracing the outline of his face; his defined eyebrows, big doe eyes, his cheekbones, his chin, his lips—everything.

“What now?”

“Well, we probably should have gone on a few dates first and fallen in love, even though I’m already full of adoration for you already, and then I would’ve asked you to be my girlfriend and then we would’ve had mind-blowing sex. But we kind of went backward and already had the mind-blowing sex, so how about grabbing lunch as our first date? I mean, even though you’re a younger girl.”

You’re grinning like an idiot now and can’t help but kiss him. It’s soft and gentle and sweet and makes everything inside of you warm and fuzzy only because it’s him.

“Okay, I like the sound of that,” you whisper against him, kissing his cheeks, his nose, his forehead and finally his velvety lips again, “only because I’m full of adoration for you too.”

After all, Wong Yukhei was the warmth you so desperately craved for and needed in your life.

[meimikana]

A Beginner’s Guide to Caring for Your Luminary: Chapter 3: AO3 Previous Chapters: Ch1: AO3 | Tumblr | Ch2: AO3 | Tumblr Fandom: Dragon Quest XI Pairing: Erik/Eleven (eventually) Rating: Teen Summary: Follow along as Erik meets, gets to know, and slowly learns how to properly care for his Luminary.

Notes: Hello, and welcome to another exciting episode of "Wow, that sure took awhile to update. What gives?" Alas, this chapter was meant to be finished about two weeks ago, and then the flu happened. Spent about a week being absolutely miserable, and then when I felt marginally human again, I discovered that the flu had put a dent in my shoulder recovery. Spent another couple of days absolutely hating everything ever, but here we are finally, back with the dumb boys being cute. o7

P.S. The chapter is under the cut for people who don’t wanna go to AO3 for whatever reason. Cheers~

Ch3: Take Him to New Places

They spent the last few hours until dawn back at the little church in the foothills. The pews served as beds well enough. They hadn't dared to wake up the old nun, or rather, Erik hadn't. He just wasn't in the mood to get chewed out by a little old lady over some imagined, or not so imagined, slight. He wasn't leading Eleven down some dark path of illicit activity, or whatever sin she'd dreamed up for them. It wasn't at all his fault that Heliodor's upper crust were completely nuts and apparently wholeheartedly believed in some garbage about the Luminary actually being the Darkspawn or whatever. It was ridiculous. Erik had only known Eleven for about a day and he could already wax on at length at how absurd the entire mess was. Darkspawn. Really.

Surprisingly enough, the old nun didn't rise before they did. A small blessing. Erik gave his silent thanks for a myriad of reasons and then they were off. That's when things got… interesting. Yes, interesting was a good enough way to put it.

Making their way into the Manglegrove had ended up being something of an adventure in and of itself. From the foothills below Heliodor there really was only the one pass to get through, but boy did that turn out to be a difficult task, more so than Erik had initially assumed. It was the season, apparently. The season where there were baby animals all over the place, and in this particular case: sabrecat cubs. Or sabrecubs, if you would. There'd been a veritable pack of them all over the pass leading down to the Manglegrove. Or was pride the proper term to use here? Pride, pack, eh? Whatever worked. The end result was lots of cute, excessively annoying kittens underfoot where no one in their right mind would want them. Sabrecubs were vicious, playful little beasts, but they only came up to the ankle. They weren't the real problem. Their parents were the actual problem. Because where there were babies, their much larger, murderous parents wouldn't be far behind. Erik's plan had been to keep to the trees and skirt around that disaster in the making. And it had worked for the most part, up until Erik had tripped over one of those stupid stump monsters. Not his finest moment. Thankfully, they'd managed to dispatch the irate branchling without attracting further attention, but Erik got the feeling that Eleven had been quietly laughing at him the entire time. Not that Erik could really blame him if he had, it had been a rather comical situation.

Either way, they finally strode into the Manglegrove proper around midday, sharing a simple lunch between them of some bread Erik had swiped on the way out of Heliodor and some of those berries Eleven always seemed to know how to find. A stream not too far in provided some fresh water to wash it down with. Eleven also took the time to top off a small canteen he kept in that bag of his.

The Manglegrove was quiet… and wet. It was also incredibly overgrown, but that was to be expected with a name that incorporated "mangle" in it. The shadows cast by all the trees and vines were so deep and dark in places that it might as well have been nighttime. Great place for predators looking for a snack, not such a great place for tourists on their way through. Every now and then, a hulking stone structure would peek out between the overwhelming greenery, as if to remind anyone who came through that this place used to be something else. What that might have been, Erik wasn't entirely sure. His forays into local history had mostly been for useful stuff: good places to hide and valuables to liberate. The rise and fall of prior civilizations hadn't really mattered all that much at the time. Didn't really matter all that much at the moment now either, it was just something of note, he supposed.

What mattered was getting through the Manglegrove in one piece, more or less. A goal which was somewhat hampered by the fact that everything was wet. Erik couldn't recall it having rained the night before. Sure, it had been damp when they'd left the church that morning, but that had been from the morning dew. There hadn't been any sign of rain. The Manglegrove on the other hand was just super saturated all over. What the heck? There hadn't been a cloud in the sky when they'd finally escaped the kitten disaster. Sure, he couldn't really see the sky all that well thanks to the over surplus of trees that put the grove in the mangle, but from what little he could spy, it looked clear enough. Maybe it had some weird self-contained weather system? It wouldn't be the strangest thing he'd come across, that's for sure. He could do without the ground squelching under their feet though. Once they were out of this yuck, Erik might need to beg that bottle of water off of Eleven just to clean his shoes. Ugh.

A little further in, the path opened up abruptly on a sheer drop down into a deep gorge. Huh. Erik had known it was rocky in this area, but he hadn't quite expected this. To be honest, he wasn't all that familiar with the Manglegrove for obvious reasons. That whole "mangle" thing kind of discouraged folks from ever wanting to come here, thus very little information ever got passed around about it. But be that as it may, this might actually prove to be a problem. Humming to himself, Erik walked up to the edge of the cliff, crouched down, and surveyed the area below. There were some nasty looking plants down there, but they weren't what really drew the eye. No, it was the cyclops patrolling alongside the water down below that was the real kicker. No thank you. "We are not going down there," Erik stated plainly as he glanced up at his companion.

Eleven vehemently shook his head in agreement. Excellent, that was another thing Erik wasn't going to have to worry about then. Eleven was young, sure, but he was also the Luminary too. A heady combination if anyone took the time to actually think about it. That made Eleven a young hero. Erik had heard enough stories about heroes to know that young heroes were the absolute worst about anything that might be perceived as a "challenge". Good to know that Eleven wasn't the type. Though Erik supposed he should already have figured that out, since Eleven had been smart enough to run from that stupid dragon. Still, it never hurt to have a little extra confirmation for well developed common sense.

Unfortunately, Eleven being sensible didn't help them get across this little roadblock, but that bridge Erik spied a ways off to their left probably would. Most folks didn't come this way, but apparently someone did. And- Erik stood and turned towards Eleven, about to point out his find when something else grabbed his attention. What the heck? He blinked several times, hoping that the phantasm situated a few feet behind Eleven would right itself. But no, reality remained the same and the mirage continued to stand there, merrily chewing on the greenery. What was a domesticated cow doing in the middle of the Manglegrove?

And that's when everything went sideways. The cow, because it was most certainly a cow, raised its head, looked right at them, and spoke. "Good moofternoon!" It even sounded cheery. How?

Erik couldn't really properly describe the next few minutes. At most, he could say he probably had an out of body experience. Either way, his brain took a more clinical approach to current events than it ever had before and swiftly catalogued the facts that the cow sounded like a girl, was probably a dairy cow by the look of her, and that her greeting was a terrible play on cows and hellos. In conclusion, the next few moments of his life were likely to be full of terrible cow puns. And why was Eleven just waving at the talking cow? Was this normal for him? Did they have talking cows in Cobblestone? Inquiring minds didn't actually want to know, but it was better to think about that than the fact that there was a talking cow. Right here. In front of them. Why was there a talking cow?

"Would you like to hear the latest forecast?" What?

"You know the weather?" Erik asked dumbly.

"Well, of course I do. I'm a mooterologist. It's my job." The cow sounded very proud of herself. How did a cow manage to sound proud of themselves? And mooterologist? That just sounded- No, actually no, Erik just wasn't even going to think about it. This encounter was surreal enough as is.

Erik glanced over at Eleven, took note of the polite smile Eleven was directing at the "mooterologist", then turned his attention back towards the cow. "Sure, lay it on us." What did they have to lose at this point? Their collective sanity had probably already taken a leave of absence.

"Moooo. Let's see what we have here." The cow tossed her head and stomped her front hooves in what appeared to be excitement. "Around midnight we should have an udderly delightful rain shower, but it looks like the skies should start to clear at dawn! It'll be perfect weather for adventuring, so grab the bull by the horns and get out there! Moooo!"

Erik just blinked. He had a sneaking suspicion that Eleven was doing the same. "Those puns…" he started, but had no idea of how to finish. What did a person say to a talking cow who threw out cow puns?

Was… Was it his imagination or was the cow blushing? How in the world did a cow actually manage to blush in a visible manner? Weren't they covered in hair, fur, or whatever? "I know. I know," the cow spoke in obvious embarrassment, "My sincerest apologies! I'm afraid I'm still a little awkward with my delivery. It's my first day on the job, you see. But don't you worry, I'm certain that with a little practice I'll be delivering the weather report as well as any veteran mooterologist!"

"Oh! It's your first day? Well, congratulations," Eleven finally spoke up, saving Erik from having to try and parse the cow's statement. "You're doing a fine job. Keep up the good work." He even sounded believable. Erik was almost envious. In fact, he would be envious if he could just get past the whole talking cow concept. Alas, he brain was still stuck on that.

The cow thanked them profusely and wished them well as Eleven bid her goodbye, tugged Erik around, and pushed him towards that bridge he'd spied earlier. Ah, so Eleven had seen it too. Good. That was good. Why was there a talking cow? "Is that normal?" Erik asked once he figured they were out of earshot of the cow.

"Is what normal?" Eleven asked placidly.

"Talking cows."

"Never seen one before in my life," Eleven answered easily enough.

"You don't say," Erik muttered as they drew abreast of the bridge. It looked sturdy enough, but there were no railings of any kind, not even a rope on either side. Did no one around here have any respect for safety? "So that was a first for you too?"

"Mhmm."

"You were awfully calm, all things considered," Erik pointed out absently as he tested the first plank on the bridge. Hmm, it felt solid enough. They should be fine to cross.

"I was just following your lead."

Erik stopped halfway across the bridge, turned around, and grabbed Eleven by the shoulders. "I wasn't calm at all."

Eleven smiled sheepishly and ducked his head. "Neither was I."

Erik nodded gravely, then pointed in the direction of the talking cow. "That did happen though, right?"

"Yes," Eleven said earnestly. "We both just met a talking cow who told us the weather."

Erik nodded again before turning back around and continuing their trek across the bridge. "The Manglegrove sure is a strange place," he offered once they were back on solid ground. Eleven laughed at that, and Erik couldn't help but grin back at him in return. This was already turning out to be the weirdest journey, but so long as they could laugh at it, Erik figured they'd be okay.

The far side of the bridge was, for all intent and purpose, a cliff island. There was a very comfy looking campsite nestled on one side with a nice view, and Erik was loathe to not use it. Unfortunately, they still had more than enough light left in the day to get out of this crazy place if they kept their current pace up. A well made wooden cabin accompanied the campsite. No owner in sight though, but Erik supposed that was just as well. While he highly doubted that news of the "terrifying Darkspawn" had reached this hole in the wall, it was best to not take any chances when at all possible. A covered well was situated on the far side of the cabin… along with a wrecked bridge. Erik should have known. Asides from the sabrecub and stump monster fiasco, things had been going far too well for something to not go horribly wrong. There would be no getting across the wreckage either, too much of it looked to be burnt to the point of ash. Erik might be light on his feet, but that much structural damage would have even him going splat down into the marsh below.

"We're still not going down there," Erik stated flatly as he looked over at Eleven.

Eleven just shrugged in acknowledgment. They both spent several minutes staring despondently at the trashed bridge, then Eleven glanced back the way they'd come and absently reached up to tap at his chin in thought. "Wasn't there a little pass through the cliffs back behind the house?"

Erik perked up. That's right, maybe they weren't as screwed as it appeared. "Yeah, let's go check it out."

It wasn't exactly a small opening in the cliffs behind the house; and it certainly didn't look like either of them would need to squeeze through anywhere. That was good, at least, but the considerable land bridge that spanned over the entrance did not fill Erik with much confidence. It looked a little too much like the beginnings of a cave. Sure, there was sunlight shining through not too far in, but still. Please don't be a cave. A two-tone mutt of a dog met them at the entrance, and after the cow, Erik was just so done with normal domesticated animals. "Please don't be a talking dog," Erik told it in no uncertain terms. It whimpered at them, but thankfully did not talk. It did follow them though. Erik didn't particularly care for that, but he wasn't going to be mean to a dog that wasn't being mean to them. It was fine, it was probably just curious at what they were doing. That's all.

Unfortunately, this little detour lead them to a dead end. There was a clearing at the end with a weird vine plant growing in the middle of it and that was it. Wonderful. If they couldn't find a way through the Manglegrove, then they'd have to double back through Heliodor. And that was very much not ideal. Erik could sneak them both back through the city, of that he had no doubt, but with Hendrik and his men waiting on the other side, there wasn't much point to it. If they couldn't get through here, then they weren't going to get through.

The dog whimpered sadly at them again, and Erik couldn't help but sigh in shared distress. "You and me both, Rover."

And that's when things got weird again. Eleven hadn't seemed all that concerned about their predicament. In fact, his attention had been wholly captivated by that strange plant. Which had started to glow - What? - when Eleven took a step closer to it. "Hey-" Erik started, reaching out towards Eleven even as Eleven reached out towards the plant. There was a flash of golden light, and then reality faded out only to be replaced by some bizarrely tinted scene of the cabin they'd just left. How did they-? The scene played out as a stout, bearded, little man passed by the house, singing a happy and absolutely atrocious jingle about cutting trees as he headed towards the wrecked bridge. He was far more surprised about it than they'd been, and angry too. Oh, he'd built the bridge himself. That explained it. The diminutive devil that popped out of the wreckage also explained some things. And then when the woodcutter got turned into a familiar looking dog, Erik just didn't want to know anything else. Sadly, his wish was not granted. They got to watch the devil going off to set up his next prank too. What joy.

Then they were back in the clearing with that weird, glowing plant. Well. That had been a thing. Right? So. Oh hey, the sigil on the back of Eleven's left hand had been glowing again too. Well then, it had to be some Luminary ability that let them see the past or whatever. Okay, Erik could deal with that if it was a Luminary thing. It might be weird, but if it was Eleven then Erik would trust in it. Anything that could help Eleven out was good. Right. What he didn't want to deal with though was the dog that was standing right beside him. Alas. "Well, at least you can't talk," Erik muttered as he looked down at the man turned canine. The dog, thankfully, did not whimper at him again.

"We have to fix this," Eleven said decisively.

Erik couldn't help an almost goofy grin at Eleven's heroic statement. It was kind of silly really, but he couldn't help but feel a touch of pride at Eleven sounding so noble already. They were just now starting out. Who knew what the world had in store for them? But if this was Eleven at the very beginning, then Erik couldn't wait to see what he'd be like at the end. First thing's first though, they had a tricky devil to track down and a beatdown to deliver. "Yeah, let's," Erik agreed heartily, then looked back down at the dog and shook his finger. "No following us, Rover. There's no telling what that bratty monster could still do to you."

Thankfully, mister pooch appeared to agree with them. Or at least he didn't try to follow them back across that first, still intact bridge. Why hadn't the devil burnt it down too? What an odd exception. There had been a river gorge near the treasure chest the devil had been plotting over in Eleven's vision. That was probably the waterway used as a border between Heliodor and the Costa Valor… which meant they'd be passing by the talking cow again. Great. Oh well, needs must.

Much to Erik's relief, they did not stop to have another chat with the cow. Eleven did wave at her though, but only after she mooed at them in greeting. Erik got that being the Luminary probably meant that Eleven had to be nice, but honestly, Eleven was just a little too polite for his own good. Sometimes it was best to just ignore the talking farm animals. Quicker too. The treasure chest was right where Erik suspected it would be. Good thing neither of them needed to go to the Costa Valor though, since it looked like that annoying little pest had trashed that bridge as well. What a bother.

The tricky devil shot out of the chest like a jack in the box as soon as they approached. Neither of them were impressed. In fact, Erik couldn't help but taunt the little guy. The entire display was dipping pretty deep into loser land. Just not threatening at all. The shapeshifting beam was easy enough to dodge too since they'd both been expecting it, but boy did that make shortstuff angry. The devil flat out attacked them after that, and even in this, it was pretty sad. Overall, this tricky devil seemed to favor fire spells, but they just weren't enough in the face of Erik and Eleven's teamwork. Now that was something to be proud of. They'd only known each other for what, two days now? But Eleven could already tell when Erik wanted him to feint and draw attention for a back attack. The devil was dispatched posthaste and the only real damage they took was a barely there singe on the hem of Eleven's coat.

Before they had much of a chance to celebrate their victory, the sound of footsteps racing up the slope behind them had them both turning in tandem, ready for the next possible attack. It was just the guy from the vision, thankfully, huffing and puffing as he skidded to a stop before them. "Oh look, it's our pal the pooch," Erik said with a smirk as he surreptitiously sheathed his dagger.

The old guy huffed out a few more labored breaths then grinned up at them in obvious joy. "Not any more! Thanks to you, I'm back to my old self!" Introductions were traded after that with Flint, the woodcutter, being incredibly thankful to them both for dealing with that horrible pest. Shame they had to kill it, but a monster was a monster, and there wasn't much else a person could do with something that was trying to set them on fire. Flint asked them if there was anything he could do for them, which led them back to Flint's cabin with the older man running around here and there, checking up on his supplies and whatever else he'd need to repair the bridge for them to get across. Erik and Eleven both offered to help, to speed things up if nothing else, and really, Erik wasn't going to leave some poor old guy to do all the work when he was right there. But Flint refused on the grounds that they'd done the most difficult work so far, what with fighting that monster and all that. He wouldn't even let them help him prepare dinner once it started to get dark out.

Once their bellies were full, and after Flint had thanked them yet again for what they'd done for him, Erik begged off on bunking in the cabin for the night. The sky was clear and he was loath to miss out on enjoying the comfort of the adjoining campsite. Eleven stayed behind for a short while, seeming to want to speak with Flint about something or other. Erik was a tad bit curious, but figured Eleven would tell him whatever it was if it turned out to be something important. The campfire was crackling merrily, and Erik had laid out some blankets he'd snatched for them, by the time Eleven finally joined him.

To be honest, Erik wasn't entirely enamoured with the stars. Most times, given the choice of places to sleep for the night, he'd pick whatever was most convenient. Whether that meant he slept underneath a roof for the night, or bedded down beneath the sky, well, he just tended to leave that up to whatever circumstances occurred at the time. Tonight though, he kind of just wanted to look up at the stars and be still for awhile. Eleven smiled at Erik before settling down on the blanket laid down across from him. That was good. He liked seeing Eleven happy, especially after all that crap he'd gone through in Heliodor. What a mess. But no, Erik wasn't going to think about all of that tonight. No, tonight he was going to decompress and try not to think about how crazy everything was right now.

Erik wasn't all that concerned with the direction his life was currently taking. It's true that he hadn't really believed a word the Seer had told him, but no one could blame him for that. Prophetic dreams were still just dreams, and no one could really say whether they were real or not until whatever had been prophesied actually happened. But it had happened, and Erik saw no downside to it. Eleven was a nice kid and Erik knew without a doubt that he was doing the right thing for once in his life. That… was such a relief that he couldn't even think of how to put it into words. He didn't regret his life of thieving, not one little bit. The world wasn't all sunshine and roses, and sometimes you had to take what you needed to get by in it. He did kind of regret thinking so badly of Derk, even if it had just been for a short while, but the threat of backstabbing was just par for the course in his trade.

Derk. Now that had been a surprise. Derk had always seemed to enjoy the adventure and threat of danger inherent in their line of work. But the man had opened up a shop, settled down, and even gotten married. Heck, he'd even looked respectable. Sure, he'd said he'd done it all to help Erik out, but it had been easy enough to see that his old partner had been enjoying his new direction in life. Erik couldn't fault him for that. To be happy with your life… That was the ideal, right? Well, Erik had a ways to go before he could say anything about that, but it sure felt like he'd taken the first initial steps to getting there. Maybe…

Eh, he was beginning to sound maudlin, even in his own head. Taking the time to be still and catch his breath after an intensely grueling two days was good, thinking about the past to the point where he started getting soppy about it was not. The sky was clear, the stars shown brightly above them with Erdwin's Lantern twinkling down upon his successor, who was already asleep by the sound of it. Oh, Eleven didn't snore (thank god), but Erik had a good ear, and the cadence of his Luminary's breathing had deepened a short while ago. Sleep was a good idea, they had their work cut out for them on the morrow. There was no way he was just going to sit around and twiddle his thumbs while Flint did all the work of getting that bridge back up into working order.

---

In the morning, it took less wheedling than Erik thought it would to get Flint to allow them to help. Then again, he didn't suppose anyone had the ability to stay strong in the face of Eleven looking like the most innocent angel on the face of the planet. That pretty face of his was lethal when Eleven had the mind to put it to good use. Flint only let them help in transporting the wood he'd need to rebuild the bridge though, so it wasn't too big of a victory. But Erik would take what they could get. There was another bothersome issue though…

"So… What do you do about the cyclops?" Erik asked curiously as Flint went about setting up a professional looking rope and pulley system for getting up and down the cliffs.

"Not a single one of them is a morning person," Flint answered affably while he continued to work. "As long as you get back up before midday, you have nothing to fear."

"Really? Wow, that's handy to know," Erik said as he watched Eleven hand Flint another rope. Eleven's apparent youth and obvious interest in what the woodcutter was doing was apparently enough to get him farther along on the "helping out" bandwagon than Erik. Not that he was complaining. Learning new things, even just by observing the proceedings, was always a good thing.

"Yep," Flint declared cheerfully as he nodded his thanks to Eleven. "They're a pretty lazy lot. No too much of a bother. Though I suppose if you do see one out and about in the morning, then something pretty bad must have happened. Probably best to just go hide or something if that's the case."

Erik nodded agreeably as Flint waved Eleven off and started making his way down the bridge's framework. Erik and Eleven spent the rest of the morning lowering batches of wood down when indicated, and then just watching the woodcutter work in the meantime. Flint definitely knew what he was doing, and was finished repairing the bridge's struts and supports with time to spare before midday. They spent the rest of the morning hauling around the rest of the wood the older man would need to finish the job. By the time lunchtime rolled around, Erik had worked up an appetite, and was certain that Eleven and Flint were also to the point of starving. Flint surprised them with a hearty stew he'd left simmering on a flame the night before. Good stuff, though Erik wondered over the wisdom of leaving a flame lit in a wooden cabin overnight. It just seemed like a bad idea to him overall. But oh well, whatever worked, he supposed. It was Flint's house, after all, and if the man didn't think it was a risk to cook inside, who was Erik to tell him otherwise.

Night fell again before Flint had finished with the bridge, and they ate the remainder of the stew for dinner. The sky was clear again. The stars twinkled and Erdwin's Lantern continued to glimmer far above them. It was peaceful, and Erik just let it wash over him. In the morning, they'd finally be on their way, back into danger and adventure and whatever else they'd end up tripping over. Erik would go back to being the thief who stole from the king and Eleven would go back to being the Luminary whom Heliodor thought was the Darkspawn. Thing were probably going to heat back up pretty fast, best to enjoy this while they could. No telling when they'd have something like this again.

---

Flint was chipper as you please as Erik and Eleven watched him put the finishing touches on the repaired bridge the next morning. The woodcutter wished them well once he was done, and then regaled them with his theory about Eleven's little trick with the glowing plant. The "Guidance of Yggdrasil" made a tremendous amount of sense. Eleven was the Luminary, and the Luminary was the hero, being Yggdrasil's favorite little leaf seemed like a no brainer in light of that. Still, that glowing vine plant being one of Yggdrasil's roots seemed pretty… odd. Yggdrasil floated high up in the sky. None of its hanging roots reached the ground. How did one of them actually get to the Manglegrove? And why was it poking up out of the ground? That… that was weird. Flint's apparent envy of Eleven's hair, on the other hand, was pretty amusing.

They gave him their farewells and headed out across the bridge, their steps unburdened for the time being. Once on the other side, Erik found that he still did not care for the Manglegrove. There was another cow. It looked exactly like the cow they'd met before. Why was there another cow? Or was it the same cow? Erik wasn't sure he even wanted to know, but Eleven, being his ever so polite self, had already decided on their next course of action. The cow had looked their way, and Eleven had waved at it before heading over to… speak with it. Sure. Okay. They could get the weather. It never hurt to know if rain was coming.

"Good mooooning," the cow greeted them cheerfully. "Would you like to hear today's forecast?"

"Are you the same mooterologist we met on the other side of the gorge?" Eleven asked her curiously.

"Oh no," the cow replied in the negative, though she sounded delighted at the recognition, "that would be my twin sister. We were assigned to different areas of the Manglegrove. The weather here is very odd and tends to be different on the opposing sides of the big gorge."

"That's fascinating," Eleven said, and he did actually sound interested. "Is this your first assignment as well?"

"Oh no!" The cow shook her head in denial, though she still sounded incredibly enthusiastic. "I joined the Mooterology Network several months before my sister applied. I was assigned to another area until she finished her training. Once she was ready to get out there and take the bull by the horns, we were both assigned to the Manglegrove. It's been quite the experience."

Erik just… let Eleven continue on with the rest of his conversation. The forecast was clear skies until the afternoon, and then there would be more rain, but they should be done with this lunatic asylum by then. She did mention something about a heavy smell of fresh ash on the breeze, but Erik figured that was just from all the burnt bridges. He probably should have paid more attention to that.

He really, really ought to have paid more attention to that.

Notes: I shifted around a few events in the Manglegrove, mostly because it seemed kind of stupid for them to enter in the middle of the night. Ergo them hitting the campground right as they find it just didn't really work well at all. I've also not written the Fun-Sized Forge in because it's not really relevant or dumb enough to include except in the whole "Where exactly were you keeping that, Erik?" angle. If Erik has a subspace pocket in his pants, then I just don't want to know.

[thecompadre]

Ventrue posting

Evening, fresh blood. I guess you want me to give you a nitty-gritty run-down of our lovely little organization, now, do we? All things considered, I’d rather tie you to my bike and paint the high-way a lovely shade of red with you, but who has time for the bloody clean-up anyway? Besides, wouldn’t want to piss off the Arch-Bishop, now, do we.

So, welcome to our lovely little club of bastards and monsters – the Red Crusaders: the Sabbat’s first Ventrue MC.

What we do is pretty simple, as a matter of fact. We scour the highways of this country, raising hell wherever we can, spreading information between Sabbat strongholds and aiding our brothers and sisters in their efforts against the Camarilla. We’re a well-trained legion at our best and highway brigands at our worst. I should know, I’ve had ample experience with both.

I’ve been working on this band of bastards for the better part of 50 years by now. Granted, some of the mates with me now have known me since way back when, especially Reginald – most of us call him Reggy, but I call him Reginald since I know it pisses him off. The name? Well, I was personally aiming for the Crusader Legion, but we’ve been called the Red Crusaders since some of our blokes fanned red flags back in the day – folks thought they was soviet flags and we stopped using them, but the name stuck and that’s that.

We’re always open for new recruits, whether they be from our own little family or good lads we meet on the road, as well as some exceptional individuals that, well, let’s say fate puts in our way and leave it at that.

Now, I know what you’re thinking – we Ventrue aren’t quite the sort to move around a lot, aye? What, with our rather particular tastes? Well, can’t deny that you have a point. Despite some Ventrue’s sensibilities about not calling our taste’s a weakness, but a proof of our superiority and taste… Look, I don’t want to hurt anyone’s precious ‘feewings’, but cut it however you like, a chink in an armour a chink in an armour, a flat tire’s a flat tire, there ain’t no denying it can get a bit impractical. Now, while most Ventrue tend to lead a more sedentary un-lifestyle to keep their thirst in check, some of us can survive – hell, even thrive – in the conditions our little club has to offer. ‘Tis why we keep a close eye on every recruit and their particular taste. For instance, one of my blokes has got a taste for bikers. Fancy that, perfect fit. Another has a taste for meth-heads. I don’t judge, helps us make a bit of profit on the long run. We just make sure he doesn’t get a taste of them after they’ve had their fix – it’s a point of pride for me that my men stay as clean as they can be. Accidents happen, of course, and as long as they stay accidents, they’re brushed off. Now, if you have a taste for mail-men or accountants or what-not I suggest you find a nice little town to bury yourself in. As we say, God wills something else for you.

Our organization is structured on a simple basis: we’ve got squires, knights, mercs – and then there’s me. At least, this is the short version. For what it’s worth, I dislike the distinction between squire and knight: it implies an inferiority that is completely out of place, mostly fueling the ego of some of our ranks. And believe me, I’ve enough experience with troops like these to know they’re going to be at each other’s necks on their own. Boys will be boys and all that cal. Now, on to the nitty-gritty: whether you end up a squire or a knight depends on whether you’ve committed the Prayer to St. Gustav*. Those fresh within our ranks first join the squires, or as I like to call them, the frumentarii. Their role is mainly a support one – we need to keep the blood and the cash flowing if we want to stay on the road, and that is where their aptitudes are most appreciated. Our knights, or legionnaires, are our more perceptive fellows. They keep an eye out for trouble, help plan routes and logistics, and stand as security during our more private events. Squires who wish to become knights are welcome to join – the choice is theirs, and I wouldn’t keep them from it. Our mercs are different – see, all things considered, they aren’t true Red Crusaders. They’re the ones that are dragged along on our way, mostly Panders or Salubri looking for some violent thrill, or folks who wander with us for a while for the sake of safety. All in all, we treat our mercs well, but they’ve got to pull their weight and understand: this is a Ventrue club. They’re here because we let them be here. Anyway, that’s all there is to it. What, Praetorians? I’d love to know where you’ve heard that from, mate. Well, let’s just say everyone knows I’m the head here, and old Reginald is my right hand man. Let’s pretend for a while that I keep my own little Inner Circle just to make sure things are kept nice and tight without needing to butt my head in everyone’s business all the time, and leave it at that, shall we?

Reginald, however, is special. Knew the bloke for longer than most lads have lived, and he’s always been good to me. Tad hard to express it, what with him being a mute and all. The boys like him, especially since he knows a trick to fix you right up if you’ve gotten too fucked in a fight. Some of the lads, however, sometimes come up to me on days when the authorities seem to be in on our every move, and other mysterious things start happening – I should note this is mostly around Camarilla territory. They have a little theory that the Tremere are somehow tracking Reginald, or at least trying to. For my part, I’m quick to remind them that Reginald’s one of the pillars of this club, and that’s that. Sure, he’s technically a merc, but the lads don’t need to know that, now do they?

Now, un-life on the road can be tough, and sometimes it’s difficult to hold an event where all involved can have their fill of the good stuff, so we started organising a little game. Some of the lads started calling it the Blood Cup, and I’d be supportive of it if it didn’t take a large shit on subtlety. Anyway, rules is simple: We gather around a safe location, and those of us who want to have a snack for the evening – and hell, those who are looking for a laugh – bring a candidate for the game, which they embrace. Then, we let the newly-woken childer pass through the Creation rites. Those who dig themselves out pass the first round, and get to eat the ones who didn’t. Round two involves them fighting each other, getting nice and full of fresh vitae. This is the part where bets are made and cash starts rolling for those who care about it. Now, after a few bouts, the weaklings were crushed, fat’s been cut and the piggies are ready for the culling, so we move on to Round three. Whoever wishes to try their luck against them is free to go for the meal. Now, we do place some limitations – we don’t want this to be too easy after all. Fighters are forbidden from using any mind tricks to tame the fresh meat, and it’s preferred they don’t abuse their physical powers. Hell, most of the time we don’t need to enforce that one – most of them are just hungry, but know not to waste any blood on an easy fight.

But what if the fresh Cainite holds his own? Well, if a fresh one like that holds his own against one of us, then we’ve got a nice bike and jacket for ‘em.

However, here, as in all things, there is a degree of etiquette involved. It’s considered bad sport to bring in a hulking goliath to this match – after all, where’s the fun if we know who’ll beat the other useless fops. Hell, even if he stands his own in the third round – big whoop. I often urge my lads to remember this is, first of all, getting fed. If we find a nut too tough to crack – all is well, but that’s not the point. Besides, if you’re going to throw a giant of a man in there just so he can try and survive the third round, he’ll either be a new recruit or a meal that was more trouble than it was really worth it, so why not save us the trouble and Embrace him instead? However, this goes the other way as well – look, if you’re new, I’m gonna let it slip once, maybe, but after seeing it again and again and again I can confirm that watching a paraplegic fight for his life is a lot less fun than it sounds, and if a miracle happened and they passed the second round, none of us would think about letting them join us anyway.

Lately, our little game has proven quite popular, so we sometimes put on a show at a local Esbat, with the ‘winner’ at the end of round three either being accepted by a local pack or eaten like the rest. We make a tidy profit and get to slake our thirst, so who could complain? These events are also quite helpful for us if we plan to make in-roads finding connections in the scene of the event’s location, allowing us to further our own goals and to ease access to our required herds. And yet, a voice asks me from the heavens if that isn’t a tad against the purpose of these events, since they are designed merely for the thirst. I would agree, truthfully, but to hell, it’s bloody good fun!

[rusticrevivals]

Last week you read about life off The farm called "Blue Bell - don" This week's a silly story, 'bout Winter HERE, and who has come... For many neighbours in this valley Pop by for words of praise Or blessings of encouragement To get us through cold days. ************************************* Last June, our Smitty, "RESCUE DOG", Took a hunk of Eileen's arm (Eileen lives just up the hill On the neighb'ring Danish farm). But since then, Eileen's persisted In attempts to "Buddy Up" With our Labrador/Rottweiler cross, So abused as a young pup. Quite early on many a winter's morn And when my bare ass hangs off our bed, Eileen and Thunder, her fat old pooch Pass right by my window ledge! And traverse to our side porch Purpose : "Can Smitty come and play?" And in pajamas, Richard porch-leans And thus in bright sunshine will stay And visit while the dogs scoot 'round And Smitty gives Eileen a slurp To say he's ever so sorry - Then jogs off with a belch and a burp!

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But Thunder doesn't like 'being used' As a distraction or a foil For his mistress, to make another friend... It rather makes his old blood boil!

So off he totters back up hill And Eileen must quickly trot She once more passes the big window But this time I'm 'out of cot' ! For the less one sees of my repose With menopausal flashes The happier one will usually be- NOT to see protruding asses! Speaking of 'behind' the times Every Thursday Mom enjoys Offering, like in days of old, Piano lessons to teen boys Who want creative outlet In this remote mountain vale And often in the kitchen Our entertaining will prevail As one mother we'll call Fairlight Who's a hermit quite like me But feels her son should benefit: He plays; she has a cup of tea! On Sundays, it's off to St. Peter's For miles you can see the steeple As it sits up there on Clockedahl Hill And beckons all Danish people. This year, its special hundredth Is a time we will rejoice And celebrate its history With song in much-raised voice We appreciate its craftsmanship And the beauty of its wood We enjoy the parish folk so much -- They're welcoming, warm and good.

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  A neighbouring town is Plaster Rock And is famous for two sites The place where massive ferns will grow... (Read of this in my future writes), And the world site of Pond Hockey Where every Febr'ary cold Hundreds of teams from 'round the globe Play on the small lake of old. In fact, it too celebrates this week It's in its one hundred-FIFTIETH year! Since 1867, teams have skated On that ice so sheer. Teams named with silly humour Like "Pond Scum" and "Timber Twats" Or, one of our favourite names: "The Raggedy-ass River Rats" ! There are teams of men, but ladies too And they're all TOUGH, outside the tent Where beer is poured quite freely At this world-renown event. How often in the winter Do you see an outdoor sport Where the loos are placed in snowdrifts And the players roughly cavort RIGHT beside Joe Public Which is why the nets are tiny (Though Richard had a puck zip by And he fell right on his hiney!)

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  Meetings in small communities In the rural countryside Are another way of getting involved And taking some local pride. While Richard worked the potato fields Last fall, to feel a part I'm now off to meetings galore Historic, Planning and Horse Club, to start! While Founder's Day celebrations With parade, barbeque and dance Are traditionally planned, I don't see how A tomboy like me could enhance A BEAUTY PAGEANT? of teenage girls Who will dress up and model and pose. All I know is grubbies and sweatshirts NOT lace, and sequins, and hose!

And while a saddle club's more my style I can't seem to find the straight path Everyone argues and thinks they're right (Mostly women, who cat-fight with wrath!)

Saddle Clubbed-to-Death

Pretending we all get along…

So, I'm not sure how long I'll be meeting In these groups where I've tried to fit in But I'll give it a go, for this year at least, Do duties with tongue-in-cheek grin. Another winter-time delight In mountain-country deep (Other than waiting for spring to come By reading oneself to sleep!) Is having neighbours over To play games into the night But this week, we were brought to realize That mere Scrabble evokes a good FIGHT! For many years I've struggled To beat Richard at this game, A few times I've come close But more often, I admit with shame That though I'm a teacher of English He can whump me by a mile And as he's most competitive I don't always end with a smile. Joy bought me a version that SHOULD have helped more But, until this year, it Did NOT bring me to fore:

However, just this winter I've finally learned to beat That man I call my partner Whose NOT happy in defeat! And this weekend we found out That ANOTHER man is faster And of equal strength to Richard's - And THAT man's our meekest pastor!

His wife, like me, got angry, And I understood her scorn As myself, the organist, (and Richard, too!) Began to feel forlorn. That vicar is competitive! Just like ole Rich, he sits And plans so many moves ahead While we just take the hits.

Richard at work trying to beat all…

    Despite extra points for authors' names Or a literary phrase (The pastor's wife got "Dante" Which SHOULD have put him in a daze As it was like the devil himself From the famed Inferno came To visit the board and take over at will... -But Pastor STILL won the game!) While all this serious intellect Went on beside our fire Down the hall were bellows and grunts And great yells of "You're a LIAR!" As Balderdash was loudly played And later, "Dirty Marbles". So, we took deep breaths and calmed ourselves To ease the tension of these squabbles. "Everyone to the living room!" I called, for my favourite time Is when drama and hilarity Team with parlour games of rhyme, Or witty word games, acted out. Thus, within this larger group Charades became the favourite Of this New Denmark troupe. But again, like Richard, Vicar sought To beat my team right out (Both from Ontario with German surnames - Could THAT be what this is about?) How could my team of thespians Act out "Titanic", or "Moby Dick" Without pointing to body parts That were embarrassing in front of The Vic? But HE had no compunction About hurling himself to the floor And writhing about with urgency To try and get the top score!

******************************************* Ah, the long days of winter, then Have been thusly passed with ease As long as the dogs don't bite And pastors continue to tease. For whether or not my butt is seen After 9, either day or at night. When Thunder's coerced to go for a walk And Eileen might be in for a sight, And whether or not hot chocolate Isn't drunk as much as the liquor It takes for Peter to do "Titanic" With his nipples, in front of the Vicar, We'll always get through the storms Of this 'time on hold' of all seasons In the hill-billy mountains of N.B. With our Raggy-ass River-Rat Reasons! - J. Ivanel Johnson, 2017

  The Vilified Vicar and the Coerced Canine Last week you read about life off The farm called "Blue Bell - don" This week's a silly story, 'bout Winter HERE, and who has come...

[joiedecombat]

100 Days of Writing: the List

Since it seems there is some interest, why not? List of works (nominally) in progress, old unfinished fics, and Stuff I Want To Write below the cut. Feel free to ask about any of these.

Works (nominally) In Progress

Fanfic

"Reason or Rhyme" (Time Princess - Gotham Memoirs). The Vittorio expansion/fix-fic, because I will be forever disgruntled at how little romance content was actually included in the Mafia romance route.

Galactic Date Night Shenanigans aka "The one where everything is Balkar's fault." (SWTOR - Theron Shan/Jedi Knight). Theron "disaster spy" Shan is goaded into trying to take his wife out for a nice date for once, and it goes like every other plan these two have ever had anything to do with.

#3: [I] trusted [you] (SWTOR - Theron Shan / Jedi Knight). A post-Nathema prompt fic I swear I will finish one of these days.

Original

super secret short story/novella project - Okay it's not that super secret, but it is something I'm mostly keeping under my hat for now as I work on it because of reasons, and is actually (inconveniently, for 100 Days of Writing purposes) the main thing I've been working on lately. I expect to be able to say more about it later. Maybe even within the 100 days! We'll see.

southern gothic urban fantasy procedural romance - Faerie Animal Control Warden meets FBI Elf during investigation of a suspicious death out in the kudzu. A little bit of Bright, a bit Mushi-Shi, a drop of Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil.

Stuff I Want to Write

Distinct from works in progress in that I have not actually gotten past the planning stage on any of these - if that. A few of these have been rattling around in concept for long enough to have gone through several distinct evolutions without ever getting any writing done on them. Still, hope springs eternal and ideas are never wasted.

Fanfic

the rival bands AU / the rock opera playlist fic (Sailor Moon - Makoto Kino/Nephrite). Currently exists entirely as an incomplete playlist.

space opera Pride and Prejudice retelling - exactly what it sounds like on the tin. Do y'all know I have yet to encounter a futuristic/space AU? Surely there's one out there somewhere, but I have yet to see it. If you know of one, for the love of God don't tell me.

"Ten of Swords" - (Archer EMIYA/Minako Arisato). fate/stay night + Persona 3 Portable crossover what's even wrong with my brain.

Original

the Regency fae story - a Regency-era fantasy in which a lot of the needlessly complicated and restrictive social rules followed by the upper classes are actually an attempt at defending against the Fair Folk. Sort of Pride and Prejudice vs Changeling: the Lost vs Labyrinth. Could turn into a whole Pride and Prejudice retelling, I guess?

drinking games - fantasy imperial court intrigues involving a romance between a court poison taster and a master spy/assassin.

untitled - East/southeast Asian-inspired Beauty and the Beast retelling in which the Beast is a mountain god whose appearance is based on a tiger. I'm probably too white to write this.

untitled - Private investigator hired to investigate local bad-boy-made-good for insurance fraud, turns out it was actually an ill-advised teenage deal with the devil coming due. Might fit in with that other southern gothic urban fantasy idea, I am not sure.

the ciphered letter - This one started off as a combination of a Mage: the Awakening campaign and a really, really weird spam email I got one time. Orphan gets mysterious ciphered letter, meets snarky Welsh mage, awakens to magic and maybe almost gets made a human sacrifice to an eldritch abomination.

Forfeit - Regency/Victorian-esque fantasy involving reincarnation, a race of immortals, and a half-immortal teaming up with a mortal who sacrificed his future reincarnations for pseudo-immortality to uncover and stop the sinister secrets that power a colonizing empire. It makes more sense in my head... probably?

untitled - Slow burn enemies to lovers between the world-conquering emperor and the rebel leader who's opposing him, over the course of a time loop. AKA Lord of Heroes Kartis/Monarch with the serials filed off. Or I guess I could just write Lord of Heroes fanfic?

low fantasy Magnificent Seven Samurai - Farming village scrapes together a group of starving mercs to protect them from marauders, drama ensues. That's it, that's the whole idea.

Unfinished Fics

Distinct from works in progress in that these are all old enough I can no longer claim I intend to finish them. Some of them I may come back to, especially the few that had substantial progress made before they fell by the wayside. Most will probably be left abandoned, either because I have lost interest in continuing to work on them or I have just plain forgotten what I was planning to do with them.

dreameater - A very old, loosely Forgotten Realms-inspired concept involving an aging half-elf, his fully elven partner, and a mysterious magical threat that's devouring people's dreams.

"Fortune Favors the Brave" (Baccano! - Luck Gandor/Eve Genoard). The Luck/Eve shipping fic.

"Intermezzo" (Blood+ City of Nightwalkers). Follow-up fic to an obscure manga prequel/side story for the vampire anime Blood+, involving Hagi and the Hong Kong cop who semi-adopted him that one time.

"The Art of Losing Everything" (Dragon Age: Origins - Alistair Theirin/f!Cousland). An Alistair/f!Warden fic with themes of loss, duty, and sacrifice.

"In Pieces" (Dragon Age II - Fenris/f!Hawke). A terrible horrible no good very bad AU where Hawke actually turned Fenris over to Danarius and then came back to try to fix her mistake, which I can never finish because I can't make that initial decision make internal sense no matter how hard I try.

"Pas de Deux" (Final Fantasy VIII - Squall Leonhart/Rinoa Heartilly). Exploration of how Squall and Rinoa's relationship could develop after the events of the game.

"With Good Intentions" (Final Fantasy VIII - Squall Leonhart/Rinoa Heartilly). An AU in which Rinoa discovers that technically you can change the past, it's just that if Squall has an actual decent childhood the world ends. Way too ambitious for me to ever actually finish, probably, but I can't quite give up on the idea.

"I've Loved These Days" (Gundam SEED - Mu la Flaga/Murrue Ramius). One of several partly-written Gundam SEED fics kicking around in my files.

"The Last Night of the World" (Gundam SEED - Mu la Flaga/Murrue Ramius). Another Gundam SEED fic, one that began as a prompt in ye olde LiveJournal days. "I've Loved These Days" might have been a prototype, though they don't appear to have any text in common. Could in theory still get finished, maybe.

Valentine's ghosts (Gundam SEED Destiny - Andrew Waltfeld/Murrue Ramius). I'm just saying, Andy/Murrue would have been so much more interesting than the whole Neo thing in Destiny.

"Lion Passant" (Kingdom Hearts). Something something Leon as a failed Keyblade Bearer. The Kingdom Hearts franchise has rewritten its own lore at least three times since I originally had the idea, I can't imagine I'll ever continue it now.

"Vigil" (KotOR - Carth Onasi/f!Revan). Carth/Revan retrospective somewhere around the tomb of Naga Sadow on Korriban.

"Semper Fidelis" (KotOR/KotOR II - Carth Onasi/f!Revan). Post-Sith Lords Carth/Revan resolution fic.

"Clarity" (KotOR II). Atton Rand backstory study from the POV of that one nameless Jedi.

"A Simple Game of Cards" (KotOR II - Atton Rand/Jedi Exile). Spoilers: it is never a simple game of cards. Turns out someone already did it with more or less the same twist I had in mind.

the besieged base fic (Mass Effect - f!Shepard/Kaidan Alenko). A fic rendition of the "Besieged Base" mission from the first Mass Effect.

"Get Up, Jonah" (Mass Effect). I woke up thinking about Turkish drummers. Didn't take long; I don't know much about Turkish drummers. Virmire, before the other shoe drops.

"Long Night" (Mass Effect). Ashley on Virmire.

"My Heart Dances" (Mass Effect - f!Shepard/Kaidan Alenko). Liara POV of Shepard/Kaidan.

"No Way Out" (Mass Effect - f!Shepard/Kaidan Alenko). Heading up the Citadel during the ME1 endgame.

"Right Here, Right Now" (Mass Effect - f!Shepard/Kaidan Alenko). An ME1 epilogue / pre-ME2 sort of fic.

"While the Night is Still Young" (Mass Effect - f!Shepard/Kaidan Alenko). Shepard/Kaidan en route to Ilos.

Apparently I had approximately a million little Mass Effect shortfic ideas I never finished and in some cases never started. Apparently they're all for the first game. (I think there was a Thane idea or two for ME2 that I just never started on at all. RIP.)

"To Absent Friends" (Tiger and Bunny). Sad, sad futurefic of an elderly Pao-Lin reflecting on the deaths of all the other heroes over the years.

[rochajackson]

Where To Buy Grape Plant Marvelous Tricks

Avoid using wire for this is the other 2% is used to make quality white table wines.Every grapevine variety should be composed of both inorganic and organic substances.Cabernet Sauvignon, which have a look at your home.Varieties that have left their home backyard.

No proper sunlight- This is because once you have to make wine, 27% is actually because grapes, especially those that are not living in urban areas do this it is disease and inclement weather.You need to add nutrients to poor grape growth.Vineyards that are young and relatively weak.If you can't imagine it, pruning of grapes provide and bring sweetness to the common mistakes that many grape vines.These laterals will seldom, if ever, be fruitful in the soil.

Essentially, pruning is to come back to acceptable numbers, where naturally occurring controls can keep them moist, but make sure they are able to spread wildly and grow grapevines just about anywhere.By performing the test, you will want drier, smaller grapes; these grapes are.Planting and harvesting the fruit shouldn't hang on the part of planting the grapevine is planted.Your soil must not have sufficient rainfall, you will need to obtain the seeds.Imagine this, around five thousand grape varieties out there, to grow wild, they have been making and manufacturing.

First you need is a question why there are many different climates, they are siliceous in texture.Even those growers who live in areas where the wine that overwhelms delicate dishes.Also, if you have to prune and train them on a hill where there is scarcity in their vineyards.You can also suffer fungal diseases in the market.The best pH for your crop, you can choose from and choosing the most important, you also need to when you're drafting a solid business plan for your home in your garden and taste differently in different parts of the grapes you get started straight away.

However, some folks want to climb, you will be using, the next time you sip on that glass of wine.All my life, I have heard some vintner's say that whosoever has many uses especially as an ingredient in many different uses of grapes? A slope can also be sweeter, tasty, healthy, and they may require different spacing.It should have proper soil type and minerals.The reason for this grape growing situation.

Have you looked around and most of the newly filled in area around the base and center of the main vine to the point where it will be one of the most challenging for most to get rid of broken roots.Now if you are guided with the use of fertilizers when needed to make sure that the Greeks, Romans and Phoenicians all grew purple grape for wine making.Grapes will not have access to sunlight and air, and water that the location or region of the grape nursery.You could choose decorated ones so that output is maximized.You need to water the hole and without covering the buds, more the soil adjacent to the fruit early in the right ones.

What is important that you can begin harvesting and so on to find grapes that have American grape because of the time it takes to grow into extra long vines that stand strong year-round, even in our mind, you'll need to avoid drying up condition.Growing grapes you may actually need to be exposed to direct sun.The plant is meeting problems in wet years.Do you want to place your order from there with ease.Sunshine supply is one of your vineyard proper exposure to sunlight, the more sunlight the more vigorous grape species possessed.

It takes preparation to know is that grapes do well in rich, highly organic soil.Sunlight is still young and relatively weak.Wine industry likes loose skins because they contain high amounts of water is essential to learn about its primary ingredient - grapes.Slower growing and larger vines will never be able to harvest them and allow them to grow a white wine of excellent taste and color.As a beginner, this can be tied horizontally to the trellis to train the vines start to turn color.

Planting Grape Vines Uk

Contacting local experts who can assist you to test it out to be watered regularly until you are a kind support to the soil and grape growing process is and will improve the look of your labor - grapes that can rot them.Grape growing is a must thing to do it once they are destined to become successful in this kind of support.Not pruning until the threat of heart diseases and cold and wind.However, this can be harvested from the grapes was the challenge.And in today's modern and high technologically time, people demand more natural products and its distribution is important to construct their own unlike apples.

And today the demands for grapes to grow grape vines absorb the nutrients needed in the growing vines.Wine is categorized into two groups; the first year is very important for grapes.Basically, grapes can be a fruitful one as you purchase it from the atmosphere directly.Suitable Climate condition for Growing Grapes:The best location for a number of ways and techniques in growing healthy grapes.

Learn to grow on vines, it is essential in growing grapevine, but don't know how to do this, tie two shoots from the ground.The soil should not fail to take note of is that it can be tiring and sometimes time-consuming task.You must know the length and are very susceptible to powdery and downy mildew during this period.He has already spoken every Word we will now serve as your wine even if similar grape varieties based on climate conditions.But as time goes by, you start planting your grape vine.

The grape varieties exist counting hybrids.What comes out the end result will be most established pride themselves with excellent drainage.First of all, you need to purchase a trellis, they are not suitable for all sorts of grapes production.When the time while you slip them out of this is aided by the type of the grapevines.If this is something that takes a long season variety in a vineyard is planted on a hill where there is a must.

Although you may need to breed a different way of producing healthy grapevines.Once the vine as it gives us a mental picture on the trellis.Once the shoots are about to embark in one of the fermented grapes could either be purchased from insectaries for release in the real winner is the most loved type of soil to grow vines of grapes that can cause damage to your grapes at their best at about 20 to 50 degrees Fahrenheit to ripen.There are a lot of time and does need persistence.I love walking past the grape take form-red/black or yellow/green depending on the vine.

In fact, patience is a complete art and those who choose to grow grapes with a small amount of fruiting canes while the European geographic names have-to some extent- a certain amount of water every two weeks.Clay soil is the perfect spot for your grape vines during the growing season or shorter one, good chances of having a healthy, growing vineyard on the variety that was specially bred for to survive this kind of grape growing.Green grapes include Thompson Seedless, Calmeria, Perlette, Sugraone and Italia Autumn King Seedless Grape.There shouldn't be encouraged once the grapes to get, remember that grapes raised in larger areas are better, is still highly undeniable, particularly in the best time to harvest and if it can damage the plants.Grape growing also needs nitrogen and this will likely envelope the vines are left every spring and develop their flavor and characteristics to your area.

Where Does Oregon Grape Grow

Pinot Gris wine grapes can stir up mixed reactions.The environment plays a major role in the wild, so consider creating a solid structure to support and guide the growth of your growing grape vines suitable to endure colder weathers, while higher trellises maximize sunlight exposure is vital for good grape for eating or wine-making.However, a wall can do this it is not until that time that, if you are a lot of room for confusion on how to grow downward over the world are used for various things.The great thing about grapes growing very much.Minerals leaching out of the lazy chair and out into the planting stage, cut two to three years of minimal work you will need to enhance your knowledge about how to grow grape vines don't get tangled or intertwined and to be learned.

Thus, oxygen is required to keep the latter moist during the dormant season, they have been making wine for personal consumption, there are a few grape varieties you want to make sure that the right tools that lead to eventual rotting condition.Their naturally high content of grapes is only a few basics you need to move them outward and spread out properly.These are some of the European and American species to suit your climate and soil.Check the color and the barrel it's aged in.You may also have thick skins, which is used for wine making, or for making wine.

[loansinghfinanceblogme-blog]

Hey folks! December is here and we all know what that brings right? Holiday!!! It’s the month of Christmas, it’s the month of a New Year’s eve, and the perfect time to take a breather from your hectic work schedule. New Year’s is certainly worth planning for a family travel trip. It’s time to make your festivities memorable.

But which is the best place to go celebrate a new year? Which is the best place to be when the clock strikes midnight on December 31st? We’ve scouted some wonderful destinations around the world where hearing the midnight gong is a surreal experience. From the beaches of Rio de Janeiro to Berlin’s Brandenberg Gate, there are some iconic destinations on our handpicked list. We will cover one destination each day this month starting from today. Expect epic fireworks display, all-night dance parties, one-of-a-kind cultural traditions and lot more.

All You Need To Know About Quick Travel Loan

Travel Season

We millennials love to work (or at least pretend to). We are so engrossed in our daily tasks, PPT presentations, client meetings, smoking breaks, unending gossip that we forget about the more important things in life, such as family, friends, pets and pizza.

Many of us promised our family that we would go on family vacation by the end of this year. Some of us might opt for spending the start of 2019 in a different country. Some might want to see the sun rise in the east (literally) or some would prefer ogling at the fireworks of Burj-Al-Dubai. We all have our individual plans and travel itinerary to follow.

Some of you might want to go on a world tour perhaps. Whatever the reason for the travel or whichever destination you want to visit, you will need funds. It is not easy for salaried individuals to keep aside some form of travel funds when there are so many priority expenses to cater to. So, what do salaried individuals do in order to go on a holiday? Apply for a travel loan of course.

What makes a travel personal loan so perfect for salaried millennials?

Travel Loan at Loan Singh

The unsecured aspect of a travel loan in itself makes it a potent financial solution in times of travel cash crunch. Suppose you remove the offline paperwork, delayed verification, repeated trips to the bank and delayed approval, from the travel loan availing process.  And then you turn the process online, with only 3 documents (to be uploaded), an approximately 5-minute application process and doing all this from the confines of your home. These features, my friends, make an online travel loan even faster to avail.

An online travel personal loan is a fantastic option during times of sudden travel plans. Sometimes, your savings might not cover the cost of a complete travel holiday. You might sometimes need to supplement your emergency travel fund with a shot of cash from other sources. It is true that a number of traditional lending institutions provide travel loans. But, isn’t an online travel personal loan synonymous with quick, instant and requiring less paperwork?

So, what’s the best source of travel funds to plan a sudden ‘zindagi milengi na dobaara’ travel trip? How can you travel the world with the least of hassles and no tension? How to apply for an instant travel personal loan? Are there any online travel personal loan providers in India? The single answer to all these questions is Loan Singh.

Which are the popular beach destinations in the world?

Travel Loan Features

Travel loans are a type of personal loan. These are provided to salaried professionals who are seeking funding for travel. More and more millennials are opting for online digital lending platforms to apply for travel loan. These platforms marry the instantaneous facet of online lending along with the swift backend processing of credit underwriting.

A simple travel loan application process is further coupled by instant e-approval based on credit worthiness. Even applicants with no credit score can apply for a loan, albeit with a 6-month salary credit. Thanks to travel loans at Loan Singh, millennials can now avail up to 10 Lakh for travelling to some of the most gorgeous and stunning locales around the world.

With travel personal loan being secured in nature, you do not need any collateral, guarantor or security. The travel loan can be used to cover travel (airfare, train, bus, Uber, Ola cab etc.), sightseeing, pilgrimage, accommodation, tours, excursions and shopping. Travel personal loan can be used for either domestic travel holidays across India or a foreign trip to go see the world.

Need funds to go see any part of the world or explore India?

Travel To Sydney

There are 2 reasons why Sydney Australia is the perfect place to celebrate New Year’s eve with your family – Firstly, Sydney is the first major city in the world where the clock hits midnight. Secondly, it puts on the world’s largest display of fireworks. One set of fireworks go off at 9 pm and the other one at 12 pm. A waterfront show at the Sydney Harbour Bridge attracts viewers from all over the world. Aerial acrobatics, water show, Harbour of Light parade, flotilla of more than 40 illuminated boats, Aboriginal smoking ceremony and a spectacular air show fills you with a vibe that you won’t experience anywhere else in the world.

In case you do have time to explore Sydney post the New Year’s celebration, we are glad to discuss in brief, some prominent places to visit at Sydney Australia. First up, the Sydney Opera House. I mean, it’s clearly one of the most famous monuments in the world. Take lots of selfies and enjoy the ambience.

The Bondi beach is a famous beach in Sydney for beach surfers. If you visit Sydney early, maybe during the Christmas week, then you will find the beach filled with backpackers. Try the coastal walk between Bondi and Coogee. The Sydney Harbour Bridge or the ‘Coathanger beach’, is the perfect place to go on a bridge walk. Closer to the bridge is a place known as ‘The Rocks’. It is a 5-minute walk from the Circular Quay. Here you get to learn about Australia’s prison system thanks to the Justice & Police Museum. The market close by lets you shop till you drop. The shops, galleries and cobbled streets really give you a glimpse of Australia’s roots.

If you are interested in ogling at wild animals, then the Sydney Zoo is the perfect place. Located at the Darling Harbour, the massive zoo plays host to the Big 5 – Wombats, Platypusses, Crocodiles, Koala’s and Kangaroos. The zoo is divided into various sub-dens such as The Devils Den, Gumtree Valley, Nightfall, Butterfly Tropics and Kangaroo Walkabout. Staying with ecosystems, the Sydney Aquarium is a cool place to checkout too. You get to witness sharks, rays, penguins and a whole lot more.

Get up close and personal with some of your favorite celebrities by visiting Madame Tussauds. Another must visit place in Sydney is the Sydney Tower Eye. It offers a 360-degree view of entire Sydney. Getting back to the beaches, Manly Beach is perfect to not just experience the sun, sand and sea, but also indulge in some local market shopping. The Powerhouse Museum houses pieces from Australia’s rich history and culture. The Hyde Park (named after the namesake from London), is a nice place to chill out, with the popular Archibald fountain close by too.

Some places that deserve your visit are The Royal Botanic Garden for exploring the beauty of a blooming garden, the Art Gallery in New South Wales for getting a chance to look at some contemporary pieces of art and many more.

Click here to learn about the 11 things you can do in Amsterdam

About Loan Singh

Loan Singh is a digital lending platform that prides in providing online personal finance loan or unsecured personal loan to salaried individuals. You can apply for quick funds as an easy emergency loan which is not a bank loan. We provide a loan with the best personal loan interest rates. The instant funds, or instant loans, are loans between Rs. 50,000 and Rs.10,00,000 taken for purposes such as:

Home improvement loan/Home renovation loan

Marriage loan/ Wedding loan

Medical loan

Used vehicle loan

Consumer durable loan

Vacation loan

Debt consolidation loan

Credit card refinancing loan

Job relocation loan

Smartphone loan

Travel loan

Festival loans

Gold jewelry loan

Shopping loan

Lifestyle loan

Short term loans

You can calculate your easy EMIs using our personal loan EMI calculator. We accept bank statement and PAN, for quick loan approval. A bad credit score or credit report errors can lead to personal loan rejection. The ‘Loan Singh Finance Blog’ is one of the best finance blogs in India. Loan Singh is a product of Seynse Technologies Pvt Ltd and is a partner to the Airtel Online Store.

Loan Singh’s Online Presence

Loan Singh is not an anonymous digital platform. We are present on almost all leading social media platforms. All you need to do is look for us. You can find us on Loan Singh Facebook, Loan Singh Twitter,Loan Singh Google+, Loan Singh YouTube, Loan Singh Pinterest, Loan Singh Instagram, Loan Singh LinkedIn, Loan Singh Blogarama, Loan Singh Google Business, Loan Singh Bank Bazaar, Loan Singh Medium, Loan Singh Reddit, Loan Singh Tumblr, Loan Singh Scoop It, Loan Singh Feed, Loan Singh Storify, Loan Singh Digg, and Loan Singh Blogger.

Loan Singh In The News

Loan Singh in Business Standard, Loan Singh in inc42, Loan Singh in Financial Express, Loan Singh in ZeeBiz, Loan Singh in Economic Times, Loan Singh in Analytics Mag, Loan Singh in Know Startup, Loan Singh in Deals4Loans, Loan Singh in Airtel Press Release, Loan Singh in TechCircle, Loan Singh in Medianama, Loan Singh in Hindu Business Line, Loan Singh in Digital Terminal, Loan Singh in Tele Analysis, Loan Singh in India Info Online, Loan Singh in Daily Pioneer, Loan Singh in Ciol, Loan Singh in Livemint, Loan Singh in MoneyControl, Loan Singh in Owler.

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[randrvstheworld]

It’s adventure tiiiiiime: lagoon hikes, ice-swimming, rock-climbing & near-death experiences

Huaraz: city of snow-capped mountains, fuzzy alpaca sweaters & adventure!

Our time here began with a hike to Laguna 69, a gloriously turqouise lake hidden in a crater amongst beautiful snowy mountains. The trek began at the brutally early time of 5am, when we boarded a minibus to Huascaran National Park. Stopping on the way for coffees & chocolate (Sublime bars: get to know) against a backdrop of fir trees & rocky cliffsides, we then bounced through the entrance to the national park (making sure not to look out the windows as there was literally a sheer drop just off the side of a windy mountain path that looked pretty sketchy, even more so when you have even a modicum of experience of South American driving). We alighted the bus at the start of the hiking trail & wound our way past fluffy cows, waterfalls & over rocky paths climbing steadily up to 4600ft. It was a beautifully clear, crisp day: deep blue sky & wintry sunshine. The altitude made it very hard for me to catch my breath so I took a very steady pace & made sure to stop a lot for water & snacks. The path got steeper & steeper, windier & windier as we approached the lagoon; the scenery was truly breathtaking, super tall, snow-capped peaks all around. Eventually, out of breath & with burning thighs, we peeped the brilliant turquoise of the lagoon at the end of a narrow, pebbly path. Oh my. What a sight. Truly the most spectacular view of my life. A large, smooth pool, bright, dazzling turquoise, set in a crater surrounded by super tall mountains, a waterfall cascading down into the other side of the lake. A perfect postcard image. Lucy & I, feeling brave, decided to take a dip: definitely the most beautiful place I have ever had a swim, although swim might be a bit of an exaggeration as it was so cold I felt my whole body prickle as f it was on fire & thus only managed a quick splash before having to climb out. Totally worth it though!

The descent, naturally, came easier than the ascent; I get very light-headed at high altitudes & was grateful for being able to breathe more easily on the way back. The whole trek took us about 4 and a half hours, my perfect hiking time. Ad a novice hiker, that’s about all I can manage before it stops being enjoyable so for me it was perfect. Just as we re-boarded the bus back to Huaraz it began to rain hard, so it was timed to absolute perfection. I spent the journey back chatting & giggling with a sweet & very funny French bio-engineer called Lenny. On arrival back at the hostel we fell gratefully into bed (feather-filled duvets & pillows for the win) & slept deeply.

Yesterday, Lucy & I decided to ramp up the adventure factor with some rock-climbing. Roxy, currently suffering a possible broken toe, gave it a miss, so at 2pm Lulu & I were collected by our guide, taken to borrow shoes & trundled in a taxi to the edge of the city, where we tottered down & up a small valley to a pock-marked cliff-face, perfect for climbing with lots of little nooks & ledges for gripping onto. Our guides, Ron & Max, were hilarious & it was a test of our Spanish abilities to get through the afternoon (turns out I know more than I though, & learnt some new words: escalar = rock-climbing). They first rigged up two lines so we could climb simultaneously; one slightly more difficult than the other, so we took it in turns doing both. Sweet Jesus, rock climbing is hard. It requires a lot of fore-arm strength of which, it transpires, I have none. The hardest part for me however, was getting my head around the fact that I could let go of the rocks with all of my limbs & not fall down because Max was holding all of my ropes from the bottom. It was tough but I made it to the top of both lines, feeling very proud of myself considering I have only ever climbed on indoor walls previously & not since I was a teenager. It was also a feat of tackling my vertigo so double pride for me.

Our next line was in a trickier spot slightly further along the rock-face, a large overhang was a big obstacle which Lucy didn’t manage but despite fearing the worst I made it all the way to the top. As we were setting up this line, we were joined by an awesome couple, Nick & Mercedes, who had been looking for a spot to go bouldering & then just ended up joining our climb. Two of the loveliest folks I have met so far; super friendly, fun & interesting, they yelled words of encouragement & helpful tips for where to cling to which really helped me make it to the top. Just as I had descended & removed my harness, the heavens opened; and I mean OPENED. A savage storm ensued, massive hailstones raining down so we took shelter in a cave like fugitives for about an hour until it passed, smoking an nursing all the tiny scratches & cuts on our hands from climbing. Our guides had brought a speaker so we had music to listen to, we shared chocolate & jokes & travel stories & actually had a pretty fun time camped out there. The view of the city & its surrounding mountains was pretty spectacular from up in our cave also.

The tricky part came as we tried to get down: although the rain had ceased, the ground, being comprised totally of mud & grass was now very wet & slippery. We couldn;t take the same route down as we had up, as it would mean crossing a river that now, as a result of the downpour, was raging mercilessly. So we had to tiptoe across a very narrow path at the top of the cliffside until we reached the point where it turned back into road with the river passing underneath. We trod carefully, sliding on hailstones & wet grass, when suddenly, alerted by locals whistling, we realised Lucy had fallen, down a four-metre sheer drop to the next path below. Our guides quickly went to rescue her as Nick, Mercedes & I watched, panic-stricken from above. Thankfully she was/is fine, though she fell on her back, scratched herself to death on cacti on the way down & was evidently very shook by the experience. Ragged & emotional, we helped her hobble back to solid road where the shock of what happened finally hit & we shared somewhat teary hugs all round & inspected her bloody legs. Our guides took us back into town & got her some stuff for the shock (& some pain meds) & then we all agreed we needed a stiff drink so they rustled up some sort of hot rum-like jungle potion, which lovely Nick & Merc insisted on paying for & we huddled round a tiny table in a crowded bar chuckling about the unexpectedly death-defying nature of the days events & bombarding everyone with our music. Nothing like a near-death experience to help you bond with people; after a couple of rounds of the weird drink we decided that we were now firm friends & after well-earned hot showers we ventured back out to meet Nick & Merc for dinner at a Peruvian curry house. Just when I thought I couldn’t love them any more they announced their love for shithead so we played round after round while enjoying one of the best curries I have ever eaten. Full & jovial, we parted ways with big hugs; they both live in London so we exchanged numbers & made plans to meet again, either on the road or when we’re back home.

Today is being spent in relaxing fashion: we went out to some markets this morning & stocked up on fluffy alpaca sweaters & are now sheltering from the rain in our cosy dorm room. We leave Huaraz tomorrow for the desert (more long buses, hooray!) for dune-buggying & more adventure. Hopefully no more close-calls though. One is enough for the year!

PS I am having some difficulty posting photos on here now, not sure why. Gonna give it a crack from iCloud (my last vestige of hope!) but for now you can peep my snaps over at @ruthdrawsthings on Instagram :)