#all he does is sit in his office and stare at the wall fr fr

[this-is-a-choices-blog]

I love gabe I truly do but this man is starting to really piss me off. he has the audacity to name the law firm after himself while mc has to constantly do all the work to keep it afloat. why the hell wouldn’t HE talk to reginald himself??? mc doesn’t even know this man!! everybody is busting their asses in this house except for HIM

[password-door-lock]

Ray has narrowed it down to four potential candidates to infiltrate the RFA: the first two are office workers; the days that he spent trailing each of them consisted largely of sitting around outside, occasionally passing through the lobbies of their respective buildings, until whoever he was studying that afternoon was ready to go home. The third candidate is a full-time university student with no other notable obligations— when he followed them, Ray sat in the back row of a few large lectures, but found, to his disappointment, that many of their classes were far too small for a stranger to slip in unnoticed. So Ray has been pleased today to discover that your job at a restaurant allows him ample time to study you— and study you he does.

He's already very familiar with your routine, of course; he's been keeping track of that for months now. He even has a vague idea of what your job is like, thanks to the CCTV footage which was left practically undefended on your employer's servers. But now that he's here, he's certain of it— nothing can compare to the real thing.

Ray has spent the entire day at the back of the dining room, pretending to be busy with something on his laptop screen. He's dressed inconspicuously, all in black, protecting his identity with a hat and mask. When he arranges his bangs the right way under the beanie— something he never thought he'd wear, even as part of one of the Savior's plans— he finds that they obscure the color of his eyes quite well. Of course, it's not such good news for his vision, but that's a risk that Ray is willing to take in the name of the Mint Eye.

His initial plan was not to order anything, but... well. Ray has been very busy for the past few days— it's been a long while since he's been able to have anything sweet. Besides, he reasons, it would look strange if he came here and sat around without ordering anything. He doesn't want anything to drink— the coffee would only upset his stomach, and he doesn't trust any teas manufactured outside of Magenta— but Ray figures it wouldn't hurt to get a pastry of some kind. After some deliberation, he selects a strawberry-flavored muffin, which looks more like a cupcake, at least in his opinion. “Would you like that warmed up?” Your coworker asks, avoiding Ray's eyes in favor of the cash register.

“Yes, please,” Ray replies politely. He doesn’t feel entirely comfortable in this environment, but he can be brave if it means getting to spend a moment with you, even in a roundabout way.

“MC,” the coworker calls, and Ray finds himself biting his lip under his mask. It's not safe to call your name like that in public— somebody could be lurking nearby, trying to glean sensitive information about you. It would be one thing to call you that way at Magenta, but here... anybody could be listening, with any motive in the world. “Can you warm up a strawberry muffin?”

“I'd better be able to,” you quip, more under your breath than directly to your colleague, “Do you have any idea how long I’ve worked here?” Two years, three months, and 27 days, according to your official employment records, but Ray gets the feeling that this question was not meant for him to answer. 

Ray tries not to watch you as you insert his pastry into the oven. Instead, he focuses on paying for the treat. Although, much to his delight, he finds that he has no trouble tapping a credit card on a reader while also staring in your direction. Evidently, he wasn’t thinking very clearly when he made this plan.“You'll be number 187,” the stranger declares, passing Ray a paper receipt.

“Thank you,” Ray remembers to say. He also remembers not to pay too much attention to you as he makes his way over to a slightly more discreet corner where he can wait for his food.

You, too, appear to be waiting— you're leaning against the wall beside the small oven while Ray's muffin toasts inside. He's sure it's going to taste delicious, just because you're the one who handled it. After all, you're so different from the other people he has followed— they would do well, Ray supposes, as anybody would at Magenta, but you... you make him feel all warm inside, like there's a candle burning in his chest. He felt that tug a little bit when he looked at you in pictures, but now that he's actually in the same room as you, Ray knows.

He scrolls through the settings on his phone so that it looks as though he's doing something when you remove the muffin from the oven and slide it into a brown paper bag. “Number 187?” Ray is obsessed with the way your voice rises at the end of the question.

He knows he can't let you hear his voice in return, however. If you recognize him when he calls, you might not want to come with him... Ray knows you're smart, so you'd be cautious. If only you knew just what kind of paradise is waiting for you at Magenta— but now is not the time to ponder such things. Instead of thanking you, as he so desperately wants to, Ray nods at you and reaches out to grab the bag.

His hands are trembling as he does so. “Here you go.” You're wearing a mask, too— of course you are, so clever, so considerate, so perfect— but he can tell you're smiling under it. You're smiling at him.

The thought is almost too much for Ray to handle— he knows he has to take that muffin and get away from you as fast as possible before he forgets himself. There are any number of things that he might do that could alarm you, and that's the last thing he wants— no, his only real desire is to make you feel as happy as you make him when he sees that smile in your eyes. So, knowing that every step he takes away from you will pain him, Ray snatches the bag and begins to move as quickly as he can in the other direction.

You release a soft little, “Huh?” And Ray thinks, as he retreats, hands still trembling, that you are beyond adorable. You're too good for him, too good for the world, and just perfect for Mint Eye.

When he gets back to his table, Ray's heart is pounding and he's breathing heavily. He can't believe he actually did that— he got so close to you, and you smiled at him. You spoke to him. It was like meeting an angel, even better than when the Savior deigned to shine her light upon Ray for the first time— no, no, he corrects himself frantically. Nothing could be better than the Savior, of course. Thinking that would be an act of disloyalty to the Mint Eye, and Ray would never betray the paradise, not in a million years. But he can absolve for his mistake later— right now, he has other, more pressing matters to consider. 

After the brief moment that he takes to pull himself together, it occurs to Ray that he is holding onto more than just the paper bag, which he is clutching with a vice grip. Caught between his hand and the flimsy surface of the bag is a clear plastic glove, clearly designed for food service workers to wear. Did he somehow… steal it from you?

Ray glances back up at the counter, and he feels the heat rising to his cheeks at the sound of your voice as you address your coworker. “... took my glove!” But you don't sound angry. You sound... pleased, perhaps, and you're grinning. “That's so funny! It's like a fairy tale or something! Do you think my prince will come back here just to return my glove? That'd be romantic, don’t you think? Okay, okay, you’ve gotta cover for me— I guess I have to go wash my hands and get new gloves now, even though the other one is still perfectly good.” You giggle, waving your gloved hand in the air as if to demonstrate your point, and Ray’s heart melts. He wants to make you laugh like that again. 

Obviously, you don't know that anybody is listening in on your conversation— you're clearly trying to talk quietly, though Ray is thankful that the sound of your beautiful voice has carried across the room to him. Regardless, he needs to get out of here as soon as possible— he’s genuinely concerned that he might faint if you call him your prince again. Indeed, he's beginning to feel dizzy as he delicately removes himself from the establishment, staring down at the disposable glove still clutched in his hand.

This is a sign, he realizes, stopping in his tracks just outside the door of your cafe. Ray was almost certain before, but now, he knows for sure— it has to be you. It could only ever be you. You'll be the one to help him, and in the end, he'll show you how a fairy tale romance plays out in real life.

[capsironunderoos]

Fire

DINCEMBER - December 7 - Fire

Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) X Reader

Summary: Din’s cyare has been captured and held at an Imperial base, and he stops at nothing to get her back.

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Mentions of torture via Imps, a very angry Din, some fighting, and very brief mentions of death

Author’s Note: Ahhh this is so overdue! My student teaching started back up again after finals and I had some assignments to complete for it that kept me from writing. I had hoped to write more today, but that just didn’t happen. I hope to just post a bunch of the Dincember prompts at once in the next few days to get back on track! Anyways, I hope you enjoy this!

Here’s the previous prompt:

DINCEMBER - December 4 - Hoth Chocolate

And the link to my masterlist: capsironunderoos masterlist

This is the hardest that he has ever pushed his body. 

His arms are weak and his legs tremble, but he doesn’t stop. 

He can’t stop. 

If he does, he will suffer an unbearable loss, and there is only so much he can carry, so much that he can endure. 

His blaster never leaves his hand, becoming almost an extension of himself as he fires without so much as a glance. 

It makes no difference, the blaster bolt hits homes every time. 

He is focused, his skills as a bounty hunter and Mandalorian warrior continuing to serve him as he tears through the Imperial facility. 

Din thinks to himself that the Imps are beginning to multiply faster than womp rats, but he does not stop to dwell on the implications of that thought. 

If he stops for anything, to catch his breath, to check his surroundings, he will surely collapse. 

The stress of the past few days, of the constant searching and questioning have begun to take their toll. 

He shakes the thought of stopping from his mind, forcing himself to continue, regardless of the pain in his legs, and the ache that has already settled into his shoulders. 

He has never fought so hard before. 

His hands land punches that force the receivers into the nearest wall, and his feet connect to bones with such strength that the sound of their cracking rattles around his helmet like thunder. 

He spots an officer now, watches as he is hunched over a switchboard, punching at buttons as he glances from the control panel to the Mandalorian stalking towards him. 

Din will not admit it, but the fear in his eyes spurs him on. 

Good, he thinks, let them tremble before me, let them be afraid of the repercussions of what they have done. 

When he reaches the control panel, he grabs the officer by his throat, pushing him as he walks until they reach the wall. 

The officer’s head bounces off of the wall from the force of Din’s hand around his throat, cueing his hat to fall, and the echoing thud of his skull settles into a sick sense of satisfaction in Din’s stomach. 

“Where is she?” 

He growls out from behind his helmet, and the modulator amplifies the anger tenfold. 

The officer is visibly sweating now, thick bullets running down his forehead as he tries to look anywhere but at the enraged Mandalorian in front of him. 

This only stokes the fury growing in Din’s chest, and he picks his hand up off of the officer’s neck just long enough for him to gulp in a breath of air before his hand is settled around his throat again, and this time Din does not hold back. 

He cannot stop himself before a sickening crack fills the room around him, and the officer falls to the ground below him. 

Din huffs in annoyance, his adrenaline beginning to surge again. 

The pounding of his feet begins to subside as the chemical overtakes his body, and he feels a renewing sense of energy. 

He strides over to the control panel and is pleased to see different angles of a room displayed on it. 

The feed is live, and he stands stoically still as he sees you suddenly fall into frame. 

Your clothes are tattered and dirty, and your hair falls around your face as you collide with the floor. 

He can see your chest rising and falling, and a sense of relief begins to overtake the adrenaline. 

Din silently chants for you to get up, to show him that you never gave up hope that he would come for you. 

Maker how he hopes and wishes that you never gave up on him, that you always knew that he would travel to the farthest edges of the Outer Rim just to have you safe again. 

His heart rate speeds up when he sees two stormtroopers taking their time as they walk to where you still lay on the floor. It’s clear that they are speaking amongst themselves, but he doesn’t know how to work the control panel in order to hear what they are saying. 

He watches as one of them bends down to scoop you up and off of the floor, and as soon as he does, you leap up, swinging your leg to knock his out from under him. He lands on his back, and before either of them can react, you have grabbed his blaster, aimed, and expertly killed the both of them. 

Din watches with bated breath now, and he isn’t sure he remembers how to move. 

Seeing such a small glimpse of you, and in such a drastically different mental state than the last time he saw you, is enough for him to forget how to even breathe at all. 

His brain screams at him to move, to find you, but he does not listen until he sees you run out of the frame. 

He locates the identification numbers of your cell on the control panel and begins to run. 

Din is sure that the pounding of his feet against the floor would be enough to crack the tile, but he doesn’t care. 

He pushes himself, harder than he ever has before, to reach you as quickly as he can. 

You have been gone from his presence for far too long, and he cannot stand another second without you. 

As he rounds yet another corner, he knocks into something solid, and further extends his already drawn blaster in order for it to be in front of him, pointing at whatever he just knocked over. 

His actions quickly change as he registers that it’s you. 

You quickly jump to your feet, the trooper’s blaster you had stolen aimed at Din. 

He notices your hands shaking, and he can see bruises and cuts laced around your face. He notes how swollen your right eye is, and the blood resting against your split lip. 

“Din?” You whisper, almost in disbelief, and his heart plummets to his stomach. 

Had you given up hope that he would come for you? 

“They said you were here, but I didn’t believe them. I’m sorry, I didn’t believe them,” you begin to repeat your words, and Din notes that you are still aiming the blaster at him. 

He slowly holsters his own, before raising his hands in surrender in front of him. 

“Cyare, it’s me. It’s me. It’s Din.” 

He repeats, hoping that the words will register and that you will lower the blaster. 

Upon hearing his name, you do just that, and the blaster clatters to the ground before you fall into his raised arms. He is caught off-guard, but moves quickly to catch you before you meet the ground. 

You are crying now, soft whimpers as you clutch onto the chestplate of his beskar. 

He wraps you up into his chest, pulling you to him as he holds you. 

The alarms are blaring, and the lights are starting to flash, but he ignores all of it. 

When he hears the distant tone of talk through a stormtrooper helmet, he does not hesitate to scoop you into his arms. When you don’t protest, he looks down to see that you are either sleeping or have passed out, and he hopes that it’s the former. 

Despite the fact that he had to fight his way in, he manages to remember a way out, and by some miracle he doesn’t run into any trouble, except a mouse droid he has to shoo off. 

Once he emerges into daylight again, he begins running and he feels his body physically sigh in relief when he sees the Crest sitting just before him.

---

After jumping onto the Crest and immediately taking-off, Din quickly discovered that you had indeed passed out. He had let you be for the few moments it took him to launch the Razor Crest, but as soon as he was able to click on the auto-pilot he was back at your side, moving you to rest on the cot the both of you share. 

He sits beside you on said cot now, his hands moving to cup your face and turn it towards him. 

“Cyar’ika. Please wake up,” he begs, and oh, how he begs. 

He begins to make promises to the Maker, to the stars, hell, he thinks he even makes a promise to the force at one point. 

Din knows you require medical attention, but he wants you awake so that you can explain to him what has happened to you, even if he is unsure that he will be able to listen to you describe what you have endured. 

His hands move to your shoulders, and with a firm, but gentle, shake you gasp back into consciousness. 

You grab at his arms and he helps you sit up before realizing that you think he is one of them. 

“Cyare, I’m not going to hurt you. It’s me, it’s Din.” He whispers, and you look at him with wild, wide eyes. 

He can tell you are trying to figure out if you should trust him, but when you catch a glimpse of the signet on his right shoulder pauldron relief instantly floods your eyes and you look down at the similar symbol on your skin. 

His right hand finds it, his glove-clad fingers coming to rest against the mudhorn there on your wrist. 

You look back up at him then, and you can feel the emotion and exhaustion rolling off of him. 

“I need to get you cleaned up,” he deadpans, but his words are soft and laced with care. 

You nod and allow him to lead you into the cockpit of the Crest. 

He softly guides you into the pilot’s seat before he disappears for a minute to retrieve supplies, but you barely notice his missing presence. 

Your eyes have found the stars, and you drink them in as if they are cold Bantha milk. 

It had been days since you had seen them, and you missed how many there were, how easy it was to stare at them and have them calm every thought in your mind. 

When Din returns, he stands for a moment to watch you look at the stars in wonder. 

Their light shines into the Crest, illuminating the cockpit and painting a stark silver onto your features. He notices then just how bad your bruised eye is swelling, and how the bright light from the stars seems to deepen every cut he finds on your skin. 

Din can’t help but to let out a shaky sigh at the thought of what you’ve been through, and at the thought of what would have happened had he not gotten there when he did. 

Hearing his breath escape through the modulator cues you to snap your attention in his direction, and he wonders how long it will be before his presence no longer incites fear. 

“Cyar’ika, it’s me. It’s your Din. I’m not going to hurt you.” 

Your eyes stay wide and wary, but a small smile works its way onto your lips before it falls again. The cut on them has begun to bleed at the motion, and Din slowly makes his way to you to tend to it. 

He squats down in front of you, and you sit rigidly still. 

He lifts a wet cloth in front of you, and watches as you look between it and him. 

“I need to clean that up, okay? Is it okay if I do that for you?” 

You slowly nod, and his left hand moves to cup your cheek and keep your head still as his right gently swipes at the blood sitting on your lip. When he is satisfied that he has stopped the blood flow, he exchanges the cloth for another. 

“Now, cyare, I need to clean up the cuts and bruises here okay?” 

At the word “here,” he taps his left thumb softly against your cheek as his hand still cups your face. 

You nod and he removes his hand to brush the hair out of your eyes and away from your face. 

You whimper at the loss of contact, and the sound and action is so unlike you that it catches Din off-guard. 

“Haar’chak, what did they do to you?” 

He whispers, and he takes note of the tears that begin to sit along your waterline in response. 

“I wouldn’t tell them,” you start, and your voice cracks at the use of it. 

Din is quick to hand you a glass of water, and you take it from him, greedily gulping it down. He wonders then if you have been fed or given water at all since your capture. 

“I wouldn’t tell them where you were, or where he was. That got me time with some angry troopers. I think they may have broken a rib or two. One of them could land a pretty solid right-hook, for an Imp.” 

You try to laugh off your words, to pass over them as if they are nothing, but the sound won't come. A sad smile rests on your lips as Din continues his ministrations. His touch is soft as he does his best to clean the cuts on your face.

“Then I wouldn’t tell them your name, or the name of the child, and that afforded me a visit from an angry officer. He asked for the cameras to be turned off, and then proceeded to beat me so bad that I couldn’t stay conscious for most of it.” 

Din can feel his hands beginning to tremble as he continues to clean you up. They shake in both anger and sadness, and he is glad that it is time to apply the bacta patches. This gives him a moment to gain control over his nerves.

“I need to apply bacta now, okay?” He asks, and you nod. 

When the medicine hits your open wounds, a sharp hiss escapes through your gritted teeth, and Din’s heart constricts at the sound.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, and you shake your head before talking again, trying to mask the pain of the healing agent against your open cuts. 

“When I didn’t tell them if he was special, or gifted, or whatever they want to call him, they sent in the firing squad. That was when they told me you were there to rescue me. I didn’t fully believe them, but I knew if you were there that it would be my best chance to escape.” 

“I’m sorry it took me so long to get to you, cyare.”

You place your hand on his arm that rests in your lap, and he glances down at it.

“I never gave up that you would come for me, Din.”

He nods and returns to his work, his heart beating so fast he is sure that you can hear it hitting the beskar that sits on his chest.

As you sit in silence now, Din softly rubs at the cuts on your skin, his mind growing increasingly angry the more he thinks about what you endured, but his heart reaches out to you, aches for you. 

He was in pain too, upset that your capture had been because of him. That they had tortured you to get to him, to learn about the little one. 

As if you can read his mind, you ask him about Grogu.

“Where is he, Din? Please, please tell me he is okay,” you whisper, and it is the first time Din has been able to fully meet your eyes. 

“He is safe, cyare. I left him with Cara on Nevarro. We’re going to get him now.” 

You nod, satisfied with his response. Din hands you a cold compress and instructs you to press it onto your swollen eye. 

“I got this when I wouldn’t explain my relationship to you, or why I wear our clan symbol.” You mumble, and Din’s eyes flit to the mudhorn on your wrist once more. 

He thinks then about his clan of three, small and a little broken, but strong, and his all the same. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispers, and you stare at him before he says it again, louder this time. 

“I’m sorry I turned my back for too long during that fight. I’m sorry I didn’t come for you sooner. I’m sorry that I’ve dragged you into this mess, this is no life for you, or the child.” 

He rushes out, and you are shaking your head in disagreement so hard that it has started to ache. 

“Do not sit there and apologize to me, Din Djarin. I know what I signed up for, and I willingly signed up for it. I would give my life to protect that child, and I would do the same for you. Have I not proven that? Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum.” 

Din’s helmet jumps up at the quick movement he makes upon hearing those words escape your lips. 

His eyes search yours through the visor, and he finds nothing but sincerity staring back at him. 

“I’ll kill them for what they did to you, cyar’ika.” He states, and you smile at him. 

“I would set the world on fire to keep you warm.”

Here’s the next prompt for Dincember:

DINCEMBER - December 9 - “Let It Snow”

[bby-ahgastay]

Locked In - H.J.S

a/n: so this took way too long :/. my brain cell is giving out fr🤧. i hope you enjoy it!

member: Han Jisung (Stray Kids)

summary: one friday some of you decide to sneak into school and hotbox the principal's office, but you and jisung get locked in together, leaving you alone for a while👀.

warnings: smoking weed, oral(m.receiving), fingering, unprotected sex(always use condoms tho bc fuck them kids loll), slight degradation, hair pulling, a little choking.

requested: yes!! and i wanted to say again thank you for requesting this at all, and i'm still sorry it took so long🥺. i really want to try writing more so feel free to request more too!

"miss y/l/n, would you like to repeat that?" your math teacher tilts one ear towards you from her spot in front of the class, new seating chart still clutched tightly in her clammy hands. every one of your classmates shifts to look back at you, your seat in the way back and clearly on purpose. while you were back there, your three closest friends were all scattered in the front.

each of them watches you as well, on standby in case you need any of them to help you out. ryujin is good at helping you rile the teacher up even more. jeongin and chaeryeong use their baby faces to their advantage, usually throwing the teacher some puppy dog eyes and hardly even saying anything, yet still managing to get her to back off of you guys. in some cases they even distract her long enough for you two to escape.

you're not sure why, it's not like she doesn't know that they're your friends. it must be something about their cute, innocent looks that always seemed to make your teacher forget whose side they were on.

"oh, sure!" you chirp, setting your pencil down and beginning to fold the paper you just wrote on. the words 'let's leave early, fuck this' get covered more and more each time you fold a piece of the paper, your eyes not even moving to look at the teacher as you continue. "i said, this seating chart is bullshit. moving us all from our friends won't stop us, you know. it might be quiet for now, but we are not paying attention," you chuckle bitterly, inspecting the paper airplane as you finish it.

"now we'll just be even more distracted finding new ways to communicate," you hold up the plane to show your teacher, making a small 'pop' sound with your mouth as you launch it to ryujin. your friend lights up and stands to catch it, opening the paper and snickering before nodding at you, chae and innie catching your faces and already knowing what to do.

"you two cut it out right now! shin ryujin, give me that paper!" she steps closer to ryujin, the girl scowling at her as she stands on her desk, holding the paper up high as she crumples it in one hand.

"full name? really? i mean, who do you think you are? my mother? get over yourself already," ryujin scoffs. the teacher seethes, arms crossed and foot tapping.

"get down before i call security!"

"bite me, dude."

"AH!!" chaeryeong suddenly screams, climbing on top of her desk dramatically. "miss, i just saw a rat!" she cries out, pointing towards a gap between the wall and bookshelf. the teacher sighs as everyone else gasps and shouts, bringing their feet and bags off the ground.

"chaeryeong... this school does not have rats..." she rubs at her face with one hand, eyes covered as she boils in frustration. while she's not looking, ryujin slowly lowers herself back to the tile, quietly gathering her bag and backing up. you also get your stuff together and begin trying to head towards the back door.

the teacher takes her hand from her face and nearly turns around to ryujin's desk again, but jeongin jumps up to her side, clinging onto her arm to bring her towards the shelf and timidly pointing towards it.

"no, miss, she's right! i saw it too! it-it was huge!" his eyes stare down at her, wide and shining. the last thing you hear is the teacher groaning, then the bookshelf moving and even more chaos from your classmates, then you and ryujin rush to slip out of the door.

as soon as the door closes, you both break for the cafeteria, deciding on an early lunch like you usually do when you sneak out of this class. you both laugh as you make it to the lunch room, catching your breaths for a moment before walking into the large room.

a few other students are already there too, some in line to get food and some sitting at tables while they wait for friends. you and ryujin head over to where you usually sit, a large table where a couple of your friends already wait for everyone.

"hey guys," ryujin pats yeji on the shoulder, sitting between her and lia. you sit in the seat next to yeji, leaning back and smiling at your older friends. as they begin talking you just take out your phone and headphones, opting to listen to music and scroll through twitter rather than join in.

as you start your playlist you hear the chair next to you scraping against the floor. with only a glance over your shoulder you see han jisung, laughing with some friends as they all sit at your table. you try to bite back a smile as he sits next to you, turning his attention from minho and felix to you.

"hey, you're here early," he beams down at you, opening the drink he just bought and handing it to you to have a sip. you shrug and set your phone down, taking your earbuds out as you sit up straighter and take the bottle.

"yeah, some stuff happened in class today, ryujinnie and i-"

"oh my god, y/n, ryujin! you should have seen, it was so great!" you hear chaeryeong exclaim as her and jeongin come bounding towards your table. you chuckle and shake your head lightly as they plop down in seats across from you, gasping for their breaths through laughter.

the others all give them their full attention, curiosity in everyone's eyes. your partner in crime grins at them both, ready to hear what happened once you left, but you just watch jisung as he waits to hear what they have to say.

"after you guys left everyone pretty much said fuck it, we spent the rest of the class with everyone just throwing paper airplanes and the teacher totally just gave up! she sat there the whole time at her desk on her phone and just let us. it would have been sad if she wasn't such a bitch," jeongin shakes his head, cringing at the bitter memories of your teacher.

"ah, i had her, too! she was awful," jisung scrunches his nose, eyes coming back to you. he's a year older than you, meaning he's also a year ahead of you in school. "i must applaud you, as much as me and the others tried we never got her to actually give up. surprising since there were so many of us, really! you two did what me, seungmin, felix, hyunjin, yeji, and lia couldn't," he shakes his head a little, seeming amused yet proud of you.

you only smile up at him as the conversation continues around you.

------

"GAH!" you feel someone jumping on you, hands on your shoulders. with seungmin being consideredably larger than you, you nearly topple over and try to grab onto the closest person to keep yourself up. you catch hyunjin by surprise as you do, his reaction being to practically scream and jump back when you try to grab his arm, swatting you off of him and hardly making it any easier for you.

"my god, you two are gonna kill one of these girls one day," chan shakes his head at the younger boys.

"min, that was unprovoked!" jisung tries to stop himself from laughing, hands on both of your arms to make sure you're steady. this is really pointless given that you've already stopped yourself from falling, barely assisted by hyunjinnie.

he ruffles your hair and scrunches his nose at you playfully. you're sure that you look up at him with hearts in your eyes, your face heating up just from being this close to the boy.

"gosh, my poor baby! just look at how red her face is, she's overwhelmed!" lia exclaims, stroking your hair gently from behind you, then turning to lightly hit seungmin on the chest. the rest of your group all laugh as her and yeji both begin lightly scolding seungmin and hyunjin.

with jisung still not moving, you only look up at him. a pretty smile takes over his face as he laughs at your guys' friends. you can't help yourself as you reach out to pinch one of his cheeks, your face heating up again as he looks at you with a pout.

"what was that for," he tries not to laugh, his bottom lip still sticking out. hiding your giddy expression, you shrug, turning to ryujin before he says anything else.

"did you ever get your phone back from the principal?"

"no!" she frowns deeply, crossing her arms and glaring towards the principals office. she had been forced to go all day without it when a teacher took it in first period. "i went to go get it last period but she said that since it's happened so many times she gets to keep it here all weekend. which, by the way, is a rule that i have never heard at this school!" she nearly shouts, and everyone in your friend group just stares at her.

"sorry, i'm just mad about my phone," she mumbles, arms crossed.

most of the group nods understandingly and returns to their conversations. but you look around and pull together a group of six; you, ryujin, chaeryeong, seungmin, jeongin, and jisung. they all look at you curiously as you motion for them to take a few steps away from everyone else.

"why don't we get your phone back? like, tonight," you look at each of them. they all consider it for a moment, ryujin the only one who doesn't look unsure. "no one will be here past eight. that's when even the last security guard gets tired and goes home, and we already know how to sneak into the office," you point between yourself and the other two girls.

"how?"

"why does that matter?"

"well, i mean, i'm just saying, i don't know how, so this is obviously something you did without me," jeongin grumbles, arms crossed and pouting childishly.

"god, hush up!" chaeryeong lightly smacks his head, not hard enough to actually hurt him. "bigger things are going on than when we hotboxed the office without you scrubs," she smirks, eyes on you now as she waits for you to continue.

the boys stare at you three in shock, seeming more offended than before. "the betrayal," jisung can't help but smile as he speaks, your heart racing you just smile and look away.

"anyways, it wouldn't be too hard. all we have to do is plan a little and come back around nine or something tonight. are you guys down? we can hotbox the office again?" you grin at them, knowing that's all it'll take to get them to agree.

and they all do.

"i would have been on board either way, hell yeah," jisung ruffles your hair, making your heart clench as you giggle and push his hand away.

"on board for what?"

chan, yeji, and lia all walk up to you, curious and already suspecting something bad. the three of them are easily the most parent-like friends in your group. they all tend to try to steer you and the others away from trouble, and you know they wouldn't love this plan. 'just be patient instead,' they would no doubt tell ryujin. the six of you know that's much less fun, though.

"nothing. just sungie and minnie agreeing to help us four with an assignment this weekend," you smile at your older friends. they eye you suspiciously but let it go, deciding that ignorance is bliss.

-------

"jesus, han, please let me drive back," ryujin shakes her head, fixing her hoodie as you climb out of han's car.

"no way, i'm not that bad! besides, you probably have road rage and i don't fuck with that," he dangles the keys in front of her before shoving them in his pocket.

"he's not that bad," you assure ryujin. she looks at you as if saying 'of course you think so,' and you three continue towards the school gate to meet the other half of your group.

you and ryujin came with jisung, only because he lives closer to you guys. and seungmin lives much closer to jeongin and chaeryeong, so you guys are meeting them at the front gate.

as you guys walk up to the tall gate, you can already see seungmin, jeongin, and chaeryeong come down on the other side. ryujin is quick to jump onto it, grinning down at the three already inside your campus.

"can't believe you guys started without us! how lame!"

"well, when you guys take forever," seungmin responds, offering your friend a hand as she comes down on their side.

"blame mr. grandpa driver over there," she lazily nods in jisung's direction, letting the older boy help her land softly. the four of them wait for you and han as he only rolls his eyes, offering you a boost to climb up.

you let him help you and the two of you make your way over the gate quickly, landing with your friends with ease.

"okay, so we all know where the piggy's office is," chaeryeong speaks up, pulling her beanie down as you all look to her. "i know how to pick locks, so i'll take care of that. after, it would be easiest to leave through the window, it leaves us closer to where we parked and it's just quicker. also it's more fun to leave the window open to let her know someone was in there. sounds like a nice big 'fuck you' to me," she smiles sweetly.

the principal tends to be a bit of a bully. she's been rude to each of your friends on multiple occasions, even the sweetest ones. so it's not like you guys are doing this only for fun. or only the get ryujinnie's phone. she also deserves it, which is why you and the other girls have done it before too.

you guys all head for the office, your steps hurried and quiet just in case anyone is still on campus. it's unlikely, but you all still wanted to be careful.

once you reach the door to the principals office, all of you stand behind chaeryeong and wait for her to get the door open. it only takes her a minute to get it, and she pulls the pins out of the keyhole and pushes the door open.

"hurry up, everyone," she smiles, pushing each of you in gently. she enters last, closing and locking the door behind her as you and ryujin go straight for the desk.

"this one," ryujin mumbles as she reaches for one of the drawers. you help her rummage through it in search of her phone, eventually finding it under a stack of papers and folders. "bitch," she grumbles while slamming the drawer shut, flopping down into the principals chair and pulling her backpack off her shoulders.

unzipping her bag, ryujin begins pulling out the essentials for you guys to hotbox the office as planned. you and chae begin going around the office to close the vents and make sure the windows are closed. the guys all watch as you prepare, only finding it funny that you guys are so used to this.

"so how often do you guys break in here?" jisung questions. you shrug and pull your sweater off, stuffing it under the door to close the gap. hannie's eyes travel over you, now only in a black top and shorts, a smile tugging at his lips as you straighten back up.

"not often... but often enough to know what the fuck we're doing," ryujin speaks from behind the desk, comfortably rolling a couple blunts in the principals chair. everyone gravitates closer to her, you and chaeryeong sitting on the desk and the guys hovering around the desk and the windows behind it.

"i still can't believe you guys do this without me. the other two losers i can understand, but come on! i'm in the same year as you guys, that's supposed to mean solidarity," jeongin complains, coming to rest his chin on chae's shoulder and watch ryujin work on the blunts.

"yah, these two 'losers' are your seniors, innie, watch it," seungmin scolds playfully, stepping closer to pull the younger boys hair lightly. jeongin sits up and pouts, rubbing his head in fake pain.

"oh, both of you stop. i get why they wanted to hang out without us. we're fucking annoying," jisung smacks them both in the back of the head, sitting next to you on the desk afterwards. you gaze up at him with a grin, your heart speeding up just like always as he comes closer to you.

he notices your stare, letting his eyes move down to meet yours. "hi," he smiles cutely, patting your head.

"hi," you manage to respond, looking back to your other friends and trying to remember to breathe as he pulls your head onto his shoulder, his arm resting across your shoulders.

ryujin finishes rolling three blunts, passing them to whoever has their lighter out already. jisung, ryujin, and seungmin end up with them and they share with whoever they stand closest to. you share with jisung, ryujin shares with jeongin, and seungmin shares with chaeryeong.

as all three blunts are lit up and all six of you begin taking hits, the room slowly but surely fills with smoke.

-------

"ah! oh, oh my god!" you all gasp for your breath through laughter nearly an hour after you start smoking. jisung rolls around on the floor and usually you'd call him extra to joke around more, but now you're right there with him as everyone else clutches onto some sort furniture or something to keep themselves up.

"s-stop my stomach hurts!" chaeryeong cries out, still giggling through it all. jeongin tries to sit up in the principals chair, failing as he collapses in more laughter. seungmin sits across from him in a chair, one that students sit in when they come to visit the principal, the two of them enacting some sort of scene where jeongin imitates the principal.

usually you guys would all laugh at the joke and move on, but given that everyone is high as shit right now, it's been the joke you guys have been dying at for the last twenty minutes. all of you try to catch your breaths as your laughter starts dying down, everyone finally calming down.

"oh, fuck," ryujin gasps, suddenly sitting up in her spot and looking towards the door. you all look too, silent as you wait for her to say more. "i just heard footsteps!" she looks at all of you, eyes wide and ready to leave already. all of you must be paranoid or something, because not one of you questions her. instead you all jump into action, speaking in hushed voices as you all make sure you have everything.

when everyone thinks they have all of their stuff, you all gather by one window and wait for chaeryeong to get it open. the footsteps become louder and clearer as she picks the lock, cursing out loud at the fact that your school had to make sure it couldn't be opened without a key even inside. once she hears the locks shift she pulls the bobby pins out, sliding the window open quickly.

"shit, everyone go!" seungmin speaks as jeongin crawls through first, the two helping everyone get out and on the ground safely. but just as it's your turn, you realize what you're forgetting.

"oh god, my hoodie," you meet eyes with jisung, and he moves aside to let you rush to grab it, telling seungmin to go while he waits for you. bending over to snatch your sweater from it's spot on floor, you can hear the last couple of footsteps before the person stops. in front of the door. you come up as the lock begins to click, a key being inserted to unlock it.

"i swear, it stinks in here," you hear a voice. straightening back up, you clutch your sweater to your chest and slowly back up. it feels like you black out, your heart is pounding and you can't think of exactly what you should do. you don't hear it, but jisung is quietly calling for you to hurry up and climb out of the window already.

before you can process anything properly, you feel a hand grab you and drag you into the open door to the left, a small room full of filing cabinets which you guys were goofing around in not long ago. now jisung is pulling you into it, closing the door just as the other one swings open, the schools principal walking in.

"oh, shit," the principal groans, the door slamming. han still has you in his arms, his chest to your back and a hand over your mouth. your try to look back at him, but you can't turn around fully in his arms, so you just listen to the woman on the other side of the door swearing some more.

"god, those stupid kids must have been in here again! it smells like god damn marijuana and my window is wide open! that's just rude, if you ask me," she grumbles to someone, probably on the phone. "i should really drop by on weekends more often, try to catch them! i'm sure this hasn't been the only time and probably won't be the last... i find this out all because i forgot my ipod."

she must have put the phone on speaker, because as she goes through a drawer you can barely hear a girls voice respond to her. "stop, mom, if nothing is missing then it's fine! leave those high schoolers alone, already... and stop using an ipod you have a phone for that!"

you and jisung almost bust out laughing, his hand on your mouth keeping yours contained and one of your hands going to cover his. the principal tries arguing, but her daughter keeps telling her she's wrong in some way. as the fight continues, she leaves the office.

both of you take your hands from each other's faces, neither of you stepping away from each other as you wait. "think she'll come back?" you glance back at him, shaking your head slightly as his eyes stare into yours.

"probably not, she's lazy. i'm surprised she came back for her ipod," you pause for a moment, still looking up at him. you two struggle to look away from each other for a moment, your mind blurring as he licks his lips.

suddenly one of your phones starts ringing, the sound making you flinch away from him. both of you search for your phones in your pockets, pulling them out and seeing that it's your phone.

"hey, we just saw her car leaving! are you guys coming down or what?" chaeryeong's voice comes through the phone. you put her on speaker for jisung to hear, opening the door and walking back into the office.

"small problem with that..." you sigh as you see the window is closed. "she closed the window. and locked it," you try without success to push it open anyways, han coming to stand next to you as you both peer out of the window.

"well, shit. it wouldn't be a problem... if i didn't lose my bobby pins climbing out," your friend sighs. you can hear the others all yelling and groaning in the background, chaeryeong whining as they do. "i'm sorry, y/n and jisung! i'll have min drive us to go get some, we'll be back, don't move!" she hangs up after that, leaving you and jisung stuck in the office.

"no clue where we'd go, but okay," jisung sighs, running a hand through his hair.

you look over at him and can't seem to hold back the laughter bubbling in your chest, one hand over your face as your try harder. he looks down at you, confused but still smiling. "what?" he questions cutely.

"i don't even know," you gasp. "just... this is so funny for some reason," you realize suddenly that you're still high, nearly falling over as you lean against the window. he stares down at you, starting to find the humor in it as he watches you, and soon enough he finds it hard not to laugh too.

"i-i think we're still a little fucked up," jisung manages to get out, placing his hands on your shoulders, shaking you lightly as he continues laughing.

"no shit, sungie," you reach up to smush his cheeks with both of your hands, giggling even more at his face as you do. he takes your wrists and brings your hands away from his face, his laughter fading as he gazes down at you.

"i like when you call me that. it sounds better coming from your mouth than other people," his charming smile and deep voice nearly kill you. he chuckles a little when all you do is stare up at him, admiration and longing in your eyes.

"stop," you whine in embarrassment as he lets go of your wrists. you bring your hands up to feel your cheeks, your skin much warmer than usual as you blush.

"no way," he mumbles before letting one of his hands come to the back of your neck, pulling you towards him for a kiss. you gasp a little as his lips touch yours, the way his mouth moves over yours making your knees weak.

han's other hand goes to your lower back, tugging you against him. when he pulls back from the kiss, you look up at him, feeling happiness buzzing through you.

you don't think you've ever been this close to jisung, not like this. maybe standing together in a crowd, or sitting next to each other in a packed car. but never with his arms actually around you, with his face hardly centimeters away from yours. your heart pounds because of it.

"you know i've liked you for like, a while now, right?" he asks you softly, resting his forehead on yours. you're not sure what to say, you don't usually do well with talking about your feelings for someone, not to that person. you just lean forward to leave small kisses against the skin on his neck, hoping he'll get it from that.

he chuckles as your lips move against him. "i know you've liked me too. jeonginnie has a big mouth." you move back with a pout.

"what?! how long have you known..." you whine, bringing your arms around him and nuzzling your head in his chest. his chest vibrates with his small laugh, teasingly pinching at your hips.

"not too long... a week or so..." you're able to hear his grin in his voice, your heart swelling as his hands begin moving up and down your back. "i just was too scared to bring it up until now, i guess," he brings two fingers under your chin, making you look up at him again. "i have no clue why, now i wish i kissed you a lot sooner."

you feel yourself melt as he gazed down at you, eyes closing as he moves to catch your lips on his again. as his tongue slips into your mouth, he steps backwards, not letting your mouths disconnect as he moves towards the principals chair.

you two part for only a second as he sits down, guiding you onto his lap, you both giggle at each other giddyly. he doesn't hesitate to bring your lips back to his, smirking through the kiss. arms tightening around your waist, he hugs you close to him as you explore each other mouths.

after making out for a few minutes, he moves down to your neck, hands moving up and down your thighs and gripping your ass every so often. a choked moan slips from your lips as he sucks and nips at a spot near your collarbone, your teeth sinking into your lower lip to stop any more from coming out.

jisung leans back slightly, his expression smug and eyes hooded as he stares up at you. "did you just moan?" he asks, amused and letting his hands roam over your body.

"no," your face heats up and you pout a little. one of his eyebrows goes up, that cockiness still very evident in his grin. "shut up," you mumble, putting your head on his shoulder. you leave a small kiss where his neck and shoulder meet, your own grin growing slightly.

"i'm sure i could get you to moan, too, sung," you chuckle a little, one of your hands going to play with his waistband. you see his eyebrows go up, eyes wide as his breath catches.

"wha- ...here..?"

you hold back more laughter, leaning back and nodding before going to kiss his lips again. he eagerly kisses you back, one hand on your hips and the other tangled in your hair at the back of your head. as you kiss him you can feel him pulling you closer to him, your body already pressed against his, just trying to be as close to you as possible.

hands roaming his body, you can feel his hard chest under the soft material of his shirt. both of you smile as you make out, this moment long awaited for each of you. your hands go under his shirt, cold fingers making him shiver and dig his own fingers into your hips. you hum quietly as he moves to leave hickies on your neck and collarbone, his hands tugging lightly at your shorts.

he pushes you back from him gently, gazing up at you with a smirk. "stand up, baby," he speaks huskily. you obey him without second thought, standing in front of him and letting him pull your shorts down. his lower lip goes between his teeth as he eyes you, hands slowly coming up to slip under your top, removing that next.

only in your bra and underwear now, you go to your knees and start unbuttoning his black jeans. you look up at him through your lashes, smiling innocently as he watches you tug his pants off, hips lifting slightly to help you.

his head falls back and he tries to hold back a throaty moan, failing terribly, when you bring one of your hands to rub him over his boxers. in no time he's panting and fully hard under your hand, so you take his cock out of his boxers and give him a mischievous look before licking a long stripe from his base to his tip.

he lets out a loud moan as you wrap your lips around his head, sucking and swirling your tongue. "ah, shit..." he swears breathlessly. "get the fuck up here already," he growls, pulling you back up on to his lap and roughly attaching his lips to yours.

one hand tangled in your hair, the other travels up your thigh to your panties, thumb finding your clit immediately. you moan into his mouth as he rubs circles over the material, the friction from the lace only adding to the sensation.

two of his fingers go to push your underwear to the side, rubbing up and down your folds to feel how wet you already are. you almost have to pull back from the kiss when he pushes a finger inside you, but his hand at the back of your head keeps you in place, his tongue still in your mouth.

after pumping in and out of you for a moment he adds one more finger, this time letting you pull away to whine and put your head on his shoulder, chuckling as you do. "what, babygirl? what's the matter," he coos, his tone smug and proud under the fake concern.

"fuck jisung, please," you breathe.

"please what, sweetheart," he speaks monotonously, forcing you to look at him, one hand on your neck. he doesn't apply any pressure, but even just the feeling of his hand on your throat is almost enough to make you moan again.

"please fuck me already."

he grins up at you, taking his finger from inside you and lifting your hips to line his dick with your entrance. his nails dig into your skin as he pulls you down onto him, both of you moaning loudly as he fills you completely.

he gives you a second to adjust, your head buried in his neck, before slowly dragging your hips against his. panting, he lets his head rest on your shoulder, eyes closed and still holding onto your hips tightly.

you moan and whine as you feel him moving inside you, hitting all the right spots. he lifts his head to look at you, leaving a kiss on your jaw as he brings one hand to unclip your bra, shocking you that he can even do it with one hand. you don't time have to react though, jisung smashing his lips to yours and his hands moving over your body, stopping to massage your boobs as you ride him.

pleasure washes over your body, making it hard for you to keep up a decent pace. he smiles as you still try, eventually wrapping his arms around you and standing up, setting you down on the desk instead.

his lips touch yours as he starts thrusting into you, slowly building up his pace until you're clinging onto him tightly as he snaps his hips against your quickly, moaning into his shoulder.

"oh, fuck," he groans. "i can't believe you're letting me fuck you at school," his voice is breathy as he continues pounding into you quickly. "right here on the principals desk... what a little slut," he smirks, pulling you by the hair to force you to look at him.

you whine as his eyes burn into you, one thumb moving to rub at your clit. "only for me though, isn't that right, baby? you'll only be my little slut from now on, huh?" you nod and moan pathetically, eyes closing as he keeps a firm grip on your hair.

"keep your fucking eyes open," he mutters, his hand going from your hair to your neck. this time he tightens his fingers around your throat lightly, you forcing your eyes open as he does. he lets out a throaty moan when you clench around him, already feel your high approaching quickly.

"you're gonna cum already, aren't you?" he chuckles as you try to get out a 'yes', the hand on your heat goes to pull one of your legs around his waist, making you cry out loudly as he hits a new, deeper spot inside you.

he grunts while pounding into you, doubting he'll last much longer either as you keep tightening around his cock. his hand tightens even more, his lip between his teeth as he watches your face, your eyes struggling to stay open as the knot in your core builds and builds.

"ji, i-" you just barely manage to get out, cut off by your orgasm when you feel him hit your spot once more. he groans and curses as you cum around him, quickly pulling out and pumping himself a few times until he releases as well.

his cum lands on your thighs and the desk underneath you, both of you out of breath as he loosens his grip on your throat. you lick your lips and glance down at his white seed on the dark-colored wood. giggling lightly, your eyes going back to jisung to see him smiling affectionately down at you.

"here," he reaches for the box of tissues on the other side of the desk, taking a few and wiping your legs and the desk clean before throwing them away. next, he hands you your clothes off of the floor and gathers his own, pulling his jeans and shirt back on as you start getting dressed again too.

once you're both fully dressed again, he pulls you into his arms for a warm hug. he sighs happily hearing your soft laughter, slightly muffled by his shirt.

"please say i can tell everyone that you're my girlfriend now," he mumbles, cheek smushed against your hair. you take a step back, beaming at him as you nod slightly.

"please do."

his face lights up and he can feel his heart flutter, grinning happily down at you. one of his hands comes up to your cheek, caressing your facing gently as he leans down to leave a sweet kiss on your lips.

you feel as if you're glowing as your mouths move against each other, the only thing you're able to pay attention to is jisung. which is why you hardly notice as the door to the office swings open, chaeryeong knealing on the carpet and everyone else huddled together behind her.

"oh, shit!" you hear seungmin exclaim loudly, making you and han flinch apart, seeing them all standing there in shock. there's a long pause where you all just look at each other, no one knowing what to say.

"well, fuck," ryujin speaks up first. "finally!" everyone nods and mutters in agreement, you just rolling your eyes as the boy next to you laughs lightly, putting an arm around you and guiding you out of the office.

"k, guys, let's go," jisung chuckles, walking past your friends and down the hall towards the school exit.

[fandoms-equal-life]

Rewriting Their Stars Once Again - The Greatest Showman Fanfiction

Chapter 7: Family Matters

Originally Posted on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13365846/chapters/45440608#workskin

Summary: What will happen when Anne visits Phillip's family home?

Notes:

This took like 3 hours to write. 

I wrote it at work and every time my co worker walked behind me I was worried he was reading it 😂 I don’t even know how I would explain myself. 

Also let me know if the part where Anne visits the Carlyles’ is insensitive or weirdly worded. I might be big mouthed and opinionated, but I am not looking to offend anyone. I am only here to write fanfic to fulfill my lonely heart. 

Also I am sorry I am so inconsistent. It is my goal this month to finish this fic and I am really trying to finish my goals for once! Thank you for the continued support!!❤️

~

The next two months were tough.

Anne was so sick, the morning sickness turned into all day sickness and there was not much food she could keep down. If Anne got out of bed for any other reason but to empty her stomach, it was a good day.

On top of that, her stomach was very large. She knew this should not be a shock to her, but when she sees herself in the mirror, she is still in disbelief. A seamstress came over just to make her custom dresses, and even P.T. used his childhood work as a tailor to make a couple items of clothing for her.

She needed to use the restroom all the time, her feet were getting larger, and her ankles and fingers were swelling. She had to start wearing her wedding ring on a chain around her neck.

The doctors’ visits every 2 weeks were difficult to endure. Dr. Turner would never let her walk in by herself, instead making her a wheelchair. Also, he could only give so much information about what was happening inside her body. Triplets were complicated for the highest paying doctor, let alone one who would see Anne.

But the hardest part of it all was Phillip could not always be there. With the circus struggling, he was swamped with work to make sure it is kept afloat.

Thankfully, she had a big family to fall back on. When Charity alone took her, the trips were fairly easy. Sometimes she had to bring the girls, which were usually filled with endless questions for the doctor, Helen once asking “Will all three of them come out at the same time?”

Charity had to leave the room with them before Dr. Turner could give an answer.

When Lettie brought her, she usually brought Tom along as backup. His loud mouth scared anyone away who might bring them trouble. Tom is so protective, that he stands directly outside the door during the checkups.

The other doctors and nurses tend to stay away on the days Lettie and Tom come along.

Do not even get Anne started about the time P.T., Caroline, and Helen accompanied her. The doctors requested that P.T. never step foot in their office again.

Even with all of this going on, Anne and Phillip were very excited. They wanted to grow their family, but, the looming danger of the end of the pregnancy and the delivery still loomed over the couple.

Anne and Phillip kept themselves distracted from this fact. They each joined the bet on which sex would outnumber the other (Anne thinks there will be more boys, while Phillip bet on more girls), Phillip and P.T. rearranged the furniture in the apartment to fit the three cradles, and Anne organized the gifts they were still receiving every day. The list of baby names becomes longer as the pregnancy becomes shorter. Anne likes family and classic names, but Phillip wants whole new names for his kids. Their family at the circus has new names suggestions every day, but only a few make it onto the real list, especially after Tom insisted that naming one of the potential boys after his horse in the show would be a great idea.

One night, when Anne and Phillip were sitting in their apartment, she asked why he was not in favor for family names.

“After that night at the theater, I have no desire to be associated with them anymore. The Carlyle name is something I wish I could rid myself of. I know they are going to take my last name, but other than that, I want something new.” Phillip explains with a soft smile. “I know that you never knew your mom and dad, but my family is not anything to be proud of.”

“Would you reconnect with your family if they came to you?” Anne asked.

“Maybe my little brother Daniel, but I’m not sure. Before I left and was disowned, he had rejected our father. I was the first born with all the privileges, and Daniel resented father for that. Last I heard that had all changed after he took my place as prize son with the inheritance. I assume he took my father’s side along with mother and the rest of my extended family, which is most likely why he did not attend our wedding.” Phillip told her.

Anne looked at him with soft, apologetic eyes. Anne knew that Daniel missing the wedding hurt Phillip. She thinks Phillip hoped for them to reconnect, that he could introduce Daniel to his new family and to the love of his life.

“But that is all behind me. Now I have a big and loving family and three little ones on the way.” Phillip says, kissing her protruding stomach. “Are you ready for bed?” he asks.

“Almost. You go get ready first then you can help me and my added baggage” she replied, pointing to her stomach.

He laughed and nodded, then walked into their bedroom, Anne got up to write a letter to their doorman to call a carriage for her as soon as Phillip walked out the door. She had a plan.

The carriage dropped Anne off at one of the largest houses she had ever seen.

It was beautiful.

The Carlyle house was painted all white, with big pillars holding up what Anne could only guess was 3 stories. They had big windows that would let plenty of natural light in, and Anne could see through the windows how ornate the inside looked. The lawn was well manicured, with flower bushes lining the front and big looming trees growing on the outside of the house, almost like a wall in between the other houses. She noticed that while it was stunning, that was negated by the cold atmosphere that seemed to surround the house.

As Anne was observing the house, she noticed one of workers in the lawn trimming the bushes. It was obvious that he was overworked and sunburnt, and most importantly:

He looked like her.

This brought her back to the reality of the situation. She was not home with her loving husband, or surrounded by her other oddities at the circus, she was standing in front of a wealthy white family’s home who, in another life, may have worked her as hard as the man she is looking at.

At this, she held herself as tall as the three children she was carrying would let her, put her hands clasped in front of her, and walked to the door.

The man in the lawn subtly glanced at her, not making any eye contact, as he probably does with all guests, until he noticed that Anne was not one of the Carlyle’s usual guests. He went to go help her up to the door, but she denied his help politely.

She would not be seen as weak. She was a woman on a mission, pregnant with three children or not.

Anne walked up to the door and knocked. A woman dressed in a maid’s uniform answered the door almost immediately. She also did not make eye contact with Anne when she first opened the door, but when the maid realized the difference between the color of Anne’s skin than the usual guest, she looked up in shock.

The maid was about to step out and close the door when Anne interjected “I am here to see Daniel Carlyle. It is urgent matter.”

The woman at the door glanced down at Anne’s pregnant stomach then back up at her. “Ms. I am sorry for any inconveniences Master Carlyle may have caused you, but you must leave immediately...”

Anne was about to put up a fight when she heard someone ask, “Mary who is at the door and why have you not let them in?”

Anne pushed pass the maid and stood in the doorway of the mansion in front of the person who was speaking.

Anne knew immediately it was Daniel.

His hair was a little lighter than Phillip’s and his face was not as clean cut. He was maybe a little shorter than Phillip, and a little leaner too. But his eyes were almost exactly the same, except for the fact they were cold and hard, while Phillip’s were warm and inviting.

Similar to how Phillip’s were when he first joined the circus.

Daniel stared back at her. Anne wondered if he knew who she was. But word travels fast through the wealthy people of New York; therefore, Anne realizes that the whole family must know of the pregnancy.

Anne sticks out her hand to Daniel. “Hello Mr. Carlyle. As you probably know, my name is Anne Wheeler and I am here to talk about your older brother.” Anne begins when they hear the footsteps of woman shoes coming towards them.

Daniel lunges at Anne and grabs her hand. “We must get you away from the door and away from mother. Mary close the door and tell her it was just the lawn man giving you an update about his work.”

Daniel shuffles her down a hall in the opposite direction, quickly pushing themselves into a spare bedroom, just as Anne heard what she assumes is Mrs. Carlyle asking what had happened at the door.

After he closed the door quietly, he turned around to face her. Anne had prepared a speech for Daniel. She had planned it to be polite and not so straightforward, so she could plant the seed in his head that his brother missed him.

“Hello, Mr. Carlyle. As you already know, I’m -” Anne began.

Daniel interrupted her. “I know who you are! You are one of the crazy people who brainwashed my brother to think it is okay to be disowned by his family. I used to doubt my father’s decision to take away his inheritance, but you, standing here carrying what I can only assume is his bastard child, I see now that he was correct. Whatever you came here for, money, help, protection, the Carlyle family will not give it to you or him. You need to leave this place immediately, the only reason I brought you into this room was to save you from mother’s wrath, as I am a gentleman. Do not ever come back, or else you will face even worse than me.”

Daniel looked pleased with himself, like he really thought that he put Anne in her place.

Anne does not know what came over her next, maybe rage at this man, love for her husband and her unborn children, or the hormones from pregnancy, but instead of leaving to cause less trouble, she yelled back,

“I did not sneak here without my husband’s knowledge, catch a rickety carriage while pregnant, and swallow my pride to visit the family that insulted Phillip and myself on what was supposed to be a happy night so I could ask for money or protection. I woke up and managed to get out of bed by myself to visit you, Daniel Carlyle, because my husband, your big brother, misses you to the point I think a part of his heart is missing.”

Daniel tries to interrupt her again, but Anne continues, “Phillip, the big brother that would comfort you after nightmares because your father and mother wouldn’t. The one who snuck you fantasy books while your teacher forced you to read nonfiction. The one who took a punch to the face after you stole from the biggest kid on your block, and, most importantly, the big brother that still loves you even though you obviously think so low of him.”

“I came here to tell you that right now, your big brother needs you. He is running a business all by himself while also having to worry about me and the three children I am carrying, and whether or not we will make it through the labor. So, Mr. Carlyle, I did not show up here today to ask for anything monetary, I traveled here because I thought my husband could benefit from a relationship with his brother, but I was obviously wrong.”

At that, she turned out and stormed out. Anne would be damned if she would wait for Daniel to check the hallways for a “safe” passage way for her. She did not mean to tell him the details of their life, but once she started talking, she could not stop. Today made her realize that the only place she is really safe is in the red and white striped tents.

Anne started seeing white around the corner of her eyes and her ears were ringing. She thought it was the rage, but after she walked out of the mansion, she felt herself becoming weak. All of the sudden her vision went black and she felt herself starting to fall. The last thing she heard was a male voice shouting “ANNE!”

Chapters 1 ~ 2 ~ 3 ~ 4 ~ 5 ~ 6 ~ 8 ~ 9 ~ 10 ~ 11

[septicjamie]

a choking rose back | ch. 1

content warnings: none word count: 1956

“ Henrik is simultaneously appalled and impressed at this man—this absolute no-name—acting like he has any say in this interaction. Because, unless he’s misremembering the events of the past ten minutes, this Chase Brody came looking for him, not the other way around. They are in his house, on his time, and he’s the only one who can decide whether to help him or not. ”

The house is much too quiet once evening comes, and Henrik grows restless with the book in his hands. It isn’t one of his, the fantastical story a far cry from his own periodicals, but he’d been urged to give it a try. Still, he sets the book facedown on the side table and pushes himself off the couch. It isn’t too late. He can still get some work in before retiring for the night, and perhaps if he busies himself with something worthwhile it will keep his mind off the silence.

His office is toward the front of their house, a large room filled primarily with stained oak furniture. A bookshelf lines the entire back wall, an arched window on the wall adjacent with its curtains pulled over the glass. Henrik bypasses the makeshift patient bed, a couch raised to hip-level, and takes a seat behind his desk. He’d left the lamp on earlier, the red shade casting warm light over the room.

It does not take long for him to become engrossed with his paperwork. He had been putting it off these past few days, and already the buildup is enough to last him a few hours.

Henrik quickly falls into a rhythm, eyes glazing over with the monotony of it all. At least now, after tonight, he will have a responsibility-free holiday tomorrow. But what a way to spend the Eve.

A knock on the front door breaks Henrik out of his reverie, loud and hurried and startling his heart at the suddenness of it all. It takes him a moment to react accordingly, tearing his focus away from what is left of the papers on his desk to the clock hanging on the wall beside him. It’s late, later than he expected to have stayed awake, and much too late for any one of his patients. He sighs as he stands, not wanting to have to turn away another family looking for a room. Thankfully tomorrow the inn will be open once more, once Sean comes back from his family in the North.

The knocking continues as he makes his way to the foyer, growing ever the more frantic the closer he gets, and Henrik frowns, a little put off by the insistence. He stands in front of the door and waits for a pause, the apology already on his tongue. When the pounding stops, he says, “Sorry, no rooms are available at the moment,” his voice raised to be heard past the wooden door. “The manager is away on holiday, he’ll be back—”

“What?”

Henrik stops, confused. He opens his mouth to try to clarify, but the voice continues.

“A-a room? What is this? I’m looking for a doctor—I had the name, shit, it’s something weird—something-stein or whatever!”

They stumble over their words, but sound healthy enough for Henrik to not feel bad for refusing to open his door. “My office closed at four, come back after tomorrow, I’m not open on the Solstice. Goodnight now.”

“No please, wait!” The very real panic in the voice roots him to the floor, and he clenches his jaw. “I’ve traveled all this way to find you, I’ve heard you’re the only person who can help me!”

Henrik has heard those words plenty of times before, and though he would rather not deal with whoever is desperate enough to bother him in the middle of the night while there are legal clinicians in the next town over, he compromises. Maybe that will be enough for them to leave.

“Alright, what is it? Broken bones, internal bleeding? You sound fine enough, you were healthy enough to make it here, what’s your problem?”

There’s silence for a long time on the opposite end of the door, he can hear his heart beating.

“It’s my ethos.”

Well, fuck.

Henrik opens the front door with a neutral expression, meeting eyes a much brighter blue than his own. The man on his porch is young, younger than himself at the very least, with disheveled clothes and a cap pushed low on his head. From what he can see, he looks a bit beat up—bruises on his hands, a scabbed-over scratch on his left cheek—but otherwise okay. The biting winter winds blow past them into the house, and the man shivers and pulls the torn jacket closer to himself. His shoes have a hole in the toe.

A vagrant, most likely. Lovely.

He’ll blame it on the holiday spirit that he opens the door wide and inviting and says, “Fine, dammit. Come inside, follow me, and take off that nasty coat before you sit anywhere.”

The smile he receives isn’t enough to lift the scowl from his own face.

—————

The man takes the mug of tea from Henrik with both hands, immediately bringing it to his nose to inhale the clean scent before taking a sip. “Thank you so much,” he murmurs, and the physician waves him off while taking his place behind the desk once again.

Without the horrid coat and cap, he can make out a bit more of his visitor. He’s a slimmer man, which is to be expected of someone continuously on the road, yet retains a modicum of fitness to his form. The tips of his short hair are a faded grassy color, which is unusual enough for Henrik to make note of it, and in the light of his office he can see more evidence of a rough patch—hollowed cheeks and dark bags under his otherwise hopeful eyes.

At least he seems to be relaxing, albeit slowly.

Henrik lets the man enjoy his drink for a moment more before leaning forward and steepling his hands together atop the desk. “What is your name?”

“You’ve got a real funny accent.”

Henrik tilts his head to the side and stares him down without saying a word.

“I-I’m—my name’s Chase, sorry, um,” Chase says and fidgets in the chair. “Chase Brody?”

Chase Brody is written on a blank sheet of paper. He doesn’t have anything more official for this side of his work, rather wanting to keep these documents as off-the-record as possible. “Okay,” he sets the pen down, “And how did you hear about me? I like to keep track of who has my name in their mouth.”

“Why?”

“Why do you care?”

“I-I don’t know—”

“Can you answer the question please?” Exhaustion is starting to pull at his eyes, making him snappier than he is on a normal day.

Chase sets his mug down on the floor beside the chair, shaking his head. “I really don’t know, I didn’t…talk to anyone, I was just in some town and overheard a conversation, I…” he trails off and shakes his head again, wiping his palm on the side of his head. His hair looks greasy, and the motion just makes it all the more unkempt. “I didn’t realize you’d want to know, what does it even matter, listen! Can you help me or not!”

Henrik is simultaneously appalled and impressed at this man—this absolute no-name—acting like he has any say in this interaction. Because, unless he’s misremembering the events of the past ten minutes, this Chase Brody came looking for him, not the other way around. They are in his house, on his time, and he’s the only one who can decide whether to help him or not.

But he can. Of course he can. He knows there isn’t another in the country who knows more of the ethos than him, which is why he’s the one that has to deal with the insanity of people treating him like he’s the answer to all their problems. However, he has to prepare for their Solstice celebration early in the morning, and he needs to make sure Sean returns home safely, and he can’t be wasting time with some pushy vagrant coming to him in the middle of the night and expecting his help before he’s even been explained the situation.

Instead of saying all of that, though, Henrik forces a smile and says, “I would have to understand your, ah, issue, but most likely yes, I can.”

So, Chase tells him.

The sheet of paper slowly fills up as Henrik grows more and more intrigued.

“I’ve heard of this before, though…” Henrik says once Chase is finished with his telling, trailing off in thought as he opens the bottom drawer of the desk and takes out the small stack of papers there. “Your situation is much different than his.”

“Whose?”

“You say you cannot understand your ethos, correct?” A nod. “What do they sound like then? And when did this start?”

Chase frowns, wiping at his eyes. “They just sound like a stupid animal!”

“Hey,” Henrik snaps, feeling his own ethos’ immediate offense to those words.

“Sorry,” the vagrant says guiltily. “All I hear are growls, and roars, and I don’t even feel them! It’s like—like they’re just…an animal. Not—no longer my spirit.”

Henrik hums to himself, nodding along despite this growing sinking feeling that he will not know how to help this man. This is unheard of to him, for someone with no problems communicating to suddenly lose that connection with their ethos. Still, he writes down just an animal on the paper.

“And it’s been, what, months?”

“Months?”

“Since September,” Chase clarifies. “I know because I had just been kicked out of my house, and—” he chokes off his own sentence and buries his head in his hands.

Henrik drops the pen and leans back in his chair, looking at everything but his patient. He’s not very comfortable with people crying in front of him, especially strangers. “Okay, okay, calm down now.” A wet sniffle is his only response. “I will contact my fr—someone I know who has dealt with…this.”

Chase quickly raises his head, eyes red and wet. Gross.

“Fair warning, I did not help him. I do not know how to help you—”

“What?”

“—but I do not doubt that he will have some advice for you to follow.”

Henrik quirks an eyebrow in question, waiting for the man’s nod and his shaky agreement.

His ethos already knows what is about to happen; Henrik can feel their anxious energy, wanting so badly to manifest. He sends out a silent assent, allowing them to emerge from his sternum and flap their broad wings, landing on his outstretched forearm. Their talons are a little sharper than last time, but do not pierce the skin there. The eagle finally settles, a calm and powerful presence, and they cock their head to the side and stare at the young man sitting with his jaw dropped in awe.

The physician picks up a long white primary off the desk, tutting. “You always make such a mess when you’re out here.”

“They’re very pretty,” Chase breathes, and Henrik grunts noncommittally.

“They thank you. Now, may I?”

His ethos doesn’t need to hear his voice to know what to do, but Henrik guesses that Chase will be more at ease if he knows what’s going on. So, he directs to the raptor, “Please go to the stag, the one in the South, you know who I’m talking about. Pass on this message. I have a patient who has lost contact with his ethos, who can no longer communicate with them. Is there anything I or he needs to do? Thank you.”

There’s a second of calm silence. Then, the eagle blinks in understanding and pushes off his arm with a strong flap of their wings, dissipating into sparks and embers above his head. Henrik drops his gaze back down to the man in front of him. “I should hear back soon,” he says. “Now, would you like some more tea?”

[karenpage]

For your Kastle prompt: Karen finds a stray dog and doesn't know the first thing about caring for it, so she calls Frank.

@mostlyactorsandfood this was the sweetest thing and it sort of got away from me, I hope you enjoy!

“Fr—Frank, stop– stop laughing I’m serious. He’s chewed through half of my shoes. And I mean that literally, only the left pair — I think he’s trying to make a statement.” She’s snapping into her phone, rapid-fire, trying to talk while fielding Frank’s gut-busting laughter – he’s in absolute stitches while Cujo claws plaintively at the bathroom door. She’s holed up in there, like an anti-canine bunker, pacing the short distance between the bathtub, and the sink.

Frank finally does calm down, she can hear the crinkle of something, a newspaper, maybe? through the static connection “What, Page? Never had a puppy before?” The smile in his voice is as clear to her as if he was standing by her side. She’s too annoyed to be endeared, and her face twists up into a scowl.

“No, Frank. My parents didn’t let us have pets and – well – I’m more of a cat person, anyway.” She lies, and whatever Frank’s doing, he stops.

“Makes sense.”

Karen’s not sure what that’s supposed to mean, but she certainly doesn’t take it as praise. The stomp of her heel is audible over the phone, “Please. Help.”

A deep, brooding sigh on his end, but he grumbles out, “Okay okay, ‘m on my way. Don’t worry little red.” The line drops, and Karen stares down at the blank screen of her phone in a combination of dismay and annoyance.

Very funny.

This dog just might be the actual big bad wolf.

An absurd thought while she runs her hand through her hair and pleads with it in a hushed, panicked whisper: does that make Frank the Huntsman?

Whatever. Fairy tales are bullshit and her phone charger is on the other side of this door, so she puts on a brave face, and opens it.

Fear makes things larger than life, and this knee-high pit bull’s tail thumps happily against the hardwood floor. “Oh, so now you’re happy to see me.” A raspy ‘woof’, Karen purses her lips, alright. Fine. Okay.

“Do you want … something to eat? Food?” He rises on all fours, tail going Mach 3. Now they’re getting somewhere.

Karen sticks close to the wall, like some housewife from the 1950’s lifting her skirt to escape a mouse. Only this mouse is about eighty pounds with a wide mouth full of teeth and looking at her with a glob of drool caught in its low hanging jowls.

Fantastic.

“I don’t have dog food,” conversationally, the click-clack of nails on the hardwood floor trailing after her is kind of endearing, as are the happy little snuffling sounds that accompany whatever she says to him. Like he understands.

“But–” Karen taps her finger on her chin, grabs a bowl from the cabinet and sets it on the floor. He goes up to it, sniffs the empty porcelain, and looks up at Karen like ‘what gives?’  “Hold on I’m improvising.”

Another woof, “You’re impatient. Wait. Sit.”

He listens to that last command, tail thumping even louder now that it’s against her kitchen tile.

Karen lofts a brow, pulls a steak and some frozen vegetables from her fridge, a quick google search says that all the ingredients would meet his nutritional needs, and so she sets to cooking it.

“I don’t need to season the sirloin, do I?” More to herself, as her own stomach growls once the meat is cooking – the realization that this dog is about to eat better than she does, and she’d been saving that steak for Frank – well, it’s his fault that she saw the damn thing and felt bad enough to bring him up to her apartment.

He was sitting on her complex’s stoop for Christ’s sake, all mopey eyed, half-soaked from the rain and seeking shelter from it under the meager awning. Karen’s compassion outweighed concern and now she’s got a giant grey shadow with soft brown eyes that seem far wiser than any dog’s ought to be.

Time passes by in companionable silence, Karen won’t admit it, not even to herself, but it’s nice to have another … living, breathing soul in her home. It’s less lonely, she even catches herself smiling as she spoons out the food into the bowl.

“Now–it’s hot, let it cool down.” She sets it on the counter out of his reach for good measure, he barks once, loud. “Don’t get mouthy with me, I just cooked you a three-course meal and all I’ve had today is a half a cup of coffee and some cheese-its I stole off of Ellison’s desk.” Not that a dog would understand any of what she’s said, but his mouth hangs open in a canine approximation of a grin, and Karen returns it.

When she tests the heat of the food, and it seems palatable, Karen kneels with the bowl in hand, eyeing him warily.

“Alright, don’t get it in your head that I’m going to be feeding you like this daily. This is a special occasion. Because I didn’t have anything else.” He licks his nose, Karen takes that as a ‘get on with it’, and he immediately buries his face in the food.

No sooner had she sacrificed the only groceries in her fridge, than Frank comes through her front door, a bag of dog food on one shoulder, and a black plastic bag in the other.

“– you been cookin’?” Karen resents the disbelief in his voice, but he’s smiling at her so she’ll forgive him. “Seems like you got ‘Cujo’ under control here, Miss Page.”

Karen’s rebuttal is offered when she rises, dusting her knees off and adjusting her now-wrinkled skirt, “Yes. He was starving and just because I’ve never taken care of a dog before doesn’t mean I’m going to be cruel to this one.”

But Frank’s not really listening, just staring at the dog - or what he can see of him, since he’s half-immersed in the too-big bowl, teeth rattling against the bottom of it as he practically strips the paint from the porcelain.

“Where’d you say you found him?” Voice unerringly even, it startles Karen, given the domesticity of the moments just before. She blinks, tucks a strand of hair over her ear, and follows Frank’s hardened line of sight, watching the dog push the empty bowl around the kitchen floor while searching for scraps.

“He was on the building’s doorstep. Trying to hide out from the rain.”

Frank sets his supplies down on the couch before making his way to stand right beside the dog, looking like he’s seen a ghost all the while.

“Hey boy,” gruff, but the dog’s ears perk up at that and if at all possible, his tail’s wagging harder than it ever has before. “You come back for me? Huh?” Now he’s sitting on the floor and there’s a torpedo of solid-dog muscle launching itself into Frank’s lap, full body wiggles and happy, high pitched whines fill the quiet.

“You two know each other?” She can’t mask the amusement from her voice, and so Karen doesn’t try. Seeing Frank Castle with a dog in his arms is about the sweetest thing, so she’s not about to ruin the moment. Frank’s so rarely happy, or genuinely, thoroughly happy but the smile on his face right now? It’s the before smile, the one he’d had in the pictures all over his house, and it makes her heart tighten just a little.

“Yeah, he was one of the fightin’ boys for the Kitchen Irish, stole him when I uh, interrupted their operations. Hadn’t seen him since they cut him loose.” He’s scrubbing blunt nails over his scalp, happy as can be.

“Does he have a name? Now that you’re here and he’s basically a marshmallow with teeth, I don’t think Cujo’s all that fitting.” Even if she’d only ever said it jokingly.

Frank gives him some consideration, “Nah, but he looks like a Beretta to me, don’t you boy?” More tail wagging, and a loud series of happy barks– bouncing between lying on Frank, and zooming around the small apartment.

“After a gun? Really, Frank?” Karen isn’t actually chastising him, if anything she’s amused but Frank looks up from where he’s still sitting, and reaches for Karen’s hand, the rough pad of his thumbs sweep over her knuckles. A fond, reserved gesture but it’s enough to make her bite her lip and look over her shoulder to watch ‘Beretta’ get his head stuck in the bag Frank had brought in - turns out it’s full of toys, a dish for food, and one for water; Karen learns this because the contents spill out and he’s got a tennis ball in his mouth that he presses wetly against her calf.

“I’ll take you out to play when it’s not raining, okay?”

Frank chuckles, sniffs, wipes the drool from where it stuck to her leg with his sleeve, “Yeah, the m9 was uh, my ‘go to’ during my years in the Corp, security. Safety. Familiarity. Kept my brother’s safe, my family–” He stops nose wrinkling as he sniffs again, looking at the dog that’s gnawing happily on his new toys, “figure since he’s goin’ to be stayin’ with yo– us, there’s gotta be a reason he came back, you know? So he can keep you safe when I can’t.”

Karen’s not a dog person, but as it turns out, this mutt with scars on his ears and the worst breath she’d ever smelled (and she used to work in a pro bono defense office) is not just some four-legged hellhound, but a part of her family that just sort of fit. It didn’t take long to win her over and maybe that’s okay.

They have their little piece of happiness here because sometimes a family is the punisher, a persistent journalist, and a dog named after a handgun.

[pitchtocontact]

third eye

im gonna try my hand at a star trek au, because...i love star trek. and misawa. 

i haven’t planned this all out yet, but i want to write it in a few parts, so here’s the first one. it’s more of a preface than an actual chapter, laying out some groundwork. 

--

When all you’re left with is nothing, danger turns into a foreign concept. That’s the kind of attitude you’ll need if you’re thinking of joining the Medical Emergency Evacuation Service. Come hell or high water, they’ll be there when you call.

tw for graphic depictions of major injury.

Eijun is ripped from sleep by the blaring wail of a red alert siren, his sleeping quarters suddenly pulsating red from the warning light above his door. As he sits up, he feels an unfamiliar tremble from the ship, the glass of water he had set on his nightstand rattling for a moment before settling.

Unnerved, he throws his covers off and darts toward the comm unit attached to his wall. The display is awake with the words RED ALERT slowly gliding across it in a loop, the phrase spelled out in several languages following it. He hadn't been paying much attention when he was given the tour of the ship and shown how to use the device by the security officer, too excited about getting to their destination to care all that much, but in this moment he very much wished he had. He taps the screen a few times, but there is no apparent change, the warning message staying put under his finger. Feeling a little foolish, he says “Computer, report,” but this too yields no forthcoming response.

As he stands there willing the device to work, another tremble rocks the ship, this time strong enough to force Eijun to take a steadying step behind himself so he doesn't fall. Directly following the motion comes the unmistakable sound of the ship’s hull moaning under some unknown pressure. Fear sweeps through Eijun like wildfire as the alert switches from a siren to a voice.

“Warning, collision alert. Brace for impact. Collision to occur in: 45 seconds. Warning, collision alert. Brace for impact. Collision to occur in: 40 seconds.”

Suddenly out of breath, Eijun gasps. He whips his head around, trying to locate the place where he is supposed to brace for impact in the deep ominous red light his room is bathed in. Seeing none, he scrambles for his door and bursts into the ship's main hallway as the alert tells him he has 30 seconds to find something to hang onto. What's safe to hold onto? Should he brace himself in a doorway like an earthquake drill? Or is he supposed to stay in the open because he's in spa--

“Eijun!” He hears from behind him, interrupting his thoughts. He turns to find his mother rushing toward him, his father close behind. They look just as disheveled as he probably looks, no doubt woken violently by the alarms as he had been.

25 seconds.

“What's happening? What do we do?” He says in a rush. There's a steady flow of panicked people rushing in both directions as they stand still in the hallway. “Which way do we..”

“Hell if I know,” his father grumbles, pushing Eijun and his mother in the direction they had been going at a slow jog, joining the flow of people deciding to go in the same direction. Eijun hopes it's the right one.

20 seconds.

“Eijun, where is Wakana?” his mother asks.

A jolt of panic shoots down his spine. “I...don't know! I don't remember her room number!” He looks around as though she might appear out of nowhere, but she does not. “Mom we have to find her!” He turns around to go back the way they’d come, but his father grabs him roughly around the shoulders and turns him back around.

“We can't--”

15 seconds.

“--look for her now. Let's hope she's ahead of us,” he says, and it's the first time he's ever heard his father sound so desperate. Wakana is part of their family, his father considers her as close as a daughter. He's just as worried as Eijun, so he obeys his father's order and begins jogging faster.

A countdown begins as the 10 second mark is reached, and the ship is hit with another wave of unsteady trembles. Dead ahead, people are piling into a standard close-range transport shuttle, the kind they had used to travel from Earth to the ship. They run in, jumping the small gap where the shuttle is attached to the ship by some kind of flexible rubber Eijun had commented looked like an accordion when they’d first arrived. A security officer stands at the door, hand braced over the hatch control, waiting until the last moment to shut the compartment door, allowing as many people on as he can.

“Closing in 3, 2, --”

“Wait!” A panicked yell draws everyone’s attention, and Eijun sees Wakana and her parents running with another group of people trailing behind her. They’re further down the hall. Far enough to make Eijun’s stomach turn sour. “Wait for us!” She yells.

The collision countdown reaches 5 seconds, and Eijun whips around, jumping back onto the ship to reach Wakana’s outstretched hand.

“Eijun, no!” He hears his mother cry, and then she screams, because the security officer pulls the door hatch, closing it in an instance and cutting off her anguished pleas.

“Mom!” He turns back around and bangs on the sealed airlock door that closed along with the shuttle. He hears the shuttle detach just as Wakana runs into him, grabbing at him desperately. A moment later, her parents shove them to the ground, covering them. Bracing them.

“2, Brace for immediate impact.”

A moment of stillness and calm washes over them as everyone braces, a collective breath held from all who did not enter the shuttle in time.

Then, chaos. An explosion of sound surrounds them as they’re flung from their prone position and slammed into the nearby wall. Someone’s elbow jabs directly into Eijun’s eye, but before he even has time to scream out in pain, he’s flung again to the ground and a pain he has never experienced rattles through his entire right arm. He takes a gasping breath, but that too hurts in a way he’s never felt. He can do nothing but lay there, being slammed around by whatever they’re colliding with, getting more injured with every passing second. The metal grating on the floor slices every bit of skin it touches as he slides across it over and over, his clothes shredding into strips. He feels it when his ankle breaks, but has no more capacity for pain, he simply acknowledges that it happened.

After what feels like a lifetime of torture, the relentless onslaught of collisions dissipates, and he’s left lying facedown, his nose scraped raw and bleeding from the grating. He can tell he hasn’t lost his vision, but still he cannot see anything. Everything around him is dark and silent. He hears no voices, but he’s not making any sound either, so he doesn’t think about it too much.

Another wave of trembles has him closing his eyes and tensing in a useless attempt at bracing himself again, but they aren’t nearly as violent. Whatever hits them this time only has enough impact to turn Eijun from facing down to facing up so that he’s looking at the ceiling. In an odd moment of awe, he sees that it’s not actually dark in the ship, it’s still running on emergency power, dim yellow lights illuminating the hallways just enough to not be pitch dark. He stares up, blinking lazily, unable to even turn his head. Small tremors keep rocking the ship, and with each small movement, his injuries scream at him, his breath hitches, and his muscles tense involuntarily.

Someone far away from him coughs once, followed by a choking sound, and then silence. He can barely hear it. It’s the only sound he hears for the next hour. He wonders why his body is waiting so long to pass out. He’d love to sleep right about now, but his pain keeps him from doing just that. He decides to simply stare straight up, and count how many times he blinks until something happens.

--

122 blinks later, something happens. A buzzing sound directly above him, or maybe slightly to his left, he can’t be sure. It buzzes for a time. It buzzes for 11 blinks. Then, the awful screeching sound of warping metal.

Voices follow that sound, which is the last thing Eijun expects.

“Could you cut a bigger hole next time, jackass? I can barely squeeze through here,” an exasperated male voice says where the buzzing noise had come from. The voice wasn’t speaking in Standard or Japanese, so Eijun was having trouble understanding. After thinking on the sounds for a moment, he recognized it as English.

“Not my fault you’re getting fat,” replies another male voice in English. “Life signs?”

“Scanning,” says the first. “Shit, right here. Like, right here, Miyuki. This guy.”

A silhouette obscures his view of nothing, and then suddenly the brightest light he’s ever seen assaults his eyes, shooting pain up into his head. He clenches his eyes shut.

“Conscious, responsive to basic stimuli,” the same voice states, presumably to whoever Miyuki is, although he’s still facing Eijun. He hears the beeping of a tricorder roaming over his body, followed by a small gasp. “Damn, he’s critical. We need to beam him out, now.” He feels something being clipped to his shirt.

“Medical, this is Alpha sweep. Crit coming your way, acknowledge,” not-Miyuki says into a communicator, speaking in Standard this time.

“All clear, Alpha sweep, ready to receive, over,” he hears, the tinny voice coming out of both their communicators.

His view fills with a shiny haze, and suddenly he is no longer on the dark ship. He’s vaguely aware that he’s just been transported somewhere, but he still can’t see anywhere but straight up, and straight up is just more lights, so he closes his eyes. A rush of movement around him, and suddenly his body is being moved. He can’t take it. The pain shoots through his body and it feels a million times worse, somehow, like it was all happening at the same time, in this single moment. His head throbs and he feels his body go through huge waves and numbness and unbearable pain over and over.

“He’s seizing!” someone above him shouts. “Brace him down gently, he has a lot of fractures.” Strange strips of cloth are placed over his chest and knees. He hears an alarming number of hypospray hisses, but feels none of them. However, shortly after he hears them, he feels his pain dissipate dramatically. He lets out a deep sigh.

“Good, good. Deep breaths.” More tricorder beeps. “Minor. Convulsions stopped after 10 seconds, responding positively to medication. Alright, let’s get you attached to a drip.” The ceiling above him starts moving, and then stops moving. Someone lifts his left arm and roughly taps into the crook of his elbow a few times before he feels a prick in the same spot. Something gets clamped to his middle and index fingers. “I bet you’d like to sleep right about now, huh? Well my friend, you’re in luck. I’m the sandman,” a happy voice says, before another hypo hits his neck and the world floats away.

[terraclae]

Congregate

Lore pings: @yuushanoah-fr @cityofinoue @rasvimhia @griminal-rising

It's been a while since I've posted lore because of a whole lot of things but I'd like to start posting pieces again, sorry for the wait! I'll work on my lore bit by bit and see what I can post and hove this is enjoyable enough for now.

‘I knew something had to be wrong.’

‘Don’t say that.’ Said Balam. He didn’t look at Atlas who had spoken but instead buried his head deeper into his hands. ‘We’d best worry about what to do.’

‘It’s the middle of the night, there’s not a lot of people we can inform now.’ Kassa added softly. ‘Who do you want to ask for help?'

‘We have to ask help from someone.’ Balam pulled his hands away to lean his head on them, looking at the butterfly before them. Carmen had put it in a jar and brought it to the dining hall where they sat now. ‘Someone seems to be helping Arodan at the very least but we have no guarantee that we can trust them. If we follow this guide it might lead us into a trap.’

‘It’s the best lead we have.’ Atlas said and tapped the jar cautiously. ‘We have to do something. We can’t just go to sleep and see what we’ll do in the morning, our friends are in danger.’

‘We know Atlas.’ Caer groaned, rubbing her temples. ‘But we don’t have the manpower to just storm in and rescue them. It’s just us.’ She looked up from under heavy tired eyelids. ‘We’d get ourselves killed.’

‘He’s right though.’ Kassa said, flashing Atlas a weary smile. He didn’t return the gesture and they didn’t mind that. ‘We have to do something, no matter how small. Not a big gesture that might endanger us, but something, to let them know we’re coming.’

‘What do you propose we do?’ Carmen asked, tapping the table impatiently. ‘Do we just storm Odin’s office in the middle of the night?’

‘Right on darling.’ Kassa hummed. Carmen looked at them incredulously but could not get a word in before they started to explain what they had in mind. ‘I suggest we divide in groups. You and Atlas already wanted to go, no? What if Balam, Caer and I instead pay a visit to Odin?’ They folded their hands. ‘I suggest that you two scout out the area discreetly so we know where it is and what we should keep in mind.'

'No offense, but that sounds too dangerous and stupid on top of all of that.' Caer snapped. 'Let me scout it out, that's my job.'

'Oh, it is. But for once, they have to go. Not because I have some sickly curiosity to see what happens but because I have a feeling that's what we need.' Kassa argued, drawing a finger alongside the glass of the jar. 'Our mysterious ally sent magic, and knows much more magically inclined folk are coming. Shade, if you might.' Their hand lifted slowly to point at Carmen. 'She knows exactly what Shade looks like in the small nuances, you don't, Caer. If it's there, she'll know how to get out.'

'You have that much faith in me?' Carmen asked Kassa. They met her stare with an intrigued little smile. 'We barely trust you Kassa. Why trust us?'

'That's just how it is. I trust you guys to come to a solution.' They folded their hands with a satisfied finality. Their smile fell that moment. 'So, how does this plan sound?'

'It's a plan.' Atlas was first to speak again, then shot a few looks at Balam and Carmen. 'Kassa, what do you intend for me to do in this? Scout too, that I understand, but I don't have magical knowledge like Carmen does.'

'You have your weapons and your strength. Besides this, you are agile and quiet. If you get in trouble, you need to watch Carmen's back and she needs to watch yours.' Kassa lifted up then jar and studied the butterfly inside. It had taken to crawling around it frantically. 'I don't assume you'll get yourselves in danger but it's still good to be careful if we aren't certain of what we are up against.'

'Okay, good, we'll go with that plan because it's better than sitting around.' Carmen slammed her hand down on the table and got up. 'If you had a gut feeling, it'd better be a good one.'

'My gut feeling hasn't failed me yet. So let's see how this will play out.' They leant back, swinging and bouncing around just a little. 'I've missed making plans.'

'Savor it, I'm still on the fence whether I like the idea of you making plans for us or not.' Balam huffed, getting up in a similar manner to Carmen. 'How do we know we are not just going to find a closed door at Odin's office?'

'The man works too much. I have another hunch he won't be home tonight.' They turned to Balam then. 'Well, Balam?'

'I know he's like that, that doesn't mean a guarantee.'  Balam grumbled. His brows nearly obscured his eyes with how intensely he currently allowed himself to frown. 'I suppose we can try.'

'Then we have ourselves a plan.' Kassa excitedly clasped their hands together and got up. 'I will stay here to wait for you all.'

'I'd rather have you come with us.' Balam grunted. Kassa didn't seem to mind him but they did back away discreetly. 'I'm not sure if you are going to choose now to fulfil another scheme and as such I want to be absolutely certain you don't do anything funny.'

'Actually… Let them come with us.' Carmen stepped in between Kassa and Balam, keeping her gaze locked on Kassa. 'We don't know if we're walking into a trap if we follow the butterfly, so we need some semblance of strategy on location. Besides, it's better than leaving you here.'

'I think I like that idea better.' They tilted their head in coy manner and spun on their heel. 'Fine. I will go with you, so let's head out already. We can't have Sachairi and Arodan waiting for us now, do we?'

'Are you sure you want them coming along with you?' Balam leant down and whispered this in Carmen's ear. She nodded, and after a moment where he fumbled with the lining of his shirt he reached out and hugged her. 'Be safe. I don't want you three to get lost too.'

'We'll find them Balam, I'm sure we can help them.' Carmen whispered in return. She pulled back and started to head over to Atlas who was already waiting by the door to the courtyard. Kassa was currently heading over to him already. 'Come back safely too, okay?'

'Of course.' Balam waved after her. 'Always.' The three disappeared through the door and he was left standing in the empty dining hall with Caer.  

*

'Had a nice nap?'

'Not really.' Dmitri wrestled a coughing fit down, something Frey seemed to look upon with amusement. Whatever wounds he had must have reopened, at least, that could be the only explanation for the pain he felt. He felt his fingers along the chains locked around his wrists. 'There are better ways to treat your guests, you know?'

'Well, I would have, if you were an invited guest.' Frey hummed. He pulled a chair close and sat down, his gaze gliding over Dmitri. 'I don't think you're the worst person. Too bad you seem to have an affliction I don't particularly like to keep close.'

'That's my friend, don't mind him.' Dmitri managed to cheerfully respond before his gaze twisted into a vicious pinched facade. 'I'd rather have you not touch him.'

'Shade is nobody's friend. But it is sentient, you say?' Frey smiled and got up to stalk over to Dmitri. 'If I am not going to sleep tonight, won't you indulge me into how that works?'

'I would but I think I've had it with your behavior. Look, if you've caught my friend, then at least let him go. He did nothing wrong, I got us into this situation.' Dmitri's breath stocked when Frey reached him and took hold of his chin to pull him upwards. '... Do you do this with every prisoner?'

‘You are a special exception and not in a good way.’ Frey blankly stated, letting go of Dmitri. ‘We don’t have your friend. Lucky him. We have you though.’ Now that Dmitri actually got to survey Frey up close he could see he didn’t move easily, needing a cane to keep himself standing upright. Had he gotten hurt in the earlier skirmish? ‘What if I purged you of that Shade of yours?’

‘He is not Shade, he’s my friend.’ Dmitri immediately snapped, struggling against his restraints. ‘Okay, Yes, he’s shade infected, but he is not evil or a hazard.’ He stumbled back to steady himself against the wall. ‘You will not hurt him.’ He managed to crack a snide grin. ‘I can’t imagine what drives you to be the person you are.’

‘Many things, but I’m sure you’re not interested in that.’ Frey bent down once more and surveyed Dmitri’s wounds. ‘That is how it is, I get interested in people but they fail to pay attention to me.’

‘I… Honestly? Don’t care.’ Dmitri attempted to pull away further despite the wall behind him. One of Frey’s hands reached a wound a pushed against it and he barely stopped himself from biting said hand off. ‘You don’t seem like a nice person so why should people care?’

‘Oh, say it just a little bit more eloquently and you could be my father.’ Frey hissed. He pulled back unsteadily and stood there, leaning on his cane. ‘I didn’t ask for this either. As did my sister. But here we are.’

‘Then what’s stopping you from changing things? You’re a prince, spoiled for sure.’ Dmitri quirked an eyebrow and spat at Frey. ‘I don’t care how hurt you are, it does not justify what kind of atrocities you or your family have committed.’ He lunged forward and couldn’t reach him, the chain being pulled taut from its leverage point to the wall. ‘Take that from someone who thoroughly hates himself.’

Frey’s gaze slid alongside the length of Dmitri’s arm once more, to his face, and he finally breathed. It was strained, having forgotten to breathe entirely in the last twenty seconds of conversation. ‘Broken things. Broken things keep me from doing that.’ He didn’t look like he meant his statement, there was hesitance and shakiness to his way of speaking. There was a small twinkle in his eyes, a shimmer of doubt. ‘You are broken, so am I, and maybe if I wasn’t, I could have been different to you.’ He steadied himself on his chair and lifted his cane to tilt Dmitri’s head around. ‘And for what I did, that isn’t important. Eventually my sister has to carry my father’s empire and she will have become like him. Now there is something left of her I knew and saw but that might disappear soon. I’m left elsewhere, and I do not need nor deserve pity.’ He bit his lip. ‘Do you understand that?’

‘Listen-‘ Dmitri took Frey’s cane and without warning pulled him towards him. The soldiers that had been watching pulled their weapons but only stopped because there was the risk they might stab Frey. He was far too close again and Frey smelled of a hazy miasmic perfume that dulled the senses like his voice did. ‘I see where you’re coming from if you’re laying it all out for me. But it is not an excuse. Saying you don’t want pity is the same as saying you don’t feel like changing your ways in your case.’ His tail angrily swished behind him. ‘If there truly was nothing left in your heart that could possibly redeem you then kill me, torture me, prove it then.’ He tossed him backwards, sending Frey crashing towards the ground. ‘Do your worst.’

Frey sat on the ground rubbing his cheek for a bit in a daze. His men didn’t even particularly know wether to help him or let him be, just judging the strange faraway look he had on his face. When he got so, he did so himself. Shakily at first, he rose. Once he was fully upright he could drop back to his more stately way of standing, brushing long strands of hair out of his face. ‘I think…’ He mused a moment longer, a smile coloring his face. ‘I know what to do with you.’ And turned his smile curiously, serpentine, towards Dmitri.

*

'You look like you've had better days.'

The stillness of his mind was disturbed. He remembered gold, golden fields, but it was far gone and now there was nothing but darkness. Arodan sat opposite of Raz in a fancy looking felt chair, like the last time they spoke. He didn't know what to say, beholding the pearlcatcher with guilt fueled horror. '... I...'

'What's wrong?'

‘Raz, I um…’

‘Speak up. Nothing's going to hurt you here.’ Raz assured him, holding up his hand in apologetic fashion. ‘I know… You maybe don’t want to see me. I can understand that. But I promise that despite my-‘

‘Sachairi. It’s Sachairi, Raz.’ Arodan bowed his head and kept his hands close to him. He didn’t dare meet Raz’s gaze and continued speaking fearfully. ‘He got caught. We ended up in conflict with Lux Laterna and he couldn’t win from Prince Frey’s bodyguard.’

Raz didn’t say anything. He stared at Arodan with a half open mouth, his eye darting wildly over him. There was a moment, a point of realization in which he rose from his chair and paced over to Arodan. ‘... What?’

‘He’s in trouble, Raz.’

‘I-I…’ Raz’s breaths caught in his throats, turning his gaze away. In rapid fashion his stare whipped back to Arodan and he reached to grab his collar and pull him up. ‘Where is he and are you responsible for this?’

‘Glasir. I don’t know where exactly but it might be in plague’s quarter.’ Arodan murmured. ‘And it is-‘

‘No, actually, I don’t care if it’s your fault.’ Raz let him go and pushed him back into his chair. ‘You better stay put because I’m coming. I’m so close, I’m not going to have anyone take any semblance of happiness from me right now.’

‘You’re going to get yourself caught or captured!’

‘I’d like to see them try and I’d like to see you try to stop me.’ Raz sneered, hugging his pearl close to him. ‘I have nothing to lose.’ He spun on his heel and walked off, the dream starting to collapse around them. Arodan sprinted from his chair to stop him, but fell into darkness before he could reach Raz’s flitting, vague form.

*

'Arodan?' He was shaken and heard the voice softly.  'Arodan?' This time around he woke, finding he was still in the dark attic. Mordred was sitting besides him with their hands having a firm hold on his shoulder. 'The panic has died down outside. I think my message should have reached your friends by now, so they know you're safe. Now would be a good moment to escape.'

'What about Dmitri?' Arodan sat up. Admittedly he felt well rested, maybe the nap had been necessary. His bruises weren't as sore as they had been before. 'I have to at least try to get him out.'

'I told you, there is nothing you can do for him now.' Mordred bluntly responded, pulling Arodan up. 'It's better if you leave. Please just go to safety.'

'How do you know so certainly there's nothing I can do for him? What if I stole a soldier's armor, steal the keys and get him out?' Arodan stumbled around the attic, ready to head down. Mordred followed him closely by holding on to his tail. 'There's… Another side to him, Sachairi, he matters immensely to my friends. I can't just let him die or get tortured.'

'Really? I understand, I really do, but you're just endangering yourself.' Mordred sat down on the loose attic panel so Arodan couldn't get out. 'It's a viable plan, sure, but also reckless. I can't just let you risk your life like that.''

'But... ' Arodan crept closer and held up a hand. 'It is viable, even you're saying so.'

'Goddamnit, why do I keep helping idiots like you, we don't even know each other.' Mordred spat. Eventually they backed against the wall and sat there with their arms folded. 'Yeah, it's a plan. But you might as well hand yourself over to Frey right there.'

'Maybe.' Arodan shuddered briefly and looked away. 'I can't say I didn't consider that either. Maybe that would be easier, maybe he'd just kill me.' He dragged a hand over his bad eye. 'This all feels like my fault. I need to do something right.'

'So what will you do?'

'I have to at least take a shot at getting him out. I will disguise myself as a soldier, try to steal the keys and leave with my friend.' He glanced up at Mordred. 'Will you help me? Is it really like you could be at a greater risk?'

‘No, probably not, but I haven’t figured my mistakes either and I do not want to die like that.’ Mordred nervously rubbed their hands together and closed their eyes for a moment. ‘Even with a full helmet on I don’t know if they’re just going to let you walk around.’ They shook their head. ‘But I guess I cannot stop you… And I won’t. But we’re doing things my way.’

‘Does it involve magic-‘

‘It involves magic.’ Mordred stumbled to get up and around him, moving over to a large wooden chest. In it was a full suit of armor, and more peculiarly a scroll lying among what seemed to be charms. Mordred picked up the scroll first. ‘This is an unorthodox solution, but we can try. Ever seen a dragon shift from one type into another?’

‘What manner of scroll is that?’ Arodan asked. He watched Mordred unfold the scroll and soon it was clear what that would transform him into. Bent claws, sleeker wings, he could imagine a wild claw clearly, but that wildclaw was not himself. ‘Is that uh… Do you really think this is going to help?’

‘Yes, because you’ll be taller and different in shape in this bipedal form of yours so they might need a little longer to recognize you.’ Mordred shifted on their legs so they sat right before Arodan with the scroll unfolded. Their vibrant red eyes focused on Arodan. ‘And as someone who used to be a tactician like my mother before me, you need to make use of every moment you have in a tense situation.’ They smiled weakly. ‘Are-'

'Hold on.' Arodan held up his hand. 'Mordred?'

'Yes?'

'Tell me something about yourself.'

'About… myself?' Mordred whispered incredulously. 'Why? Why do you want me to tell you about myself?' Arodan seemed clear enough in his tilted head, raised brow and annoyed glance. A measure of trust, that was what this was. Mordred rubbed the back of their neck gently and kept their ruby focus on the scroll. 'I don't remember much of the past. Blood, the ire of others. Some other life I must have done something wrong and lady luck turned her back on me. But you know, maybe that also mean I need to try again and I quite like this world. It's beautiful, it's flora, it's fauna, the butterflies here are wonderful. It's worth making an attempt for.'

'Alright. Sounds like an honest enough answer.' Arodan nodded his head but he still looked doubtfully upon Mordred. 'You appreciate life though? Nature? It's an odd interest for a plague dragon to have.'

'My eyes have always been red actually. That I do know.' They smoothed the scroll out. 'But I am not sure if I'm meant to be a plague dragon and when I look in the mirror I scare myself so usually I wear masks or illusions.' They raised their gaze expectantly. 'Is that alright?'

'You know, that works for me. I'll believe you that that scroll will change me into what it says it will and that you will help me.' Arodan looked off, his mind made up. 'It's worth a shot.'

'Then are you ready?'

‘... All I hope is that my friends will be okay with this.’ Arodan quietly responded. He stroked the crests behind his ears for what might have been the last time. He couldn’t help but swiftly pull two feathers out, gritting his teeth against the brief pain. This was a dire situation but he still worried about what the others might think and how much this might change him. Eventually he drew his finger over the gem on his forehead and his hand ended up folded into the other on his lap. ‘... I’m ready. I’m going to save my friend.’ Mordred gently handed the scroll to him and Arodan started to recite the words, their magic coursing through him and invoking the change. Maybe after all was said and done, he could change himself back, but for now he would make sure to give Frey the worst he could bring unto him if it meant a semblance of revenge for what his family did.

[danny33434]

Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets : 1/21/18

SUMMARY

In this weeks reading it starts off with Ron getting a howler from his mom yelling at him for being seen with the flying car and threatens that if he does anything like that again he will go straight back home. Gilderoy Lockhart talks to Harry thinking he wants for fame. Lockhart has many books of the things he’s done but Ron doesn’t seem convinced. While the Gryffindors and Slytherins are fighting over who gets to use the field Ron in defense fr Malfoy calling Hermione a mud blood tried to hex Malfoy with his broken wand but the spell backfired and caused Ron to uncontrollably throw up slugs. Fast forwarding while talking to Nearly Headless Nick invites Harry and his friends to his “death day party” Harry happily accepts. Arriving at the party the three see ghost from all over and even the ghosts in the castle are there then all of a sudden Harry heard a piercing voice in his ear the same he had heard in Lockhart’s office. The two follow Harry and in the corridors and on the wall see writing in blood saying that the “Chamber of Secrets has been opened” and they saw Flich’s car hanging by the tail on a bracket, petrified.

REFLECTION

This weeks reading was really suspenseful at the end and filled with surprises. And we learn about Gilderoy Lockhart which is a character I’m really starting to dislike, while talking to Harry he compares Harry’s fame to his saying how “ his business with Voldemort isn’t as good as winning a charming smile award five times but that it’s a start at fame” that made me stunned to think that Harry almost being killed is compared to a award. But other than that. Malfoy calls Hermione a “mudblood” which is a foul word for some one born from non wizard parents. And also in this weeks reading we learn more ab other characters like Nearly Endless Nick it’s cool how even though Harry probably didn’t really want to go to the party he still said yes because Nick is a friend to him and knew it would mean a lot if he did go. Also the biggest suspense in the whole reading was when Harry hears a voice saying “ rip...tear...kill” and they (Ron and Hermione) all follow Harry and come up to a wall that reads “ the chamber of secrets has been opened. enemies of the heir beware. And Malfoy is seen in the front of everyone watching grinning at the petrified cat. This has reason for me to believe that he might have something to do with this. And finally the title of the book in the the reading further more suggesting what will happen later on in the story and to foreshadow I think with this whole “Chamber Of Secrets” opening I think bad things will start happening how and also Dobby could be right with his warning he gave Harry back at the Dursley’s.

LITERARY DEVICE : Page 139

“ Mrs. Norris, the caretakers cat was hanging by her tail from the torch bracket. She was stiff as a board, her eyes wide and staring.”

In this quote the author uses a metaphor “stiff as a board” to help me as the reader understand further more how the car looked and she used imagery to make it easier to imagine this scene happening. This affects my understanding because this book doesn’t have much pictures but with using metaphors and similes and imagery it makes it easy for the refer to infer what’s going on.

VOCABULARY : Page 128

word: tartan

definition: a woolen cloth woven in one of several patterns of plaid

my words: A woollen cloth woven in one of several patterns of coloured checks and intersecting lines from a Scottish origin

sentence: I saw her sitting there, in her green tartan dress.

QUOTES

“ ‘Harry Harry Harry,’ said Lockhart, reaching reaching out and grasping his shoulder. “I understand. Natural to want a bit more once you’ve had that first taste — and I blame myself for giving you that, because it was bound to go to your head — but see here, young man, you can’t start flying cars to try and get yourself noticed. Just calm down, all right? Plenty of time for all that when you’re older” page 91

In this quote Lockhart talks to Harry about fame and says how his five best smile award can’t compare to Harry’s business with You- know- who. But the irony is that though Lockhart is known for his books of his great achievements Harry is far more more famous than him, this proves that though Harry is much younger than Lockhart he has more wisdom than him. I feel like Lockhart only cares about fame whereas Harry knows that even though he his famous for defeating Voldemort at a young age he can’t live on that alone ... his actions are and his good intentions are what will make him a famous well known wizard which is something I think Lockhart doesn’t understand.

“ Someone shouted through the quiet. "Enemies of the Heir, beware! You'll be next, Mudbloods!" It was Draco Malfoy. He had pushed to the front of the crowd, his cold eyes alive, his usually bloodless face flushed, as he grinned at the sight of the hanging, immobile cat.” Page 139

In this quote I think it foreshadows that Draco might have something I do with this as when he says “you’ll be next mud bloods” he’s implying that what happened to Mrs. Norris will happen again but specifically to “mud bloods” as Draco puts it. When going over what was written on the wall “ enemies of the heir beware” it makes me think that Draco might be the heir of whoever because the first victim was Mrs. Norris the caretakers cat which everyone hates Flich so maybe that’s why Draco could’ve targeted his cat and one of Draco’s enemies is Hermione maybe she might be the next victim... but this quote further affects my understanding because it helps me foreshadow what could happen and brings more suspense for what’s to come in the story.

IMAGE

[facrytalcs-blog]

a brave young girl.

or, alternatively, the story of how grace was adopted.

grace watched her feet as she swung them back and forth. the chair in the police station’s office was too high for her small frame. she was too young to be there in the first place, but she had nowhere left to go, not anymore. usually, she would run around the new environment with blatant curiosity, wondering what everyone was doing, what every contraption and device did. instead, she’d done just as the cheery ( but sympathetic ) detective had asked: sit in his office and wait, unless she needed something. he’d made it clear that she could have anything she needed.

she didn’t say a word the entire time she was there alone, and when the detective came back, he was followed by a man with golden hair and black and purple clothing. she watched as he crouched down in front of her so he was at her level.

“hello, fraulein grace. my name is klavier gavin, i’m a prosecutor. how are you feeling?”

the question was innocent enough, but grace couldn’t answer. she didn’t know how. she had never been directly informed of what happened, but she knew. how could she not? there was no other reason she would be at a police station for such a long period of time otherwise.

she chose to ignore the question. “what’s a... what’s a pros-ee-cute-er?”

if klavier was bothered by her ignoring his question, he didn’t show it. “a prosecutor is someone who finds the truth about crimes.”

so that was why he was here. she wasn’t sure what he wanted with her yet, but her young mind could take a guess. it wasn’t hard to figure out.

“okay,” was all she said.

klavier and the detective ( gumshoe, he’d said his name was ) shared a look and grace concentrated on her feet again until one of them, this time the detective, spoke.

“i don’t... mean to be the bearer of bad news like this pal, but...” his eyes flickered to klavier for help.

klavier took up the challenge. “your parents, last night they were --”

“-- they died, didn’t they?”

her candidness took both men off-guard, and they shared yet another look. this time, she didn’t ignore it. she stared straight at the two of them. she already knew what the answer was, but she wanted confirmation. needed confirmation. she was too upset to cling onto that small sliver of hope remaining. it was better to let it go.

“yes, fraulein,” klavier said slowly. “your parents were caught in a very terrible crime, but we are here to solve it, so we want to ask you a few questions, if that’s okay.”

grace didn’t want to answer anyone’s questions. she wanted to be left alone, but she knew that even if they left her alone now, they would be back later. it was for the best that she answered them now.

“okay.”

klavier’s smile was brief, but warm. “thank you, fraulein. now, you were at home last night, ja? did you see or hear anything unusual?”

the police station became far too crowded far too quickly, and grace still didn’t have anywhere to go. she just knew she couldn’t stay where she was. her questioning was over, and she hadn’t been able to give much information in the first place. she was only young, and she’d been upstairs at the time. her parents hadn’t even been murdered ( an officer had slipped-up by mentioning that it was a murder in front of her, and neither klavier nor gumshoe had been pleased ) near their house.

she was passed off to an officer who was in charge of looking for her relatives, whatever that meant. she knew what a relative was, but she didn’t have any, and the officer soon figured that out for themselves. they shared their findings in what they thought was a hushed voice to klavier and gumshoe, both of whom had matching frowns.

klavier approached her once again after that, and what he said surprised her. “would you like to see what a prosecutor does, fraulein?”

grace blinked. “can i?”

“ja, of course,” klavier said with a nod. “it might be a bit boring for you, but i have paper you can draw on while i work.”

that was a tempting offer. it wasn’t as though she had anything else to do, and so she slowly nodded. “okay.”

she was whisked away to the prosecutor’s office after that, taking a ride in klavier’s car, which was shiny and new. it was smaller than her parents’ car, and there weren’t any books or children’s cds on the floor. it even had that new car smell.

the prosecutor’s office was bigger than she’d expected, and she gaped up at the tall building before following klavier inside, quiet as she both looked around and kept up with klavier simultaneously. it was hard not to get distracted in such a new environment.

klavier’s office was messier than she thought someone so official’s would be. that wasn’t a bad thing, of course, especially since it reminded her just a little bit of her room, what with all the instruments and papers scattered everywhere. she stood in the middle of the room as klavier set his belongings down on his desk.

“welcome to my office!” he said, arms spread wide. “sit wherever you want and do whatever you like to keep yourself occupied, fraulein. tell me if you need anything.”

grace was hesitant to do exactly what she wanted, and so she cautiously approached the recliner with the piano attached to it. “can i play the piano?”

klavier was briefly surprised, but he smiled within seconds. “of course. it’s electric, do you know how to use it?”

“yep,” grace said, sliding into the chair that was far too big for her and moving the piano so she could reach it without having to stretch. the power button was the first thing she saw, and she pressed it eagerly, ready to play.

the last song she’d learned was still stuck in her mind, and she began to play. it was effortless. she remembered her parents telling her something about musical-rhythmic intelligence a few months ago, but it was too scientific, and it had completely sailed over her head. she was only young, after all.

when she was finished, she heard clapping, and her head shot up as she remembered she had an audience. it was easy for her to get lost in the music when she played. the people around her would disappear and she would just focus on herself, the music, and the keys. it was the same when she played other instruments, too.

“amazing, fraulein! you play so well! do you play any other instruments?” klavier asked, leaning against one of his giant speakers. she wondered how he could fit them in here. were they even allowed?

she nodded. “i can play the guitar and the violin, and i just started with the drums, too.”

klaver seemed impressed. “you’re very talented, aren’t you?”

still not quite used to compliments that didn’t come from her parents, grace just giggled. she was about to say ‘thank you’ when there was a loud knock on the doorframe. the door was wide open, so the new arrival -- arrivals, plural -- was in plain sight. each person seemed to be colour-coded in some way. the man in front was in red, the girl behind him in yellow, and the younger girl in blue.

“uh, hey, prosecutor gavin,” the man said, stepping into the office.

the blue girl nudged him in the ribs. “c’mon, polly, you don’t have to call him that anymore.”

the man didn’t seem to completely agree. “well, yeah, i know, but -- there’s a thing called professionalism. mr wright and mr edgeworth do it, too, and i don’t see you complaining about them.”

“that’s ‘cause i live with them. i complain all the time when you aren’t there,” she said, grinning.

“you live to take away my fun, don’t you?”

“of course,” the other girl said, flipping her red ponytail over her shoulder. “it’s what you’re good for.”

the exchange didn’t seem to bother klavier, and he didn’t correct them on any point, either. “what a nice surprise, herr forehead, what brings you to my humble office this morning?”

‘herr forehead’ looked around the office with disdain. “humble office? where?” as klavier laughed, he continued. “wait, i’m not here to insult your office -- i wanted to talk to you about the kang case.”

klavier didn’t say anything for a moment. “i would love to, but i have company.”

he gestured towards where grace was watching the entire exchange with wide eyes, her tiny hands still placed on the piano. all three newcomers turned to look at her and she looked down, lifting one hand to give a shy wave.

“this little fraulein is grace,” klavier introduced before saying something that only the others could hear in a small voice.

their eyes widened and grace could feel herself slipping into the mood she’d been in at the police station. sympathetic eyes, hushed whispers, words she couldn’t hear, yet she knew they were about her. it was too much to take.

the smaller girl weaved her way through the speakers and files until she was standing right beside grace’s chair. she tipped her blue magician’s hat and smiled. “hi, i’m trucy! it’s nice to meet you, grace! you wanna see something cool?”

grace was very aware that the others in the room had started to talk amongst themselves. she needed a distraction, so she nodded at trucy, who grinned.

“okay, say ‘hi’ to the amazing mister hat!”

before grace could even blink, trucy pulled something out from under her coat, something that was taller than the both of them. the mechanical figure stole trucy’s hat on its way up, and grace couldn’t help but gape at how amazing this figure was.

clapping her hands, grace squealed and giggled. “he’s so cool! how do you do that?!”

trucy winked. “it’s magic. you want to see what else i can do?”

grace nodded eagerly, signalling the beginning of the miniature magic show. trucy had her pick a card, made flowers appear on top of her head like a crown, and threw arrows at klavier’s wall only for them and the marks to disappear a second later. it was all so astounding to grace, and she watched with enthusiasm, her prior mood completely forgotten.

the following day, grace found herself inside courtroom number four, sitting right beside trucy in the gallery. she didn’t quite understand what was happening, just that this was about her parents, and the detective from yesterday ( a mister dick gumshoe, who had let her stay at his house with his wife and kids the previous evening ) had told her that she didn’t have to go if it was too difficult for her. she’d insisted, however. if this was about her parents, she wanted to be here for everything.

she wriggled around as she waited for the judge to arrive, whispering to trucy as she watched klavier stand behind one of the benches to the side, ‘herr forehead’ and the yellow girl taking the one opposite him. “why are they there?”

“they’re going to find out who hurt your parents,” trucy said. “it’ll look like they’re arguing, but it’s all because they want to find out the truth, okay?”

grace nodded as the judge finally took his seat, settling in as she watched the trial unfold. she didn’t understand everything, just that a man by the name of jackino cent was being accused of murdering her parents and they were trying to figure out if it really was him or not. there were a few witnesses, one of whom grace recognised from her parents’ work, but she didn’t know the other woman who appeared. yet her voice seemed familiar.

despite sometimes not being able to follow the logic, grace was on the edge of her seat the entire time, listening to shouts of ‘OBJECTION’ and ‘HOLD IT’ being thrown back and forth between klavier and ‘herr forehead’, whose real name seemed to be apollo justice. it was like watching a battle, but there were no weapons involved. just words.

it was towards the end of the trial that grace found herself unable to agree with what both sides were saying. the topic at hand had turned to what was happening at the house while her parents had been out, and something was bothering her, but she couldn’t figure out what until apollo repeated his claim.

“my client claims that he was outside the kang residence at the time of the murder!” his voice carried across the courtroom with ease.

klavier wasn’t fazed, however. “but a claim is all it is, ja, herr forehead? he also claims he was with miss lyre, but when she testified earlier, don’t you think she would have mentioned something so vital?”

miss lyre. the name of the woman grace had never met, but she’d heard the voice of before. she just hadn’t been able to figure out where, at least not until now. all she’d needed was a quick jog of her memory.

“HOLD IT!”

everyone in the courtroom was confused for a moment, giving grace enough time to run down from the gallery ( despite trucy calling out to her ) and jumping behind the witness stand, just as she’d seen a few others do earlier. the stand itself was too tall for her, and she quickly climbed it so she was sitting on top. a tad dangerous, sure, but at least people would be able to hear her now.

“oh!” the judge blinked in surprise. “and who might this young lady be?”

klavier seemed just as surprised as everyone else, but answered anyway. “this is grace kang, the victims’ daughter.”

“and you let her come to the trial of her parents murder? when she’s so young?” the judge asked, astounded.

“she insisted, herr judge.”

ignoring the conversation going on in front of her, grace frowned and waved her arms. “i -- i have something to say! i remembered something!”

“you did?” apollo asked, voice loud, and he quickly cleared his throat to calm himself down. “what did you remember, grace?”

as she scanned the room, grace caught sight of miss lyre, who was glaring at her and shaking her head, trying to prevent her from speaking, but she refused to give in. she wanted to find the truth of her parents’ murder just as much as klavier and apollo did.

“i was upstairs at home when the... the murder happened.” it was her first time saying it out loud, and it felt strange. she swallowed the lump rising in her throat. “and i heard shouting from the street when i was trying to go to sleep. i was too tired to look out and see who it was, and i thought it was just the neighbours being noisy, but... when i was listening to the trial, i thought i’d heard miss lyre’s voice before, and then i remembered. i heard her shouting at someone.”

apollo jumped on this right away. “miss lyre! why did you conceal this from the court?!”

miss lyre was outraged, her face growing red under her pink sunhat. “you would believe the words of a child over me?!”

“with all due respect, fraulein lyre, fraulein grace has no reason to lie. her parents were murdered, and i, for one, think that she was very brave for coming up here to testify for us,” klavier said. grace didn’t understand why he was so composed, because as far as she could tell, his side was losing. in fact, he looked proud.

“either way, it appears that this requires further investigation. if what miss kang claims is true, then why were miss lyre and mr cent by the kang household that night? and why would miss lyre wish to lie if it could get her in trouble?” the judge said, picking up his gavel. “we will reconvene tomorrow and, hopefully, have answers to those questions. court is adjourned!”

the case was wrapped up fairly quickly the next day. miss lyre had lied because she had been planning to sneak into the kang household and take back some incriminating letters grace’s mother had found. jackino cent had been heading over to return something to grace’s father when he’d caught her, resulting in the argument. the murderer had been someone else entirely -- her parents’ boss, who had only planned to kill her father so he wouldn’t take over his position like the board had threatened he would. her mother had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

this, of course, came with conflicted emotions for grace. she was glad that her parents’ killer was caught, but it also cemented the fact that her parents were dead. they weren’t coming back. she had nowhere to go, no family left in the world. she was all alone.

it was only after it was all over and she was alone in the lobby that she let herself cry all over her best dress, using her hair to wipe away her tears, only for more to come streaming down. a few people walked by, but no one stopped to see what was wrong. they continued on their way with a mere glance, and sometimes not even that much.

“gracie! don’t cry! here’s a tissue!”

grace recognised the voice as mr hat’s, and she looked up to see him offering her a tissue. she smiled weakly through her tears and took it, blowing her nose loudly. she was sure she looked like a mess, but she didn’t care.

mr hat waved and trucy put him away, sitting beside her and placing a comforting hand on her back. “i know how it feels, okay?” she said quietly. “just let it all out.”

grace wondered just how trucy knew how it felt, but she didn’t have the courage to ask. she just nodded and continued to cry. it was five minutes later that klavier, apollo, and the yellow girl ( athena ) arrived.

“fraulein grace, what’s wrong?” klavier asked, kneeling in front of her.

grace sniffed. “i miss mummy and daddy!”

klavier’s smile was soft and sad, apollo wore a concerned frown, and athena looked just about ready to tear up herself. “there isn’t a person in this room who doesn’t know how you feel.”

so it wasn’t just trucy. everyone she had met in the past few days had someone close to them who had left somehow, whether it be by death taking them away or something else. as guilty as she felt for feeling this way, she was relieved that she wasn’t the only one.

apollo coughed and she looked up at him. “so, uh, klavier and i have been thinking... we know that you, um, don’t really have anywhere to go, so...”

“we were wondering if you’d like to come and live with us,” klavier finished once apollo had trailed off. “we don’t have any children, and we’d love to adopt a brave girl like you as our daughter. it’s all up to you, of course. there’s no pressure to accept, fraulein.”

grace felt her eyes sting yet again, but for a different reason this time. she pushed herself off her chair and dove into klavier’s arms, wrapping her arms around him as far as she could. she couldn’t form words, she was so happy. all that left her when she opened her mouth were loud sobs.

athena laughed. “that’s a yes.”