#The vague asks leave me with choice overload

[canterbury-bell]

can you draw ragatha petting jax and him purring since rabbits can purr by rubbing their teeth together:)

How did you request my exact weakness like that

[idiotwhowritesgenshin]

Diluc and Kaeya with a zombie sibling like Jean and Barbara but for extra angst...

The sibling died when Diluc and Kaeya fought because they threw themselves into the crossfire, trying to stop their brothers from hurting each other.

I did consider this but ultimately a scenario like this is angst overload lol and that restricts my writing a fair bit so I’ll do the one I initially planned

I will explain some differences though with this scenario to this one if you want anon and thanks for being my first ask in this blog :>>>

(Also Im gonna try to get some balls and tag diluc but if the person sees this Im gonna die)

I’m so indecisive on whether to use “Y/N’ or “you” when I cant just say “they” for the reader, can I get some advice on that?

Once again scream at me in my inbox and or replies if I accidentally gave a gender this shit is supposed to be GENDER NEUTRAL IF I MESSED UP TELL ME😭😭

These are also longer than Jean and Barbara’s just because I have better grasps of the brothers’ lore over the two sisters

TW Death, Diluc and Kaeya are traumatized but no condition is specified cause I am not a mental health expert (obviously, if there was other things I needed to tag tell me)

Diluc and Kaeya with a zombie younger sibling

How the sibling died is that they were with Diluc and their father when they were attacked by Ursa the Drake. While Diluc fought off the dragon as Crepus ran to get his delusion, the sibling was killed when Diluc got preoccupied and the Four winds took pity on Diluc when they saw his breakdown at losing his younger sibling and father on the night of his birthday. They were revived before Kaeya chose to reveal his secret and Diluc claimed custody of their sibling, as their biological brother and promptly disowned Kaeya. Reader is roughly 10-12 when they died.

Diluc

- The Knights of Favonius are even worse in his eyes. His entire family died that night and they couldn’t even own up to it, they couldn’t own up to the death of his father and the death of Y/N, a CHILD

- Diluc is a fiercely protective older brother who tends to be overbearing in terms of his sibling’s safety. He really can’t help it, the sight of their corpse and feeling them grow cold in his arms traumatized him immensely and the thought of something like that ever happening again

- His protectiveness is luckily able to be calmed by the servants at his home who always do their best to help him stay grounded to reality and not lose sight of who he is in his overwhelming need to protect the only family he has left

- Perhaps it is a blessing that Y/N lost their memories as if they had remembered who Diluc was before, they surely would have been heartbroken to see their once cheerful brother who was the proud cavalry captain of the knights of Favonius become the dark and brooding, wine tycoon who did dark knight hero work at the side

- Diluc wants to still have a presence in his sibling’s life both because they are part of the reason he works so hard to protect Mondstadt, so that no one may suffer the same fate as they did again, and he’ll never admit it but truly does miss when he could hang out and play with his siblings in bliss

- He doesn’t want Kaeya going near them, when he had confessed to being a spy, in his overwhelming grief and anger, he had accused Kaeya of trying to take his entire family from him and even asked if he was upset that you managed to live

- He ordered his butler to make sure that whenever his sibling went out they have someone with them along with their notebook as he similarly to Jean, is anxious on the thought his sibling could just forget him

- When he's not busy and can properly spend time with his sibling, he mostly allows them to take the wheel as he's honestly just not sure what they want to do with how they've forgotten the past and are still rediscovering their interests so he'll mostly watch them waddle around with different activities and entertain them

Kaeya

- Diluc barred him from meeting their sibling ever again but when did the orders of others ever stop him

- Kaeya is honestly a mystery to his former adoptive sibling, he’s a man who feels familiar yet his appearances in their life are sporadic and Diluc only ever tells them to avoid Kaeya but Kaeya finds his ways to worm his way into Y/N’s life

- His sibling is often left either giggly and excited or just confused after spending time with him due to his tendency to play mind games, something that just leaves them unsure of what happened but luckily never causes them long-term distress due to their short term memory

- Whenever Kaeya is asked about his feelings on his sibling becoming a zombie, he never gives a proper answer either leaving some comment on it, too vague to get any idea on his feelings or dodge the question altogether

- Y/N coming back to life gave him a naive hope, a hope that maybe the world would be on his side and that he could finally stop lying, that he could finally pick who to side with between Khaenri’ah and Mondstadt but that didn’t happen, and he would never let himself be so vulnerable again

- He doesn’t blame them for his current situation with Diluc, even if their death did inspire him to try and open up, it was ultimately his choice and it undeniably hurts to be denied access to someone he truly sees as a younger sibling by the man he still sees as his older brother, he’ll take it with a smile, like he always has

- The notebook issue does worry him but luckily he has his ways to worm his way in so that they can remember him, no matter what Diluc does, Kaeya has his ways

- He likes to have them spend time with Klee, you became much quieter after you were revived due to becoming a zombie so he finds it adorable to watch the cheerful Spark Knight play with their sibling who for the most part is confused but also enjoys playing with her, he always makes sure to stop Klee from doing anything that could be harmful to them though, Diluc would kill him

[michaelgambons]

Baseline Romantic

Chapter 7

Warnings: poor mental health, hospitals, cuteness overloads

Y/N woke up late on the Sunday morning, and spent a couple of minutes scrolling through twitter before groaning slightly and getting up.

Voices were coming from the kitchen, she could recognise Ben’s, but the other voice was unfamiliar.

Y/N detoured away from the kitchen to the bathroom to look at herself in the mirror. She didn’t know who was in the kitchen, but she sure as hell didn’t want to meet them looking quite as messy as she did right now.

Entering the kitchen a few minutes later, face washed and hair tied back, Y/N saw Ben with his back to her, busy with the toaster, in his joggers. At the table was a young, tall, blonde haired girl, who was wearing one of Ben’s sweaters.

‘Hi!’ Y/N said brightly as she came in.

Ben swung round, and smiled at her brightly, looking almost relieved to see her.

‘Hey, Y/N. This is Bella’ he said, gesturing at the blonde girl sat at the table.

‘Nice to meet you Bella! Is there any chance of some toast Ben? I won’t intrude for too long, I’m meeting Charlie at 2’

As Ben turned round to the toaster, you sat down at the table.

‘I’m sure I recognise you from somewhere’ Bella said. Thinking she was referring to Ben, you didn’t glance up from your phone.

‘Y/N, isn’t it? Yeah I’m sure I recognise you from somewhere’

‘Me? Sorry, I’m so used to people asking Ben that. Um, maybe, I’m on the news quite a bit - I’m a political commentator’

‘That’s it! We always have News24 on in the background at work- I must have spotted you then!’

You smile vaguely at her, with limited desire to prolong the discussion. ‘Where do you work Bella?’

‘I do PR. That’s actually how we met last night’ she giggled slightly and turned to Ben, who smiles vaguely at her, before quickly turning away. ‘I did the PR for the event we were both at’

‘Oh nice’ Y/N said vaguely.

‘I’m just going to hop into the shower, will you be ok Bella? Help yourself to any food while I’m gone’ Ben said, already out the door.

Bella smiled at him as he leaves, resembling a hungry chiwawa.

‘So, I can imagine Ben brings loads of girls back here’ Bella said turning back to Y/N. Feeling slightly annoyed to be being talked to again (did this girl not understand mornings?) Y/N said ‘only about as many as I bring back myself’. She winked at Bella, who looked taken aback.

You mock checking the time. ‘Oh shit, I need to dash. Really lovely to meet you Bella’

‘Yeah, you too! Hopefully I’ll see you again’ Bella called after you.

You smiled to yourself as you went back to your bedroom. You knew the likelihood of that was next to nothing.

—————-

After making sure that Bella had left, you drifted into the living room and sunk into a sofa. Ben sulked in after you, towel slung around his waist and droplets of water falling down his chest.

After lockdown had ended, it had been agreed that Ben would move in permanently with you and Catherine. You were more than happy with that. You loved having Ben around, loved the domestic fluffiness of it all. Only, with Ben moving in had also come the trickle of women who fell out of his bedroom.

‘A blonde named Bella who works in PR. Really Ben? You’re becoming some sort of seedy playboy- are you sure you’re not batman by night?’

Ben laughed, but looked slightly embarrassed.

‘I hope we didn’t keep you awake last night. Bella was really loud’ he says.

You snort. ‘No don’t worry, I was out like a light; fucking shattered. My new pills are knocking me out like clockwork. Anyway, just loud makes a welcome change to that squeaky one a few weeks back’

Ben laughs. ‘Christ, what was her name?’

You shrug at him. ‘If you can’t remember I’m certainly not going to. She could definitely remember yours though’. She imitated Ben’s squeaky one night stand ‘ooooh Ben, yeah just there- eeeek!’

Ben chucked a cushion at her. ‘Shut up, you’re triggering too many memories’ he laughs.

‘All I’m saying is I think you need a better vetting process’ Y/N said as she left the room, pausing to ruffle Ben’s hair as she left.

Y/N sat back on her bed. Absentmindedly her hand crept towards her panties, and slid beneath her waistband. It wasn’t a coincidence that the first thing that came to mind was Ben’s glistening post shower abs. She imagined that instead of going back to her room, she had instead gone over to him, and stared him straight in the eye as she pulled his towel away from him. Sinking down on her knees she had engulfed his dick with her mouth, and looking up, had seen him staring down at her, eyelids fluttering. She was still picturing his face as she came, quickly, brutally, writhing in her bed, his name on her lips.

This wasn’t the first time she’d got off to Ben whilst they’d lived together. In many ways it was quite useful having such a cache of material wondering around the house she could select from. She’d got quite good at telling herself she was just physically attracted to Ben. She loved Ben as a friend and a small part of her wanted to spend the night with him again. That wasn’t so unusual. Friends slept together all the time. Maybe if she could sleep with him again she could stop thinking about him. You laughed at yourself the first time it occurred to you. It was ridiculous and stupid and so unlikely to help. And it wasn’t as if she would ever act on it. He clearly wasn’t interested.

—————

That evening, it was just you and Ben in the house, Catherine was away staying at a yoga retreat in the Peak District. You’d been feeling increasingly unwell as the night progressed, and at 9:30 had muttered your excuses and headed to bed. As you were stood brushing your teeth, you suddenly felt incredibly light headed and before you had had the chance to sit down or steady yourself, you had fallen to the floor.

You came to a minute or so later, Ben peering over you looking concerned. As you opened your eyes his face flooded with relief. As you raised your head off the ground you realised he had placed you in the recovery position.

‘What happened?’ You asked, groggily, putting your face in your hands.

‘I’m not too sure. I just heard this crash from the bathroom, and shouted to see if you were ok. When you didn’t reply I came to check on you, and found you on the floor. You can’t have been out for very long- have you hurt yourself at all?’ He asked.

‘I don’t think so. I feel awful though, like I’m going to faint again’

‘Ok, I’m going to help you get into the living room,’ Ben said.

He gently lifted you to your feet, and as you steadied yourself, wiped a strand of hair out of your eyes. He cupped your face with his hands and your eyes met, yours glassy from your faint and his wide, full of concern.

Established on the sofa, you felt much better. Ben insisted however, on calling 101, much to your derision.

‘I’m calling them whether you like it or not, Y/N. Whether you speak to them or not is your choice, but I want to make sure you’re ok’

————

‘This is all such an overreaction’ you complained as Ben bundled you in his sweatshirt and helped you on with your jacket. ‘I fainted! It happens to people all the time. I don’t need to go to the hospital’

‘You heard what the woman said. She was worried it was a reaction to your medication. Come on, our Uber is here’ Ben said, offering you his hand to lead you out the door.

You held onto his hand the entire short journey to the hospital. You couldn’t quite place why, but it was comforting, warm, and he didn’t seem to resist. Once inside, checked in and sat on cold, hard backed plastic chairs, Ben had made sure you were settled before heading off to find a vending machine. He returned a few minutes later with a Diet Coke for himself and a bottle of water for you.

‘I thought caffeine was probably a bad idea until you’ve seen the doctor’ he said, registering your displeasure as you looked at the water bottle he had handed you.

You rested your head on his shoulder, and must have dozed off because the next thing you knew he was nudging you awake.

‘Come on, Y/N, they’ve just called us’ he whispered gently, helping you to your feet.

In the consultants office, you both sat down, and you handed your coat to Ben.

‘Y/N Y/L/N, right? And this must be your partner-‘

‘Flatmate’ both you and Ben said in unison

‘Sorry, flatmate. What’s been the matter today Y/N?’

You briefly explained the evenings events, looking to Ben occasionally for him to fill in any blanks you couldn’t remember.

‘The 101 lady thought it might be a reaction to some of the medication I’m on. I’ve just upped my dose of Zoloft, and she wondered if that could be it’

‘Do you mind me asking what you’re on that for?’ The doctor asked.

‘You name it, I’ve got it!’ You said brightly. ‘I’m on the Zoloft for my PTSD and depression, and until recently I was on beta blockers for my anxiety, but they were interacting with my asthma medication too much so my doctor took me off them and upped my Zoloft dose’

‘So you’re now on 150 a day?’ The doctor said, flicking through his notes.

You nodded.

‘I reckon that’s what it is, if I’m honest’ he said, turning to you. ‘That’s a big dose, and while it’s clearly what you need, it’s likely to have a few side effects with it. Fainting, or feeling light headed is quite common. If it doesn’t subside in a couple of days, I’d go back to your doctor, but for the meantime I wouldn’t worry too much about it.

You and Ben were silent in the Uber home. You were exhausted from the nights events, and still not feeling very well. Ben was staring out of the window, seemingly lost in thought.

‘Are you ok?’ You finally asked, as you took your coat off, glad to be home at last. ‘You’ve been quiet for the past 5 minutes which is completely out of character’.

‘Yeah I’m fine. Just glad you’re ok, it was quite a shock coming in and finding you like that... I didn’t realise just how bad your mental health was either. I know we’ve talked about it in the past, but you’ve always been quite blasé about it’

‘Yeah. I guess I don’t feel like there’s much to talk about. I just try and get on with it. No point burdening your friends with it unless you need to’ you said.

‘It wouldn’t be a burden though, not at all. I don’t want you to feel you can’t talk to me about things. I mean, I tell you all sorts of random shit, it’s definitely my turn to listen to you’

You yawn widely.

‘You must be fucking knackered’ Ben said. ‘Get into bed and I’ll bring you some tea’.

As you headed to bed he shouted after you ‘Do you want a hot water bottle too? It’s really cold tonight!’

You smiled slightly to yourself at his fussiness before you responded.

[diddlesanddoodles]

DEAD WALLS RISE - FARRIS

Special thanks to the forever amazing @thundering-susurrus​ for editing. 

“You should smile more.”

Farris turned his head to eye the thin figure sitting under the window. Without use of his eyes, Kent could no longer see the sunlight spilling down onto him, but the human still enjoyed the warmth of the sun’s rays nevertheless.

“What are ye on about?” Farris asked. “I smile plenty.”

Kent didn’t turn to face his Vhasshalan guardian. “I can hear it in your voice when you frown.”

“The fuck ye can.”

“See?” said the man with a knowing grin. “You did it just now.”

Farris stepped away from the pan of toasting spices to glare at his ward. “Aye, because I have a smarmy lil’ wanker tellin’ me I frown too much.”

“I believe what I said was – ”

“BAH! I know what ye said. When I have a reason to smile more, I will.”

“Seems like you have good reasons to smile now,” Kent said, turning his face to Farris at last. There was no real point in facing the giant when they spoke other than an old inclination from when he still had use of his eyes. “No one’s caught fire in a while. That should be a good enough reason to me.”

Though he clearly saw that Kent was trying to goad him into a lighter mood, Farris did not possess enough spirit at that moment to feel anything other than the same weighted guilt that always followed him day in and day out. “Gonna take a lot more than that, lad.”

Kent’s mild smile faded away. “Isn’t just… being alive enough?”

“Not everyone’s as chipper about that as ye.”

A silence fell between them. To Farris, it felt heavy and dreadful, and he had half a mind to demand the human to simply drop the topic and allow him to go on with his day. Work was numbing and was the only thing he had found that came close to alleviating the pain. The pain brought on from the memories and the knowledge of what he had done. He had his reasons, of course. He had made his choice: the lives of his boys over the scores of captured humans. He was responsible for the workers under him and the humans had been enemy combatants. But that justification only held water for so long. 

“You’ll forgive yourself one day, Farris.”

Kent’s words felt like ice in his chest. He brushed a hand across his nose as he bent to grab the pan from the fire. Tipping the now-toasted spices into a bowl, he set it aside before grabbing the next batch and tossing the raw spices into the still hot pan. Giving it a firm shake, his eyes drifted to the flames and he watched them dance for several long moments. He sat the pan down. 

“No,” he finally replied in a soft voice. “Ain’t no forgivin’ what I’ve done.”

“You’re too good a man to let his legacy ruin you.”

“Good men don’t murder in…” He stopped himself and sighed. “Ye wouldn’t understand, Kent. And I don’t expect ye to.”

“I think I do a little. Was on the other end of that mess, don’t you forget.”

“How could I?” Farris asked as he glanced over his shoulder. “Ye remind me all the time. Even though I was there.”

“And your bedside manner is as terrible as ever.”

He had to laugh at that. Walking around the table, he went to the counter where Kent was sitting and poked the man’s side. “Was there a point to this or do ye just like hearing yerself blabber on and on?”

“Hm… maybe a little of both?” Kent replied grinning. “No, I did have a point.”

“Then make it so I can get on with my work.”

“You’re a good man, Farris,” Kent said seriously. He reached out and patted Farris’s hand. “Even if you don’t think so. And there aren’t a whole lot of those left in the world. I do hope you find a reason some day to forgive yourself. Even just a little. And maybe you’ll start smiling again.”

Farris eyed him, suppressing the urge to be angry or brush away the man’s touch. Kent always confounded him. He had every right and opportunity to be a bitter wreck of a man after everything he had been through and yet, despite it all, Kent was endlessly cheery and kind. Sometimes frustratingly so. For several moments, Farris stared at the small scarred hand resting on his own. He grunted and pulled his hand away. “What’s got ye all sentimental this mornin’?”

“Hm? Oh, I dunno. Been thinkin’ about my place in the universe. Meaning of life. The usual,” Kent paused as a devious smirk crossed his face. “And of course see how long I can distract you until you catch on that your spices are burning.”

“Wha…? Ah! Ye lil’ fucker!”

Kent’s laughter filled his ears as he rushed back to the hearth to try and salvage his work. In the following years, Farris would regret not appreciating that sound more. It would be the last time he would hear Kent laugh.

The next night, he came down with a hellish fever.

And by morning, Kent was dead.

………………………………………………………………………..

The wedding feast preparations had been a symphony of chaos: carefully planned, but executed more with stubborn will than any finesse or strategy. He had assumed the weeks of prep they had done would carry them further than they ultimately had, and by the second to last course on the last day they were scrambling to keep up. Luckily for Farris, most of the guests were happy enough to indulge in the free flowing wine and liquor between the courses. They would be too inebriated to be able to find their own feet, let alone be able to tell that the next course was late.

And then, of course, that was when Yale brought him the thief.

A human child. She was a small and pitiful creature. Dirty, skinny, and terrified, but a thief nonetheless. He was far too busy to spare her any consideration of leniency. It was her poor luck that she chose to steal from him on the single busiest day in more than a decade. She would just have to wait, he decided. Secured in one of the wooden cages left over from the delivered livestock, he placed her on the counter inside the pantry, gave her a firm warning to be quiet, and left her there. She didn’t scream at him or try to escape. In fact, the little thief barely even made a sound other than muffled weeping. If it had been any other day, he may have felt pity for her. Instead, he was annoyed to have something else dumped onto his already overloaded plate.

Several hours later, when he had a moment to even consider her again, he found that she had wedged herself in the corner and fallen asleep. He opened the cage and slipped a ramekin of water inside before closing it back up again. The human child did not stir.

Even balled up as she was, he could tell she was very young. Too young to be wandering around on her own. A suspicion began to form in his mind that she was not just some young hooligan from the Hill Tribes making trouble. He’d had plenty of those come through over the years and after threatening to toss them into a pie, each of the little troublemakers would be quick with their excuses and defenses. So, after a good scare and a lecture, they’d be sent back to Gregis for another lecture and whatever punishment the Hill Tribe leader saw fit. The war might be over, but danger still remained, even within the castle.

However, Farris could not recall ever having come across a thief so young. Her clothes were made of a rough homespun hemp and, best he could tell, seemed too small for her. She wasn’t even wearing shoes. Autumn had been mild but still chilly enough to warrant shoes. Where in the Seven Hells did this girl come from? And where were her parents?

He decided to leave the questions for later and went to help with the last big push to get the dessert course out the door and cleanup underway. There was a large tankard of dark ale waiting for him at the end of the day and he did not intend to be late. He felt as though he had earned a drink.

…………………

“So what’re ye gonna do with the Dumplin’?”

Farris had sat down to supper that night, more aware of his age than he ever had been. The arthritis in his left wrist was acting up, his joints creaked, and his back hurt. But still, he felt a deep sense of accomplishment for the work they had done. He opened his eyes, glancing towards the source of the question, and shrugged. “Notified Donal. He’ll inform the King tomorrow and then it’ll be his discretion as to what’s to be done with her.”

That seemed to surprise Saen and the rest of his staff. Yale sat up a little straighter. “Why’d ye do that? Ain’t ye just gonna send her back to Gregis? Like the others?”

Farris chuckled. “That lil’ mite ain’t from the Hill Tribes, lad. She’s feral.”

“How can ye tell? She say somethin’?” Yale asked.

“Nah. Just a hunch,” He took a long swig of ale and, as he sat it back down, sent a vague gesture towards the pantry door. “Fer one thing, Gregis wouldn’t let a child run around in that state.”

“She was pretty mangy lookin’,” Yale conceded with a chortle. “Looked like the thin’ needed a good scrubbin’.”

“Thinkin’ a keepin’ her are ye?” Saen asked, elbowing Yale in the ribs.

Yale grinned. “Crossed my mind.”

“Well,” Farris said. “first she’s gotta face the King’s justice.”

“Still. If she ain’t from Gregis’s lot,” Yale said, “where the hell she come from?”

“Who knows,” he replied. “Where do any of ‘em come from anymore?”

Beside him, Bart laughed. “Half the time it seems like they just pop out of the ground like cabbages.”

Grinning, Farris took another long pull from his ale before getting to his feet and reaching for one of the communal bread loaves. He tore off a small but still sizable piece and turned from the table.

“Well, suppose I should go feed her somethin’,” Farris said. “That one’s the skinniest dumplin’ I’ve ever seen.”

Light laughter followed him as he opened the door to the spice pantry. The hearth light fell in an illuminating column into the room and onto the cage where he could see a swathe of red. Farris froze.

The girl was awake and on her belly, clutching the rim of the water cup he had left her. Her skin was red with a distinctive rash and she was pulling in short gasping breaths all the while, laying in a small pool of her own sick.

Farris felt his stomach drop. The red reap.

He recalled the night Kent fell with the fever and how the rash soon followed. His breathing had become raspy and labored and it was not very long at all before he breathed his last breath. But Kent had been an adult, a grown man. The Dumplin’ was just a small child.

“Seven fuckin’ Hells,” he cursed. It was Kent all over again and, though he would never admit it aloud or even to himself, Farris was scared. He turned to call back over his shoulder. “Yale, get me warm water, not hot, and a few towels.”

His assistant looked up at him from his place at the table with round cheeks, unable to answer him with his mouth so full. Beside him Saen was grinning at him cheekily. “Oh aye? Be needin’ some relaxation after all that exhaustin’ spice grindin’, eh, Farris?”

He glared at the cook. “Shut yer gob Saen before I bash it in. It ain’t fer me,” he said and turned his gaze back to the sick little girl. “The human’s got the red reap.”

All of the merriment and cheer died in an instant as all eyes of his staff turned to him. Yale especially looked upset as he mechanically chewed and swallowed. “She didn’t look ill earlier.”

“They call it the reap fer a reason, boy. There’s no warnin’. It just comes. Now get off yer arse and get me what I asked fer.”

Yale was on his feet in an instant, rushing to the shelf to grab a bowl. “...right away, boss.”

He stood beside her cage, feeling the weight of his shame and harshly cursing himself for his cruelty. It was very probable that these would be her last moments and he had her put into a cage. As a joke. But no one was laughing. He opened the cage and removed the cup of water. There was sick all over it and down the side, but he did not pay it any mind. When he reached back inside for the girl, she shied away with a pained mewl. She was shaking and weeping.

He had done this to her.

“Hush now,” he murmured softly to her, resting the tips of his fingers lightly across her back. She tried to squirm away from him. “I know it hurts, lil’un. I know yer scared. Just keep breathin’...”

Yale was there with the water and towels. “Where do you want this, Farris?”

“Upstairs,” he said, considering the girl and how best to pick her up without doing her more harm. “And I’ll need the salve from the drawer there. And a Cayne leaf. Small one.”

In the end, he simply scooped her into his cupped hands. She was so small and light, but shockingly warm. The fever had well set in and he knew she may not have much longer.

Yale followed him up to his private quarters and once inside, Farris directed him to set the bowl of water on the table. His first attempts to remove her vomit-covered clothes resulted in her struggling against him and he snarled at her in frustration. “Stop that, girl. Yer covered in sick.”

He decided it best to get it all over with as quick as possible and simply yanked them off her. She showed signs of malnutrition and was so thin that he knew she wouldn’t have the strength to fight off the fever. The realization seemed to hit Yale at the same time. Once she was clean, he wrapped her in one of the towels and tucked her into the crook of his arm. He applied the salve to her eyelids, where it would help cool the raging heat of the rash. Then he slipped the Cayne leaf into her mouth, which she immediately spat out.

He didn’t blame her. Cayne leaves were rancid and vile tasting things. But it was also one of the best pain remedies known.

“Ye can go Yale,” he said. “I’ve got ‘er.”

His assistant looked at him with wide and fearful eyes. “Ye sure?”

Farris nodded. “If she makes it through the fever, she’ll live,” he said and sighed deeply. “We’ll know by morning.”

He reached out and grabbed Yale by the shoulder with his free hand. “Regardless, I need you awake and alert tomorrow. There’s too much that still needs to be done. If she lives, she’ll be seeing the King. If not, well, the reap will have made the judgment fer ‘im.”

“All right,” he said with a lingering concern in his eyes. Yale touched a finger to the girl’s head, petting her softly. “Good luck, lil’un.”

After Yale had left, Farris went to his bed and sat down. He was not sure how long he sat there, watching the human sleep. The red rash had spread along her neck and face, but she did not stir from her sleep. Her breathing remained raged and labored.

In the quiet of the night, when he knew no one was around to hear him, Farris spoke to the girl.

“Yer just a lil’ thing,” he said quietly as he ran a finger across the top of her head. “Probably all alone in the world, eh? Either that or yer folks are right shit. Don’t look like the world’s been very kind to ye, lass. Even now, it’s still tryin’ its best t’beat ye down. But yer a strong one, ain’t ye? Not gonna let a fever take ye. Nah. Too green fer it all to end so soon. Yer gonna be alright there, Dumplin’. I’ll make sure of it. One way or another. Yer gonna be just fine. Yer gonna wake up…”

His hands were shaking.

“Please. Please, wake up.”

…………………..

He woke at the same time he had for the last twenty-some-odd years. It was still plenty dark, but the lamp on the wall was still lit, a minuscule amount of oil still feeding the small flame. He knew it would last until the first rays of the sun reached the castle roof and then would need to be refilled. At first, his mind automatically went to sorting out the day’s tasks, but everything stopped with a sickening jolt when he remembered the child. His arm remained curled around the bundle and he wondered, if he were to look down, would there be another face to add to the collection of the dead within his mind and nightmares? With a fortifying breath, his heart pounding, Farris dipped his head down to look at the little girl. The harsh red rash that had covered her face was gone. She had not gone stiff, and he realized with a start that she was still warm. 

She was still breathing.

She was alive.

“...ye… yer alive,” he breathed in shock, resting his free hand on the bundle. “Seven fuckin’ Hells… ye… I can’t...”

For a long moment, he sat there and watched her sleep, all the while riding the waves of varying emotions. In the end, he thought of Kent. Farris easily recalled what a pitiful and broken creature he had been when he had first laid eyes upon him. He remembered how he had made a place in his kitchen, his home, for him. He could do the same for the girl.

“...I could do that fer ye,” he said to no one in particular as he rose from the bed, careful not to wake his charge. With a warm smile on his face, he rocked her gently. “My lil’ Dumplin’.”

…………………..

It took Rheil less than an hour to return to the kitchens after delivering the girl to the King. Clutched in his gloved hand, he held Farris’s note. He stepped down into the kitchen and everyone eyed him eagerly as they slowed in their work to watch and listen. 

“So?” Farris asked Rheil as he wiped his hands on a tea towel and leaned against the counter. “She give his Majesty her story then?”

“Aye,” replied the captain as he crossed the room and held out the note to Farris. He took it, but did not open it. Rheil crossed his arms and leaned up against the long table and regarded the kitchen master with neutral expression. “Orphaned.”

He nodded. “Figured that much.”

“And ye were right,” Rheil replied. “She ain’t one of Gregis’s. She ain’t even a refugee.”

Farris squinted in bemusement. “No?”

“No. She’s from the Southlands. The port,” Rheil replied. “Guess there was some big ol’ fire than killed her last living relative. She was trying to steal some food from the caravan when it was being loaded and she got stuck.”

“That’s a three day trek nonstop,” Saen butted in, eye wide in horror. “Ye mean she was stuck in that basket for three days?”

Rheil nodded. “She was. Probably too scared to ask for help. Who knows what the Beastmen would ‘a done if they caught her and once she passed the Gate… well. In fer a penny.”

Farris huffed. “No wonder half my persimmon order was gone. She probably ate three golds worth all on her own.”

Rheil made a face. “Seems awfully steep just for some fruit.”

Farris waved the comment away. “That ain’t nothin’. Them red mud boars were twelve gold a piece and one arrived dead. Weddings on the whole are expensive affairs. A royal wedding is extravagant and extravagantly expensive. But I ain’t one to tell the King how to spend his money. That’s Thame’s job.”

“Also, the lass thought Nethrin was still King,” Rheil added and Farris frowned.

“She what?”

The captain nodded, a smirk creeping along the edges of his mouth. “Aye. Thought she was gonna faint on me fer a second. Told her he was long dead, but I ain’t sure how much she believed me.”

Farris ran a hand down his face. “Where she now?”

“Lolly’s got her.”

“Well, we won’t be seein’ her fer a few hours then,” Bart laughed as he came down the steps from the courtyard. “Them ladies will be fawning over the Dumplin’ till suppertime. Mark my words.”

“True enough and just as well,” Farris conceded. “That’ll give her time enough to acclimate a bit and we can get on with our work.”

Bart gave him a questioning look. Silently, Farris handed the note to him. Bart’s eyes scanned the words before glancing back to Farris with the same questioning eye. In reply, Farris just nodded and Bart shrugged noncommittally.

“Well alright then,” he said and went back to work.

Farris opened the note again to scan the words, feeling an rising sensation in his chest, and Kent’s words came abruptly to the forefront of his mind.

“You’re a good man, Farris. Even if you don’t think so. And there aren’t a whole lot of those left in the world. I do hope you find a reason some day to forgive yourself. Even just a little. And maybe you’ll start smiling again.”

The note read:

If it comes to pass that the girl does not have any place to go, I ask his Majesty to consider that I might be granted guardianship over her. - F

And written just under his note in a much finer hand and with higher quality ink than his own, was the short answer:

Your request is granted. Take care of her, Farris. - W

Farris smiled. 

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

BONUS ART:

[ashtray-girl]

i wanna talk more about this post (which i’ve mentioned multiple times in my other Marrissey analyses):

op’s blog has been deactivated, so i can’t ask them for more info on this story and obviously i can’t prove whether any of it is true or not, but i do have some thoughts of my own on the subject.

first of all: do i believe this actually happened?

well... yes.

why?

a few reasons.

first of all, some of the lyrics on Viva Hate. specifically, Angel Angel Down We Go Together and Late Night Maudlin Street (as i’ve said elsewhere, i don’t think it’s a coincidence they’re right next to each other on the tracklist). you can find more info on that here and here.

secondly, some of the statements Johnny gave in interviews when he was in Electronic, such as:

as i’ve said in my original post on the topic (which you can check out here), that expression - ‘will make your hair curl’ - sounds very weird to me in this context... almost like the truth surrounding the split is actually much more dark than we’d think, and what could be more dark than the lead singer attempting to kill himself to prevent his best friend (and possibly unrequited lover) from leaving him and the band they founded together? also, considering how delicate of a circumstance this would be, it’s no surprise the band and the people around them would try their best to keep it quiet and refuse to talk about it with the press (who’d already sabotaged them by announcing Johnny was leaving The Smiths when he was just thinking about taking some time off, therefore forcing his hand and causing this whole mess in the first place).

i have to admit i haven’t read all of the press about the break-up at the time, but i’m pretty sure the story about Morrissey’s attempted suicide never reached any journo’s hear, otherwise they wouldn’t have hesitated to plaster it all over the place, especially considering how popular he was at the time. even if there was no proof of it actually happening, what difference would that have made? after all, they’d already reported on Johnny supposedly leaving the band just because of some hearsay...

now, let’s break down this last quote sentence by sentence:

“I used to take Smiths split comments personally” well yeah you would, wouldn’t you? especially if your best friend had almost died because he didn’t want you to leave and then the general public also blamed you for breaking up their favourite band to be a session musician for people like Bryan Ferry.

“... because there’s two sides to every story.” yeah, the one you told the press and the public (vague, semi-diplomatic stuff about work overload and creative differences) and the real one, the one that apparently ‘will make your hair curl’.

“For the last few years I’ve been really happy to read things that have been completely untrue” well, NO SHIT. again, it would be hard enough to llive with the fact that your best friend had almost taken his own life because of your decision to end your professional relationship with him, but imagine if you also had to live with the constant anxiety of the press finding out about it?

“... because I like to keep my private life very private.” this is basically like saying: ‘yeah, there definitely is more to it than what we told you, but it’s none of your business.’

again. “The people involved [...] were very protective of what went on.” more emphasis on privacy and secrecy, which at this point makes you wonder... what DID go on? because whatever it was, it sounds as if it was far more serious than quarrelling about not wanting to play Cilla Black’s covers and taking some time off to go on holiday.

“The real story will be told when the entire thing is finished”. the fact that he said ‘the REAL story’ implies that what they’ve been telling the press so far has not been entirely accurate. have they been lying by omission? again, if the story about Moz’s attempted suicide was true, they’d have every reason to do so.

also, apparently it wasn’t just Johnny who liked being cryptic about The Smiths splitting, because Bernard did it as well:

... “a bit traumatised”, huh? and why would he be? and what would that ‘other member’ have to do to unsettle him that much? if i didn’t know he was talking about a band, i’d think he was talking about a couple. but then again, IF op’s story was accurate and if Morrissey DID try to take his own life, Bernard’s choice of words would make perfect sense.

in conclusion these are obviously just my thoughts and opinions, i have no concrete evidence whatsoever, i’ll probably never have it and maybe that’s for the best.

however, i do think this is one of those stories where paying attention at what wasn’t being said is more effective to notice more details and to get a clearer idea on what the situation might have been.

[evindimeta]

Are You Experiencing Some of the Common Symptoms of Ascension?

(Long Post)

Some of you may find this helpful, please only take what helps and do not worry or fret if something in this list does not resonate with you. You can take what resonates and leave what doesn’t. That is okay.

Those who need to hear this will be drawn to it, for that is the way of our great Universe.

~ Blessings to All ~

I was just looking at quite a few pages of COVID long haulers support groups...where a COVID-positive was indicated and they have not fully recovered their well being. 85% of the descriptions of their symptoms (which are found as negative health concerns) are labelled as COVID...some are being told it’s Lyme, fibromyalgia and chronic fatigue among other unknown causes. As I reviewed the endless lists and common symptoms I found that they are very similar to ascension symptoms.

However most do not realize that they are going through a physical change in their DNA structure. Those who are aware and have gone through the many waves of change understand and roll with the fatigue and other symptoms in gratitude and not fear, trusting and seeing the positive change in who they are as this occurs. It is a leaving or shedding what has been known... to reveal the true self within.

I felt it would be supportive for you, and for your friends and loved ones to review to find a “positive outlook” on a changing body and world. May this fill you with hope, for all are emerging through this great transformation.

PLEASE NOTE: This article is based on work presented by Samuel Greenberg's original list and is not authored by Dr. Nickerson. Before you read this, realize that you are okay and that what you are experiencing is "The SHIFT". This is a normal process when the universal vibrational energy forces you to rise above your normal 3D level of existence here on Earth.  It’s all okay.  When in doubt, please see your doctor to confirm to alleviate fear.

Ascension Symptoms:

1. Feeling as though you are in a pressure cooker or in intense energy; feeling stress. Remember, you are adjusting to a higher vibration and you will eventually adjust. Old patterns, behaviors and beliefs are also being pushed to the surface. There is a lot going on inside of you.

2. A feeling of disorientation; not knowing where you are; a loss of a sense of place. You are not in 3D anymore, as you have moved or in the process of moving into the higher realms.

3. Unusual aches and pains throughout different parts of your body. You are purifying and releasing blocked energy vibrating at 3D, while you are vibrating in a higher dimension.

4. Waking at night between 2 and 4 a.m. Much is going on in your dream state. You can’t be there for long lengths of time and need a break. This is also the ‘cleansing and releasing’ hour.

5. Memory loss. A great abundance of short term memory loss and only vague remembrances of your past. You are in more than one dimension at a time, and going back and forth as part of the transition, you are experiencing a ‘disconnect’. Also, your past is part of the Old, and the Old is forever gone. Being in the Now is the way of the New World.

6. ‘Seeing’ and ‘hearing’ things. You are experiencing different dimensions as you transition, all according to how sensitive you are and how you are wired.

7. Loss of identity. You try to access the Old you, but it is no longer there. You may not know who you are looking at in the mirror. You have cleared much of your old patterns and are now embodying much more light and a simpler, more purified divine you. All is in order, You are okay.

8. Feeling ‘out of body’. You may feel as though someone is talking, but it is not you. This is our natural defense mechanism of survival when we are under acute stress or feeling traumatized or out of control. Your body is going through a lot and you may not want to be in it. My ascension guide told me that this was a way of easing the transition process, and that I did not need to experience what my body was going through. This only lasted a short time. It passes.

9. Periods of deep sleeping. You are resting from all the acclimating and are integrating, as well as building up for the next phase.

10. Heightened sensitivities to your surroundings. Crowds, noise, foods, TV, other human voices and various other stimulations are barely tolerable. You also overwhelm very easily and become easily overstimulated. You are tuning up. Know that this will eventually pass.

11. You don’t feel like doing anything. You are in a rest period, ‘rebooting’. Your body knows what it needs. In addition, when you begin reaching the higher realms, ‘doing’ and ‘making things happen’ becomes obsolete as the New energies support the feminine of basking, receiving, creating, self-care and nurturing. Ask the Universe to ‘bring’ you what you want while you are enjoying yourself and having fun.

12. An intolerance for lower vibrational things of the 3D, reflected in conversations, attitudes, societal structures, healing modalities, etc. They literally make you feel ‘sick’ inside. You are in a higher vibration and your energies are no longer in alignment. You are being ‘pushed, to move forward; to ‘be’ and create the New.

13. A loss of desire for food. Your body is adjusting to a new, higher state of being. Also, part of you does not want to be here anymore in the Old.

14. A sudden disappearance of friends, activities, habits, jobs and residences. You are evolving beyond what you used to be, and these people and surroundings no longer match your vibration. The New will soon arrive and feel so-o-o-o much better.

15. You absolutely cannot do certain things anymore. When you try to do your usual routine and activities, it feels downright awful. You are evolving beyond what you used to be, and these people and surroundings no longer match your vibration. The New will soon arrive and feel so-o-o-o much better.

16. Days of extreme fatigue. Your body is losing density and going through intense restructuring.

17. A need to eat often along with what feels like attacks of low blood sugar. Weight gain, especially in the abdominal area. A craving for protein. You are requiring an enormous amount of fuel for this ascension process. Weight gain with an inability to loose it no matter what you do is one of the most typical experiences. Trust that your body knows what it is doing.

18. Experiencing emotional ups and downs; weeping. Our emotions are our outlet for release, and we are releasing a lot.

19. A wanting to go Home, as if everything is over and you don’t belong here anymore. We are returning to Source. Everything is over, but many of us are staying to experience and create the New World. Also, our old plans for coming have been completed.

20. Feeling you are going insane, or must be developing a mental illness of some sort. You are rapidly experiencing several dimensions and greatly opening. Much is available to you now. You are just not used to it. Your awareness has been heightened and your barriers are gone. This will pass and you will eventually feel very at Home like you have never felt before, as Home is now here.

21. Anxiety and panic. Your ego is losing much of itself and is afraid. Your system is also on overload. Things are happening to you that you may not understand. You are also losing behavior patterns of a lower vibration that you developed for survival in 3D. This may make you feel vulnerable and powerless. These patterns and behaviors you are losing are not needed in the higher realms. This will pass and you will eventually feel so much love, safety and unity. Just wait.

22. Depression. The outer world may not be in alignment with the New, higher vibrational you. It doesn’t feel so good out there. You are also releasing lower, darker energies and you are ‘seeing’ through them. Hang in there.

23. Vivid, wild and sometimes violent dreams. You are releasing many, many lifetimes of lower vibrational energy. Many are now reporting that they are experiencing beautiful dreams. Your dream state will eventually improve and you will enjoy it again. Some experience this releasing while awake. My mother commented one day that she believed I was having nightmares in the daytime.

24. Night sweats and hot flashes. Your body is ‘heating’ up as it burns off residue.

25. Your plans suddenly change in mid-stream and go in a completely different direction. Your soul is balancing out your energy. It usually feels great in this new direction, as your soul knows more than you do. It is breaking your ‘rut’ choices and vibration.

26. You have created a situation that seems like your worst nightmare, with many ‘worst nightmare’ aspects to it. Your soul is guiding you into ‘stretching’ into aspects of yourself where you were lacking, or into ‘toning down’ aspects where you had an overabundance. Your energy is just balancing itself.

 Remember.....Finding your way to peace through this situation is the test you have set up for yourself. This is your journey, and your soul would not have set it up if you weren’t ready. You are the one who finds your way out and you will. 

Looking back, you will have gratitude for the experience and realize that you are a different person.

I hope this helps.

[loveisblindfanfictionbka]

Love Is Blind: Chapter Three

Marcus smirked as he watched Chris mess with the straw in his drink, “Man, whoever she is has got you messed up bad.”

Chris jerked his head up and frowned in confusion, “huh?”

“You have completely zoned out on me, Bro. What’s going on?”

“Just thinking.”

“So your divorce? What happened?”

“I wasn’t any good for her. It just wasn’t gonna work out.”

“How’d she take it?”

“Not good. I’m surprised she hasn’t put a hit out on me.”

Marcus chuckled, “that woman loves you too much.”

“Loved.”

“Loves. I said what I said.”

“Do you know something I don’t?”

“Do you know she hasn’t dated since your divorce?”

“No. I never bothered to keep up with her.”

“Really?”

“I don’t have the right to. Why keep up with her life if I didn’t have the decency to stay in it?”

“You got a point.”

“So who is the new girl?”

“There is no new girl. Just somebody I’m getting to know.”

“So there is a new girl.”

“No.”

“Chris, we can play with semantics all night but be honest, do you like her?”

“Yes but we’re just friends.”

“For now.”

“She’s still in love with her ex-husband. I’m not in control of my life and neither of us are looking for anything serious.”

“Then what’s the harm in making her your new girl. You both know whats the deal up front.”

“Besides she doesn't want to meet me anyway.”

“You’ve never met?”

“I met her online. I only have a vague idea of what she looks like but we’ve never actually seen each other or spoke to each other.”

“Really? I didn’t know you were into that.”

“I set it up out of boredom but I got lucky with talking to her. She’s really nice.”

“What she do?”

“She’s a Vet. Owns her own clinic and shelter”

“Nice. Is she local?”

“Not sure. I know her business is in the city. Never asked if she lived there or not.”

“Chris, you might know her already.”

“I doubt it besides I think the not knowing her is the best part.”

“No identity, no expectations.”

“Exactly.”

“Well more power to you. Hope you don’t miss out on an amazing woman wanting to be all mysterious and shit.”

“I’m not concerned.”

A: How has your day been?

C: Hectic. My daughter caught the flu so I’m out of commission for the next few days

A: Aww...poor baby. Is this the first time she’s been sick?

C: No so I’m pretty prepared for the theatrics that will be coming my way

A: She’s that kind of kid, huh? Lol

C: Lol regardless of the fact that she’s three, she gets sick and reverts to an infant but I love babying her. Just don’t tell her that

A: Lol, your secret is safe with me

C: How have you been?

A: Good. Finalizing details for this gala a certain someone got me to attend

C: Lol, you made the deal, I just accepted

A: Yea. Whatever.

C: Did you decide on a date for our virtual outing?

A: I mean you have the child

C: It’s not like I’m gonna be leaving my house though

A: That is true

C: Are you nervous?

A: No, it’s not like you’re gonna hear my voice or see me. What’s there to be nervous about?

C: I don’t know I’m asking you

A: Are you free this weekend?

C: 8 pm Saturday?

A: Works for me

C: Cool

A: You know you could’ve just picked a time and told me

C: Yea but it was your idea so your choice

A: Hmm...I guess

C: What you thinking about?

A: If I should send you a sneak peek of my dress

C: You have it already? I thought the gala wasn’t for another month

A: A month goes by fast especially if you own your own business, time is not of the essence

C: Ah, very true. Are we still doing text to speech or?

A: I have some equipment I can use for voice changes. You?

C: I work at a college, I’m sure I can find some

A: Cool

C: Is your voice that distinctive that I’d be able to figure out who you are from hearing it?

A: Yes.

C: Ah, now I’m curious

A: It’s not that I’m worried about knowing you but I’ve been interviewed and stuff before so hearing my voice would definitely be a dead giveaway and ruin the mystery

C: I understand. 

A: Does any of this make you uncomfortable?

C: No. It keeps things simple and uncomplicated. No complaints from me

A: Cool

                                               ~~~~~~~~~~~~

Robyn quickly composed herself as she posed for the picture in front of her phone. The self-timer clicked and she grabbed the device to see her handy work. She smiled at the successful shot. No identifying marks but it captured her body and clothing perfectly. She sat down and logged into her dating app to send the picture to Chris. Not wanting to be consumed with nervousness, she logged out completely before taking off her clothes and heading to take a shower. Their double blind virtual outing was tonight.

Chris smiled as his phone pinged and he clicked on the new message. The long-sleeve navy blue dress hugged every curve of Anna perfectly. She was completely covered but it still felt just as sexy as if she was naked. That was an art. The message read, “I probably could’ve waited a few weeks to send you this but I figured what the hell. What do you think?”

Chris rubbed his hand along his chin then through his hair as he stared at the picture. Was he making a mistake letting this stay just an online thing? Could she really be as amazing as she seemed? Maybe it was just the lust talking. He had sworn off women the past few years so it wasn’t like he had many outlets for any kind of attraction. Anesa was with his sister and cousins for the night while he had his virtual outing with Anna. He really didn’t understand why she just didn’t call it a date but then again they aren’t supposed to be dating so it makes sense.

Robyn shook off any nervousness as she sat down in front of her computer. It was easier to not be tempted to use the camera if she didn’t have one so she decided to use her desktop instead of her laptop. The older monitor was wired for sound but not video. She had emailed Chris a link to the video chat site with its autoset to start at 8pm. She glanced at the cover of the screen and sighed as the clock flipped from 7:59 to 8:00.

“Hi Anna,” an auto generated voice came through her speakers

“Chris, it’s nice to hear your voice.”

Chris laughed, “well something like my voice. How are you?”

“I’m great. You?”

“I’m good. Thank you for the picture.”

“Eh, I was trying it on and thought why not. You never answered my message”

“Well, I knew I was gonna talk to you soon so I figured it’d be easier to say what I was thinking than writing it”

“Ah, so what do you think?”

“I think you look incredible. It’s hard to be sexy and completely covered from neck to toe but you definitely pulled it off.”

“Why thank you. My friend was a little upset that I picked that dress.”

“Why?”

“She thinks I need to show more skin.”

Chris laughed, “well you’re single, no harm in doing that.”

“Single and not trying to mingle though.”

“If you look as amazing in the face as your body does. Nothing short of staying home would keep people, men especially, from trying to talk to you.”

“Oh don’t say that.”

“Why? It’s the truth.”

“Still don’t say it.”

“You’re afraid of dating?”

“No, just not prepared for it. I don’t really want to like anybody else.”

“Not even me.”

“You are a very pleasant and partially unwanted surprise. I don’t think I could not not like you though.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment”

“Good because I meant it as one,” Robyn laughed, “Feel weird yet?”

“Nope. This is a lot easier than typing though.”

“It is. 

“So how was your day?”

“It was good. I had the start of auditions for my upper level songwriting and music composition classes.”

“Really? How do those work?”

“The student either performs live or brings in a recorded piece that they wrote and/or composed.”

“Do they have to be the performer?”

“It is preferable but no. I get my share of duos from time to time.”

“Is it easier to audition as a duo or solo?”

“To me, neither. I try to be equally as hard on all my students.”

“Did you work in the music industry before?”

“Actually no, just a dream deferred, I guess.”

“What about your divorce made you switch careers?”

“Music has always been healing for me. I had no desire to be famous or anything like that but I wanted to deal with music. Teaching did that for me.”

“Were you healing from your marriage?”

“No. My mother had passed away and it just threw my life into a spiral.”

“Were you close?”

“Not like we should’ve been. I was raised by another family member and my mom wasn’t really around most of my life.”

“That’s sad.”

“It’s life. You learn to make the best of it.”

“It doesn’t sound like you did.”

“To be honest, I didn’t at first. I was mad at everything and everybody. I just gave up.”

“And your marriage was a casualty of that.”

“Yup.”

“And you still love her?”

“I don’t want to but I do.”

“I know that feeling. So you were adopted by the family member or they just took you in?”

“Just took me in, nothing official.”

“Oh ok.”

“You have a good relationship with your family?”

“Yea, I think we still sit on different sides of the fence when it comes to my ex but other than that nothing major.”

“Why?”

“They loved him. He was my high school sweetheart so we kind of grew up together.”

“Same here. Do they want you guys to get back together?”

“Absolutely.”

Chris laughed.

“Sometimes I wonder if there were things he told them that he couldn’t tell me.”

“It’s possible. It's easier to open up to somebody you don’t feel responsible for. Men worry a lot about looking weak in front of their spouses. We wonder if women will still trust our judgment if they think we’re more emotional than logical.”

“Any woman worth her medal knows men are more emotional than logical, y’all just like to play with semantics. Just because you don’t deal with your emotions doesn’t mean they don’t exist or magically go away. Y’all just have different methodologies than we do.”

“Were you a therapist in a past life?”

Robyn laughed, “No, I took basic psychology classes in college.”

“Definitely sounds like you took more than the requisite elective.”

“I did. Almost had enough for a minor but I overloaded on vet classes to try to finish my bachelor’s early.”

“Did you?”

“Just a semester early, nothing too major.”

“That’s awesome. Were you always a vet?”

“Actually no. I took a few years off after veterinary school, did a bunch of odd jobs before I came back to my chosen profession.”

“Ah, good deal.”

“It had its perks.”

“How’d your husband feel about that?”

“We weren’t married initially but he didn’t seem to mind even after we did get married. He had a bit of an old school rearing and liked being a provider, I can admit.”

“And all that time you never had children?”

“I don’t think he could’ve emotionally handled children but then again, we might have fought for our marriage more if there were some involved.”

“You think so?”

“We both grew up in separated families, raised by a single parent or guardian. Two parent households weren’t the norm for either of us.”

“Ah ok.”

“We had always maintained the idea of having children once we got married but then we got married and things just didn’t work out. I wanted to try immediately after the ceremony but he kept stalling. First, it was getting his career off the ground then the timing just wasn’t right and by then we were divorced. I don’t think he wanted children with me.”

“You know being a parent isn’t something to take lightly, from what it sounds like it wasn’t you, he just wasn’t ready. At least, he was self aware to know that.”

“And your wife?”

“After the first year, we barely had sex.”

“Were you not attracted to her anymore?”

“I was. I just didn’t really like myself anymore and it made it hard to be physical with her. We had years of having sex and making love. I wasn’t the same so it didn’t feel the same, I felt like I was shortchanging her.”

“Sounds like you made a lot of decisions for her.”

“I know she would’ve stayed if I didn’t leave but I also knew she wasn’t happy. I couldn’t say I love her and subject her to an unhappy marriage, it’s not fair.”

“Why didn’t you just get help?”

“I did that’s what led me to ask for a divorce.”

“Your help told you to get divorced?”

“Not explicitly. My therapist told me that I needed to take time to focus on myself with no distractions. My mother had died, My father showed back up in my life. It just felt like everything was falling apart and then I had my wife. Trying to be supportive but completely unhappy and walking on eggshells. It felt like I was torturing her and I didn’t want us to live like that. I didn’t want her to live like that. When I tried to explain what was going on, it just made everything worse.”

“What you mean?”

“I broke her. In such a short marriage, I broke her and I didn’t know how to undo what I had done. I also wasn’t in the space to undo it. I just wanted to die and I didn’t want her to see that.”

‘Did you try to-”

“It was a week after she had moved out. Complete nervous breakdown.”

“Chris, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. It was bound to happen. The mind can only take so much before it has to reset itself.”

“Did you tell her?”

“No. I made my family promise not to say anything to anyone either. I made her leave for that exact reason. Sometimes you can just feel when you’ve reached your breaking point.”

“True. So she had no idea?”

“No. If she had, she probably would’ve came back and never went through with the divorce. I didn't want her spending her life fixing my mess, that’s my job.”

“Wow. I appreciate you telling me this.”

“I’m surprised I did. Had this been a year or two ago, I probably would’ve stopped talking to you as soon as you asked about her.”

“Really?”

“Yea. Failure sucks.”

“Well, it doesn’t sound like you failed. It’s not like all avenues had been exhausted.”

“If your ex-husband had did this, would you be so accommodating?”

“If he had actually told me all this happened with him, absolutely. This is so much different than the silence and moping around that I got.”

“What if it wasn’t?”

“I mean I definitely have to get over feeling so betrayed first. Ten years of a relationship and he couldn’t trust me enough to let me in, that’s a hard pill to swallow.”

“Yea but it happens. I imagine my ex-wife would probably feel that exact same way.”

“I might not know you well enough to say this but I really think you should find her and talk to her. The years may have softened her.”

“I don’t think it would be right. I caused her enough issues, the last thing she’d probably want is to be reminded of me.”

“There you go making decisions for her again. You never know until you find out.”

“I guess.”

“Unless you don’t want to find out.”

“What you mean?”

“I think you’re afraid that you really did break her and she never bounced back. I think finding out that she hasn’t moved on scares you more than anything.”

“I-”

“You love her and I don’t think you will ever stop, so you want her to be happy. You want her to have forgotten about you and got everything she ever wanted in life. But if she hasn’t, you’d have to realize that though you did everything to protect her, you made the biggest mistake making her go especially when she didn’t want to. As a woman who’s been there and still there, you didn’t give her a chance to be what you needed because you were so worried about not being what you thought she wanted, even though you never asked.”

Robyn pulled her covers up under her chin as she laid back staring at her ceiling. Talking to Chris, really got her to thinking about her ex-husband. Did something happen to him to make him shut him down? Did he really walk out to save her like he told her? If so, why didn't he trust her to be there for him? At least this Chris is healed but clearly she has a penchant for damaged men. Is she a damaged woman? Did her ex really break her to the point she could never recover?

Chris sat on the phone with Anesa, half listening to her ramble about her day. He was going to go get her from his sister’s house but after talking with Anna, he needed the night to himself, to regroup. He couldn’t say that she was wrong. He never really thought about if his ex-wife was happy or not since he left. At least not out loud. Like what right did he have to shake up her life again after shaking it up in the first place? That’s why he never asked about her. It wasn’t right to be about her life if he made the initiative to walk out of it. Anna really showed him the other side of the situation, it really wasn’t as pretty and hopeful as he thought it would’ve been. He never thought of his divorce as a mistake but did he really ruin something that could’ve been fixed?

[cautelous]

He has a long way to go. Not to the highest summit, of course, but… Targon stands impossibly tall against the backdrop of the Great Barrier. Mountains that are taller than the Ironspikes are cowed before the peak. The ascent.

But he only has to go to the Solari. Still a climb, still a journey - but not the journey. He finds beauty in nature and thrill from danger, yes, but the peak holds little promise for him. What would he find up there, if frostbite and oxygen deprivation didn’t kill him first?

Nothing but snow and ice and a sense of hollow victory, he imagines. The heavens only open for those pure of character, if the myths are to be believed, and he isn’t delusional enough to think that he qualifies. Noble goals and a noble heart, but justice outside of Piltover is still so set on judging actions and actions alone. The gods are no exception.

                                                        —

The Rakkor are far from unused to foreigners. They speak a common tongue with him, and while their grandmothers and grandfathers may have driven him from the land in an instant… Things have changed over the decades. Even in the past decade - he’s been here before, after all, and so much is different since then. He doesn’t have to hide, have to scamper up the mountain in the dark. The Rakkor’s opinions have shifted: so what does it matter if outsiders try to climb to the peak? If they are worthy, the spirit of Targon will embrace them and guide them higher. If they aren’t, their bodies are a sacrifice to feed the mountain.

He spends two days there, going over the contents of his pack again and again. It’s heavy - overloaded, truthfully, for a man of his weight - but he’ll manage. (Or he won’t, and his body will end up as one of many lost beneath the snow or down a crevasse.) There’s others on their journeys, others that he can climb with until their paths diverge. (That’s something new, too.) Cover, if she comes looking. (Won’t she?)

Thrillseekers and adventurers and dreamers. He sees how they shoulder their packs lightly, how they laugh and joke and cheer. (He joins in too, of course, and celebrates on the night before his and some of their departures.) Confident in the mountain guiding them up. No ice axes, no crampons, just their hands and determination. Won’t that be enough, if they place their faith in the divine?

Maybe it will be. Or maybe he’ll see their colorful coats blowing in the wind, higher up on the mountain, as he descends.

                                                        —

The first few days of climbing are more than manageable. The spring thaw had happened a month before, and so they make camp in grass that’s unburdened by snow. The others are less unprepared than he’d originally thought: they have food and shelter, at the least, and the other climber from Piltover has her own backpacking stove for warm meals. They boil water over it each night, taking turns donating packages of tea for the others. The Demacians - brothers, he finds out - look on with a mix of suspicion and interest the first night, but take the offered drinks on the rest. The Noxian has no hesitancy. The Freljordian keeps to herself, eating pemmican and jerky from the lightest pack of the group. Determination has set in as they climb, the stuff of jokes now reality.

The other Piltovian - Beth, he’d learned at the base of the mountain, and he’d given his name as Vincent - is a quiet and kind soul, but still spirited, once the ascent begins. His own mood has turned introspective as well, whether from the journey ahead or the mountain itself.

They sit at the edge of camp, one night, and stare out into the brilliant sky.

“Vincent,” she starts, looking over to him. “Why are you climbing?”

He sighs and watches his breath crystalize in the night, letting the lie come easily. “I’ve always wanted to. Do you remember when the first one of us made it up? The news didn’t stop interviewing him for a month, and… he’d said he’d seen ‘such beautiful things’.”

He remembers the articles and the newscasts. Something that had been talked about over distant dinners - his brother had called the man an idiot, for risking his life for a pointless title, and his mother and father had agreed.

“I wasn’t around yet,” Beth says with a laugh. “But I read about him when I was a girl, so I guess we’ve got the same reasoning.”

Her words hit him in the chest. “You’re- ah, you’re younger than I, then.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m twenty-four.”

“You- you,” he stumbles over his thoughts, turning to her with concern in his eyes. “Beth, you shouldn’t be up here. Not now.”

“If not now, when?”

Gods. He’s a hypocrite, really, worrying over her choices when he’d been robbing nations at her age. But imprisonment isn’t a cold and lonely death on a mountain. It doesn’t matter what he says, though - he knows that look on her face.

“If not now, when…” he echoes and stares up at the sky. Then he gets to his feet. “I’m turning in for the night. We’ve ground to cover tomorrow.”

“Rest your old man bones, Vincent.”

                                                        —

They reach the highest Rakkor settlement after a few more days, and the mood brightens once again. They’re nearing the point of no return, yes, but in the here and now there’s life and living. The Rakkor play host, children darting about and laughing as adults watch with relic-weapons at their hips.

He knows of the Rite of Kor. He knows that each of these men and women have slewn another - another child - for the sake of battle-hardening and survival. (He’s been here once before. He’s held a weapon and known that his are the only bloodless hands to have touched it. It sits in his private gallery with all the rest.) But they offer their hospitality for seekers of Targon’s truths. What a change, what a thaw.

Or perhaps it’s just a matter of sacrifice. He feels the mountain wind run him through as Beth laughs and talks with a girl, the other Piltovian crouching low and listening attentively.

                                                        —

The Solari make their home higher still, secluded from the main path up Targon’s flank. His divergence will be noticed, of course - he can’t run off in the middle of the night. But he has his explanations.

The Demacians, Frederick and Jonathan, have warmed up to everyone - even Felix, the Noxian. They share tales of valor over the stove at night, the three admitting that they had no idea that those from the opposite nation could be so… human. Even Erna has thawed, offering sips from her leather flask to the party and singing into the night.

They’ve all discussed their reasons for climbing. Beauty, achievement, pride, wonder, longing. He keeps his story the same. Inspiration from another, a desire for beauty. It’s true, if one looks at it in the right sort of way.

He asks the group one day, once their mutual camp has been set up, if they wouldn’t mind sitting for a few sketches. Beth claps her hands in excitement - Vincent, you’re an artist? Why didn’t you say anything? - as he pulls a sketchbook and pencils from the bottom of his pack.

It had been extra weight. It had been worth it. So he sets about committing their features to paper, one-by-one, and leaves out his reasoning. It’s something more permanent than memory. Something to prove that they existed.

Beth pulls him to the edge of camp, later that night, and they stare up at the nearly full moon. He worries for her. How could he not? She’s too young for this. Too soft for this. Everyone but them is a warrior, and he’s had his complicated life to prepare him for this. She’s a dreamer, hardly out of her studies - hardly into the real world at all.

“So why are you really climbing?” she asks, gloved hands cupped around an insulated mug. Steam rises in the cold.

“I’ve told you a few times, haven’t I?”

“And you’ve been lying,” she says with a shrug. “At least, I think you have. Not telling the whole truth, at least?”

He freezes. It’s the first time someone’s caught him in a lie in… years. And it has to be someone like her, doesn’t it? The last person he’d suspect. In any other situation, he’d deny it, play it off, laugh. But Beth deserves honesty, he imagines. She’s gone past her point of no return.

“Guilty as charged,” he murmurs. “I’ll tell you.”

“Well, go on then!”

“The Solari,” he starts. “That’s my end-goal. I need to… speak to them.”

She breathes out a ‘huh’. “Didn’t take you for the religious type, Vincent.”

She deserves honesty. Maybe not the whole truth - he can’t surrender himself to the will of another, not now, not here, not with the wrong person - but enough of it. It’s the least he can do. He looks to her and pushes the thought of purple-black frostbite from his mind.

“It’s Julian, actually,” he says with a laugh. It doesn’t sound forced.

He expects her to draw back - to accuse, or at the very least frown - but all she does is chuckle. “I thought you didn’t look like much of a Vincent.”

“I suppose I don’t.”

Chuckles give way to quiet concern. She stares out into the void for some time, silent. “Hey… You don’t have to tell me, but - whatever you’re looking for with them?”

“Yes?”

“I hope you find it, Julian.”

                                                        —

He breaks from the group the following day, pointing out his new route on his map. Everyone takes it well enough, although even Erna seems concerned at his departure. But he wishes them well (and gods, he means it) and soon enough it’s just him and the snow and the ice.

The Solari had been hard to plan for. Records on what relics they have are vague, at best, half-finished anthropologic surveys in the basements of universities and the words of the Radiant Dawn his only clue. But he has his target: another manuscript. He hopes it’ll be small enough to tuck into a pocket of his pack. Preservation is essential, after all, and the thought of accidentally destroying something so priceless is anathema to him.

As for his plan? Simple in planning, complex in execution. The full moon is in a few days. The Solari will stand watch at the edges of their territory, or so he’s been told. Rituals and customs and patterns. Their archives will be left unguarded.

Of course, if he’s caught… he’ll be executed. But that’s the nature of his work. Perhaps he and the others aren’t so different, after all.

                                                        —

The heist goes fine. The hardest part had been the trip to and from his camp, hidden far enough away from the Solari village that they wouldn’t spot it. No light but the moon’s. No sound but the crunching snow and ice. (And the matter of hiding his path, of course.) But he has his prize, written in a language that he can’t read, and he feels…

He feels lighter, truthfully. He knows what the pages say, or at least the gist. The structure would make it obvious, if he hadn’t already known from his research.

Poetry. Devotion to the sun as the giver of all life, as the celestial being whose love warms the world. The Solari depict her as a woman, he’s read, hair a mane of fire and skin the color of a burning sunset.

He’d left a card in a new color. (They’re going home. Together?) But that will have to wait. For now, the sun needs to rise. He needs to descend. He needs to survive. He forces himself to sleep, book tucked safely away in his pack, and ignores how the shadows seem to dance and twist in his dreams.

                                                        —

The descent is harder than he expects. He finds himself expecting to hear others’ voices, to hear Felix speaking of the life he left behind, to hear Erna humming, to hear the hushed conversations of Fredrick and Jonathan. He expects to hear Beth’s laughter as his foot punches through fresh snow, expects an arm to shoot out to balance him.

He expects company, and its absence chills him far more than the wind. Gods. How had he ever thought poorly of them? They’re all the same, them and him, all dreamers holding onto faith and luck. They just placed - place, he amends with a jolt - their faith differently than he. All the same, but they believe in a goal and he believes in a woman. No one’s more justified than the other.

He looks up into the cold, clear night each time he makes camp. He’s never been a religious man, but he bows his head to the stars regardless.

Let them summit. Bring them home. Please.

He says another for her.

Let her live. She’s too young. Have mercy, please...

He says another for her.

Let her be happy. Let this work. Let her see how much she’s needed, still. Let her choose for her sake.

He thinks, briefly, about saying one for himself. But he’s pushed his luck enough with three. He doubts the gods - or whatever is out there in the inky blackness - would have much tolerance for a man such as he, anyways.

He only hopes that they tolerate prayers for others’ sakes.

                                                        —

It hardly feels real when he steps - nearly tumbles, really - back into the village at Targon’s base. He knows how he looks after pushing himself for days, after not stopping at the Rakkor settlement. He needed to beat the Solari down the mountain, after all, and they had the advantage of it being their home. But he’d done it. The Rakkor give him a wide berth - do they think that he’d summited? Do they think that he’s been changed?

He has been, but not by the peak. His pack feels heavier than when he started. It’s not due to the manuscript. But he makes his exit, begins the long journey home, and tells himself that he isn’t leaving anyone behind.

                                                        —

He reads the paper religiously in Piltover, buying morning and afternoon and evening copies. Her name was is Elizabeth Hargreave. She’ll be trumpeted and heralded, he knows, once she makes it back. But a week passes. Two. Three. There’s nothing.

Maybe, he bargains, she’s come back quietly.

So he goes to find her. Because she has to have made it. The world’s a cruel, cruel thing, but it can’t be that senseless. She’d had faith. They’d all had faith.

He finds grieving parents.

He doesn’t speak to them.

He carefully tears one of her portraits from his sketchbook, folds it into a crisp little rectangle, and mails it to their address.

No return address. No added words. What could he say?

He finds himself drinking more wine than usual.

                                                        —

He finds himself staring at the two manuscripts, a half-empty glass in his hands, and wonders if he’s made a horrible mistake.

It all depends on what she thinks, he imagines, and he downs the rest.

[queen-scribbles]

I Would Never

Bry and Jonas took the “off-track” prompt @greyias sent me and ran away with it to the tune of 3.5k words. :D I apologize for nothing, I’ve missed these two. Set in my canon with Vica as Alliance Commander where Bry joined up somewhere during the KotXXs. (Vica, btw, is pronounced Vee-kah)

---

Vica looked frazzled.

It was an unusual enough sight it took a minute to register when Briyoni passed by a conference room and noted her sister inside. She didn’t know Jedi were allowed to look anything other then calm, serene, put-together, and on top of things at all times. (Which, she thought with a smirk, would’ve ruled Shan right out if the lack of a Force connection hadn’t done it.) It was enough of an oddity to make her backtrack a couple paces and lean against the doorway.

“Need help, Vic?” she asked with a grin as she crossed her arms.

Vica’s head came up, loose bits of hair dancing in front of her eyes, and she blinked as she shifted focus from her trio of datapads to Bry’s face. “No, it’s...” She wrinkled her nose and smoothed back the loose hair. “Thank you for offering, I do appreciate it, but’s nothing a little... creativity with assignments can’t fix.”

“You sure?” Bry arched a brow. “‘Cause not even worrying your boyfriend had turned traitor visibly broke that whole Jedi Serenity” --she waved a hand in a vague gesture-- “but this sure has.”

Vica rolled her eyes a little at Bry’s opening word choice but didn’t take the bait.  “I’m sure. It’s-”

One of the datapads let out an angry squawk and she blanched when she looked at the screen.

“Oh, come on, really?” she groaned, sinking back into her chair.

Bry pushed off the wall and strode over. “What?”

“Two of the perimeter sensors went down,” Vica said with a sigh, nudging the datapad so Bry could see. “It’s probably just surge or something related to the security upgrade Theron and Lana talked me into doing, but on the off-chance it’s not...” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “And all the maintenance staff are working on the upgrades, and if it is dangerous-”

“I’ll take care of it,” Bry cut her off. “Haven’t had anything to do for awhile, and even if it’s nothing exciting, it’s a couple hours’ speeder ride. That part’ll be fun.”

Vica didn’t even protest, relief flickering in her eyes.”Take someone with you. Just in case.”

“Sure.” Bry grinned. “Maybe I’ll take your spy boy; make sure he knows what’ll happen if he even thinks about doing something that would hurt you again.”

“Briyoni, if there was any risk of that, I wouldn’t have married him,” Vica said tartly. “Anyway, you can’t take him; we have a meeting--”

“Sure ya do,” Bry teased, waggling her brows.

Vica shot her a withering look. “With Admiral Aygo and General Daeruun.” She toyed with another of the datapad and smiled mischievously. “Besides, wouldn’t you rather take your spy boy than mine?”

“Always, but he’s not he-” Bry narrowed her eyes. “What do you know that I don’t, Commander?”

Vica handed her the datapad. “The Republic delegation that arrived less than an hour ago.”

Bry’s heart leapt and she couldn’t keep from grinning when she found his name halfway down the list. “And he didn’t come find me? I’m hurt.”

“This is business, Briyoni,” Vica sighed.

“Stars, I know that,” Bry said with a laugh as she set down the datapad. “I’m teasin’, Vic. But I have always been a fan of mixing a little pleasure in there, so I’m gonna go find my husband, borrow a speeder bike, and we’ll take care of those sensors and be back in a few hours.”

“Be careful,” Vica called after her. “And try to bring the bike back relatively undamaged?”

“Do my best,” Bry returned in a sing-song and headed for the cantina.

---

Despite being, historically, the most likely place to find Jonas, there was neither hide nor hair of him in the cantina. More than a little surprised, Bry widened her search until she finally found him in the military hanger, perched at one end of a stack of smaller shipping crates and frowning at the datapad in his hands.

Bry sauntered up behind him and leaned against one of the crates so she could look over his shoulder. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Jonas only slightly flinched as his gaze shot up from the datapad. He was grinning even before they made eye contact. “Hey, gorgeous.”

“Hey, yourself, handsome.” She smirked. “I’m trying to decide how offended I am that I rank below datawork.”

“You’ve got that backwards, Bry,” Jonas countered, still grinning. “I’m getting the boring stuff out of the way first, so it’s not an interruption later. ‘Sides, you know how bureaucrats are about their datawork.”

“Nice save,” Bry chuckled, leaning over to give him an upside-down kiss. “If you want something other than datawork to do...” she waited til he arched a brow to continue. “...how does checking a couple perimeter sensors sound?”

Jonas wrinkled his nose. “’Bout as boring as th-”

“With me,” she elaborated, and couldn’t help snickering when his eyes lit up as he pushed to his feet.

“Well, that changes things,” he said, winking and leaning in for another kiss.

“Thought it might,” Bry said with a laugh as her fingers dug into his hair at the back of his neck. “You able to leave now, or need a few more minutes?”

“Oh, I’m all set,” he said, remaining a mere inch or two from her after pulling back from the kiss.��“I was just about done.” He reached done without looking and tapped a key. “There. I’m all yours, gorgeous.”

“Mm, just what I like to hear,” Bry said playfully. She kissed the tip of his nose before stepping back. “I’m flying.”

A smirk pulled at Jonas’ lips. “In that case, I’ll need to update my will before we leave...”

She crossed her arms and stuck out one hip as she arched a brow. “You callin’ me a bad pilot, Jo?”

“I would never,” he said, tone dripping with mock offense, and placed a hand to his chest. “It’s just that you have a vastly different opinion than the rest of the galaxy what qualifies as safe parameters for piloting a speeder bike.” 

“Blame it on my swoop racing youth,” Bry snarked, grinning at him. “B’sides, I thought you liked that I’m fast.”

Jonas rolled his eyes but chuckled. “That only applies to some things, gorgeous. Others it just makes me worry.”

“You don’t need to,” Bry said with a shrug, still grinning. “I’m real good.” And real lucky, she added to herself.

His eyes went serious for a minute even if his tone was still teasing. “Y’know, one day that bravado’s gonna catch up to you, Bry.”

“Maybe,” she shrugged. “‘Til that day comes, though, I’m flying.” She winked at him.  “Look at it as me giving you an excuse to hold on even tighter.”

Jonas snorted and draped an arm around her shoulders as they headed out of the hanger. “When have I ever needed an excuse for that?”

---

All snark and bravado aside, Jonas’ arms stayed wrapped tight around Bry’s middle the whole way to the first sensor. He squeezed even tighter every time she didn’t slow down enough for a turn, or goosed the throttle for sections with a clear line of sight. Were it not for the wind tearing past, Bry was pretty sure she’d have felt his heartbeat pounding against her back. She took pity on him somewhere past the halfway mark and dropped their speed to something closer to generally acceptable levels.

They still reached the first sensor in far less time than your average pilot. Her own heart pounding from the glorious adrenaline rush, Bry hopped off the speeder soon as Jonas loosened his grip on her waist.

She tried--unsuccessfully--to bury her smirk when it took a few seconds for him to follow.

“You better not be laughing at me,” Jonas grumbled, but she could hear the (reluctant) smile in his voice.

“I would never.” She didn’t even bother trying to sound hurt; he wouldn’t buy it.

“Sure you wouldn’t,” he snorted. “Just like Jo wasn’t going to turn into a casual nickname, and we were going to save that bottle of Corellian whiskey for something special-”

“Hey, that was special,” Bry cut him off, wheeling around with a grin.

“Not that bottle,” Jonas smirked. “That was absolutely pretty damn special. The replacement.”

“Oh.” She wrinkled her nose as she backed into the sensor. “You mean the one I broke?”

“Against the wall,” he elaborated for her. “Yes, that one.”

“Hey, I was righteously pissed on your behalf, handsome,” Bry shrugged, but couldn’t keep a sheepish edge out of her smile. “I can replace it; Vica’s gotta have somethin’ comparable floatin’ around that big fancy base of hers...”

“I’ll hold you to that, but one thing at a time, gorgeous,” Jonas said with a chuckle. “Don’t we have a job to do first?”

“Right.” Bry turned from the banter to start prying off the maintenance panel for the sensor array. 

Just as Vica had guessed, a surge had overloaded the dampeners and fried a pair of power conduits. It was a relatively easy fix, and Bry plunked down on a rock to get to it.

“Anything serious?” Jonas asked, leaning against the waist high casing to watch her work.

“Nah.” Bry raked her hair out of her eyes and glanced up at him. “Just gotta replace a couple wires. It’s a simple enough repair I can handle it; nothing serious.”

And it was. Fifteen minutes later she was flicking the sensor’s power on and sliding the maintenance panel back into place. She accepted the hand up Jonas offered, deliberately didn’t compensate momentum for the help so she stumbled into his chest.

“Oops,” she said with a wink as his arms settled around her back.

He laughed and stole a kiss. “Subtlety's never been your strong suit, Bry.”

“Never seen a point,” Bry countered impishly.She patted her hand against his chest and reluctantly stepped back. “C’mon, we have another sensor to check.”

After a last check that the sensor was functioning properly, the two of them mounted the speeder bike again. Bry barely waited for Jonas’ arms to settle around her waist before she gunned it and sent them rocketing forward along the planned path to sensor number two.

Jonas’ grip stiffened and she laughed as she backed off the speed ever so slightly.

“Sorry, Jo,” she hollered, hoping he could ear her over the wind.

He squeezed briefly tighter before his grip slacked to be more bearable, which she hoped meant apology accepted.

At least the slower pace meant she could risk occasional glances at the nav holo hanging between the speeder’s control grips. Another smile tugged Bry’s lips, though not of the ‘messing with my husband’ variety this time. When.the canyon they were following split, she went left.

“Get your left and right mixed up?” Jonas asked over the thrum of the speeder’s engine and wind in their ears.

“No, this way’s-”

“A shortcut?” he interrupted drolly.

“More fun,” she corrected with a grin.

Ahead of them, the canyon widened and the open space was dotted with rock pillars that rose to dizzying heights. She knew the exact moment the terrain and her comment clicked together in Jonas’ head because he pressed himself even closer against her back before she started throttling back up.

While the speeder wasn’t as versatile as some she’d flown, it handled well enough as Bry set it zigzagging between the pillars. Just as they approached the end of the route, she spotted a side cut. Quick glance at the nav holo showed that while it lead to a snarled maze of narrow canyons, it could be followed to their destination. She turned down it without hesitation--Jonas didn’t even protest this time--and cut her speed enough to make repeated glances at the holomap less dangerous.  It still took quick reflexes to pick out the route they needed and make the turns in time. 

A quarter of the way in was when she stopped trying to keep track of them, just let her instincts carry them forward.

Halfway in was when everything but the speeder’s engine quit working. Comms, the map, everything.

Running off adrenaline, Bry followed her gut through the next couple turns until they reached a clearing that seemed a safe enough place to stop. They sat on the speeder, both silent for the moment, the only sound the idling engine echoing off the canyon walls.

“Don’t suppose you know the way out of here?” Jonas finally said glibly, resting his chin on her shoulder.

Bry braced her wrists against the control grips and leaned forward slightly. “Not off the top of my head, no.”

“And I suppose it’s too much to hope you remember the way back?”

“I thought memorizing that was your job,” she teased. “I was too focused on not running into things or going down a dead end.”

“Fair. Maybe we should have clarified responsibilities before you went veering down the fun route....” he teased right back, hands sliding off her waist.

Bry chuckled, turning to face him and leaning against the control grips. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

“Oh, you think there’ll be a next time, huh?” Jonas’ eyes were laughing as he tried to look annoyed. (He may have also been that, too, but it was hardly his primary mood, she could tell.)

“Sure there will,” she said coyly. “You never have been good at telling me no.” Her weight shifted just enough with the attempt to look smug and seductive she started to slide into the gap between the grips.

Jonas let out an actual laugh as he grabbed her arm. “You got me there,” he admitted. “You alright?”

“Only damage is to my dignity,” Bry said with a huff of sheepish laughter as she righted herself.

“And that was a lost cause anyway,” he needled with a grin.

She pushed him off the speeder.

And remembered too late that he was holding her arm. Fortunately it wasn’t far to the ground, and she landed on top of him, so that softened her landing, at least.

“Ow,” Jonas groaned, then smirked at her. “Least the view’s good.”

Bry half-heartedly slapped his arm as she rolled off to sit next to him, a seat she only kept for a few seconds before pushing to her feet so she could power down the speeder. No sense wasting fuel. She offered Jonas a hand up, which he took. She was more than a little surprised when he caught his balance once upright instead of letting himself run into her. She’d kind of been expecting payback. “Not going to try and knock me off my feet, Agent Balkar?”

“Colonel Nerai, I would never.” His eyes twinkled over the solemn tone and he kissed the tip of her nose. “Besides, one of us has to be the bigger person.”

Bry arched a brow. “Mmhm. Well, Mr. Bigger-Person, any guesses what happened?”

Jonas thought for a minute, running his thumb contemplatively along his lower lip. “Are we far enough from the base for it to cause problems?”

She shook her head. “Don’t think so, they have a hell of a long range.Besides, the holo’s a separate function; distance wouldn’t kill that.”

“Right...Something wrong with the speeder?”

Another shake of her head as she leaned against the side of the bike. “Would have knocked out the engine, too, wouldn’t it?”

“Not necessarily...” Jonas pointed out, leaning against the speeder next to her. “Not if it’s electronics, that wouldn’t affect the mechanical aspects.”

“Wouldn’t affect the comms, either,” Bry sighed, dragging the toe of her boot through the dirt.

He tipped his head in silent concession before lifting his gaze to scan the surrounding cliffs. “What about the canyon?”

“Can’t rule it out,” Bry said thoughtfully. “Not deep enough to be blocking signals, but depending on the rock composition, that could mess with things...”

“Well, in that case, wouldn’t we just need to backtrack out of radius for things to work again?”

She huffed a sigh through her nose and watched a makrin amble along nearby.  “Yeah, except I made... at least three turns after things went down, and those I was definitely too focused on not running into things to remember which way I went.”

“So...” Jonas turned to look at her and arched a brow. “We’re lost.”

“Yep,” Bry confirmed, then flashed a cheesy grin. “At least we couldn’t ask for better company, right?”

He laughed. “And it’s a really good way to get some time alone together.”

“Durasteel clad,” she said cheerfully.

“So perfect no one will believe it wasn’t on purpose,” he pointed out.

“Eh, speeder logs’ll back us up,” Bry countered, sidling closer. “And we are going to work on finding our way out...” She pivoted from where their sides now pressed together so they were chest to chest, Jonas caught between her and the bike. “Eventually.”

“But why waste an opportunity that’s been dropped in our laps?” he supplied with a chuckle as his hands settled on her hips.

“Exactly,” she grinned. “Knew you were smart, s’why I married you.”

“And here I thought it was because I’m roguishly handsome and ridiculously charming,” he deadpanned as her fingers curled around the lapels of his jacket and he leaned closer.

“Those were also factors,” Bry murmured in concession, and tugged him the final inch or so into a kiss.

By the time they got around to finding their way out, neither would have considered this a wasted opportunity.

---

It took an hour or two of trial and error with all the turn-offs, and more than one dead end, but the comms and nav holo did eventually prove Bry’s theory correct and fizzle back to life.

Just in time for an intensely worried “...riyoni?!” to crackle into her ear.

Bry arched both brows at Jonas as she answered. “Yeah, Vic?”

“Oh, thank the Force,” Vica’s voice swirled through the comm in a rush. “I’ve been trying to check in for... half an hour. What happened?”

“We, uh, ran into some technical difficulties exploring an alternate route,” Bry said. “There’s a section of canyon down here, fuzzed out comms and the map.” Silence answered for a long enough stretch to make her frown. “Vica?”

“I think I know where you’re talking about,” her sister said flatly. “Are you out of there?”

“Yeah...”Her frown pulled deeper.

“Good. Don’t go back.” There was a faint tension in Vica’s tone, of the ‘pfassk I don’t want to talk about’ variety, so Bry didn’t press.

“Yes, ma’am, Commander, ma’am,” she said instead, glibly as possible.

The desired snort of almost-laughter came back. “Finish your job, Briyoni.”

“That’s the plan. Get back on track, fix  the sensor, be on our way home. See you in an hour or so, Vic.”

“See you then,” Vica confirmed, and the comm went silent.

“Well, now we’ve got my sister worrying about us, so no more distractions or detours,” Bry said to Jonas, running her fingers through her hair to check for forest detritus.

“You must be heartbroken,” he deadpanned.

“Absolutely crushed I have to behave myself,” she confirmed, kicking the bike up to a more fun speed. At least until we’re back at base...

They reached the second sensor without incident, found the same issue as the first--though this one bore claw marks from curious or hungry wildlife--and had it fixed up easily.

“All done and headin’ home,” Bry reported over comms. 

“Good to know, see you soon,” Vica replied. “Thank you for taking care of this.”

“Not a problem.” She signed off and looked at Jonas. “Think we’ll manage to steal some time once we’re back?”

“We can but try,” he returned with a chuckle, kissing her forehead.

With that incentive hanging in the air, Bry put on extra speed for the ride back. Jonas maintained a death grip on her waist the whole way, and she wasn’t sure if the smile tugging her lips was from that or the adrenaline rush of flying. 

“i think you gave me bruises, Jo,” she needled playfully when they stopped and he finally let go of her.

“I’ll just have to kiss them better,” he retorted, kissing the back of her head.

“No bruises there, handsome,” Bry giggled as she dismounted the speeder.

He slipped off right behind her and leaned close to whisper in her ear. “Really? That’s surprising.”

She refused to give him the satisfaction of making her blush, but she did bite her lip. “Shouldn’t be; you know I’m tougher than that,” she whispered back with a wink.

Jonas chuckled and hung a couple paces behind her as she checked the speeder bike back in. When that was done, she turned to find him looking at her with a smirk pulling one corner of his mouth upward.

“What?” she laughed.

Jonas shook his head slightly and stepped closer. “Whatever my opinion of you preferred flying style, I do have to admit this is a good look for you.”

Bry snorted and raked her fingers through her tousled hair. “Windblown?”

“Happy,” he corrected with a laugh, and pulled her in for a kiss she savored probably longer than she should’ve.

“I need to tell Vic we’re back,” she murmured, reluctantly stepping away. “Meet you in the cantina when I”m done?”

Jonas nodded and lightly tapped her nose  “Don’t dilly-dally, gorgeous.”

“With you waiting for me, Jo?” Bry grinned. “I would never.”

[seminalstudy]

Hi everyone! I’m currently in the process of transferring to a new university and one of the biggest parts of that has been planning out and scheduling which classes to take my first semester, in hopes that I can graduate at the same time as people my age :’) As someone who’s planned how to graduate in three years not once but twice now, I figured I could share my experience and/or advice with anyone looking to maximize their college academics!

1. Establish a timeline: Ask yourself how many years you’re giving yourself to complete your degree as this will help you figure out how heavy your course loads will have to be to graduate at your expected time (this could be anywhere from 2 years to 5 or more). At my first college, I planned to graduate in three years in order to save money and because the school had easier academics, so I was confident I could handle the extra work. My new plan to graduate in three years is so I can graduate with other students my age, set your goal!

2. Now that you’ve established a broad timeline, it’s time to start looking at potential majors/minors and career tracks: Hopefully, this is something you’ve started looking at before applying to college, but don’t worry - it’s not too late! As someone going into college with the knowledge that I’d be taking out max loans each year, I tried to figure out what I wanted to do early on so I could maximize my credits ie take as many required classes as possible and not ‘waste’ credits on classes that wouldn’t really contribute to my degree (ofc I ended up changing my mind 3/4 of the way thru the year but that’s life). I narrowed my options down to 3 or 4 majors and managed to eliminate 2 of them pretty early on.

3. With at least one track in mind, research all the requirements to earn a degree in that area: Universities often have “general education requirements” regardless of your major, so you take classes in multiple disciplines and broaden your perspective. Course catalogs/general bulletins/college websites are where you can find info about your gen-eds and major-specific required courses. It’s really helpful to map this out by hand or in a spreadsheet program (I did it both by hand and with Excel to stay uber-organized). This is also where you can narrow down the majors you’re interested in by looking at the required courses and course descriptions. I considered a Data Analytics major early on, but after seeing how much coding was required (not a strong suit or interest for me) I could comfortably eliminate it.

4. Reach out to your advisor/navigator/registrar to clarify any questions: If you’re confused by any of the requirements for your major/gen-eds, talk to someone at the university. I feel bad for the numerous advisors I’ve had because I pestered them with questions so I could have a complete understanding of everything - it really helps in the scheduling process and I’ve never had a staff or faculty member be irritated by the questions - they love to help (plus it shows initiative and starts forming connections which is A+). Seriously, reach out if you’re confused, don’t just sit in the dark!

5. Map out required courses and pre-requisites: This is where Excel or Google Sheets can be your best friend - they make it really easy to keep track of what needs to be taken when. Some courses require a certain academic standing (sophomore, junior, senior) for you to take them, others require you to take several classes before you can register for it. Certain progressions of classes can really limit what your schedule looks like, so this step is incredibly important (and somewhat time-consuming).  

6. Generate a slightly less vague timeline: Based on pre-requisites and required class standings, begin to assign classes to fall and spring semesters. Let’s say you have to complete a senior capstone in order to graduate, and you can only take it senior year, write it into the timeline. Maybe you need to take Math123 and Math124 for your major, but Math124 requires you to complete Math123 first. Place 123 into a semester and 124 in the semester following that. This doesn’t have to be exact, but it’s good to be aware of what your future schedule will look like, and what classes you need to take sooner rather than later (this is also time-consuming because you’ll find numerous variations in potential schedules). 

7. Determine the courseload you’ll need to take: Some people luck out and have lots of AP/IB or like credits that will transfer into real college credit, helping to eliminate the number of classes you have to take (I was not such a person). You’ll generally receive a credit evaluation during the summer before the first semester so you can plan accordingly. Most advisors recommend taking 15-17 credits, but if you need to take more so you can graduate faster or less so you’re not overwhelmed, do what you need. I ended up taking the max credits allowed then over that, but that’s only because I was pushing so hard to graduate faster. This kind of ties into the last step, but you also need to evaluate your personal strengths and weaknesses.

8. Determine the courses that will maximize your first semester: Fun fact, your major requirements can often double-dip and count for your general education requirements too! Look at the pre-reqs for your higher-level classes and try to choose those that will open up the most classes, see which of your major required classes could count for gen-eds, such as humanities or science courses. If you’re between a few majors, look for classes that a required for them. For me, I was between a Business Administration or Sustainable Business major, so many of the requirements were the same. I took classes that could count for both, but if I wanted to go one way or the other, I wouldn’t be screwed over.

9. Try to balance the courses you NEED to take with those you WANT to take: I’m a humanities kind of gal (science has not been mon ami in the past) but both of my colleges require science and math classes. So, when I have to take a math and science course simultaneously, I try to add in some of the subjects I’m stronger in (history, english, etc) so that my GPA wouldn’t die. If you’re fortunate enough that affording college isn’t a concern, I’d personally say take as many courses that interest you as possible, but when financing a higher level education is more of an issue, complete your requirements but leave some space to explore your interests.

10. With a handful of courses in mind, look at actually scheduling your classes: With online registration, you can generally look at which classes are full, what times are available, etc. Are you really, definitely, for sure a morning person who can handle that 8am? Do you need a definite break for lunch? Will you be more productive in the mornings or evenings? Are there multiple profs for the class and does one have better ratings than the other? (ratemyprofessor.com is a lifesaver) Is there enough time outside of class to study/do extracurriculars/have a social life? Sometimes you’ll really need to take a class and it’ll be at some ungodly hour, but sometimes you gotta suck it up. Try not to overload one day with classes and make sure there’s enough time between classes to get to your next class, especially if your school has a large campus. This part is really based on personal preference, so enjoy it!

11. Give yourself time to do all of this: Especially for a first-year college student, there’s a lot already happening, and the opportunities are endless. It takes a lot of time to thoroughly research. This is a big process if you really care about being organized, and it can set you up for great success in college! All of these steps are really tied together but you’ll need more than one day (I took several weeks lol) to plan out a college career.

12. It gets easier: After doing this for just two semesters, I was much more comfortable making these big choices. For my new university, I managed to accomplish this in only a few days, but I was already familiar with the major I’m pursuing and how to lay everything out. For those of you continuing in college, consider mapping our the rest of your time if you haven’t already, and keep track of the courses you’ve taken and still need to take! This way, you won’t be thrown any loops when graduation comes.

Disclaimer: This advice is based purely off my own U.S. college experience which is undoubtedly very different from others! Ultimately, pursuing a higher-level education is your own personal journey, and do what you need to do to find success, this is just me trying to help out others!

If you have any questions about any of this, want to talk scheduling with me, or see my schedule planning notes and spreadsheets, just message me, I’m always willing to talk and even more willing to make friends!

-B

[sleepyfan-blog]

First Meeting

Fandom: Dreamtale AU

Set in the same AU as this

Characters: Nim, Ink, Dream, Nightmare

Warnings: blood

Word count: 1,466

Summary: Nim, dying and desperate, contacts Ink for help.

Nim coughed a little, shuddering for a moment as she stared at the twisted mess of blood and flesh that she had hoped to be the vessels that her successors could live in. Her magic was starting to fade, and she knew that her time was short. There were a near-infinite number of AUs with which she could try to draw inspiration from in order to attempt to create bodies for Positivity and Negativity - the little energy beings nuzzling on either side of her face, trying to soothe her distress and ease her pain. Would a monster’s body work? What type? Or should she copy a magical automaton instead, which would give them more physical endurance than she had?

Nim coughed and stretched her consciousness outwards, lightly brushing a strange creature - the self-proclaimed protector of the AUs. He was young, compared to her, but he was powerful and clever. “Please come to this timeline, I need to speak with you, fellow guardian.” She sent towards him.

He appeared within moments, leaning against his brush, the easy-going smile on his face fading as he saw the damage done to her and The Tree, rushing forwards and saying “I-I’m not sure what I can do to help you - I can try to heal you, but I’ve never been able to heal anyone who’s been as badly injured as you.”

Negativity let out a tiny squeak and hid behind his other half, growling a little, his violet energy flaring in shock. Positivity chirped a little, curious but his darker half’s wariness kept him close to both Negativity and their creator.

Nim smiled and gently raised a slightly trembling hand to both of the tiny spirits, gently petting them and sending a gentle pulse of calm their way, as she responded “I doubt that there’s anything that you can do. I am dying, and The Tree of Feelings - which is what this is - must not go unprotected. I have created these two to take my place - as I will merge with the Tree in order to ensure that it will heal from the damage done to it by my slain attacker.. But they will need physical bodies to inhabit, in order to…” She coughed, biting back a pained groan as she grabbed hold of the Tree in order to steady herself. “To defend it… I… I have given them all the information I possess, but they will… They won’t have any life experience to put such information into context… Please I… Please protect them while they learn their powers…”

Ink nodded, pausing for a moment before rushing forwards, his hands glowing green “I… Ican at least ease your pain, a bit? I… I will try to help them as much as I can… How old are they?”

Negativity hissed and actually charged Ink, passing through the soulless skeleton harmlessly, apart from a vague sense of distress and unease that he briefly felt. The very young energy spirit squeaked indignantly and charged through him again, nuzzling Positivity and clearly began to sulk, the little frown on his face more pronounced.

“... I brought them into being roughly ten minutes ago. But they cannot start out as infants - their magic is too strong for that, and they will need to be able to defend the tree, at least in a rudimentary fashion when you have to defend other worlds.” Nim explained, blinking for a moment as she focused on the other’s physical form. A skeleton, that should work. Powerfully magical, with enough substance to interact with the physical world, but without too much physicality all of the time to be overloaded by the sheer magical power and potential that both Negativity and Positivity possessed. She scanned several nearby AUs and copied two of the same skeleton. “I… I must merge with the tree now, so that it will be able to heal fully. Negativity, Positivity, please go into the bodies so that you will have physical forms, please." She ordered gently, trying to encourage them to merge. It would take them time to merge and acclimate to their bodies, and in that time, she would become one with the Tree of Feelings.

Positivity zipped over to the small bodies that she had created for the both of them, gently nudging a little at one, then glancing up, chirping at Negativity, who was still lingering near one of her shoulders. The violet spirit squeaked in response before reluctantly coming over and gently poking the body that Positivity hadn't.

"Go on... They're for you. These bodies should work much better than the last ones... I promise." Nim encouraged, coughing a little. Ink's healing was helping to some extent, but it wouldn't keep her from dying. She didn't want to merge with the tree in front of the very young spirits - they might think it was what they were supposed to do as well, leaving the tree defenseless.

With only a moment's hesitation, both Positivity and Negativity buried themselves in the chests of the tiny skeletons, one awash in violet magic, the other awash in golden magic.

Nim held her breath for a couple of moments as she waited... But the bodies did not start cracking and twisting under the strain of the magical power. She breathed a sigh of relief and looked at Ink - who was frowning with concentration and still healing her "I... Please stop. Since they seem to be able to actually stabilize with their physical bodies, I don't want to take more of your energy - not when I will still die, anyways."

Ink nodded, though he frowned "I... I try not to interfere in the actual timeline itself... But I... I promise that I will watch over them as much as I can."

"Thank you... This is all I ask of you." Nim responded with a small smile, closing her eyes and moving so that she was pressed against the bark, shifting so that neither of the other two energy beings could see her as her physical body sunk into the tree and her consciousness began to meld with the magic and power of the tree. She'd be able to watch over them as they lived, though there was very little she could do other than offer them comfort.

~

Ink watched this happen, his eye lights mainly focused on the newly created spirits. The one with violet eye lights - Negativity? Was that what she had called them? Stirred first, staring up at him and glancing at his other half, gently shaking one of the other's shoulders, a quiet sound leaving his lips, before he managed out "Dream! Wake... Dream! ... Please?" Tears gathered in his eye sockets, fear obvious on his face.

Oh no - what should he do? He didn't really dealt with children very much - and why had the other guardian chosen a littleswap Sans to give them bodies? Unless she didn't have much of a choice, energy wise? "I... Hey, it's okay. I won't hurt you. She-" He gestured to the tree "-asked me to come here in order to help you and Dream. What's your name, kiddo? Mine is Ink." He smiled warmly at the other, hoping that it would help. He sat down where he was, not wanting to scare the kid.

Dream stirred and yawned a little bit, staring curiously up at him "Hello mister! I'm Dream - this is Nightmare! It's nice to meet you, papa."

"I-I... W-What?" Ink startled, a light blush appearing on his face.

"We couldn't have bodies before you came! Mama is the tree." Nightmare explained softly, not quite looking at him "These bodies look similar to yours. U-Unless you don't want to be called that?" He was pretty sure that was the term that more or less applied, from what he was told.

"No... No, papa works well." A small smile appearing on his face as he scooted a little bit closer to the both of them "Err... Do you have preferred pronouns, or have you not decided yet? that's perfectly fine if you haven't of course. I generally use he/him pronouns, but sometimes I use they/them... And once in a very great while I use she/her pronouns.”

Both of them stared at him uncomprehendingly, tilting their heads in opposite ways, as if trying to process what he’d just said. Dream rushed forwards, a bright grin appearing on their face, and tackled him, purring happily “It’s nice to meet you papa!”

“Aww… It’s nice to meet you too - both of you.” Ink responded with a cheerful laugh as Nightmare made his way over to him at a slower rate, shyly hugging him as well. They were both so adorably tiny! He scooped them up and hugged him tight to his chest, determined to protect them as best as he could.

[aliceslantern]

Beyond This Existence: Counterpoint, chapter 15

Summary:  After being recompleted, Ienzo vows to do everything in his power to atone for the atrocities he committed in the past. But this life hasn't been easy, and he's plagued with memories and nightmares. When Demyx suddenly reappears, the two discover that they have more in common than they thought, though the secrets in their past might tear them apart. Zemyx (Demyx/Ienzo), post kh3 Read it on FF.net/on AO3

----

Ienzo made himself eat. He cut one of the white pills in half and took it, flinching at the bitter taste. He set a timer for the three hours, took the small hand mirror from his bedroom, and crossed back to Demyx’s room. He sat at the foot of the bed.

Mirrors and reflections always made this easier in the past. What else was an illusion than a reflection of hopes, or fears, or memories?

Ienzo leaned back against the bed frame. He waited some time for the medication to take effect, trying to keep his thoughts orderly and calm before proceeding. He didn’t think he would feel anything, but after about twenty minutes or so a vague tingling started in his extremities, and his vision became woozy. He was convinced that Even gave him a sleeping pill rather than a painkiller or nerve block, but the sensation wasn’t like drowsiness. The walls seemed to have no straight edges. His breaths felt foreign.

Ienzo picked up the mirror. There was his own face, clear as day. He shut his eyes.

Magic, aside from the most complex glamour, had always come easily. He understood now more than he had before how deeply Demyx grieved the loss of Arpeggio. Dark or not, this power had been part of him. His control over the illusion was a projection of the loss of control he’d had over his own life. Manipulating others had been the easy way out.

No more.

He took a deep breath, and let his memory drift back. Surely the utter clarity of his own memories was a sign he could still work with others’.

In the beginning, those first numb and horrifying weeks as a Nobody left him overloaded to the point of silence. Xemnas took Ansem’s role as their leader seamlessly, down to the name. At first it seemed clear to them that they would continue their experiments, albeit with a pool of participants all the World over. But Xemnas--Xehanort--had a larger goal in mind. Kingdom Hearts. To get there, they needed Keyblade users. So they were sent out into the World to try and find them. Heartless hunted him mercilessly, figuring due to his small size and fragile nature he was easy pickings. He returned badly wounded more than once before his power manifested.

Heartless, after all, were easier to fool than people. Give them a decoy and they’ll chase after it. As he grew, physically and mentally, so did his power. His illusions deepened, took on the ability to also interact with the senses. It was all perception, of course, entirely artificial. He found he could sense the memories of others, could build these memories in real time.

His own memory was easiest to work with. He straightened his spine.

Remember. And create.

Perhaps an emptier room would have been a better starting point. He imagined his other bedroom, from the Organization. The barren gray walls. The cold metal floor. The bookshelf packed with volumes with identical spines. The window out into the Nobody city, how it always had its own damp sticky scent. The feel of the black coat against his skin, soft and supple.

Despite the medicine, he could feel hollow echoes of pain gnawing hungrily. Ienzo touched the space below his nose--still dry. He opened his eyes.

The space in front of him had changed. The surge of relief he felt was nearly enough to shake what little illusion he’d built. It was an imperfect manifestation--things seemed to twitch in the corners and in some spots he could still see Demyx’s real bedroom peeking through, as if through a veil. But it was something.

He stood slowly, dizziness battering him. He approached the mirror above the dresser hesitantly, aware that Zexion’s room had been bigger and he likely hadn’t yet regained the ability to manipulate spatial perception.

Ienzo looked at himself--and flinched. Zexion stared back. He could feel his human clothes, but what he saw was the cloak.

“It’s over now,” he said to himself.

“Is that what you think?”

The reflection in the mirror moved with him, but the voice in his ear was definitely his own. Ienzo turned away. The facade of the cloak melted away, leaving him in his apprentice garb.

“Clever, clever Ienzo,” said the voice. “You should’ve realized that you’re not immune to your own manipulations anymore.”

Ienzo scowled. “You are a poor projection of my own guilt. I don’t need you anymore.”

“I’m not too sure about that. Come here.”

The illusion pitched and pulled. He found himself standing in a cold dark room in Castle Oblivion. A large and familiar book was in his hands. “So this is what you are,” he said. He looked down.

The color was no longer a sage green, no longer adorned with the Nobody insignia. It was a soft blue, with an artistic rendering of a heart.

“Old friend,” Ienzo said. “You’re different.”

“You do see why I haven’t come sooner?”

“I believe so. But do elaborate. It’s not often I can converse so clearly with my own subconscious.”

“You had to begin to forgive yourself. You had to accept the love you were given. Steep costs for you.”

Ienzo frowned, disappointed. “I’ve done it, then?”

“You may have a complex mind, but your heart is no different than anyone else’s.”

Ienzo stroked the soft cloth cover. It was an odd sensation, familiar-yet-not, like so much of this life. “So he was the key.”

“It didn’t necessarily have to be him. It could have been any love. Familial, platonic. This just so happened to be first.”

“Can I still help people?”

“That’s up to you.”

Ienzo opened the book. The lexicon had always been infinitely useful. Its pages seemed numbered, but the content was completely under his control. Whenever he read or wrote something, it could be accessed inside forevermore. He could access memories. Data.

The inside of the front cover was written in ink. Property of Ienzo, age 8 . He remembered that birthday Ansem had given him a fountain pen and he’d been incredibly proud of it. The handwriting looked similar to it had back then, an attempt at neatness and maturity, falling short.

“Was Even right?” he asked slowly. “Will this risk my life in the process?”

“All power has a cost. You know this.”

Ienzo stared down at the lexicon for several moments. There simply wasn’t time to parse this out properly. He had no idea how much of his three hours he’d already spent. Time he was wasting. Time that trauma could be eating Demyx alive. And if he were to do nothing , and Demyx were to lose the will to live, what then? Could he ever forgive himself? He might as well kill him with his own hands.

“Do you want this power back?” the lexicon asked.

“I cannot let people keep suffering.”

“Then there’s something we have to see.”

The pages of the lexicon shifted of their own accord. Within it was a memory, rendered as though it were a children’s story, with the same etched-looking illustrations.

Ienzo and Xehanort, walking through the castle. The ever-present sea salt ice cream.

“Seven years old. A grown up little man,” Xehanort said.

“Yes,” Ienzo said.

“Master says you’re doing wonderfully well in your studies. Most children your age are only barely learning to read and write, and you’re studying neuroscience. If only there were more minds like yours. This world would be a vastly better place.”

Reading it now, it was so incredibly obvious, the way Xehanort hefted and tugged the strings.

“I only wish he would let you help with our research. A fresh, young, innocent perspective might be just what we need.”

“I like helping.”

“I know. I know you do.”

“I can ask again. I’m seven now.”

“It’s worth a shot. If that’s what you wish.”

The story faded, shifted to a new memory--Ansem’s study, Ienzo so very small in the chair across from his master, head bent over a book that filled his lap.

“Master?”

A kind smile. Ansem had always doted on him, except when it really mattered. “What is it, my boy?”

“Am I very smart?”

“Why yes--of course.”

“Can I help you work?” His speech then had been much simpler, much more plain. Initially, the trauma of losing his parents left him completely mute. It had taken nearly a year to shake the silence.

In the present, Ienzo felt something very like pain. He did not know if it was physical or emotional. “Why are you making me see this?” he asked the lexicon. “I know how it all went down.”

“Do you forgive him?” The text appeared on the page, no longer a whispered voice.

“Master Ansem? Is that… part of all this?”

“He is part of me. He is part of you. His choices have rippled through your life. Carelessly. He agreed to these experiments. He didn’t stop them until it was too late.”

“It is not my place to say anything of the sort.”

“Perhaps when you were a child. That’s not the case now.”

The book trembled in his hands.

“He gave me a home when no one else would,” Ienzo said.

“He said he would take care of us. But he changed his mind.” The book shuffled again, to a different illustration, of darkness consuming Even and Ienzo. “Doesn’t that hurt?”

“Of course it does, but that was not his choice, he was thrown into--”

“Do you forgive him?”

Ienzo swallowed. “Must I? To take back this power?”

“All it requires is clarity of thought.”

“Because lately that has been so easy.” His mouth was sour. “No. I do not forgive him. Not yet.”

The lexicon flicked through some illustrations. Being strangled to death, waking up as Ienzo, assisting Sora, reuniting with Demyx when he was a vessel. Reuniting with Ansem. Working on the replicas. And every little thing that had happened since then, one after the other, faster and faster, until--

The room in Castle Oblivion gave way to a starry night. Long grasses curled around his knees. Illumina petals, wild and free, glowed softly in the dark, lighting the path forward. Another thin finger of pain, gagged and numb, crawled up and down his spine.

“Where am I now?” Ienzo asked the lexicon, but its work was done; it was silent. He treaded the path. A gentle breeze stirred up the smell of the flowers. Time was truncating; it seemed like he walked both a very long way and not far at all. The scent of the field mingled with something like a sea breeze. He held the book tightly under his arm as a sort of anchor and kept walking, touching the spot below his nose every few hundred meters, but it remained dry.

He heard tides. Softly at first, then closer and closer. The field of grass gave way to sand, which was soft and cool under his now-bare feet. Ienzo’s illusions had never been this strong to him personally. If he had to, could he get out? The lexicon in his arms seemed to shudder a little. How much farther could he push?

The sea spread across the horizon. A quarter-horn moon coated everything in a silvery light. The surf looked calm, and gentle, but he could feel the pain radiating from it. He approached cautiously.

His powers were stronger and weaker than ever before. He had gone, somehow, from recreating memory to actively walking within it.

He set the lexicon down and placed a hand in the gentle, cold surf. Keyblade wielders--child warriors--gathered listening to a woman in a pink robe give an impassioned speech. Something about they will not remember. Fighting alongside other young children who called him another name, against Heartless and other deformed creatures, and the then-unscarred ground of the Keyblade Graveyard--

Ienzo yanked his hand out of the water, feeling as though he had somehow violated Demyx.

“Where are you?” he asked.

No response. He could see nothing, just sand, and water, and night. Ienzo took another step towards the water.

A harsh, sharp pain shot through his chest and back, almost knocking him over. This was too much power. The entropy. He had to act quickly. Otherwise this would all be for naught and they would both end up dead.

He waded into the water. It was icy cold, and painful. Little whisps of memory darted across his vision, memories that weren’t his. He tried not to look at them, but he couldn’t necessarily help it. Fights. Keyblades. Songs-- the most melancholic music he’d ever heard. He took a deep breath, and dove.

Demyx was drowning, immobile and sinking slowly, his palms outstretched. Ienzo, never the strongest swimmer, pressed hard against the viscous memory. His chest was hurting again, though whether it was from entropy or the perceived lack of oxygen he wasn’t sure.

Ienzo grasped his hand and felt something like a shock. The pain of it made him cry out and lose more precious air.

This was unnatural. This would have a price.

It was too late to turn back.

Ienzo grasped both of his hands and pulled. Between the weight and the effort and the memories, Ienzo couldn’t be sure he was bringing them to shore.

They surfaced at last. His muscles were weak and trembling. He dragged Demyx away from the surf and all but collapsed.

Demyx coughed and gagged, spitting up seawater. He groaned.

“Are you alright?” Even outside of the water, the pain was still there, hungry.

Demyx looked up. Apprehension and fear crossed his face, and for a moment Ienzo wondered if he should have left him in the water, if he were disturbing some necessary process. “Ienzo?” His voice was hoarse.

Ienzo breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes, Demyx, it’s me.”

“What are you doing here? How--” He coughed harder, and Ienzo patted him on the back.

“My power brought me here.”

“Your power?” He sounded incredulous. “I thought you didn’t have any--”

Ienzo picked up the lexicon and held it out to him. “I’ve found it. My power as Zexion let me bring people into their memory. It only seems natural that as Ienzo I can bring people out of it.”

“It’s different,” he said softly. Demyx shook his head. “Still, you’re in my head--this is weird.”

“I’m sorry. I… I was trying to help.” He looked out towards the sea. “You could’ve drowned. You were drowning. I could feel your heart there, so tenuous--”

“Memory,” was all he said.

“I know who you are,” Ienzo said. “Even told me. But I saw, too.”

His breath hitched. “I tried to tell you--”

Ienzo touched his face. Uncanny, how realistic the wetness and sand felt. “I know. You couldn’t’ve. I’m not mad at you.”

Demyx glanced away at him. His eyes were watering. “So much pain they tried to hide from us,” he said brokenly. “They did a shitty job. I can see everything that happened . ”

“Xehanort?”

He swallowed thickly. “The Foretellers.” His lip twitched. Ienzo drew him into his arms and Demyx started to cry.

Another pang of pain inside of his head. This time it was like lightning. Ienzo knew there would be blood before he even checked.

“Ienzo?” Demyx asked wearily. “What’s--”

“Come back with me,” Ienzo said. “Quickly. We both have to wake up.”

“You’re bleeding--”

“My power, it’s--” The agony tightened within him. He didn’t know how to get out of here, but he had to do it fast. Even his illusory body was losing strength.

“You’re burning out,” Demyx said.

“Worse. I’m--”

“Shit, shit, shit.” He was panicking. “Okay. Um.” He pinched himself hard. “Fuck, why did I think that would work? What do you normally do?”

“I’ve never done anything like this before.”

Demyx blinked. “This is probably really stupid but I can’t think of anything else--” He cut himself  off and kissed Ienzo square on the mouth, blood and all.

The next thing Ienzo was aware of was the pain. He couldn’t move. His insides felt like they were burning--they probably were.

Demyx was yelling. “Hey. Hey, Ienzo. Wake up. You have to--” Hands at his shoulder, his wrist, checking for a pulse. Pressure against his pockets. “I need help. Even, I need-- I think Ienzo’s dying and I don’t know how to stop it.”

Was he dying? He was feeling more numbness than pain now.

Even’s voice. “What happened?”

“He found me. In my memory. I don’t know how, but he--he said he wasn’t supposed to have that power.” Ienzo heard a sob.

Even swore. “No. He isn’t. There’s a reason humans don’t control the elements willy-nilly. What are the symptoms?” He sounded slightly out of breath.

“He’s having trouble breathing. His pulse is really fucked up. His nose is bleeding and it seems like he’s in a lot of pain--” Another sob cut through Demyx. “I’m sorry, Even.”

“I know you didn’t ask for this.”

“Why is this happening?”

“Power like that comes from the will. It can only exist without the presence of a fully realized heart--otherwise, it’s too much power. Hence why Nobodies can use it as a defense mechanism. At that point, entropy starts wreaking havoc on the body. Your cells literally start to break down and melt.  The will to live starts to wear down.”

“Ienzo…”

“I’ve messaged Aerith. I don’t think my skills are enough. We must keep him alive until then.”

Alive.

Ienzo could not feel anything, not even fear. He tried to keep drawing breaths, to stay alive , but his lungs were not responsive. He was starting to get dizzy, and drowsy. There was more pressure against his chest, repetitive and insistent. Demyx’s voice, again, heartbroken: “Why would you do this? Why didn’t you let me drown?”

He tried to fight the pull of sleep, but with his will cleaved, he had no choice but to give into it.

[purpleyin]

Flash 6x04 thoughts

Fun to get a Halloween episode and this one was RAW, so much emotion flying about. Also some fun action. It was a weird mix of comical and angst-ridden but somehow that worked?

As usual, rest behind a cut because it be long.

lol to the previously on doing Cisco airqutoes for “Nash”.

ooh we see Caitlin, if only in the previously on.

Aw, he seems like a nice doctor at the start so my immediate assumption is he's gonna die isn't he :(

Wow Ramsey is sweaty, presumably feverish and I was honestly surprised the other doctor doesn’t notice it and ask him if he’s feeling alright... See ramsey this is why you shouldn’t put random dudes blood in you.

I’m with Cisco on the not just accepting it. But do they know how Barry dies is vaporising by antimatter? I thought the scenes we got implied he died by running too fast as part of some solution or was that not running fast enough to outrun it? It’s all so vague about how Barry saves everyone and I feel like they should be talking specifics, because that’d be how to out think fate.

Very different circumstances/motivations of course but Barry being so very acepting of fate kinda of struck me me as a parallel to Savitar who also didn’t seem to work that hard to escape the crappy fate he had in S3. I know an interview I saw a transcript for somewhere had them mentioning S3 was about how you face death and that this season was about the opposite in some way - maybe how to live post-crisis? 

Really, those lines from Frost in the lounge seems less Frost cadence and more Caitlin here so it’s a bit confusing why they didn’t have Caitlin briefly back to speak those...

It did bug me why is Frost so accepting of Barry sacrificing himself but we get the answer later anyhow. fFeel like Barry leaving the lounge there was a missed opportunity for a Iris/Frost talk and someone to ask Iris how she’s coping with it all.

Joe’s comment about Cisco wanting to save lives but Barry and Cisco go about it differently was interesting. Is the main difference is Cisco wouldn’t give up, he wants to save everybody and maybe that is unrealistic overall and something he needs to work on? But Barry is only so defeatist because he's convinced he’s seen all possibilities - and I’m not convinced he did since they stopped the procedure short due to it overloading his body/brain.

Anyhow, saving lives is the clearly the theme here for the episode. Ramsey wants to too but it’s how it can twist people - Cisco making a choice that was both self-lress for Barry and selfish for wanting to save his friend rather than others and Ramsey’s self-preservation trumping everything else.

Wondering just how fast does HLH progress in this. What I read up on it online did not sound like what they were talking about in the show so I’m not expecting this is medically accurate... I don't quite get why use the centrifuge once he puts the black blood into new blood to create more. I thought centrifuges were to to seperate stuff, no? But I should probably stop expecting medical/scientific accuracy.

Aw to the flashbacks to his mum. I do wish we could have seen her with Caitlin too given the strong bond they are said to have had. The flashbacks feel a touch out of place but I’m guessing this is to humanize him more as he grows more monstorus for a contrast to what he was.

Cisco really isn’t budging is he. Maybe the solution here would be Barry could convince Cisco it’s the only way if Cisco could see all the possibilities too by some method. But I do not think he saw all, only a lot of them (and so didn’t see Oliver’s involvement? or did he see that and Barry dying is the only version where everyone including Oliver survives?).

Barry deciding they’d cure Ramsey did throw me a bit, his focus on how to teach Cisco about saving people is weird (also surely Cisco has saved his share of people as Vibe but the lesson needs to be you can’t save everyone, to pick carefully). Surely that would’ve better been a Cisco and Caitlin thing... I know it diverts quickly into something else that works for their team up but the start of that part felt like yet again they don't use the people that make most sense ala S5 and the cure.

Now I wonder whether Nash will ever use the door normally to enter. Is this gonna be his characters running gag? lol to him bugging cisco. If Cisco’s not wearing the same outfit as he was in 6x03 then where is the bug - like, shoes was a good guess if those are still the same. I'd say it could be on his hair, but surely that'd be brushed/washed out. Maybe his watch or something - or the extra troll-y option that Nash didn’t bug him at all but found out by other means.

With the look on his face at Nash’s turning up, how much patience does Barry have for another Wells? At least they get further and further from Eowells with each Wells iteration they come across but does he maybe always worry what if it could be another Eobard in Wells face, just from another earth? Is it always going to be at least somewhat hard for Barry to trust another Wells? If they do ever do Eobard as Eells from another earth, eep, maybe one of these series...Even weirder if it was not his Eobard but just another Eobard who hates all Barry Allen’s.

Aw to Iris' look when Ralph is so unethused about her dearbon lead.

Argh, why are scifi needles never just normal... eek to Ramsey’s thoughts and the obvious conclusion he's gonna need people to incubate it. Although I did expect his justification was going to be ‘for the greater good’ too. Do love the discordant feel for his theme.

So they’re in a ‘mobile research unit’ van but what did they use those for at S.T.A.R. anyway, sometimes I wanna know what other research they did other than the PA.

ah, McCulloch is gonna have another breakin, oh dear. They’re really using that namedrop as much as possible, aren’t they. I’d be surprised if they don’t make a big deal of them again somehow later in the season...

I was gonna say, how can the serum heal tissues in cases when the body doesn’t know it’s gone wrong but I guess they’re going with if more than 50% of your cells are okay those duplicate?

Oooh to it being Invasion leftovers but McCulloch has sat on that for a while. Trying to reverse engineer it? I’m sort of surprised Barry and Cisco didn’t try to too because more of that could be good to have, although meta reason is it’s too OP of course (and let’s just ignore that no matter how aweseome that serum is healing from anti-matter cancelling you out sounds like bull, but...). 

Oh yay for meta dampener plot point. They’re not overrelying on Barry’s powers this season to be the answer to everything and I really enjoy that, as well as the implication business’ are trying to stop meta crime with those things. lol to their asses getting caught. Did Nash do that just to impress them with saving them, hmm.

I did find Cisco and his plotting fun to watch but a) Cisco no no bad plan and b) if that serum needs -15 then how do thry plan to transport it? lol to Barry just following Nash. Ooh to the explaining his disappearing act last ep with the smoke ball transporters. Kinda comedic for Grant with somestuff this season and I enjoy a bit of that - the faceplant into the floor post-transport especially. XD

Aw to Ralph eating his feelings. Argh to sad Ralph being mean Ralph when Iris is only trying to help him! His comment did make me wonder if Iris has been avoiding Barry or Barry avoiding her, with his dealing with Frost and Cisco and team prep? Do like seeing Iris and Ralph scenes as I like their dynamic we but hoping we get Iris in scenes with others more too.

An important question is, who decorated the louge for hallowen... Maybe Frost if she’s never got to before? I know Cisco did Christmas decorations back in S4 but he does seem a bit preoccupied. I might headcanon Frost tried to distract Cisco with the task.

I swear there was a minute I thought Nash said ‘Bareon’ instead of Barry Allen, because it was said so fast and I thought he’d made up a nickname for him.

And Cisco joins the bad liars club along with Barry and Caitlin... Oh Cisco you could've put a sticker on the thermostat reading, way to make it obvious - did he want it found? He didn’t even put it somewher Barry wouldn’t be likely to see see. I suppose at least Barry got better at telling he was being lied to? He hasn’t always been good at that.

Wow to Cisco determination about not letting Barry at the serum, especially for someone without powers. But ow ow ow with the conflict of Cisco not wanting to let him sacrifice himself and Barry holding onto his friends living as the reason to do that. All the emotions!

So Barry says he's been dealing with it for weeks, but how does that add up with only telling the team last ep. Was there some time before they told them the first part about Crisis bumped up or was there more of two weeks between 6x03 and 6x04...

Oh gods, so much more ow to Barry's ’Maybe I made the wrong choice. They bringing all the Barry & Cisco feels *cries* 

Ooh to the lightning flashes on Barry’s face when he’s in Ramsey’s lab. I was fully expecting Ramsey would take it and it would be too late and just make the bloodwork cells duplicate but it was interesting they went with it didn’t work, after hyping the serum up...

Also shouldn’t Barry have mentioned the -15 storage requirement? It appears to only need -15C when it’s plot convenient... Ahhh that shot of Barry before he leaves the lab, happy to have been able to give it to Ramsey, is such classic noble Barry.

Ooh to a Joe and Ralph scene. So... another timeline pondering - when he says last summer, does he mean summer 2019 or last year’s summer in 2018 (I think the latter?) which would’ve been somewhere in s5... Oh more ow about Barry news being relating to the giving up on the Dearbon case.

Very nice they got a Chyre mention nod to s1, they’re doing good on past season mentions/callbacks this season. Such feels to Joe not saying anything to Ralph’s “I’m gonna miss him” like he can only nod.

Not sure what to make of Nash calling Cisco kid. Is it just to rile Cisco up? Wondering did he know another version of Cisco elsewhere so that’s why he so quickly gets under his skin?

Yay for Frost using the bartending skills.

Her line about you can’t save someone who doesn’t want saving re: Barry fate, not to mention the “the obsess over it leading down a dark path and a mistake you can’t fix” follow up made me think of her team-up with Savitar in S3. Wondering whether Frost wanted to be able to save him (he was the first person to accept her for her after all), for them to escape the timeloop fate and whether she was regretting what she did with getting sucked into that scheming of his.

I may have face!palmed at Ramsey and his epiphany about epinephrine. The whole you must be afraid is so frequently the key, to power usage anyhow, so this being the case is predictable. I just don’t know why he skipped to I must scared and kill people - why not add ephinprine to the blood? It’s a big jump from that to conclusion about the chemical requirements to the have to kill people while they are super afraid. Ramsey, chill, try adding some to the blood samples or something first. Or I dunno taking blood samples from scared people without killing them? There were options and he skipped to the most gruesome and extreme choice. I think I’m gonna have to assume for a smart guy he was a) too desperate to think straight and b) possibly feverish again like they showed earlier in the ep and so not thinking clearly due to being ill.

So they’re tapped into every alert citywide but I’m curious how. Do they hack every system? Or they could just make the security systems to sell  (or buy up a company that does) and add a backdoor if the labs has decent income these days, but I suppose that might backfire if anyone figured it out.

We get another Frost speeded in shot! I am finding it fun for them fighting together this season. Like seeing her using Caitlin’s medical knowledge too. The blast to get out of choke was fun, as was the, ice knuckles and there’s a nifty shot that shows off the shine in her costume. They’re really making efforts to use powers better and in varied ways (and not making people too OP/without weaknesses despite that) and I adore seeing that.

Again with Barry whump, they do like that this season too - almost always with the him thrown into something. And he gets to plead with someone again - so much Barry pleading with people lately.

lol to ‘the bad guy was taken line’ from Frost. Her character growth has been cool to see.

The Ramsey ramblings were strange, he does seem twisted from the flashbacks. I was expecting he’d justify it as wanting to find the cure for others but it is just straight up selfishness he admits, with a little meglomaniac philosophising. Also some irony to talk about finding immortality with two metas who do have healing powers that might slow their aging, although it’s other circumstances for Barry won’t live as long as he could.

That anger for the poor doctor he held hostage felt like it came out of nowhere but must’ve just been well hidden earlier in the ep, he did have other priorities after all.

Ew to the dissolving into black bloody goo for the zombies. Made me think of Stranger Things grossness from S3.

Only 5 killed actually seemed quite a low total given the chaos at the hospital. It being night time and oncology department they were, did Ramsey pick likely terminal patients? So that he could feel least guilt about killing...

The composition of that shot when Barry is talking to the team about Ramsey had a sort of last supper vibe. Also, Barry’s eyes do look red kinda like he’s been crying maybe in between the hospital and there. :( Headcanon time - Barry crying at the futility of having given Ramsey the cure to no avail. His giving up his chance to survive Cisco suggested and it coming to nothing and more people dying instead - the failure of it all getting to him. But if that happened at the hospital, I wouldn’t bet on Frost being good at comforting Barry. Though maybe she would try, figuring she'll have to get good at that too sometime and Caitlin could talk her through learning to be there for people like that?

I find it weird we get Frost turn up in the hallway to ask Iris if Ralph is okay. Don’t get me wrong, I like Frost’s concern for Ralph and their brotp but when are we gonna get a Frost and Iris scene? One just about them! And when is someone gonna ask Iris how she is with everything. It’s like Iris is just expected to be strong, while everyone else falls apart and she’s supporting them but not the same in return and it bugs me.

Ended up glad that Ramsey being bloodwork going so wrong wasn’t due to taking the serum. That'd be extra argh if Barry's choice made it worse.

Eee to Cisco and Barry making up (yay we don’t have a repeat of S3 multi ep falling out). The thing about Cisco finding it hard to pick himself up, was that why he stopped being an (obvious and in the field) hero himself with Vibe? It feels like that could relate to his mental health and heroing getting to be too much to cope with.

They're really making use of that lounge and balcony this last season or two. I like it and it makes a change from the Cortex but I sort of am starting to want more variety now, like more at Barry’s lab or Jitters...

Finally we get the Joe feels on everything. They made Barry cry again, is it gonna be every ep in the lead up...Single tears from him are big this season. Also Barry’s clothes are very S1 feel here too, I feel like they might’ve done that to up the Joe & Barry feels compared to them having more talks like this back then. It does remind me that one of the reasons I got so attached to The Flash in S1 was that I loved they had a show where a male character got to have all kinds of emotions like this, to cry if it was needed. 

So, the projection that Nash watched - did he see the Monitor moving down that corridor through the wall or was it just someone in similar outfit, could it have been Pariah?

Overall like the ep but there were some odd jump to conclusions from characters & plot choices that could have been done to better as they ended up clunky. I think emotionally, it did bother me how preachy Barry got to Cisco. Cisco hasn’t been The Flash but he has been Vibe, and with Barry from the start, so he does know heroing, he’s been there after all. That might not be the same as being the leader like Barry wanted to prepare him for, but I’m not sure Barry went about teaching Cisco what he wanted very well. It was a very obtuse way to go about it.

The contrast with the Frost ep is interesting, because Barry struggled with her at first but figured out how to get through to her after a while (with the Ramsey parallel at least). He didn’t seem to manage that with Cisco here in the same way, it’s only at the very end they realise what’s important. It makes me feel like Barry doesn’t understand Cisco anywhere near as well as Caitlin, or even Frost he could figure out. But maybe that fits narratively seeing as we haven’t had a lot of Barry & Cisco interaction last season and Barry was also irking Cisco in 6x01 with his behavour, pushing too hard and not realising. Makes me want to see/read fic for those two reconnecting better before Crisis.

[vicbartons]

Ohhh and for the prompt I sent could you maybe make it hurt comfort if that’s ok? Xox

#62 “please shut up. just shut up.”

They should have never let Cain talk them into this.

There are thousands of thoughts rushing through Robert‘s head a mile a minute, but that is the loudest one. A screeching alarm bell going off in the depths of his brain, overloading his senses.

Because they were supposed to be this sensible, grown-up couple these days, weren‘t they?

No more dodgy deals, no more lies and schemes. 

Just an average married couple, happy and loved-up. With nothing more to worry about than where to spend their weekly date night or whose job it was to pick up toilet paper from the shop this time around.

Only sensible grown-ups didn‘t run through the wad of cash they had made in what was supposed to be their very last heist within a year and a wedding. They didn‘t have to move into their little sister‘s spare room out in the middle of nowhere once their London rent had gotten too steep. Sensible grown-ups didn’t get turned down when asking for a loan, because neither one of them had a single steady employment to show for over the past ten years that was legal enough to mention on a CV. Sensible grown-ups didn‘t have rap sheets as long as their arms, clinging to them like a persistent rash and keeping them from ever making it through any landlord‘s rigorous vetting process without reverting to old tricks. Let alone the doors of an adoption agency.

Sensible grown-ups also probably didn‘t find themselves bend over their bed  midday on the regular, instead of out shopping for food at the local Tesco or job-hunting.

So maybe they weren‘t really ready for the whole responsible adult thing just yet anyway. If ever.

Still, they shouldn‘t have let Cain talk them into this.

Because they have only been married for ten months and there is still so much left that they want to do. So much more life to live together.

Only now Aaron is bleeding out on him on the linoleum floors of a nondescript corridor somewhere in the depths of the Tate‘s ridiculously massive headquarters and should and shouldn‘t haves suddenly aren‘t worth a damn thing anymore.

“Robert-” Aaron‘s voice is already far too small for his body and something in Robert threatens to break at the sound.

Robert has got his right hand on his left, holding them steady even with his trembling fingers as he presses hard against Aaron‘s middle. He tries to stop the blood from spilling, but Aaron‘s tight black t-shirt keeps growing impossibly darker despite his efforts, the edges of the fabric curling upwards around the wound in wetness right where the bullet cut through it. 

Cain had dubbed the bit of theft a no-brainer. A quick job; revenge and a big pay day all rolled up in one the way the older Dingle always likes it best. Well that and none of them had counted on Kim‘s bulldogged henchmen actually being willing to pull guns on them. Or catching them at all for that matter. They were RobertandAaron after all. They didn‘t get caught, did they? 

In retrospect, that way of thinking had been incredibly short-sighted. Naive even. 

But hindsight doesn‘t really help them now.

Robert‘s eyes keep flicking back and forth between his husband‘s face and the wound on his stomach and he can feel himself drowning in the impossibility of it all until Aaron speaks up again, his voice enough to drag him back to the surface. “Robert,” he whispers, but there‘s a strength to it Robert wasn‘t sure he had in him anymore with his lips as white as they are already. “You know that I-”

And Robert wants to hear him speak, because as long as he‘s speaking Robert can be sure he hasn‘t lost him yet, but he can‘t hear that. Doesn‘t want it.

“Please Aaron, shut up!” The words are loud and sharp and echo through the halls. Booming enough to make Aaron‘s eyes go wide and take even Robert by surprise. It makes him press his hands down a little harder on Aaron‘s abdomen and take a breath. Long and deep, hoping it will right whatever‘s trying to come undone inside of him at the sight of his husband in pain. “Just shut the hell up,” Robert says under his breath. “Will ya?” It‘s a plea more than anything else. 

“No.” Aaron has always been the more stubborn one out of the two and that‘s saying something. There‘s a shake of his head that makes him hiss in pain, but he keeps going anyway. ”I need you to know -”

And of course Robert knows, knows it deep in his bones.

In all his life, one spun out of lies and schemes and make-believe, there has never been anything more true to him than how he feels about Aaron. Or that Aaron feels the same for him in return. It had scared him to the core, the first time they‘d met. When Robert had walked into the Woolpack for a drop-off in search of Charity a little over six years ago now and found her sort-of-nephew with the permanent scowl etched on his face instead. The tug he had felt in the pit of his stomach the moment their eyes met had never disappeared again from there on out, no matter how much of a sour git the younger man had been.  

Want at first sight, they sometimes call it. 

And then so much more after that. 

“I know, okay? Of course I know,” Robert presses out between clenched teeth and he wishes that this stupid game of theirs didn‘t suddenly carry so much weight, “but I need to stop you from dying on me right now and get us out of here and that will work a whole lot better, if you stop trying to say goodbye to me, you muppet.” 

Aaron actually manages to smile a little at the all too familiar nickname and Robert can‘t help but mirror it, all be it a little crooked with his lips bitten and his eyes red raw from trying to keep the tears at bay.

“Bossy,” Aaron mutters between shallow breaths.

“You love it.”

Somehow Aaron gets his eyes to focus on Robert then. “Yeah, I do,” he whispers like he always does when Robert teases him like this, but it‘s lacking its usual levity. ���Robert, if-”

The dismay on Aaron‘s face makes Robert lean down until their foreheads are touching and his full weight is pressing onto the wound with him almost lying on top of his husband.

“Shush,” he breathes out and his nose rubs along Aaron‘s with the slight shake of his head. “I‘m gonna get you out of here and then we‘re gonna drop half the cash at Cain‘s and drive right off to Paris with the other half like we planned to. And then we‘ll make a real go of it, all above board, right?” And Aaron just closes his eyes and nods, breathes his husband in. 

Feeling his shallow breaths against his cheeks as reassurance finally gives Robert a chance to think.

He only has a vague idea of where they are. The corridors underneath the building complex that were starting to bear a scary resemblance to an unsolvable maze, with their never ending white blank walls and headache-inducing neon lights had managed to disorientate him once he had gone rogue and just made a dash for the first exit in sight. Usually Robert was a by the book guy, as far as criminals go - always sticking to carefully mastered plans - but the reflex to get his husband to safety at any cost had overruled all that. 

It‘s how he‘d gotten them lost.

“Ace job, Robert,” he thinks to himself. “So much for criminal mastermind.”

He has seen them before though, the corridors, of course he has. In the back of Cain‘s garage on a blueprint spread across the hood of an old Chevy, a system of tunnels spreading across the entirety of the property like a spiderweb. It was too bad that with all of Robert‘s skills, a photographic memory had never been one of them. 

There is one thing he remembers though. It‘s the way all those endless corners end in a clean circle on the outer edge, connecting all the tunnels. Some sort of aesthetic choice on Kim‘s part apparently - the older woman enarmored by the symmetry - but all Robert can see in it is the system‘s fatal flaw. A weakness to be exploited. 

He is a conman after all.

“I know how to get us out of here,” Robert splutters and rights himself. He runs his hand through Aaron‘s dark curls once before busying himself with trying to untie his tie one-handed, determination finally making his fingers stop shaking.

His other hand never leaves its place on Aaron‘s stomach.

“Knew I didn‘t just marry ya for your looks, Dingle,” Aaron mumbles with his eyes still closed and Robert tries his hardest to ignore how every syllable keeps being cut short by haggard breaths.

His stomach grows warm with the epithet nonetheless.

“Then off into the sunset,” Aaron coughs hard and opens his eyes slowly. Looks up at Robert through this lashes, “like that old-timey movie?”

Robert softens at the age-old argument. Indulges it to stop the air around them from growing so heavy.

“I‘ll have you know that The Getaway is a classic.” 

They had watched it one night in the early days, curling up on Robert‘s sofa for what one could almost call a proper first date. Robert had fallen hard and fast for the story and also maybe Steve McQueen and Ali MacGraw. 

Aaron on the other hand? Not so much. 

The fact alone that they have still made a habit of watching it at least once a year with only a minimal amount of grumbling from his better half makes Robert love Aaron all the more. ”But yes,” Robert adds on, his eyes no longer just watery, but a tear making its way down his cheek, “exactly like that. Because you‘re going to be just fine, Sugden.”

Aaron just breathes and it‘s all that Robert needs from him right now.

“So you‘re gonna hold on for me now, ey?” He asks anyway, more for himself than because he actually expects a response.

But Aaron has always been good at giving Robert more than he needs.

“Yes, boss,” he‘s barely opening his mouth now, but he‘s still there and that‘s everything. 

Robert presses one last kiss onto Aaron‘s forehead and then he gets on with it: Rips a strip of his dress shirt and ties it around Aaron‘s middle with the sage green necktie his husband hates so much, pulls him off the ground, throws an arm around his shoulder and just keeps walking until he notices a slight curve in the walls indicating that they‘ve actually reached the outer edge of the premises and his earplug crackles and shrieks as the connection builds back up, Cain barking at him through it soon after. Robert just keeps running and praying to whoever up there is willing to listen that they‘ll be okay.

(It‘s the last time the two of them get hands-on with a dodgy job. Not because Aaron doesn‘t make it. He does. Barely, but he makes it. No, it‘s because Robert makes it clear that the gashing scar on Aaron‘s abdomen that matches the one on his husband‘s chest all too much is the last one he‘s willing to bear. And the tired look on his face as he says it, the way his eyes go hollow like the thought alone is making him lose the will to live, is haunting enough that Aaron doesn‘t want to disagree.

Yet, Robert‘s still runs the odd con job out of the basement on the side even seven years later - with their little daughter perched on his lap - and Aaron might find himself laying out a classic thievery trick on deep web forums every now and again.

But that is all it is. Desk jobs, really. 

Aaron and Robert have grown sensible after all.)

[jojotier]

The Next ONE Manga

“Our top story- children all over the region are coming down with a strange epidemic of tummy aches.” The perky news anchor on screen said, gesturing vaguely to a screen where a cartoonish diagram depicting a lot of frowny faces over a map of Sado Island. “The outbreak began just last night…”

Tsukishima rubbed his head, feeling around the counter for wherever the hell that pill bottle had rolled off to. He should also find the remote, while he was at it… The volume on the tv was too damn loud for this time in the afternoon. And too damn loud for the pounding between his ears.

He managed to reach the aspirin and water, downing two pills and slightly metallic water. It tasted pretty bad, admittedly, but he didn’t really have the energy to dig anything out of the fridge. Besides, he had coffee brewing- or really, his hangover cure for the day. Jesus, why the hell did he let Koito talk him into…

His attention drifted back to the news, passively taking it in until one phrase struck him. “... and it appears that mysterious sightings of cupcakes all over the area are to blame.” Cupcakes… Why did that sound… a little familiar.

“Last night, hundreds of colorfully frosted cupcakes appeared all over town, Easter themed. Many of the afflicted children described eating at least one before, hours later, coming down with their unfortunate present illness. Local hospitals say that nothing was inherently wrong with the confections- only that they’d been baked with wildly inconsistent measures of sugar and butter, overloading many sweet tooths in the area.

“Local parents and grandparents, however, are outraged. Many are calling this a deliberate poisoning, while others are coming forward with accounts of other food-related acts of villainy.”

The camera panned to one woman, identified by the text at the bottom as Ienaga Kano. In one hand, she held a very familiarly frosted cupcake with a crooked rabbit ear with disdain. “I was babysitting my little nephew earlier when I found him nibbling on this- atrocity! These gaudy things were just left every which way around the park, on benches… it’s inescapable. It’s the demands of the PTA of greater Sado that these menaces be brought to justice-”

And then it clicked.

Tsukishima cursed as he fumbled with the glass momentarily, setting it down at the counter and quickly walking around the little wall divider between the kitchen and living room. On the couch in front of the television, one Koito Otonoshin lay sprawled out every which way, one leg dangling off the side of the couch while the other was hooked on the back of it. His face was smushed into his sleeve and the couch cushion. There was an almost inconceivable amount of drool.

“Koito- dammit, Koito,” Tsukishima hissed out through his clenched teeth, shaking Koito’s shoulder.

“Huhhhuabbitiba…” Koito mumbled, burying his face slightly more into the small drool puddle. All of that was, of course, utter fucking nonsense. Normally Tsukishima would take that as his cue to leave Koito be and maybe grab a blanket, but it was kind of urgent,

He shook him harder, hissing out, “ KOITO.” He managed to duck out the way of a swinging arm as Koito gave a screech, cracking with the disuse of a voice that had been resting, and shot up like a bullet.

“Tsukishimaaaaaaaaa,” Koito whined, glaring daggers at him. “What the HELLooowwwwwww owowowow ow ow,” He clutched his aching head, eyes screwing shut against the light. Tsukishima would have chalked it up to karma, if not for the fact that they had way too many empty alcohol bottles in the kitchen to ignore another, far more plausible possibility.

“Shut up for five seconds and look at the damn news,” Tsukishima mumbled, head turning back to the screen. It looks like it’d conveniently gone to commercial while Tsukishima was dealing with Koito, but now, it was coming back on.

“... and there were no survivors.”

Tsukishima’s heart stopped. It was deathly silent for a moment as the newscaster stared back from the screen as if taunting them. Even Koito had gone still, shocked.

“... And that’s the tragic end to No Survivors, the new horror comedy collaboration between Junji *** and *iro**k* Arak*.”

Tsukishima blew out a relieved breath all at once, hand instinctively pushing against his heart. Christ… It was going to be bad enough on his conscience that his own drunken actions had apparently led to a bunch of kids getting sick. If any of them had actually died… Koito slumped down, a shaky laugh coming from him as he asked, “What- was that all-?”

And then as if to taunt them further, the reporter said, “And now back to the cupcake story- we have several eyewitness accounts stating that they saw a tall, spindly man placing the cupcakes all over the city, speaking in tongues…”

Tsukishima slowly turned to Koito, staring. Koito stared back, face slowly losing color faster than an inconsistent mangaka could lighten dark skin over 150 chapters in. “I thought,” Tsukishima said calmly, knowing full well that he was still processing everything because otherwise- if he weren’t- he’d likely be far angrier, “you agreed you were going to throw those cupcakes away.”

“I-!” Koito choked on a breath and some satsumaben before coughing, managing to get out through gritted teeth, “I know- I thought maybe you meant that you just needed to be rid of them?! Recycling technically counts-”

“No. No, it does not.” Tsukishima flatly said, eye twitching gently. “I said throw them away- there were too many. And what in the hell did you do?”

“Don’t blame this all on me!!” Koito nearly hollered, fingers twisting into the couch cushions. He pointed at Tsukishima accusatorily, “Besides, YOU’RE the one who made all those cupcakes in the first place!! Why the hell weren’t you paying attention to what you were putting in them, huh?! What if you accidentally replaced the salt with sugar or something?! I’M NOT the only one-”

“I know damn well you aren’t accusing me when I was drunk,” Tsukishima ran a long-suffering hand down his face. “Because of, might I remind you, your goddamn insistence that we drink some chardonnay. I don’t even like wine!”

“Well YOUR shit taste isn’t MY problem, now IS it!” Koito shouted back, sitting up straighter so that he could channel his energy into aggressively gesturing with his hands. “Besides!! That didn’t stop you from drinking it all last night!! That was my last goddamn bottle- do you have any idea how hard it is to get when I’m not with my father?! Ridiculously hard!”

“You INSISTED on a drinking contest to see which of us would buy a new bottle,” Tsukishima pinched the bridge of his nose, realizing that this bickering wasn’t going anywhere and wasn’t really addressing the topic at hand. “Look- that’s not the point. Last night happened, and we may have made several mutual mistakes that just so happened to escalate into a long series of regrettable choices. Happens to every college student, probably. We just need to calm down and think through this-”

“YOU’RE NOT EVEN IN COLLEGE ANYMORE- that’s the POINT.” Koito groaned loudly as he flopped backward, banging his head against the arm of the couch and hissing out a pained breath because of it.

Tsukishima’s lips pressed into a thin line as he said, “Alright. Noted. Just make sure they didn’t catch any video of you on the news.” He turned to go back to the kitchen. “I’m making coffee. Do you want-”

Just as Koito seemed to want to interrupt, there was an insistent buzz at the door. They both glanced at the door as the buzzing overlapped as the doorbell to their shitty little apartment was pressed again. Koito eventually said, “Well? You’re already up- you may as well see who the hell is bothering us.”

“If it’s the police, I’m not hiding you.” Tsukishima deadpanned as he walked to the door, peering out of the peephole. “... Huh.”

“Huh what?” Koito lazily asked, pouting like a fucking infant on their couch.

“It’s Enonoka.” Tsukishima said, somewhat bewildered.

Koito sat up again, turning his body towards the door. “Huh. That is odd… She’s still on break, so she shouldn’t be here for tutoring… and I didn’t think her English teacher gave homework…”

“Yeah.” Tsukishima’s eyebrows furrowed as he stepped back and opened the door. “Hello, Eno…” He trailed off as his eyes landed on the spot where Enonoka had just been standing a few seconds ago. When he pulled the door open, she wasn’t there anymore. He blinked and poked his head, looking down either side of the hallways to see if he could catch a glimpse of her running away. Odd…

He glanced over his shoulder, saying, “She’s not there- I guess she ran…” Then, Tsukishima noticed Koito turned towards the back of the couch, rigidly sitting with wide eyes raised towards the kitchen. “Hey? What are you-”

“H,” Koito wheezed out, mouthing something before just giving up and pointing frantically in the direction that he was looking. Tsukishima raised his eyes, and his gaze met Enonoka’s.

She was already inside the apartment, sitting on the divider between the living room and kitchen.

“...” Tsukishima quickly turned back to the front door and opened it, peering out. Then he turned his attention back inside. Enonoka waved from the counter. Well, that was weird. But nothing was really setting off any true alarm bells- after all, she was just a child. It’d be dumb to be intimidated by her. “Hello, Enonoka. … How’d you get into our house?”

“Oh, you know,” Enonoka said, failing to elaborate on what they knew. Tsukishima closed the door. She swung her legs a bit, pointing at the news. “I guess you know the rumors, huh?”

“Rumors?” Tsukishima asked with some disdain. God, it couldn’t have been more than twelve hours… how were there already rumors? Surely they couldn’t be about them- it didn’t seem like anyone had caught a good look at Koito, barring their little next door neighbor, perhaps- which meant she might have seen Koito. Oh, dammit.

“They say there’s a supervillain around town- fun, right?” Enonoka said. Tsukishima sighed, leaning against the door. “They say he’s made of a bundle of living noodles in the shape of a man and uses his sweet sauce tentacles to mind control kids into eating his sweets.”

Well, Tsukishima couldn’t fault whoever started the rumors on their apparent imagination. “Sounds a bit farfetched… don’t you think?”

“Of course it’s farfetched.” Enonoka assured. “I’m not an idiot. I know what’s going on.”

Tsukishima sighed. So she likely had seen… “Listen… it really isn’t all that you think it is. Koito didn’t-”

“Oh, I know it wasn’t Mr. Koito,” Enonoka said confidently. “Are you kidding me? He’s not made of noodles or anything.” Koito wasn’t looking any less tense though, gesturing at Enonoka as he tried to mouth something at Tsukishima. Tsukishima couldn’t read lips very well, but maybe he was saying something like… powder? Did they leave the powdered sugar out? Crap, the kitchen was still a mess… Koito was probably reminding him that she was sitting on a very dirty counter. God… how embarrassing. Tsukishima hadn’t even had the time to clean…

Then, Enonoka pointed at Tsukishima. “You’re the mastermind.”

“Ah…” The misunderstanding just seemed to deepen. “I guess in a sense, but it really isn’t-”

“I knew it! And you know too, right?” Enonoka said, eyes gleaming with some excitement. “Which is why you’re denying it. Don’t worry, Mr. Tsukishima- people will be sure to believe you.”

“I should hope so- I’m trying to tell you the truth,” Tsukishima tried to continue.

“It’s okay- I already know!! That’s why I’m here.” Enonoka said, practically vibrating in her spot. She was mature for her age and intelligent… but Tsukishima guessed that this was still just a kid thing, whatever game was being played. “Don’t you get it, Mr. Tsukishima?”

“Get what?” Tsukishima asked, taking a step closer as he decided to humor the child a bit. Koito finally seemed to shake himself from his flabbergasted state, trying to tell Tsukishima to wait- but Enonoka was already knocking two of the empty bottles off of the counter. Shit- if those hit the ground, it’d be a damn minefield if Enonoka tried to jump down! What the hell, kid?

Lunging forward, Tsukishima tried to catch onto the falling bottles when suddenly, they weren’t falling at all. He paused, watching them freeze mid air… and then reverse their trajectory back upwards, onto the counter where they had been sitting untouched moments before.

“... Huh.” was all Tsukishima could get out, uncomprehending.

“That’s my power, Mr. Tsukishima- I think it could really help you,” Enonoka said, eyes twinkling. Tsukishima slowly straightened up, looking to the child as in the blink of an eye, she was standing on the floor in front of him, looking up in determination. Enonoka pointed at Tsukishima, eyes blazing with intensity.

“You need to teach me how to be a villain!”

(Sometimes........... things are better................................ without context)

[vanaera]

Exchanging Gifts Across the World

Synopsis | Gift exchanges have been a tradition between you and Namjoon. It’s cool, really. He gets to give you something for Christmas and he gets to have something that always manages to warm his heart for the cold. But, today, Namjoon will try to kick it up a notch, especially when his bigtime celebrity crush Y/N is the same fucking person as SunnyY/N, his best hoe in the world. Gotta impress the lady, as they say.

(aka Sun + Moon Christmas Special!)

Genre |Fluff with one hell of humor

Wordcount | 4k+ (I’m sorry)

A/N | Hi! So my plan to make online friend!namjoon + idol!you drabbles that started from Unread Messages is fucking happening, so please read that first to understand this. Tumblr is being shitty but you can find it in my blog. Just click the masterlist link in my description to view it. Oh, and this is unedited :) ...so yeah, enjoy reading and Happy Holidays everyone! Track my tag #sweet holidays for more of my Christmas specials!

             It’s the Yuletides season and to say Namjoon is in deep shit would be an understatement. The shit he is in is deeper than the big ass snow pile on the streets he trudges on on the way to the university.

           It starts with his alarm clock going off in the ass crack of dawn, two hours earlier than the six o’clock call time he steadfastly arranged for two years straight. It was an actual mistake on his part when he went to sleep last night groggy at eleven from his tutoring sessions and his finger mistook “4” for “6,” but in his current situation, Namjoon thinks it was the greatest blessing in disguise.

           Every December, Namjoon has this tradition with you where you would send each other Christmas gifts overseas and chat each other on Send Me every 20th of December before you both open it at the same time. It was a really great tradition. Namjoon get to have exchange gifts with his favorite person in the world and it was a very great heart warmer that arms him with enough heat to pack along his bags when he leaves for home for the holidays.

           The thing is, it was easier back then.

SunnyY/N 9:47 PM

Hey it’s December

MonJoon 9:47 PM

Yeah, what about it?

SunnyY/N 9:48 PM

Wanna exchange gifts with me?

           It was a month right after Aym a BaBe, now SunnyY/N, randomly messaged him on Send Me to ask him to listen to you while you, a complete stranger, open up to him about your problems and now you’re here, wanting to exchange gifts? Namjoon thinks you’re really weird. Before he can reply, a notification pops off.

SunnyY/N 9:50 PM

It’s ok if you don’t want to

SunnyY/N 9:50 PM

I mean like, I’m a stranger so yeah. I totally get you. Sorry for bothering you :(

           Namjoon bites his lip. He doesn’t know why the hell his heart feels like its strings have been tugged out of tune. Maybe it’s because of your triple sad faces or maybe… you messaged him on some November midnight ago that gave him a glimpse of your problems. Namjoon knows denying this just feels…not right. Maybe it’s because that same midnight when you talked about how sad you are with your situation and how you can’t tell other people what you feel reminded him of his current problems in the uni: friend-less, frustrated, and unsatisfied–all centered around a lifestyle he never dreamt of having if he had not accepted the Biology program just to step on the holy floors of his dream university. He never knew chasing for his dream program, Music Composition, would be too hard, especially when his first attempt to shift was rejected. Overloading on general courses just to catch up with the students in his supposed program was never a bright idea of his freshmen days but he was just desperate and now, here he is, tired of everything and everyone.

Except you. Which is boggling the hell out of him.

Anyway, Namjoon mutters, “Fuck it,” and lets his fingers dance on his screen.

MonJoon 9:51 PM

No, I mean, you’re not bothering me. I wanna do exchange gifts, too.

SunnyY/N 9:53 PM

You do?

MonJoon 9:54 PM

Yeah, why not?

           December 15 marks the first time Namjoon went out freezing in the chilly winter air wearing a coat he just thrifted in a dollar shop to go to Paperdreams, the bookstore just a five minute walk from his dorm. The shop’s rustic interior was a leftover trace of the countryside with the tangerine lighting provided by the overhead hanging lamps and the mahogany wood of the tables and cases that held books and handcrafted stationery materials. A potted gardenia plant was standing proud by the entrance, its hardy, pale pink, petals a contrast to the leaveless trees under the white season. It’s a nice ambiance to gray and white walls he’s been long exposed to.

           “May I help you sir?”

           Namjoon looks at his side to address the lady on the counter, a middle aged woman with a tender smile on her face. “Uhh..Um…I’m just gonna look for something that’s gift-able,” Namjoon shakes his head, almost slapping himself at the stupid choice of words. “Umm…something that I can give to a friend–for Christmas, yeah.”

           “Hmm, what are your friend’s interests? We can start from there.”

           Namjoon unconsciously puts his hands together and almost wrung them, a mannerism he does when he’s nervous and instead bit his lip. Friend? Can he call you a friend? He doesn’t even know your preferences other than being a fan of Y/N and music and this info he learned from you is still vague as he hasn’t even grasped around what kind of genre you like. “Uuh-um-uh I-I don’t know her preferences that well yet so…I’m not quite sure.”

           The lady leaves the counter and flashes him a smile. “That’s okay. I can help you find something,” she beckons him to follow here in one of the aisles.

           As he passes through the aisles of bookcases, Namjoon can’t help but scan the books and journals lined up on the wooden stands, all almost made by authors he’s never heard of before. The Killing of the Lilacs, Butterflies and White Walls, The Dream of the Common Language–this is a selection he’s never encountered before.

           “You’re a bookworm, hmm?”

           Namjoon closes the distance the woman has passed onto the next set of aisles positioned against the lateral of the shop. “Uhm-yes…I’m just fascinated because I’ve never read any one of those.”

           “They’re good books, I assure you,” the lady says, grinning. Namjoon thinks the wrinkles painted by age on the corners of her eyes were a great contrast to the youthfulness in her irises. “I’ve read popular books before but what I felt while flipping through their pages cannot compare to those books,” she gestures to the aisle. “Being unpopular just somehow makes what they say truly genuine. Those authors have no one to impress, nothing to fake; just raw feelings and words.”

           Namjoon’s lips stretch into a smile, the first real one in the day. He knows what she says. Being a loyal follower to the rising solo artist Y/N is quite a similar feat. The way she produces the acoustic melodies synchronized with lo-fi hiphop beats, sometimes upbeat, is a really weird mix he’s never imagined he would appreciate. Her vocal technique ranging from R&B to dreamy pop is astounding and the lyrics she writes is just too poetic and emotionally-packed, damn it, she can write a song about his broken ass piggy bank and it would still be beautiful–

           “Anyway son, you can look through this,” the lady brings his attention back to her and back to the bookcase. “They’re prose books and journals, a safe option for someone you would like to get to know more.”

           “Oh uhm, thank you.”

           “Don’t mention it; I really like assisting people with choosing and preparing gifts. Not everyone manages to spare a look at another person anymore, much less spend the time to buy someone something worthwile. The Christmas spirit is rare and I’d like to indulge in it as much as possible. Haahh,” the lady sighs, “I talked too much again. I’m gonna go back to the counter, okay? Just call for me when you need assistance.”

           Namjoon nods, and lets his eyes continue eyeing the Milk and Honey by Rupi Kaur. Needless to say, he purchases the book, heads to DHL just a street away and ships it to the address you gave him.

           A brown package arrives on his doorstep on the 19th of December and on the following day, he goes online with you and tears the wrapping away to reveal The Dream of A Common Language and white headphones standing out from the red festive paper.

MonJoon 10:46 PM

Oh my god, you’re making me cry, hoe. I just – like saw a piece of it on Google Reads and planned on buying it a week before and now, it’s here?!!!

MonJoon 10:46 PM

OMYGOD I JUST CALLED YOU HOE I’M SORRY

SunnyY/N 10:47 PM

IT’S OKAY DON’T WORRY! I actually am thankful I got your preferences right. And also, thank you! I’ve never heard of any Rupi Kaur before. I’ll be sure to give you updates!

           A week later, you messaged him, raving about the book, and eternally thanking him for giving it to you. Namjoon never knew his lips could be pulled into a smile all day long as he stared at the screen of his phone to the point that he managed to shut his eyes at ten, eyeglasses still perched on top of his nose and your message still flashed on his screen.

           “Thanks so much, Joon. The healing part got me really emotional. I never knew it would affect me so much…I just feel really comforted and just– thank you so much.”

           A week later, Y/N releases a new single, Piece Me Together, and Namjoon’s smile stays for the next few days.

           Namjoon planned that the following Decembers will follow the same suit. Every 12th, he’ll walk to Paperdreams, pick a gift of his choice, ship it through DHL, and wait at his home for his brown box  sometime around the 20th or 21st, a couple of days convenient before he’ll take a trip to his home. He never thought this gift exchanges will turn out to be the thing he most looks forward to every Holiday Season. The picking of gifts, handwriting short notes on Christmas Cards, and shipping it and waiting for his gift to reach your door makes him reminisce his carefree childhood days. It makes his heart feel contented too that he gets to express his gratitude to you for being the best person out there for him. It’s a wonder how tangible you feel when your physical presence is only emanated by your messages. Maybe it’s because you made him stronger in dealing with life or how you managed to make him smile everyday–he wasn’t really sure. All he knows is that you’re his bestfriend and he hopes you’re also finding solace in his presence.

           However, he’s supposed plan did not happen at all one year ago. Namjoon didn’t have much time to spare because of the hectic before-Christmas-break-week so when the inked “December 12” on top of his notebook paper loomed over his head, he almost freaked out. He can’t just break off the tradition; he can’t leave you hanging. So around 10:31, right after his tutoring session in the library, Namjoon went to Corner Shop, a stop shop right across Paperdreams and slipped in a set of socks with a cute duck design, because you love ducks, into the packaging, and sent it to DHL which was already in the middle of closing. It was a pretty shitty gift on his part but Namjoon did not regret it that day. That’s the only time he was free, Paperdreams is already closed, and you love ducks, so you’ll like it right? He only regretted his choice when December 22 came along with his package and lo and behold, a fucking Gucci sweater and a flabbergasting Louis Vuitton coat is revealed by the torn Christmas wrapper. Holy fucking hell.

MonJoon 10:49 PM

OMYGOD HOE

SunnyY/N 10:50 PM

HI HOE! LIKED IT?

MonJoon 10:50 PM

Umm, I’m shocked. Of course I like it but this. This is fucking expensive, hoe. This like costs a liver and a kidney. And I got you…something that’s not even worthy.

SunnyY/N 10:51 PM

I gave you that because I wanted to, Joon. I won’t be spending on just someone, it’s you, and you’re worth it. And no, oh my god, don’t call the socks unworthy! I LOVE THEM, SEE I’M ALREADY WEARING IT!!!  \(>u<)/    \(>u<)/   \(>u<)/

-   see 1 photo

I never knew you remembered small details of my preferences, hoe. This is really the first time someone got really pays close attention to the shits I sputter. So you do you baby boy, and smile for me.

MonJoon 10:52 PM

Okay, I’ll smile. See, the smile is there.

-see 1 photo

Although the guilt on my part will still reside in me. I promise I’ll do better next time. Also, it’s kinda weird you’re referring to me as baby boy when you’re just two months older than me.

SunnyY/N 10:53 PM

Why just a picture of your mouth?

MonJoon 10:53 PM

Cause you won’t show me your face so might as well be mysterious about mine

SunnyY/N 10:54 PM

Smart ass. No need to feel guilty about anything, hoe. I know I’ll always be greater than you :P :P :P HAHAHHAHA JOKE. And!!! I can call you baby boy whenever I want. Call me baby girl? ;) ;) ;)

MonJoon 10:54 PM

Mean…and ew, no.

SunnyY/N 10:55 PM

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA

           Around January, Y/N lands in Incheon airport and a couple of pictures from the paparazzi revealed her sporting an oversized Prada gingham trench coat, like the queen Namjoon knows she always is. It’s only peculiar that she’s wearing blue green socks with duck print inside her platform heels, the same design he got for you. He only shrugged and blushed, over-exaggerating his mini imagination that Y/N is compatible to him because she got the same taste in his mind over and over through the whole day.

           However, that is back then, completely different from now. Now, when he realized the coincidences between Y/N and your lifestyle and his gifts are no longer coincidences, but a shocking truth. Now, when his best person in the world, the person that he’s cried, ranted, and depended on, was the same fucking person as the girl he imagined he’ll marry in his stupid little fantasy. Now, when it’s the 15th of December and he still has nothing by his side to put into his package.

           In the hazy four o’clock chillness surrounding his room, Namjoon knows everything has to change…except his interaction with you. He’s still queasy about how to feel around you when his infatuation for the celebrity Y/N and his plainly platonic friendship with the SunnyY/N you is completely on different poles. But whatever, all he knows that for you, he’ll still be the same MonJoon you befriended for two years. He doesn’t want you to feel you’re alone now in this friendship especially when Christmas is just around the corner.

           Wrapping himself in the Louis Vuitton coat you gave to him last year, he locks his door and heads out in the cold. His wallet is heavy and warm on his breastpocket, stuffed with bills he saved from his tutoring sessions.

//

           The windchimes sound when Namjoon lets himself in the shop. The peachy orange lighting is warm on the cold of his hands, the bookcases are colored in dark sepia almost rivaling the brownness of the hot chocolate, the gardenia by the entrance is fresh pink, and now it’s accompanied by a soft lavender aster. Paperdreams hasn’t changed at all.

           “Oh hi, you’re here again!”

           Namjoon’s mouth opens, looking at the lady on the counter, the one who assisted him before, in surprise. “But I-I didn’t come here last year. I mean–you remember me?”

           The lady smiles, the same warm, comforting smile she gave him two years ago. “I don’t have frequent customers so when one enters, I practically remember them. I think I still got that photographic memory when I was young, huh?”

           She chuckles and Namjoon gives her a timid smile. “O-ohh.”

           “But anyway, I’ll really remember you. Most of the people that come here just spend a minute or a half hour to hastily grab something to buy for a gift. You’re my only customer who took his time choosing for a gift.”

           “Really?”

           “Yeah, son. Quite a long time at that,” the lady giggles. “I’ve never seen someone mull over what book to buy for a friend for two hours. Must have been a special person for you, hmm?”

           “Yeah,” Namjoon smiles, “she’s special. Very special.” The warmth of his face was personifying itself as the blush that runs from his cheeks to his ears. Namjoon coughs right after letting the things he uttered sink in. What the hell is he doing uttering sappy shit in front of a stranger? He tucks his scarf closer to his mouth, bashful and suddenly feeling hot amidst the freezing season. You’re special, that’s for sure…but that special? The special kind of special? He doesn’t fucking know. Hell, he doesn’t even make sense now–

           “Indeed she is. I hope you can find what you’re looking for here. Just call me when you need assistance, son.”

           “T-thank you,” Namjoon mutters before rushing to the aisles. Why the lady resembles a mother asking her son about his first ever crush? He doesn’t fucking know. Namjoon burries his face for a millisecond in his scarf. God, he’s a mess; a blushing kind of mess and he doesn’t know why.

           Going through books upon books, journals and stationery upon another, Namjoon seems to find nothing that can match what he wants for you. He already spent a whole ass hour jumping from bookcases and bookcases and just–he feels this shop has the answer to his dilemma and he already felt that the moment he entered but why can’t he find anything? Why–

           Namjoons stops in his tracks. Why can’t he provide the answers himself? An idea pops in his head like a sudden flash of light and Namjoon scurries to the counter and grabs a couple of Christmas cards. The lady may have looked confused at his choice but when he bids her goodbye as he exits, the knowing smile on her face is enough of an encouragement that he practically has the answer in his hands. All he has to do is to make them work.

//

           The 12th transgresses to the 13th and to the 14th and six more days before a familiar package is delivered by his doorstep. The midnight nightsky is a mix of navy blues and violet indigos, a contrast to the bright white light filling the corners and spaces of Namjoon’s room. His feet pads on the flooring in excited skips, his fingers swift on the screen of his phone.

MonJoon 10:47 PM

HEY HOE, TIME TO OPEN GIFTS

SunnyY/N 10:47 PM

WAIT OMG I HAVEN’T FOUND MY PACKAGE YET

MonJoon 10:48 PM

Surprise, Y/N. It’s not a package. Here’s your gift. Merry Christmas!

-     Open link

Let’s video call before you click on that and I tear this cover up?

           The video call alert tone only lasts for five seconds and before he knows it, the screen of his phone is displaying your room, the one he saw in his birthday, and you’re there staring at him. All pretty in your dandelion sweater, cheeks pink and you’re hair tousled. Namjoon will still never get used to the image of you staring at nothing but him.

           “What is this, Joon,” you chuckle. “Oh my god, this is kinda terrifying.”

           “I swear to you, it’s not! Now let’s both open our gifts in the count of five, okay?”

           “Okay.”

           “Five.” Namjoon looks at you, you’re staring at the corner of your screen, hand already positioned to click the link.

           “Four.” You looks so cute giggling. Namjoon stifles his own with a bite of his lip.

           “Three.” You sneak him a glance and Namjoon stills and he tells you to just focus on the link. You must not see the blushing mess he is right now.

           “Two.”  You didn’t heed to what he said and just looked at him. He mouths something you didn’t catch and Namjoon smiles.

           “One!”  The sound of the tearing paper resounds within his room and Namjoon has yet to zero in on your gift–a rolex watch and a Murakami book that will surely blow his mind– before the sound of a melody and a beat starts on your side of the world. Namjoon lets the warmth in his chest spread all over his body.

 “We’re born in the moonlight and daytime at the same hour.”

Start and end our day at the same minute.

Live and die in the moments at the same second.

But we’re not different, you and me.

For we live in each other’s presence,

Die in each other’s absence.

Still confusing, but you get the essence, right?

Haah, I just wanna live with you

Breathe the same air as you

Have me as close to you

But in the meantime it’s December

And you’re all and everything I remember

So have a merry Christmas with me

Through the screen, through the phone

Everything virtual; real and never alone

Yeah, we’ll never be alone

Merry Christmas, my only friend

Merry Christmas, my best person

You’re never alone and so am I

‘Cause I got you and you got me

And we’re everything we’ll ever want.”

Everything and all we’ll ever need.

Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

             The beats faze into silence and when you’re not saying anything at all. Namjoon starts. “I-I- you know how I make music from time to time and I just thought it would be really nice to gift you one- exert the same effort as you in these exchanges, and I-I know it sounds scratchy but-“

           “Are you kidding, Joon?” you cut him off, eyes wide and cheeks redder than before. Namjoon shuts up and imagines the color painted on the apple of your cheeks is not because of the cold but beause of him. “I-fuck, this is fucking beautiful, I’m–”

           “Speechless?” he supposes.

           You nod, tucking your shaking fingers beneath the table and away from his view. “Yeah. This is wonderful, oh my god,” you breathe out.  A song? A fucking song? By him?! You’re not prepared for this, you’re not– fucking hell, your heart is still pounding a euphoric symphony in your ears and you hope it won’t be so loud as to reach his side. He can’t know how much he’s affected you already.

           “You like it?”

           “O-of course, Joon. Oh my god, I just have to calm down, this is– too beautiful for me.”

           Namjoon laughs, throwing his head back and you have to gulp down the butterflies that tried to escape from you at the sound of his melodious laugh. He acquiesces to your reply and stays still in his chair, looking at you, smiling.

           How much luck do you have in your hands right now? You practically don’t know. All you could see is your muse sitting in front of you like how you’ll imagine him to be when you write your songs. He won’t know yet, that’s for sure. With his timid smiles and the shyness that covers his face in flaring redness in your previous video calls, you need to make him comfortable first with seeing you as nothing but the same SunnyY/N he befriended. But he’s making it so hard when he’s so handsome just…sitting there.

           Gathering your senses, you fix your seat and flash him a smile. A few seconds pass before you break into a giggle and he followed suit. “God, we’re so weird.”

           “Yeah, hoe, I know,” he gasps in between guffaws.

           “God, you surprised me, Joon. My gift to you is nothing too special and here you are–”

           He scrunches his face, still laughing. “I’m pretty sure a Rolex is not nothing too special when it will cost me another lifetime of paychecks just to afford this.”

           You trip over your words. “But-but compared to this, I– look at how mess of I am and just this is art, oh my god.

           “I’m still shocked, too, Y/N. I’m sure I’ll completely lose my shit once the idea of owning a fucking Rolex will sink in. Especially later when the probability of Seokjin asking me where the hell I got this watch when I’m a poor ass is not a possibility at all but a definite reality.”

           “Then tell him it’s from your online friend.”

           “Yeah, so he’ll push more the idea of my online girl-space-friend is actually my online girlfriend. Maybe he’ll even propose the idea you’re my sugar mommy who adores me too much.”

           You choke on your spit. Online girlfriend, hell yeah you wanna be That.

           Unbeknownst to your misery of stifling excited squeals of happiness, Namjoon giggles an thinks his joke is really nice and starts laughing…which is not helping especially when your heart balloons with too much affection for him, but anyway, seeing him happy makes you happy. That’s everything you need.

           When the chuckles have died down and the longing gazes slipped past notice, you decide to say something sensible for the first time in the evening. The daylight in your room is competing with the darkness of his. Even when you’re entirely apart, you’ve never felt this close to a person before.

           “Joon, I really love your gift. I’ve never been this grateful to a person before.”

           “Me too,” he grins. “I actually have never been this happy before.”

           You return his grin, heart happy at what he said. “Best Christmas ever?”

           “Best Christmas ever.”

           It really is the best one you’ve had and you let the thought warm your heart for days. Happiness thrums in your veins and the effect of the exchange still hasn’t worn off even after you ended the call, reluctantly on both sides might you add, in the midnight. You throw yourself on the wide expanse of your bed. Namjoon has already claimed more area in your heart than what is necessary for a friend. Revealing this truth to him will have to wait. For now, you’ll play his song over and over until your heart memorizes every single bit of it.

           You’ll definitely never forget this day.

//

1 New Message!

SunnyY/N 4:30 AM

OH MY FUCKING GOD, HOE, YOU SENT ME CHRISTMAS CARDS TOO?!!! FILLED WITH LYRICS OF WHAT I SUPPOSE ARE MORE SONGS BY YOU

MonJoon 4:31 AM

Yes, hoe. And it’s 4 right now here. Thanks for waking me up.

SunnyY/N 4:32 AM

Oops, I’m sorry. Go back to sleep now. You’re gonna go home to Ilsan today! You need that energy!

MonJoon 4:33 AM

No, I’m up. Can’t sleep. And yeah, more songs I made for you… I hope you like them. I can’t let you hear them yet. They’re still…scratchy.

SunnyY/N 4:34 AM

I’m sure they’ll turn out great ♥♥♥

SunnyY/N 4:35 AM

And yeah, please let me know beforehand before you drop anything. You’re gonna make my heart combust again.

MonJoon 4:36 AM

I’ll try ;)

           Namjoon raises his head and huffs. Make your heart combust? Not before you make his own heart burst first!

SunnyY/N 4:37 AM

Have a great day, Joon ♥♥♥

MonJoon 4:37 AM

You too. Stay safe, Y/N.

           Namjoon closes his phone and stares at his ceiling. It’s winter but why does it feel like summer? He’s feeling hot and flustered all over-Goddamn it, what are you doing to him?!

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