#alone in a room full of (rightfully) angry people

[nekrosmos]

My ability to calm people down in record time will never not be funny to me, useful skill to have in social work for sure

[klipgenie]

you should’ve never said yes.

summary: alhaitham was always distant and whenever he would come around, there would be arguments and tears shedded. Having you go to bed sad and angry— he said what others may have thought leaving you baffled and mute.

a/n: i love alhaitham sm but i feel like he’s just not as emotionally available as he convinces himself he is :(

warnings: angst with no comfort, fem reader. alhaitham acting like a bitchy teenage boy

hope you enjoy!!

tonight was another failed night as alhaitham promised to come home before dinner. But you cooked dinner 4 hours ago..it’s okay you thought, putting his dinner in the microwave.

his favorite meal was yours and that’s what really connected you two— a love for food and books. Sitting back on the couch wondering why..why must these people overwork alhaitham to the point where he has to book hotel rooms or sleep in his office. You were starting to get a little heartbroken and glum thinking that you’re marriage was just you being a neglected housewife— something you always feared as a little girl.

as you sit with your thoughts at the dinner table, the front door rightfully opens as an overfamiliar statureous shadow appears behind the door making its full appearance. you were staggered that he came home tonight..after so many weeks going on months of craving his warmth and to be near his vessel- he finally showed up.

with a desperate gasp you stumble out the chair to greet him— eradicating any unnecessary weight of clothes and hand items he was carrying. “i’ve missed you— oh! you’re food got cold but i’ll warm it up for you.” was all you said before rushing around the kitchen to satisfy you’re overworked..and ungrateful husband.

“are you going to eat?” you questioned nervously. Perched up beside your husband and agitatedly twisting your hair between your fingertips. with a sigh and a shake of his head “no” he gets up leaving for the bedroom. sitting there vague of his response you wait a few before following him to the bedroom where he’s rested. “what’s wrong alhaitham, you sure you don’t wanna eat or anything..you’ve been getting awfully thin-“ you softly spoke in a caring and motherly manner before being brutally cut off

“y/n! i’ll eat when i feel like it..now stop pestering me. do not start this today, i’m tired.” was all it took for you to muster up the daring sense to respond to his plea to be left alone.

“al haitham, have you no respect for the work i do as your wife?” you say now leaving the doorway of the bedroom strutting to the end of the bed where he lays. “all i do for you while you work and leave me alone!” you cry “i do not want to do this with you right now, i’m a busy man with a bunch of work to do. Who will pay the bills without a job like mines? surely not you.” alhaitham retaliates as your voice of nagger is too galling for him as you feast a tantrum about him.

taken aback you won’t settle down for nothing as you raise your voice at him, tired and holding back emotions and biting your tongue “i just want you to spend time with me and appreciate the things i do! is that to much to ask for?”

“yes! yes it is! is it to much to ask for when i beg the gods for you to leave me the hell alone?” that sentence alone cut deep into you like soft meat. leaving you there baffled and silent.

“you knew what the consequences were when you married me.”

with a scoff— coming back from your stillness “no, you did! you were the one that proposed” spitting out with a solemn expression “you should’ve never said yes.” took you took your breaking point as his words couldn’t shatter or break your heart as there was nothing left but sad matter. At this point, you both were shouting at each other like little kids.

Looking back at it now you’re reminiscing on if the argument or you begging and worrying about his well being wss worth it. You didn’t learn from the previous arguments, overthinking every word he said that slipped between his dull lips as you cry in your trembling hands.

[addictwoapen]

talking with grandma

i'm very lucky to have my grandma. She is my maternal grandmother, and we talk on the phone every two weeks. I call her when I go for a walk because I like her company. I ask her questions about her life, she is exactly 60 years and 12 days older than me. We are both Geminis with emerald birth stones, and when she passes her favorite emerald ring will go to me.

My grandmother is a very intelligent woman. She was married at 19 and had two kids within a few years. She has been widowed since I was five years old, and is a testament to the resilience of women. I don't remember my grandfather well, but she speaks of him so fondly, and he seemed to match her intellect so well. I only hope to find something like that some day.

While walking the other day, the subject turned (as it does often) to my dad (her son-in-law), and how I wish that he would heal from his trauma and let go of grudges. We talk about this often, because no on else in my family will listen when it comes to the issues my dad has.

Eventually, my grandmother says "it always astounded me how you could find a way to be out of the way whenever we needed you to be". She recalled the time my brother and I were rough housing and he fell onto our our chair in the living room, one with an old large nail sticking out, and cut his leg. My brother is autistic, and this was the first time he was going to need stitches, so my grandma took us to the emergency room and called my parents. She says I walked right over to the little coloring table full of kids and colored quietly in the corner.

Before my grandpa passed, he had had a stroke about 7 years prior, and so he struggled with mobility. Well one day he fell and it was pretty serious, but my grandma had to pick me up from daycare, and when we met the nurse back at her house, I walked to the kitchen, sat down, and started coloring.

She said "you were always so mature for your age". "you always knew, at a scarily young age, how to make things easier for other people".

In case you were wondering, I'm in graduate school to be a therapist.

"You were always a fixer", my dad explained to me weeks ago on a phone call when talking about me in high school.

Both of these phone calls make me sad. Because for years I was like that, and I think it made me angry and upset. I think my brother struggled with autism, and while he needed the attention and rightfully so, I felt like I had to be perfect just to make things easier for my parents. I don't want them to worry about me, because I had to go it alone for a majority of the life.

This was true when three close family members died within three years. This was true when my dad and his niece were not on speaking terms due to conditions of my paternal grandmother's will. This was true when I was depressed and had no friends.

I kept to myself because I didn't want to be the reason to cause any problems.

This was also true when I started having suicidal ideation. This was also true when I started cutting myself with a little shard of glass in seventh grade that I kept hidden in my window after a picture frame fell off my bookshelf.

My parents have no idea that these things were occurring. As far as they were concerned, I did well in school, I got good grades, I was a really good athlete, and I didn't get in trouble (unless you count refusing to eat my vegetables).

Finally in eighth grade, the mental illness was taking a toll on 13 year old me's body, and I was tired all the time. "Lethargy" they called it. I couldn't run for long periods of time, and my gym teachers noted that I struggled to have the energy to complete the daily warmups, which was strange for me since I was an athlete and played multiple sports at the time.

So, my parents took me to the doctor, and they ran a blood test. They suspected low iron, and that was unfounded. There was no issues with my thyroid despite the expansive family history of women who struggle with hypothyroidism. There was no explanation for my lethargy. So it stopped there.

No one asked how I was doing mentally (hint: not fine).

No one asked how I was handling the deaths of my aunt, then my beloved grandmother's dog, then both of my paternal grandparents (hint: also not fine).

No one asked me how my family was doing. With my dad's rage and both of my older brother's seclusion (hint: really not fine).

It's hard now as an adult to look over that and think "why did no one look out for me". "why did nobody think that I was worthy of attention and checking-in on?".

No wonder I became a fixer.

No wonder I'm a therapist.

[cozycrimesolving]

Trust (Jimmy Palmer x Reader oneshot)

I couldn't think of a better title oh no

Other relationships: Tony DiNozzo & Reader, Jethro Gibbs & Tony Dinozzo

Warning: Violence and slightly gruesome implications (nothing you wouldn't see/hear on the show), also some bits might not be super realistic and a little cliche but i mean they were fun to imagine lol Note: This is an AU where Tony's still a homicide detective and the reader is his partner. Everything else is pretty much the same. Set sometime around season 2 since Jimmy is working at NCIS. also, (F/N) = full name wheeew this one went on longer than I intended. hope you have fun! ------------------

THUD!

  Jimmy flinched and stared at the evidence that was slammed into the desk in front of him. The young detective across the table glared into his eyes and spread the pictures and info out for Jimmy to see. With all they had against him, Jimmy admitted to himself that it looked bad.

  “So, Jimmy Palmer,” the detective said. “I’m Detective Anthony DiNozzo. I’d say it’s a pleasure to meet you, but considering you killed a man, it’s really not. Now, it’s really late and I’d like to go home and catch an airing of Top Gun so let’s not waste time.”

  Jimmy recalled what Agent Gibbs told him. 

“Don’t say a word, Palmer!” Gibbs said, “When they say they can and will use anything you say against you, they mean it.” 

 “Using your right to remain silent, eh?” Detective DiNozzo asked. “Why don’t I go first then? It says here your occupation is… ah, right, you’re an autopsy gremlin. Bet that gives you a pretty good knowledge of the human body and ways to kill someone, doesn’t it, Palmer?” 

  Jimmy shifted in his seat as beads of sweat formed on his forehead. 

  “Did you get tired of the criminals who get to live? Decide to take matters into your own hands? Bet you just couldn’t take it when Dirk walked free after everything he did to those poor families. You were disgusted and angry, rightfully so I admit, but in a lapse of judgement,” Tony slammed his hands on the table and Jimmy near jumped out of his skin, “You grabbed him and cut into an artery with this!” 

    Jimmy couldn’t help but stare at the scalpel thrown in front of him. 

  “Was that your idea of justice, Palmer? Did you enjoy watching him bleed out until he crumbled in front of you like a dry twig?”

  Jimmy swallowed and forced himself to look anywhere but at Tony. Sick butterflies were swarming in his stomach, and he knew the color draining from his face wasn’t doing him any favors. He knew Gibbs would try his best to get him out of this, but with all the evidence, could Jimmy really blame him if things didn’t work out and Jimmy ended up in jail?

   Another startling thought occurred to him. If he did go to jail, could he even survive an hour, let alone however many years he was sentenced? What if he was put away for life? Isn’t it bad news if you’re law enforcement? What if his cellmate was someone he’d helped put away? What if all the people there were people he helped put away? What if he was executed!?

   Jimmy was snapped out of his thoughts when another detective entered the room and whispered something in Tony’s ear. Jimmy was mesmerized in an instant. He wasn’t sure if it was just his current lack of emotional stability, but he couldn’t help but stop and think she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Something about her very presence was comforting. 

   She must be the good cop, he thought, 

 DiNozzo sighed. “(Y/N), stay with this guy. I’ll take care of his boss.” 

   As Tony got up to leave, Jimmy couldn’t hide that he felt a bit relieved.

 “Hi. I’m Detective (F/N),” she said, “I’d like to ask you a few more questions while my partner talks to your boss.” When Jimmy said nothing, she continued, “Gibbs seems like an honorable man. If he trusts you, there must be something to it. Care to explain your side of the story, Mr. Palmer?”

   “Not a word!” Gibbs’ voice echoed in Jimmy’s mind. 

  “Uhm, well,” Jimmy heard himself say, “I, I-I had heard a commotion, and, uhm, when I got there, he- he was already stabbed. I-I only kneeled down to, to try and help him. That’s all! He was bleeding out, I had to do something.”

   (Y/N) raised an eyebrow as she looked into his eyes. Jimmy felt different butterflies in his stomach and scolded himself for having a crush at a time like this. 

  “You wanted to help him?”

 Jimmy, against the mini Gibbs’ protest in his head, replied, “See, uhm, I’m in med school and I-I wanna be a doctor. We, we don’t label our patients as ‘good guy’ or ‘bad guy’... A patient is a patient no matter who they are or what they’ve done.”

  The detective seemed to be considering his answer. “I see.” She bit her lip and studied the evidence in the table. Jimmy noticed a familiar look of doubt and hesitation on her face, one he often wore at work despite Doctor Mallard’s reassurance that his input mattered. Then, that look was replaced by one of shock as she stopped at one of the crime scene photos.  

  Wow, her eyes were breathtaking.

  “Call me crazy,” she whispered, “but… I think I believe you.”

———————

  Meanwhile, Tony came face to face with an angry, silver-haired man at the front desk. Tony introduced himself and decided to go straight to business. “Sir-“

 “Special Agent Gibbs, NCIS. Naval Criminal Investigative Service. I want my man released,” the older man said before Tony could finish.

 “Well, ‘Special Agent Gibbs’, I’m sure as a navy cop you’ve got good judgement but I’m not releasing your man just because you ask. I want to see his innocence in big blinking letters.” Tony made what he thought to be blinking motions with his hands. “As much as I respect a brother in law enforcement, I can’t ignore that my gut tells me your guy is involved somehow.”

   Gibbs seemed almost amused. “Oh yeah, Detective?”

  “Yeah, and your guy isn’t going to be released until we can figure out just what it is he knows, so you can march yourself on out of here and let the ‘little guys’ handle this. I don’t think this quite counts as your jurisdiction anyways.”

  Gibbs didn’t answer right away. Tony could read a hint of concern on the man’s face as he stared past him, toward where Jimmy was held. “Your gut telling you he’s guilty?”

  It was Tony’s turn to take a moment to answer. “If he’s innocent, I’ll make sure the kid gets back to you, I promise.”

   There it was again, something that seemed like amusement in the older man’s eyes. Tony didn’t know what to make of it. 

 “You keep him safe, DiNozzo,” Gibbs said. “He’s a good kid.”

    ———————

  “You- you believe me?” Jimmy asked with hopeful eyes. 

  (Y/N) bit her lip in concentration again. She squinted at something in one of the photos, then looked over Jimmy’s personal file. “We may have overlooked something when we arrested you. You were pretty distracting,” she thought out loud as her lack of experience in interrogations began to show.

  Jimmy felt flustered. He didn’t hear much of what she said for the next few seconds. A beautiful woman found him distracting? He knew what she really meant by that and shuddered to remember the girlish screams he had made during the arrest, but he also knew he was crushing hard and that meant his intelligence was dropping fast. “You can’t have a schoolboy crush on someone who’s about to arrest you, Palmer!” Gibbs shouted in his head. “If I could slap your head I would!”

  “Oh, I don’t doubt it,” Jimmy said out loud without thinking.

  (Y/N) looked up. “Pardon?”

  “Uhm!” Jimmy felt his face flush. “I-I- th- uh-“ he tried to get his dumb, mouth to speak, “No- uhm- what, what were you saying?”

 Jimmy heard the cutest soft giggle he’d ever heard. “I was saying I noticed how many cases you helped close already and I was impressed by your career?”

   Jimmy died a little. He must have looked like an arrogant fool. “Oh! Uhm!”

   She smiled, “don’t worry, I could tell you spaced out. I think you may be innocent.”

  “What- why?”

  “Well, call it a stretch, but you’re right-handed, and his injury looks more consistent with a left-handed assailant. Plus, you just…” She paused and looked him in the eye. He felt like he was gonna melt into a puddle. “You don’t have the eyes of a man who just killed someone.”

   Jimmy sputtered out gibberish. Before he could say actual words, Tony swung the door open.

 “(Y/N), let’s talk,” Tony said and nodded towards the hall behind him. 

  (Y/N) offered Jimmy a small, apologetic smile and followed Tony outside. As soon as the door closed behind them, Jimmy let his face hit the table with a soft thud in exasperation.

————————

 “What do you think?” Tony asked once they were alone.

 (Y/N) considered her answer. “He didn’t do it. If he has any involvement, it’s not intentional on his part.”

 Tony sighed. (Y/N) could tell he had more to say, but instead he studied the floor. He leaned back against the wall and stayed in thought for a moment. “Okay,” he said with a light shrug. “What do you think we should do?”

  The younger detective’s eyes widened. “You’re asking me?”

 “Well,” Tony said with a small grin, “you are my partner. As much as I like working solo, when you have a team, you work as a team. You haven’t bounced an idea around in a while and any good detective needs experience. So, what do you think we should do?”

  “I don’t, I don’t know. Did you talk to his boss?”   Tony didn’t miss the deflection, but he still answered, “Yep. Says he’s a good kid. I see it too, but unless we can prove otherwise, I don’t think ‘he’s a good kid’ is gonna work any wonders with a judge.” (Y/N) nodded. “Good point.” She paused for a moment, gathering her thoughts. “ Actually, I did see something… it’s not much, but I noticed that the victim's injuries are consistent with a left-handed suspect, not right-handed. Palmer’s right-handed. Also, I studied the crime scene photos and there's some things I want to double check on.”

Tony nodded, “Good enough for me. We can go check it out now.”

 “Shouldn’t one of us stay with the suspect?” (Y/N) asked.

 “I’m sure we’ll be in and out, and is he really a flight risk? I mean, kid seems too scared to move. Even if he did, I think he'd be comparable to Bambi.” He shrugged and began to walk away. “You can check on him. I’ll meet you in the car. Could ya bring the copies of the photos?”

(Y/N) realized her hands were empty. “Oh! I left them in the interrogation room! I’ll be right back.”

 “Hey, (Y/N),” Tony said as he stopped and turned around. “I just want you to know trust you, okay? I want to hear from you, and you're a good partner. I know your history and I also know that you’re a good cop. If you need time, then fine, go take time, but if you’re gonna keep being my partner, try to make it a team effort, ‘kay? Throw your ideas around like uh…” He turned again to go, but didn’t leave before finishing with, “like stories at a campfire!”   - - - - - Jimmy’s head was still on the table when (Y/N) walked back in. “Mr. Palmer?”

 He jumped in his seat and lifted his head to see the young detective. “It’s okay! I never get sick! I was only on the table for a second, I’ll take vitamins!” “Excuse me?”

 Jimmy was screaming inside. “S-Sorry, no, I meant, uh, I’m ready for more, um, interrogation!” “I’m actually just here to grab these files. Shouldn’t have left them here in the first place.”   “Uh, let me help!” Though still handcuffed, Jimmy reached for the files and attempted to scoop them up for her, which of course ended up in him dropping the files and then trying to pick them up off the floor. Despite (Y/N) saying it really was fine, he still tried and in all the fuss, he hit his head on the table. With a short cry and a hiss he dropped all the papers and winced. (Y/N) winced with him, “Are you okay? I can get ice from the break room.”

  “No no no no no,” he said, “That’s, that’s fine! Just a little bump. Maybe a bruise. Nothing, nothing serious!” “If you’re sure,” (Y/N) said. “Would you like me to at least uncuff you? I don’t think you’re a danger, except maybe to the table.”

  And to my own pride, Jimmy groaned in his thoughts. “Uhm, yeah, sure. Thanks.”

  (Y/N) slipped a key out of her pocket and walked to his side of the table. She came closer. Jimmy felt himself blushing again as he felt her smaller, gentle hands on his large shaky ones. His gaze then found her face and it wasn’t long until he was lost in her eyes again. For a few sweet seconds, he forgot he’d been arrested and couldn’t stop a huge goofy grin from spreading on his face. 

  “There,” she said. “I’ll be back.”

  “Wait, Detective, can I say something?” Jimmy asked before he knew what he was doing.

  She stopped and looked back at him. “Yes?”

 “Um, thank you. Thank you for believing me. I, I feel better knowing that, that a good detective like, li-like you is trying to help me. I really do.”

  Jimmy noticed a hint of a smile on her face and the faintest blush on her cheeks. 

 “I’ll do my best.” 

———————

  It had all happened so fast. (Y/N) shrank behind a wall and noted in dismay that she only had two shots left. Should’ve reloaded when I had the chance, she scolded herself. Heavy footsteps began to approach her and she felt panic rise inside her chest.

  “Hey,” Tony whispered beside her. “You’re gonna be fine.”

 “Tony,” she all but begged, “Don’t do anything stupid. I’m sorry I got us in this mess.”

  The footsteps drew nearer.

  “Look at me.”

  (Y/N) looked at her partner. Despite the quick first aid, his arm still bled from being grazed by a bullet. She knew there was no way they could’ve known the actual murderer would be crazy enough to show up at the crime scene so soon, but somehow she still felt guilty. For a few seconds, it wasn’t Tony she saw bleeding out in front of her. The world started to get blurry. 

  “(Y/N)!” Tony called in a harsh whisper. “(Y/N)! I’m okay! I’m okay! You’re not gonna lose me too. I don’t regret trusting you and neither did your old partner, but I need you to stay with me, okay? You can do this, trust me.”

  She opened her eyes again. Just before the murderer rounded the corner, (Y/N) heard another voice in her mind.

   “Um, thank you. Thank you for believing me. I, I feel better knowing that, that a good detective like, li-like you is trying to help me. I really do.” 

   BANG!

   (Y/N) rose back to the top of her game and jumped in front of Tony just in time. She landed her two shots and the suspect fell to the ground in a heap, crazed eyes wide. 

  (Y/N) panted. She began to feel cold and dizzy and her stomach hurt. 

 Tony reached out to catch her before she hit the ground. “(Y/N)! (Y/N) you’re gonna be okay!” He wasted no time in calling an EMT. However, he knew that they could very well be too late. Despair twisted his gut.

 “D-Detective!?” Another voice called.

 Tony’s head shot up to see Jimmy Palmer and his boss running towards them. There was no time to question it. “(Y/N)’s shot bad!” His eyes begged them for help before his mouth needed to.

  Gibbs nodded, “Palmer, you stay here. I’ll grab the kit!”

  Jimmy shifted gears and focused on (Y/N)‘s injuries. “Bullet went through?”

  Tony nodded.

 “Okay, we need to apply pressure,” Jimmy said, his voice almost devoid of emotion as he focused. He slipped off his shirt without a thought and pressed it against her abdomen. Tony put his sweater on the exit wound. 

  When Gibbs came back with a med kit, Jimmy did everything he could to keep (Y/N) afloat until she could be taken to a hospital. “You’ll be okay,” he whispered, “I-I promise I’m doing everything I can. Please just hold on, okay?”

  “Mhmm,” (Y/N) slurred.

  While Jimmy tended to (Y/N), Gibbs looked at Tony. “You good?”

 “It’s just a graze,” Tony muttered. “He better save my partner. She’s a good kid too.”

  Gibbs nodded. Sirens blared in the distance. “She’ll be alright.”

  ———————

  Days later, (Y/N) woke up to a knock at her hospital room’s door. “Yeah, come in,” she called to the best of her ability. 

  The first thing she noticed when her visitor walked in was familiar brown curls. Jimmy held a fluffy teddy bear up for her to see. “The-the uh, the gift shop was kinda limited,” he said, “this was the best I could do.”

 “You didn’t have to,” she said, though she accepted the bear with a smile. “And you didn’t have to keep visiting.”

Jimmy paused just as a nurse walked in to check on (Y/N)'s vitals. It didn't take long to do, but even in that little time and, the nurse caught the quick glances between the two and sensed there was something being left unsaid.

“Honey,” the nurse said, “your boyfriend here has been asking and asking about you and has been nothing but sweet to everyone here. You found yourself a devoted and kind man. Just thought you should know.”

   Jimmy felt his face go bright red. 

 “Oh, he’s not…” (Y/N) blushed as well, “we’re not together.”

  The nurse smiled as she finished up. “Well you better act fast then before someone steals your chance.”

  A short but awkward silence followed after the nurse left. 

 “Uh... Tony told me what happened,” (Y/N) said after the awkwardness died down. “Thank you for doing what you did for me.”

  “Oh, um, don’t mention it! I’m just glad you’re okay.” 

   (Y/N) offered him a grateful smile. Jimmy’s heart felt like it was going to explode. 

  “When, when you, uh, get out of here,” he rushed to say, “would you, maybe, uh, maybe, do you wanna go… hang out with me?” He winced at how lame he thought he sounded.

  (Y/N) smile never dropped. “I think I’d like that, Jimmy.”

  He loved the way his name sounded from her mouth. He couldn’t help the huge smile that spread on his face. 

  “(Y/N), you’re awake again!” Tony called from behind Jimmy. “Good to see you, kid.”

  “You too. I’m glad you’re okay.” She waved to Tony, despite the pain that came from the movement. As she watched her partner wave back, she noticed someone behind him. “Tony, is that Agent Gibbs?”

   “Ah.” Tony turned around to glance at Gibbs and nodded. “Yeah… there’s something I need to talk to you about.” He looked at Jimmy. “Mind if I have a more private word with my partner?”

   Jimmy shook his head. “Go ahead. I’ll, uhm, get out of your way.”

(Y/N) and Jimmy exchanged one more glance that lingered longer than either of them would care to admit.

   Once Jimmy left, Tony sat himself down on a couch held up his hands to motion as he talked. “You were right, you know. About the M.E. kid? He was used as a cover. The murder weapon was from a dissection kit we found in the bushes and fingerprints and DNA proved the kid's innocence. Palmer really fancies you, and not without reason." Tony paused to let (Y/N) soak the information. He had to stifle a laugh when he saw the gears turn and she became visibly sheepish at that last sentence he uttered. "Shucks, Tony," (Y/N) joked. "Anyway, ‘Special Agent Gibbs’ said he was impressed with both of us. So impressed, in fact,” Tony said as he slipped out a piece of paper from his jacket, “that he’s offered us a job.”

   (Y/N)’s eyes went wide. “Both of us?”

  “I couldn’t leave my partner now, could I?” Tony flashed a signature grin as (Y/N) stared in disbelief. “You wanna be a navy cop with me? All you gotta do to seal the deal is sign, apparently. Oh, and hey, Palmer works there.” 

   A light blush spread on (Y/N)’s cheeks. “Okay? Why do you mention that?”

  The knowing twinkle in Tony’s eyes was impossible to miss. “Oh, I think you know.”

[ooooo-mcyt]

For real though watching yhs has lead me to the conclusion that despite Grian seemingly has such an active fight instinct....most of the time he actually doesnt respond to situations with half the fight attributed to him.

When faced with a traumatic situation Grian will absolutely bare his teeth at the nearest threat. He's absolutely vitriolic towards Sam at all times without fail and has even initiated physical violence in their confrontations once or twice. He's often on edge, often quick to angry outbursts, just overall rather hostile when faced with a dangerous/frightening/harmful situation. Which definitely indicates his main response to these scenarios is to fight. Hard.

However the more I engaged with fanon the more I faltered. A lot of fanon does portray him as very hostile in the face of trouble. Which should make sense. Canonically Grian knows when to say no, when to argue, and even sometimes when to physically fight back. Any episode with Grian present will likely have examples of him pushing back against harmful situations. And yet something always feels very Off about that being the start and end of it in a lot of fanon. Which led me down an interesting line of thinking.

I honestly suspect that Grian's volatility and will to fight back isn't nearly as strong as one would believe from observing him on surface level. In fact, his on the surface hostility feels like it's borderline a facade altogether to be honest.

I mean look at examples throughout canon of Grian in distressing situations.

Yhs halloween episode. The one where Taurtis got stabbed. And the following situation where Grian is famously forced to dress up like Taurtis. Grian would later be very upset about Sam stabbing Taurtis, however his initial response was to nervously laugh and even give Sam appeasing praise. I mean, Grian says "you weren't supposed to stab him" pretty clearly, but he anxiously laughs before and afterwards and even tells Sam he's proud of him when prompted. Obviously Grian was very upset about the whole thing later on after taking Taurtis to the hospital however in the moment he's mostly silent and when he's not he's just nervously laughing throughout, even agreeing with whatever *Sam* says when he's outright prompted by name for an opinion, then when everyone else tries to play it off casually Grian actually goes along with it almost entirely, even agreeing to let Taurtis drive him home for some reason. Then, according to his own story, he had an opportunity to talk to police at the hospital and he didn't incriminate Sam. He knew they were supicious of *him* but he still didn't incriminate the actual killer. "I told them I found him like that" Grian alleged. Honestly it sounds like he didn't tell them much of *anything* before being released and making the walk back to meet Sam. The next morning Grian was significantly more vocally upset about Taurtis being stabbed and expressed being upset with Sam however he seemed significantly more anxious than he was angry throughout the interaction. Then Grian immediately pretty readily agreed to go with Sam and Yuki to school and willingly put on the Taurtis outfit before the other's even started with the threats in the name of making things 'less awkward'. He certainly objected, however he was once again a lot more anxious than angry, nervously laughing, coming up with really weak unimportant excuses, and agreeing within ten seconds of being asked. Pretty much the rest of his time dressed as Taurtis goes very similarly. He objects to most things he's told to do and brings up Sam stabbing Taurtis multiple times despite the other's not wanting him to but is primarily nervous rather than hostile and he never actuslly puts up enough resistence for it to stick. Even when the other's were stuffing plastic down his throat and he told them he thought it may kill him Grian still did it and told the other's he *liked* it when pushed. Eventually he got out of it by running on Rowan's command and no sooner than being told to get out of there. When Sam found him again Grian immediately even reverted back to doing as he was told and cowering away from him in obvious fear up until Okami and Rowan showed up and shoved Grian behind them. Then he *still went home that night* knowing Sam would be there. When they found Taurtis it was pretty clear that Grian was hoping Taurtis would help him once he got his memory back however when instructed to stop telling Taurtis who he was Grian for the most part did aside from subtle pushing about the familiarity of certain things and then later when Taurtis got his memory back and made it pretty clear he wasn't going to help Grian? Grian conceded. He spent a good few minutes arguing about everything he'd gone through- everything they both had- and insisting it wasn't okay but when Taurtis made it pretty clear he wasn't going to do anything and they collectively agreed Grian was the real problem? Grian kinda...stopped. When Taurtis made it clear he wasn't going to be helping, Grian just kinda fell back into their normal routine with the other's, and when Sam demanded an 'apology soda' from Grian for what he'd apparently done, Grian bought it for him saying "If that's what it takes for things to go back to normal".

Let's also look at Grian's involvement with the law during/shortly-after the Halloween situation. When Sam and Yuki dragged him to join the Yakuza he was upset and objected anxiously but caved as soon as he got pushback. When Sam wanted to steak from the Yakuza he once again got objections from Grian who nervously insisted that it was a terrible idea but once again Sam shoved aside Grian's complaints and once again Grian just kinda fell into place despite being upset. When the police also started threatening the trio's lives to work for them, Grian objected. He questioned if they were allowed to do that and was very openly not happy about any of it, however he very quickly submitted under pressure. Both times Grian was locked in solitary confinement he loudly protested his sanity and both times he voiced how disturbing it was on a really deep level being locked up like that but both times when he was let out he just went with the other two again and let them brush it all off- even knowing full well they let him out to be *death fodder*. He just went with them relatively quietly save for maybe a token remark or two. Honestly the large majority of this bs Grian was involved with was under physical threat and he almost always bent under it. Even down to his fight with Pie over Ellen. Pie showed up and started challenging their relationship. Sam, Taurtis, and Yuki insisted they have a knife fight. Grian said *no*. Pie said yes. Sam, Taurtis, and Yuki affirmed there would be a knife fight. Grian objects more. Everyone else present discusses how the knife fight will work. Grian gets stabbed. Grian suggests they just ask Ellen who they want to date *obviously*. Ellen chooses nobody and leaves. Grian was upset but then just kinda accepts it and goes on with what the whole group was doing before.

And just to round this out with one more example. The Starwars Cosplay Incident. Apparently Sam burst into Grian's room, undressed him, shoved him into Leia Cosplay complete with fake boobs, and locked him in the basement for three days. Grian sits there for three days until Taurtis rescues him.  Grian has a moment of being rightfully very angry and finally even tries to physically attack Sam, demanding to know if Taurtis is aware of what Sam did to him and insisting that they can't expect everything to be fine now. Except it kinda...was. Taurtis stopped Grian from attacking Sam, they both brushed it off as a joke and not a big deal, and then they went to school. And Grian just *went*. He walked with the other two, he wore the outfit Sam put him in, and he just kinda moved on. Grian would later object when the clones tried to pull him out of class, snapping that he just wants to learn and get an education like a normal person and demanding to know why he's not allowed to. But he goes! And when he's released he walks right back to Sam and Taurtis, makes some bitter remarks to them, and let's them shove it all aside as if it's unimportant. Later when it's Grian, Sam, and a member of school staff alone in the closet, some innapropriate remarks are made to Grian. He very quickly says he's reporting the remarks made by school staff but Sam tells him not to be rude and it doesn't seem Grian ever does. Later on when Geode makes a comment about Grian's outfit as well Sam and Taurtis start pondering *giving* Grian to them. Grian repeatedly said *no* but with a lot more despair than defiance and we don't even know if he'd have actually followed through with fighting back if they'd tried to actually give him away because they were interrupted before the situation got to that point. Grian once again just let the other's move on as if that didn't happen and continued following them around, though! And he wore that damn outfit he was very explicitly uncomfortable with. All day.

Which is kinda all to say that when it comes to fighting back Grian is a lot more bark than bite.

Grian throws out a lot of bitter remarks, makes his objections very apparent in most things, and even has more than one vitriolic rant to his abuser(s) throughout the series. But that layer of his responses to things is so fragile that it tends to fall away within minutes- if that, sometimes *seconds*.

Of course ive seen other people take note of this and argue that it means Grian actually *wants* to do these thingd he's objecting to but I think that's silly. If it were just things like group crime or violent acts then id possibly see it but Grian puts up the same kind of response to having plastic shoved down his throat and to being locked in the basement for days which there's no way in hell he was any kind of okay with. The more likely scenario here isn't that he secretly wanted to do any of these things and made his resistence weak so he could pretend he tried while still doing it.

The likely scenario here is that his fight response is much more for show than one would think. Because Grian's strongest most influential response to things really never seems to be to fight. Aggression is really hardly Grian's overall stance on handling a distressing situation.

Much more frequently you see the most influence coming from completely other instinctive responses.

Looking for outside help in adults, friends, and classmates like when Okami and Rowan protected him during his time dressed as Taurtis or when Grian tried desperately to get Taurtis to be on his side and help him after Sam seriously hurt him both when Taurtis first got his memory back after Halloween and when Taurtis found Grian in the basement during the Starwars Cosplay Incident, hell, even during his fight with Pie it can be argued that Grian calling for them to just ask Ellen was an appeal to outside help as he hoped Ellen would agree to end the fight and save him from the situation as a result.

Running away- or trying to at least- from the threat. Most notably seen back during the halloween incident when he quite literally ran out the back of the gym and hid from Sam+Yuki then hiding behind Okami and Rowan when they showed up in an attempt to flee from Sam which is how he got away from the other's at all during that situation. Grian's consistent need to exclaim every so often how much he wants to go back to Europe is a subtler example of this, though, of Grian's urge to get away.

Honestly though being quiet and moving as he's directed seems to be the most common winning response. You see little sparks of reaction from him but most of the time Grian is just quiet, nervously laughing, following Taurtis and Sam around in what they ask of him, and even outright appeasement strategies to maintain a calm environment. This is So common from Grian. This is what usually wins out. His quiet nervous laughter and agreeing with Sam when Taurtis is first stabbed. The fact that he didn't tell the police what Sam did when alone with them during questioning and then immediately walked to meet up with Sam and went to school with Sam+Yuki with literally no objections. The fact that he didn't say no like *at all* to putting on the Taurtis outfit in the name of not making things awkward and complied within seconds of first being asked. How he proceeded to do what he was asked all day and didn't make any move to get away until Rowan outright instructed him to run. The fact that he went back! The fact that he went along with it when they joined the Yakuza and when they stole from the Yakuza and when they joined up with the cops and when they *forced him into a knife fight*. How Grian eventually just lost his spark of defiance after Taurtis first got his memories back and made it clear he wasn't helping Grian, with Grian agreeing to buy Sam a fucking *apology soda* if it meant things would go back to normal after hearing everyone else agree that *he* was the problem in all he'd been put through. The way he just goes back to following Sam and Taurtis after they got him locked in solitary confinement on blatant lies because they *wanted* to. The way he walks around school with the other two while wearing cosplay that made him feel gross and uncomfortable that Sam had literally physically forced onto him and just went along with what he was told in the end.

Grian always puts up a fight but not a good one. He makes side comments, he makes objections, he even has more than one emotional rant about the hell he's put through, however this never wins out in the end and this presenting fight is very frequently just barely holding down much stronger freeze and fawn instincts that usually win out pretty damn quick.

Which!!! In a situation like Grian's it actually makes significantly more sense to have strong freeze and fawn responses than to have a strong fight response! I mean, think about it. A fight response is primarily useful in scenarios in which it's possible to take strong action to remove the threat. You're attacked by a dog so you throw stuff at it till it backs away. You're picked on by an upperclassman so you punch em' in the nose expecting fully that they'll leave you be after. Someone attacks you while you're walking home so you try and stab them with your key. Fighting is an incredibly good response for random/one time attacks. If you're ever kidnapped you wanna scream and punch and kick and make a scene so they can't take you to a secondary location. You fight. Fighting is optimal for unexpected stranger conflicts. That's not the situation Grian's in though. Grian suffers from serious long term physical, emotional, and financial abuse. He's in a country he doesn't have residency or family in, he doesn't have a readily available source of income, he doesn't have his own mode of transportation, it seems that most of the time he doesnt have a clear way home, he's often dealing with long term friends of his and seemingly his biggest source of support prior to this situation, even back in Europe he doesn't have much support system to run to given his parents canonically left him, he's frequently under threat of physical danger, etc. This is not the kind of situation in which an intense primary fight response helps. This is the type of situation in which an intense primary fight response either gets you seriously hurt or wandering the streets with no way to provide for yourself. It would likely be similar if he presented an intense primary flight response to be honest. In long term abuse situations where there's no rational way of escaping safely or no rational place to escape to? Often the primary responses that promote survival are fawn and freeze. Appeasing the aggressor or sinking into the background. Those are your ways to stay alive when you can't expect to 'win' or escape. It absolutely makes more sense for Grian to have primary fawn and freeze responses than a primary fight response.

But then why does he present so much hostility? What's with all the bitter remarks and the attempts to voice objections and the occasional overt insults/screaming? How does a fawn/freeze response present as fight when first pressed at?? Well fun fact, I have experience with that kind of presentation because I *was* that kind of presentation. Oh boy did I try to push strong fight responses towards my abusive father with token resistences and petty remarks even though most of the time I crumpled under the slightest pressure and spent my time ignoring the problem or dissociating or trying very hard to avoid future conflicts. You put up a token front of fight even if that's never going to be your primary response for the sake of your own mental health, really. To assure the world- and *you*- knows that you don't *want* this situation. So you can say you tried. Out of some misguided hope that your attempted bravado won't be seen through and that maybe this time they'll just stop pushing instead of calling the bluff. Which. Makes sense with Grian as well. I mean looking at the times he really truly goes off before reverting back to a more appeasing stance, most notably his rants from when Taurtis first got his memory back as well as from when he got out of the basement during the Starwars Cosplay Incident. Most of those rants were taken up by Grian loudly and passionately reiterating what he'd been through, insisting he was the victim, and calling Sam an awful person before the defiance fades out and he becomes more willing to just go about their day. It's one attempted push hoping the other parties present will vie in his favour and a reassertion that he's not okay with this and that *he* is being hurt which gives way within minutes to a much duller attitude. That's just a painfully familiar format. Adding on Grian's token objections/passive aggressive remarks to many situations that distress him and how quickly those objections give way as dismissed by others. That kind of behaviour feels strongly like an attempt to preserve your own mental wellbeing as much as possible with the knowledge that you tried to some extent and with just generally hearing out loud that you are the victim even if from yourself. Grian's behaviour just really feels like a facade of defiance to cover up general helplessness which makes a Lot of sense for the scenario. Probably more than just plain defiance would.

[doveypink]

come and find me [technoblade imagine]

summary: techno faces the consequences of your death. word count: 5.4k warnings: mentions of death, violence. a/n: this is a sequel to the one i left behind; read that first![ tag list: @shu5h @sylum @zefrenchturtle ]

Time is a tricky thing. It is insistent, always rushing forward without fail and unforgiving to those swept away in its tide. On occasion, though, time is a gentle monster; it takes you in its arms and kisses your head, lays you gently in the waves, and carries you to shore.

Time was not so kind to Technoblade. 

Following the death of his friend, the archer, time became his enemy. Each day thereafter was a living hell full of tsunamis and stormy seas that bellowed within. The voices in his head used to sound like a low hum, the soft slap of waves in the back of his mind. Now, they were as loud as ever; if he didn’t catch himself in time, Techno would be overcome by the crashing waves and the tumultuous ocean inside his head.

“You have that look again,” Phil said softly from across the room. Techno’s eyes jumped to meet Phil’s, no longer burning holes into the wooden planks of the floor. 

“You keep saying that like I know what it means,” Techno griped, instantly feeling sorry at the sight of Phil’s frown. The older man sighed and stepped towards his friend, taking a seat next to him.

“I know it’s difficult right now. That’s an understatement, clearly, but you saw what happened with Wilbur and I,” Phil explained, a cloudy look in his eyes. “It’s not easy to be asked to do something like that. All we can do is hope that it was for the best and carry on.”

The voices swarmed more powerfully in Techno’s head. He knew it was wrong to feel so angry at Phil for trying to comfort him, but it didn’t seem fair. Wilbur was Phil’s son, yes, but their bond was nothing like the one Techno had with his friend. The rage, the emptiness, the carelessness that Technoblade was experiencing reached heights that no person could begin to understand. The pain was his alone to carry.

Phil took note of Techno’s silence and gave his arm a gentle pat. “I’m here if you ever need anything,” he said. The man stood and padded out of the room to leave Techno on his own, his gaze turned back to the wooden planks. 

Techno often wondered about you at times like this, when he found himself boiling in his own rage without someone to level him. Funnily enough, you weren’t much different from him in your anger; you would grit your teeth and quietly stare at some spot in the corner or keep your hands busy with anything you could find until you would tire yourself out. He wished he could see you now or hear your voice to remind him to calm down. He knew you were still around as a ghost, but your presence didn’t ease him as it once did. Nowadays, the thought of you only filled him with guilt, and his heart felt hollow without you around. It was hard to even look you in the eyes anymore.

“Techno?”

As if summoned by his own thoughts, you appeared in the window of the cabin. Your hands were cupped against the glass as you peered in comically, your eyes squinted as you struggled to see through the foggy glass. Techno glanced at you and sighed, rising from his chair to let you in; he tried ignoring you once, but it resulted in you attempting to climb through his window, so he always welcomed you in. Technoblade swung the door open and you jumped into view, cheerful as ever. 

“Techno! I’ve been looking for you!”

“Looking for me?” the man wondered, crossing his arms. “I’m always here.”

“I know, I just got a little lost again,” you said sheepishly, wringing your hands. Techno stepped aside to let you in, foolishly wondering for a moment if he should let you borrow his cloak to keep warm. It would change nothing, of course; you were a ghost, the cold didn’t bother you. It was funny in some awful, convoluted way how often Techno forgot that you were dead. As a ghost, you would come and go at random, yet your presence hung over him like storm clouds. You were everywhere, bouncing around behind his eyes and throughout the cabin: all the books on the shelves you never read, the letters with your handwriting strewn across the desk, the scratches in the floorboards from when you dragged your chair. They were reminders of you, as if he could possibly forget. 

“Don’t you have the compass Phil gave you?” Techno asked, referring to an enchanted compass which directed you to the cabin. Phil had given it to you during your last visit, much to Techno’s disapproval; he hated seeing you like this. It’s like you were a new person entirely, a stranger that wore your skin, but your soul had been exchanged for something else. He wasn’t sure who you were anymore, and every voice in his head argued that this was his own fault.

“I gave it to Ranboo,” you replied, fiddling with your sleeve. “He needs it more than I do, doesn’t he?”

“It was a gift for you,” Techno griped. “You can’t just give it away. Who knows what people could do if they had a direct line to us? Too many know where we are as it is.”

“I thought you wouldn’t mind. Ranboo basically lives here now.”

“Well, you were wrong.” Despite the warmth of the cabin, a chill seemed to run through the room as Techno stared coldly at his friend. He wasn’t sure why this angered him so much; realistically, he knew that what you had done was a smart idea. Ranboo lived just nearby Techno and Phil’s cabin, and with his memory issues, it wasn’t safe for him to wander aimlessly through the cold. Still, something about the way you could give such a tool away hurt him more than he cared to admit. He didn’t even want you around—he could hardly stand having to look at your ashen skin, and hearing your voice made his heart shake with grief—so why did he care?

You frowned, taking a small step forward to place a hand on your friend’s shoulder. Techno flinched at the contact, alarmed by the deadly cold that seeped through his cape. Up close, you could feel it: Techno was alive, yet the dark chill of death seemed to bound itself to him like a shadow. This was your influence; the bitterness that you rarely saw in him during your living days was an arrow, and you were its target. 

“I know you don’t want me here. I can see it,” you said. Techno’s eyes widened slightly as you continued. “You look at me like—like I’m a stranger, but you’re searching for someone else. I know you can’t help it and neither can I, but I want to be that person so bad. I want to be what I’m supposed to be, but I don’t know how. I just miss feeling normal. I miss you.”

Techno swallowed thickly, averting his eyes. “I don’t think I can help you,” he admitted, taking a step towards the cabin door. He felt the cold air press against the wood and pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders. “Whatever reassurance you need, I can’t give that to you. And you can’t come here haunting the place until I do, either. I don’t need ghosts.”

“But you… You’ll still let me visit, won’t you?” You asked quietly.

The man seemed taken aback by your question. He seemed to consider it for a moment before responding, his voice not quite as frostbitten as moments earlier: “You can always visit.”

It was strange how suddenly Techno seemed like himself again. The winter froze him over, encasing all the warmth you could recall from when you were alive, but now the ice shuddered and cracked. The guilt that he had grown accustomed to merged with a longing he had been afraid to feel; he missed you, he missed every second that you weren’t around, and he hated himself for it. It was a selfish thought to want you here when he was the one who tore you away from the life you once clung to. It was selfish to want something good when all he seemed to do was snuff out any glimpse of light that came his way.

You smiled, albeit dolefully, and glanced around the room. You noticed a sheen of silver hanging on the wall and, propped against the wall, was a quiver of arrows—the same weapon you had found in the rubble of L’Manburg. The item you had once cherished no longer served a purpose to you, so you gifted them to Technoblade on your first visit postmortem. It surprised you that he accepted the gift in the first place, given that he seemed completely unnerved with your presence, so it was odd to see it displayed on the wall where all could see. It reminded you of an urn, a tangible indication of someone lost. 

You weren’t sure how you felt by the sight of the item; were you meant to be flattered? Offended? The experiences that followed your death were far more puzzling than the ones you had in your life. When you were alive, you developed how to think and feel through socializing—your life was nurtured, guided along by those you met. In death, however, you were isolated. Techno already said it: he didn’t need ghosts, no one did. No living person wanted to face the dead because they were busy with the troubles of their lives, and rightfully so. Still, it was lonely to be dead. There was nothing that could teach you how to live in shadow, nobody to hold your hand and tell you that you would be alright. Death stole you right when you thought you would have survived to see the day, made a fool by hope, and your only friend was left to see the sun rise without you. This was it, this was the cruel joke nature played on the wanderers of the earth: to live and watch those you love die, or to die and watch those you love live. 

Your gaze was pulled from the sharp curve of steel and you headed to the door. “I should leave you, now. I didn’t mean to…” Uncertainty crossed your features and you gestured your hands through the air to fill in the blank. 

Techno seemed to understand, nodding as he reached to open the door for you. It was a quiet goodbye as you slipped into the snow, only turning back to wave at your friend as his cabin shrank in your view. The man stood in the doorway until you were a speck in the distance, a stir in his heart which rushed through him like a cold breeze. You would return.

* * * * *

“What do you know about necromancy, Phil?”

The older man looked up from his book. His eyes narrowed at his pink friend and held a look of disapproval. “Whatever you’re thinking, don’t.”

Techno frowned, crossing his arms. “What? I barely said anything.”

“You don’t have to,” Phil sighed, snapping his book shut. “It’s not a good idea to bring them back, especially if they haven’t told you that they want to come back. You don’t know what it could do.”

“But you do. You can help.”

“I don’t want to help. And besides, the methods I’ve tried haven’t been successful, I know from the attempts with Wilbur. It didn’t change anything. You have to give this a rest, it's been weeks since you slept.”

“Well you’ve done more research, haven’t you?” Techno took a seat across from Phil and leaned in. “There’s gotta be something you didn’t try or somebody who knows enough.”

Phil hesitated and looked down at his hands. “I don’t want you to do this, but… You could speak with Dream.”

The younger man stiffened, trying to mask his displeasure. “What for?”

“I heard that he was doing research of his own. I don’t know what his method is or if it even works, but I don’t trust it. He wants to make himself a god, so it can’t be without its consequences.”

“Godship always comes with consequences. I’ll take my chances.”

“Are you really prepared for that?” Phil looked his friend in the eyes. “It’s too much of a risk to try—”

“I know that,” Techno snapped, rising from his chair. “And I know what I want. I want them back. I want Dream to be sorry that he ever hurt them. I want to—” Techno stopped himself from continuing his enraged rant. He wanted to feel whole again, he thought. He wanted to wake up and feel safe knowing you were in the next room over. He wanted to argue with you over nothing and know that you would forgive him nonetheless. He wanted to wake up early after a long day of travel and watch the sunrise with you, to see the whole world light up in your eyes. The emptiness he was stranded with was from your absence, he knew this now. You were the sun to his moon, but you were forever hidden under the horizon, casting him into the shade. 

Phil’s frown deepened. He spoke softly, carefully. “I know you’re hurting, but you need to think this through. Is this really what you want?”

Techno refused to meet the older man’s gaze. You were gone because of him, and you would come back for him. He wasn’t going to let this go quietly. “Yes,” he said finally. The icy air whipped through the house as he opened the cabin door and slammed it shut, a mission in his mind.

* * * * *

The journey to the prison was an expectedly silent one. Few people were to be seen as Technoblade wandered through the country—whether out of fear for the man or some other reason, he couldn’t be sure. Regardless, he trudged down the paths he used to know, eventually coming upon the evil-looking building. The massive walls loomed over him, the shadows stretching across the grass in sharp lines. After taking a quick glance of the perimeter, Techno proceeded to the entrance of the prison.

Upon entering, he was faced with a portal and a switch off to his right. The man glanced around once before slapping the button, waiting for a guard to come by. There was a brief period of silence, then a disembodied voice: “Hello?”

“Hello,” Techno echoed, unsure of where to look. “How do I, uh, get in?”

“Just step through the portal and I’ll get to you in a second,” the guard replied. Techno followed his instructions and stepped in the portal, a feeling like water rippling against his skin. Techno emerged from the other side to see a desk and a podium in front of it with a large book sat upon it. Behind the counter of the desk was the prison guard, Sam.

“Hello, Technoblade. Step up to the podium, I’ll need you to read that book aloud to me and sign, then I have to ask you a few questions.” 

The piglin stood directly in front of the podium, peering down at the book. He read out the protocols, frowning at the mention of being locked in the prison should the security be threatened. Techno signed his name on the book anyway, handing it to the guard.

“Thank you. Can I ask when you last visited the prison?”

“Never,” Techno replied. “Shouldn’t that be obvious?”

“It’s just an extra security measure,” Sam explained. “Some of our visitors may have a lapse in memory. Now, what’s your relationship with the prisoner?”

The other man considered the question for a moment until he settled on a suitable answer. “Ex-colleague.”

“Alright, and where is your place of residence?”

“Up north, in the arctic.”

“Good, good. Follow me to your locker, I’ll need you to place everything inside the chest. Once you’re done, press that button on the side to get the key.”

Techno followed the guard’s instructions, feeling slightly uneasy with the lack of protection in his inventory. He retrieved the key, feeling the weight of the metal in his palm, then deposited it into an ender chest. The guard was waiting patiently outside the locker room. “Follow me and do exactly as I say,” he ordered, leading Techno through the prison. 

Sam guided Techno through a series of security checks and exercises to minimize his strength through potions. The piglin felt slightly lightheaded from the various trials and journeys through halls full of water and lava. Eventually, the pair of men reached the entrance of the maximum security cell, which looked empty save for the switches on the far wall. 

“Stand on that platform right there,” Sam instructed, gesturing towards a number of tiles placed before a large screen of lava. Techno stepped onto the tiles, glancing over his shoulder to watch the guard fiddle with the controls. “The lava will stop in a minute or two. Just stay where you are and be careful when the platform moves,” Sam warned, keeping a firm gaze on the piglin.

Techno grunted a reply, waiting patiently until the barrier of lava parted like a curtain before a play. Between the bright orange drapery, he saw Dream come into view. The prisoner stood silently in the corner of his cell, his dull green eyes bearing a blank expression. There was a pink scar across the bridge of his nose, one Techno realized he received from you. His blond hair was long and unkept, a shadow of stubble on his chin—a blatant difference from the composed appearance he once possessed.

The platform shifted forward, rolling Techno straight towards the cell. A barricade stretched between the walls and the visitor crossed his arms in waiting. Finally, the space between the men opened, and the piglin took a step into the cell. Behind him, the wall of lava fell again, trapping the pair within the confines of the obsidian.

The prisoner inched forward from the corner. “I was beginning to think you’d never visit,” Dream said. 

“I hadn’t planned on it,” the pig-man replied, glancing around at the mostly-bare walls of the cell. There was a clock on the wall set to the wrong time, a cauldron of water, and a desk with writing utensils in the corner. No other possessions decorated the cell.

“Hm. What made you change your mind?”

Techno’s eyes met the prisoner. “I need your help.”

Dream chuckled, raising an eyebrow. “The blood god needs my help? With what, may I ask?”

“I know what you can do,” Techno stated, drawing closer to the prisoner. “I know you can raise people from the dead.”

The blond man scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “So that’s what you want? You need me to bring back your friend?”

“Exactly. And you’ll do it.”

Dream hummed, considering the other man’s words before he finally responded. “No, I don’t think I will.” Dream leaned against the wall, looking bored. “You have nothing for me. And besides, I’m not sure you’re prepared to bring back the archer. It’d be pointless.”

“Don’t underestimate me,” Techno growled, annoyed with the prisoner’s lack of cooperation. “You know I’m a dedicated man.”

“And that’s exactly why you can’t bring them back. You don’t have the guts to do it.”

Techno rushed forward and grabbed Dream by the collar, teeth bared as he glared at the man. “Careful there, Dream. You don’t want to provoke your ticket out of here.”

Dream laughed unflinchingly in the god’s face. “Right, and what can you do? Kill me and lose your only chance to have them back? You’re not an idiot, and neither am I. We both know exactly how this would go down if you set me free.”

“I wouldn’t kill you, but I can easily make you regret living,” Techno spat, gritting his teeth. “You’re going to bring them back.”

“No,” Dream scoffed, seemingly unfazed by the other man’s threats. “You think you know exactly what you want, don’t you? I’m not sure you understand how traumatic it would be for them to come back, Techno. Don’t you get it? They’d wake up and feel disgusted by you. You killed them. You could have saved them, but you were too weak to even try. Besides,” he continued, lowering his voice, “I think they look much better rotting in the dirt.”

Techno shoves the prisoner against the wall, chest heaving with anger and guilt. The voices were like white noise in his mind, screeching for blood as his heart pounded. Dream slid to the floor and laughed maniacally; the sound made Techno’s head pound with the dull pain of an oncoming headache. There was no mask to hide the deranged look in the prisoner’s eyes as he held his stomach and howled with cruel pleasure. “They’re dead,” Dream gasped between laughter. “They’re dead and it’s all your fault!”

It was a mistake to have gone to the prison for answers, and Techno felt foolish for his actions as he called for Sam to let him out. Dream remained slumped against the wall, his shoulders shaking with an awful cackle that faded as Techno disappeared from the cell.

Technoblade could hardly recall the journey back to his cabin. Once he was out of the prison, he bounded through the war torn country, red hot fury searing in his veins. The voices wanted blood; they screeched and clamored inside the cage of his skull, raging into white noise that struck Techno like an arrow to the heart. Flashes of memories he had tried to suppress came rushing back—the crack of fireworks resounding in his ears. The smell of burnt flesh. Blood staining him from head to toe. He stumbled through the hills and snow, clamoring up the short set of stairs and through the cabin door. His head was pounding so awfully that the man became nauseous, collapsing to his knees as he dug his fingers into his scalp. It wasn’t until a hand came to rest on his shoulder that Techno finally managed to look up. His eyes burned and, with a start, he realized that he had been crying.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright, mate. I’ve got you. You’re okay, take a deep breath,” Phil assured him, a firm grip stabilizing his piglin friend. Technoblade took in short, stuttering breaths, before Phil patted his shoulder and told him to take it easy. He made another attempt, inhaling slowly, then exhaling, repeating the motion until he was calm enough to speak.

“He won’t do it. He doesn’t want me to—He won’t.” Despite how hard he tried, Techno couldn’t stop the tremor in his voice. He hated this, he hated the vulnerability of it all. There was no space in his heart for the amount of pain he had been suppressing, and it was finally overflowing. He wished you were here. He wished so badly that he wasn’t such a fool.

Phil, conscious of his friend’s needs, pulled his hand away. “You know, someone was hoping to see you today.”

Techno looked up, watching Phil move aside to bring you into his line of sight. He hadn’t even noticed you were there in the midst of his agony, but the cold followed you as you drew closer. You were silent until you knelt down, reaching a hand out to your friend. “Come with me?” You asked gently, giving him a chance to refuse.

Techno looked down at your outstretched hand, examining the creases in your ashen skin. After a moment of consideration, he took it, hyper aware of your freezing touch. You led your friend out of the cabin, carefully guiding him to a destination you had yet to announce. Techno was curious as to what you were up to, but he didn’t have the energy to speak, especially not to you. There was so much he wanted to say, but the words were stuck in his throat. He wanted to apologize to you, to tell you how sorry he was for what he did to you, for the eternity you had been stranded with. There weren’t enough words in the world to admit how sorry he really was.

The pair of you traveled away from the cabin, through a forest of evergreens blanketed in snow; you walked past white foxes scurrying between bushes and birds fluttering overhead; you hopped over fallen trees and climbed a hill, finally stopping once you reached its peak. “We’re here,” you announced. 

Techno stood at your side and admired the view: the sun was beginning to fall, clinging to the horizon. The entire land was bathed in golden hues, causing the snow to sparkle in the warm glow. With this light, your skin seemed to regain its warmth, a refreshing contrast to the ashen look of death which Techno had grown used to. He watched you gaze wordlessly at the sky before breaking the silence. “Why are we here?”

You admired the sight for a moment longer, then, gesturing for Techno to copy your motions, you took a seat in the snow. “Do you remember how we met?” you began.

Techno was surprised by your question, answering quietly. “Of course. I, uh, kidnapped you. Sorry for that,” he mumbled.

Letting out a soft laugh, you continued. “Right. But I’ve been remembering more, actually. It used to be fuzzy—it still is, sometimes, the details—but it’s easier to recall. I mainly remember the good things, but the gaps are starting to fill in.”

The man swallowed nervously. “So… Where are you going with this?”

Your eyes became downcast. “I’ve realized a lot of things. I can sort through my emotions now and it’s been weighing on me just how much you meant to me, how much you still mean to me—and I know you must feel the same way.

“I can remember so much of my life now. I remember feeling some bit of relief when you captured me because I didn’t have to be with Dream—I was free for the first time in my life, and I didn’t even know it. I remember the training, the battles, the betrayals, the exile, but more than anything, I remember you. It’s like a part of me was missing for so long before I met you, and I had grown used to it. I tried to fill it with other things, with other people, but that space was made for you. Once I had you, I was balanced—I had spent the first half of my life trying to find you, so I couldn’t stand to be away from you. I had to have you, always, filling the gap. It seemed wrong to live any other way.

“I can see now where the fault was in my logic. You told me the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice, right? A pair of lovers are separated when Eurydice dies, stranded to the Underworld. Orpheus travels to her and all he has to do to bring her back to the living realm is to walk the path to earth without looking behind him to see her. They reach the end, and at the last second, Orpheus looks back. His love is fated to death, and he must live on without her, singing a sorrowful tune to the earth. When I first heard that story, I couldn’t understand why he would do such a thing. I thought it was from a sense of doubt, or maybe he was just a fool, but now I know better. Orpheus wasn’t looking back because he was doubtful—he knew exactly what the consequences were. He looked back because he couldn’t accept her death once, but this time, he could do it. That’s the hidden truth that no one ever tells you: love is letting go.”

You turned your head to look Techno in the eyes. “Do you remember what I told you before I tried to kill Dream?”

The man nodded slowly. “You told me not to look back,” he breathed.

Nodding, you spoke again. “Exactly. Now, I need you to listen to me again,” you asked. “I need you to look back.”

Techno’s eyes became misty. “I don’t—I don’t think I know how,” he admitted. 

“Neither did Orpheus,” you explained, taking the larger man’s hands in yours. “He lived the rest of his life mourning Eurydice through his music, but look at the world now. Don’t you see how beautiful it is? He sacrificed everything to see this. Orpheus did the hardest thing he could possibly do because it was the right thing.”

“What about the gaps?” Techno wondered. “How am I supposed to fill the gap without you?”

Looking down at the calloused hands in yours, you shook your head. “There’s always going to be pieces of you that can never be replaced—they’re not meant to be filled with something else. But there will be other things to love, other things to care about, and that’s how you move on. You pick up what’s left of your heart and put it back together as you go.”

The man looked at you, sorrow and adoration pooling in his eyes. “Will you stay? Will you be there when I carry myself back?” He asked, his voice small and trembling with apprehension.

Your cold hands were firm in his. “Always.”

In the west, the sun sank lower over the edge of the earth. The light grew fainter as orange, magenta, and hints of violet eased their way into the sky above. Clouds stretched on lazily, dragging against the atmosphere like heavy brush strokes on a canvas. Techno tugged on your hand when you got lost in the view. “We should head back before it gets too dark,” he said. You nodded and followed him through the snow, guided by the tracks you left from earlier. It would take him time, you were sure of that, and he would struggle as he always did when it came to his feelings. And you would be by his side, even then.

* * * * *

“I’m thinking of making it bigger, maybe add some glass panes to the top. What do you think?” Ranboo wondered, showing you the plans for his new house.

“Hm… No glass, just the stone here and there,” you replied, pointing at the drawings he laid out in front of you. 

Ranboo was still living near Techno, sprucing up his old shed of a house into something more permanent. The tall boy stood proudly in front of his land, tugging at his coat. “Yeah, actually, that does sound nice.”

You knelt down behind Ranboo, scooping a handful of snow into your palm and carefully shaping it into a ball. “You know what else is nice?” You wondered innocently.

Ranboo responded absentmindedly with “Huh?”

With an evil grin, you shouted, “This!” 

The snowball launched out of your hand as you threw it directly at the back of the half-enderman’s head. Ranboo jumped, shrieking in surprise as he wiped the back of his head. Spinning on his heel, he gave you a mischievous look before gathering snow in his own hands. “Oh, you’ve done it now,” he drawled, narrowly missing you as the snowball flew past your head. You took off into a run, laughing with your tall friend chasing behind you, snow flying left and right as you battled.

From his porch, Techno stood and watched the pair of you playing around, a faint smile on his face. He could see it now, more clearly than ever before: life, all around you, even in death. It was a strange irony, but an honest one. You were different than the person he once knew, but despite everything, your laugh never changed. Every version of you was real and true—you had simply taken a different shape.

The piglin turned to head back inside, but not before pausing as a spark of red caught his sight. There, standing alone at the corner of the stairs, was a bright red carnation. How it managed to grow in the cold, and so close to the cabin, was a mystery. Still, it was a rare beauty, strong in spite of the world it was born into. Techno looked from the flower back to you, an echo in his heart. You would be there—always.

The cabin door shut behind him, and there was no cold to follow.

[retvenkos]

“i am this close to dropkicking all of you into oblivion”

i have one sibling in every hogwarts house, so here’s some weird things each of them does...

gryffindor

will walk up the stairs, stare at you for a minute straight, and then make a random animal sound (usually a pterodactyl screech) before laughing and leaving again

unironically blasts “all i want for christmas is you” at 8 o’clock in the morning on black friday

will call you at really inopportune moments only to breathe heavily into the phone, laugh after a minute or so, and ask you if mom is home (after she just told them she was leaving.)

if they get take out they always offer to get you something and then pay for it, but then they hold it over your head, later

never has cash on them, despite always being able to buy you take out

which means they never tip the doordasher, rip

honestly doesn’t care if they’re left out of family things™ but brings up all the times you did something without them randomly, just to guilt trip you

always makes plans for when they will come into money but never does

plans to get really expensive gifts for birthdays or holidays but then doesn’t have money when the time comes

impulsively sells their electronics (like playstations and xboxes) for money only to buy new electronics

and then eventually buy back the same model of the one they sold

actually stays out of a lot of family drama by just never leaving their room

needs “background noise” to sleep so they end up hogging netflix all night despite not actually watching it

yells loudly when playing video games, much to ravenclaw’s annoyance

stays up until 5 o’clock in the morning playing video games then doesn’t wake up until noon

only sings to annoy others

put a nylon on their head and had a cousin (an enablist ravenclaw) pour cereal and milk into their covered mouth

ravenclaw filmed and encouraged this

stole the microwave in the kitchen to put in their room

aLWAYS HAS THE TV ON BUT NEVER WATCHES IT

constantly deletes and recreates their instagram account

unironically likes riverdale

watched the entirety of the clone wars and then made fun of me and hufflepuff when they saw us watching it.

absolutely did not care what i put on this post

ravenclaw

will mutter a joke under their breath, and then when no one laughs, will say “wow. guess i’m not loved.”

went through a pirate, ancient egypt, ancient greek, and dinosaur phase at various points in their life

for the most part you would never guess but occasionally they will hit you with a bit of obscure knowledge that makes you go ???

planned a scavenger hunt based on the meme of ted cruz being the zodiac killer 

enlisted the help of their sibling, a slytherin, to create an ottendorf cipher to make it interesting 

gets enraged by the fact that gryffindor never tips doordashers

doesn’t want to be left out of family things™ but also doesn’t want to do them

doesn’t let their financial status known and will just suffer™ in dignified silence

will float gryffindor money to buy electronics, only to get hella upset when gryffindor inevitably sells them

needs a special pillow and a sleep mask to sleep

is dead silent 80% of the time but will break out into song in the middle of the kitchen, completely unprompted

will be completely silent and then say “they ask you how you are, and you just have to say you’re fine when you’re not really fine, but you just can’t get into it, because they would never understand.”

films gryffindor’s antics

used the microwave in gryffindor’s room without passing judgement

randomly deletes or renames everyone’s accounts on netflix

or will troll others, making a second account identical to their own

mostly to annoy gryffindor or hufflepuff

has zero posts on instagram. obscure stories only.

reinvents their entire style every three years or so.

has zero consistency when it comes to music taste

likes to think they’re better than gryffindor because they watch scandal and how to get away with murder instead of riverdale

begged me to make this post (specifically to roast gryffindor) and then got very offended by what i put here

hufflepuff

will interrupt you in the middle of a conversation, and then when you finally turn to them, will go, “uhh..... i forgot.”

has a complete inability to finish their food, no matter how hungry they are. even if they finish their first plate they will get a second or third and fail to finish it in the end.

is constantly binging tv - is keeping up with 5 shows at any given moment

if you ask them to do something they don’t want to do, they either do it anyway or pretend they didn’t hear your request

this combined with them pretending to be asleep to avoid work

they never want to be left out of family things™ but only want to do half of it or one very specific job (usually doing the place setting for dinner or something equally as effortless)

is strangely good at getting other people to give them money but is also willing to give you some if you need it

encourages gryffindor to sell their electronics but then backs up ravenclaw when they get angry about it

never sleeps but when they do it can be anywhere at any time

sings while doing homework

also sings when they hear you coming toward them and can sense you need something (then they pretend they can’t hear you because they are singing and if you get louder so do they)

is very confused by gryffindor’s antics

was visibly upset when gryffindor put the microwave in their room and refused to use it for four months after it had been returned to the kitchen because it was “tainted”

has an ungodly amount of tabs open on google chrome at all times

they have zero storage in their phone because it’s full of really blurry photos they refuse to delete

also refuses to delete photos on instagram - even the cringey ones - because they “die like men”

is rightfully horrified by gritty reboots like riverdale

rewatches cartoons and disney channel only

has an inexplicable hatred for anakin skywalker and jar jar binks

i haven’t told them about this post because i fear they will go feral once they know of it’s existence

slytherin

will ghost you for two months and then do an instagram story about missing their family and always wanting to be there for you

used to be such a people pleaser that they did a sport that they actually hated for four years

buys scarily accurate gifts but then never tell you how they know

says they don’t care if they’re left out of family things™ but actually does

either has lots of money that no one was aware of or is hella broke but can play it off really well

tells gryffindor not to sell their electronics but also tells them the place to get the best price

manages to stay out of a lot of minor family drama but is at the center of larger debates

can sleep anywhere and can sleep through literal earthquakes but wakens at the sound of footsteps and someone opening their door

they can also tell who is walking around by the sound of their footsteps alone

is quiet 80% of the time but has the decency to break out into song only when behind closed doors

big shower singer

is never present for gryffindor’s antics but laughs and says to do it again (with suggestions for them) when they see the video

reprimanded gryffindor for putting the microwave in their room but frequently used it.

a morning person

(there are 3 slytherins in my house and all of them are morning people, explain that.)

will keep their icon for netflix and other accounts (like their g-mail, instagram, or even myspace) recent, but the photo is never actually their face - just a weird aesthetic photo

unironically loves instagram stories

makes then religiously, too

has never seen gritty reboots like riverdale but watches youtube videos that hate on them

loved hayden christensen as anakin skywalker and will die defending him

laughed while reading this post - especially at their own idiocy

AND FLUFF ENSUES.

[it-was-all-a-beautiful-dream]

Silva Lining (Saul Silva x Reader) Chapter 16

Warnings: Swearing

Word count: 2.1k

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The barrier was abandoned as you head back to the school. What was Aisha thinking? Telling the teachers their plan?

You huffed as you walked into your mothers office. Saul had stayed behind at the barrier with the Specialists while you and Aisha were escorted back by your mother and Mr Harvey. Stella, Terra and Musa were the only ones there, Bloom no where to be seen.

“Before you say anything, I didn’t say a thing, it was all this ones doing.” You hitched a thumb in Aisha’s direction. “The only thing I found out was Rosalind has been after me this whole time and has been using Bloom to get to me. She somehow knew the truth about who my mother was and knew she couldn’t use me to free her. So please please please tell me nothings happened yet and Bloom is just taking her time in the creepy hidden room?”

You sucked in a breath, forgetting to breath during your mini rant. The girls just looked shocked, less shocked than normal, they probably expect this kind of stuff now, nothing was easy when it came to your life.

You watched as Farah came back through the door way, having gone in search for Bloom. “They’re gone.”

So here you were, sitting around your dorm, having been shouted at by Mr Harvey; who you don’t think you’ve ever seen angry before. Terra stood up to him and then he locked you all in using magic…. could anything else go wrong. Oh wait, you spoke too soon.

You kicked back in your chair, leather boot clad feet up on the table as you listened to Stella go in on Aisha for being a snitch.

“Bloom is being selfish, the last thing Miss Dowling needs is to be worried about Rosalind.” That made you stir in your seat. Your feet came off the table with a thud.

“Stell, she does have a point there. You know how much shit we’ve cause Dowling, I know with the new found relationship status I could come across as bias but after all, all this shit is happening because of me once again. Can we just stop arguing for one second and figure out how were going to help?”

Your speech was interrupted by the flickering of lights. “Okay did anyone else see that or am I having some weird magic stroke?” The rest of the room murmured. Okay, not a stroke.

“This shouldn’t be happening, Alfea is an outpost it runs on magic.” Terra paced and Musa and Sam joined the rest of them in the room.

Sam, being able to walk through walls, decided to go and check it out. See what was happening.

“Wait I can come with you..” You volunteered but he had already vanished. “Okay thennn.” What felt like seconds later Sam was back through the wall screaming in agony, his stomach sliced open, blood soaked through his clothing.

“There’s a burned one in the school!”

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The courtyard was the busiest you’d ever seen it. Your mother was using magic to slam windows shut, fire fairies were welding them shut completely. Saul was on one side dishing out armour and weapons to anyone who’d take it. Mr Harvey had set up a medical bay for the suspected casualties. Your mind was spinning. The voices had started when Sam came through the wall. Whispers in your mind almost like it was your subconscious. It was fucking annoying.

Looking around you saw a hell of a lot of scared faces. Your heart beat rapidly in your chest, you hadn’t had a panic attack in months but it sure felt as if you were having one now. This was happening because of you. Innocent people were going to be hurt because the burned ones wanted one thing. You. Your eyes scanned the courtyard as your mothers speech rang out. Saul caught your eye, and gave you a look. Scared, worried, love. He conveyed it all with just one look. He was going to get hurt. Because of you. In that moment you knew what you had to do.

Trying to sneak away had failed. Since meeting Stella you knew you’d had a bond more stronger than friendship. You were blood and something about that gave her an edge. She knew you were about to do something stupid, she could literally feel the dread running through her veins.

“Please tell me you’re not going out there alone, how many times is it going to take for you to realise were better off as a team.”

Stella made you jump as she spoke up behind you, with her was Aisha and Bloom. Your ran your hands through your hair, pulling the long strands up onto a bun, the bobble on your wrist secured it in place.

“Actually, I could use some help.”

So the plan was set. Bloom would stay and distract Saul and your mother. They’d been keeping such a close eye on her lately that they were certain she was going to be the one to do something stupid and reckless. Oh how the roles had reversed. Aisha and Stella were coming with you, you needed Stella there to help you ground your powers. Like you’d always said, she was the light to your dark and vice versa. Aisha, well, she was a fucking powerful and smart fairy, couldn’t hurt to have her on your side.

Sneaking behind a wall just off the courtyard, you held your hands out allowing smoky black tendrils of magic flow freely from your shaking fingers. The portal opened and with one last look back at all the fear and chaos inside, you stepped through.

-Saul’s POV-

We got back to the school just in the nick of time. The courtyard was full of scared, fear fulled fairies and Specialists and all Saul could think of was his girl and why the fuck she wasn’t in the courtyard with the rest of the students.

His heart beat rapidly as he gave orders and handed out weapons and armour to every student he could. He was alerted to Y/N’s presence when he heard screaming and panicked cries from across the room. She was helping her friends carry Harveys kid, his torso clawed away at by the hands of a burned one.

He was too distracted, he couldn’t go to her straight away people would notice, even amongst all this chaos, they still had to be clever and careful. He was busy talking to Sky, still trying to keep his girl in his sights but he failed. Now seemed the only chance that he might get to tell Sky the truth about Asterdal and that’s what he did. How he killed Skys father to save himself after Andreas turned on him. Sky didn’t want to believe and he was pissed, but it needed to wait until after. After the burned ones weren’t knocking on their front door. He looked around again for you, wondering where the hell you were.

“Are you seriously looking for Y/N after you told me you killed my father?” Sky seethed, rightfully pissed off. “I don’t know where she is but she asked me to tell you she loves you, and she’s sorry, she said she would have said it herself but it would have been too obvious.” With that Sky walked away to the front line before Saul could ask him what she meant by sorry.

The burned ones were banging on the doors, windows, you name it. They had arrived. Farah parted the crowd of scared students like the red sea, Marco behind her telling people to keep their nerve. Saul joined them at the front armed and ready. Screams erupted as glass fell from the towering ceiling above. A fairy shot fire from his hands directly at the burned one who had fell through the roof. It charged it’s way towards the specialists, swords drawn, they charged forward, only to stop when the burned one changed coarse, leaving the students behind.

“What the hell was that.” Terra panicked and looked around for more signs of burned ones.

“They’re all moving together… like they’re looking for something.” Saul looked at Farah, realisation dawning on his face.

“Where’s Y/N?”

-Your POV-

The air was colder than usual. Maybe it’s because deep down you were scared shitless and the nerves were getting the better of you.

“Y/N you do know my mums gonna be here soon, with an actual army!” She ran after you, trying to keep up with your long strides.

“Stell, the burned ones have always been after me, from the start. I can’t stand back and not do anything. I know how to stop them, I’ve had the power all along, I’ve just been too afraid to use it. I need to draw on more power than I ever have before. That’s why I need you both here, so you can try and stop me if it gets out of control.”

You could hear the burned ones getting closer, their menacing growls echoing through the spindly trees. Shadows bounced around the outskirts of the space you were standing in. You didn’t realise you were crying until Stella brushed your tears away. Both fairies grabbed your hands.

“If anything happens, tell Saul I love him. I’ll never stop loving him even in death.”

You gave Stella one last hug and did the same with Aisha, taking a deep calming breath you stepped forward, your heavy boots squelching in the waterlogged field that overlooked the school you’d come to call home.

When you knew your friends were far enough away you opened up you senses, giving in to the power you possessed. Your eyes turned black and your body began to slowly lift from the ground, arms outstretched. You could feel the power swirling inside you. It’s presence made you gasp. Around you, a smoky black fog, your body was consumed in it, a visual representation of the power you held. You looked down to your fingers, to your body and smiled.

Fairies used to have wings but they had lost the ability to perform transformation magic so adapted and didn’t need them anymore. So it came as a surprise when you felt giant wings burst from your back, glowing black and white. This is what it meant to be the answer to all the realms problems. You smiled again, tears threatening to spill due to the feeling of being whole. This is who you were meant to be all along and now you had finally found yourself.

The burned ones sprung from the depths of the forrest. Your boot clad feet hit the ground with a thud and your smoky, bright wings fanned out behind you. You were ready. They charged towards you, their growls filling the air. Your hands shot out and your black tendrils of magic shot into their chests, ripping out the spark inside them. You watched as one by one they crashed to the ground around you. Their monster like growls no longer.

Your wings retracted and you breath deeply. The burned ones that had once surrounded you no longer deformed and burned. But there, laying on the ground, humans.

“What the fuck?”

You heard running footsteps and looked up dizzily to see your mum and Saul running towards you in worry.

They stopped, looking around at what had unfolded. “Well done Y/N.” You mother was tearing up, shocked, happy and proud. You stumbled towards Saul. He ran to you, swooping you up in his arms.

“Farah what’s wrong with her?!” Saul was panicked, brushing the hair back from your sweaty forehead. Your mothers hand came to rest on Sauls shoulder.

“It’s okay Saul, she’s just weak, let’s get her back to the school.”

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That night, the lights came back on in Alfea. Your friends surrounded you as you lay in bed, all talking about the events that had unfolded and how you had earned your wings. How Stella and Aisha had helped you in your time of need. How Terra and Musa had helped save Sam, and how Bloom had helped distract everyone to make the whole plan a possibility.

As the girls chatted and laughed, you zoned out, looking around at each of them. You couldn’t believe how lucky you were. A girl from no where in England, finding out she was a fairy, finding an amazing group of friends who she knew she’d have for life. Finding Saul, finding her mother, finding herself. She couldn’t help the happy tears that fell.

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Oh my goshhhhhh! I hope you liked this chapter! I really enjoyed writing it! So much dramaaaa <3

As always please let me know what you thought! Comment, like, re-blog and if you wanna be in the tag list let me know!

CHAPTER 17.1 -------- CLICK HERE

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[melanielocke]

Conceal don't Feel - Two

Love is an Open Door

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Previous chapter: One: Do You Wanna Build a Snowman

Next chapter: For the First Time in Forever (to be posted)

Cordelia had never been so disappointed in her entire life. She’d been promised a guest, someone closer to her and Alastair’s age, someone who could end her days of loneliness and be her friend. Father had told her about it himself on one of his better days, he’d invited someone of her generation to come help Alastair. She knew the guest would be there mainly for her brother, of course, but Alastair hated being around people and she was sure whoever the guest was would have plenty of time to spend with her instead. She’d longed for someone to end her loneliness for such a long time she had started fantasizing about the person who would be staying until she’d gotten some admittedly unrealistic expectations. Instead, Charles Fairchild had arrived.

He wasn’t as close to her age as had been promised. Instead, he was eight years older than her, which she guessed was technically her generation, but he found himself far too mature to spend time with silly little girls like her. Not to mention, of course, that he was here for Alastair, and Alastair alone. With Father sick so often and Mother filling in, Alastair needed someone to teach him how to be a king. Somehow, her brother tolerated Charles’ presence whereas he still told Cordelia to go away and leave him alone whenever she approached him. After a few weeks she learned Charles had a younger brother around Cordelia’s age, but of course he hadn’t been invited.

With a groan, she returned to her practice with cortana. It was all she had these days, all she cared about. Even if she was all alone and her brother had barely spoken to her in years, she had been gifted the family sword, both a great honor and responsibility. She wondered sometimes why Alastair had chosen to gift her cortana, as it was tradition the sword went to the heir to the throne.

‘I knew it was important to you,’ was all he’d said when she’d asked, but for Cordelia that wasn’t a satisfactory answer. Giving her a powerful sword that was rightfully his because he knew it was important to her implied he loved her, yet nothing else Alastair did or said showed he even cared about her a little bit. If he loved her, he would spend time with her, not hide in his room and yell at her to go away.

Nowadays, he would only ever spend times with Charles, because of course while Cordelia wasn’t good enough for him, Charles was everything. They deserved each other, Cordelia had decided. They were both boring and stupid and could only ever talk about politics. The only time Charles paid Cordelia any mind was when he told her a princess shouldn’t be eating so much chocolate and maybe she should try losing some weight. He had a point, princesses were supposed to be slim and small and Cordelia wasn’t, but he didn’t have to be so rude about it. She didn’t understand why Alastair followed Charles around like some lost puppy. He used to shut the world out, and it seemed like he’d opened the door, but right after Charles had entered it had shut down with full force once more.

She wished she could let it go, and forget about her brother, but she couldn’t. She still remembered the fun they used to have when they were little, how he’d looked out for her and helped her build the most amazing snowmen. It had all happened so sudden, one day they were playing in the snow together, the next he wouldn’t leave his room and refused to even speak to her. Perhaps there was an explanation, something that would make it all make sense. But then why was Charles the exception, and what did Alastair see in him?

***

When Charles arrived in Arendelle, Alastair redoubled his resolve to get this power under control, to never let it show. Letting Thomas see had been a mistake. He’d trusted Thomas, had cared for him, and now they would never see each other again and how could he be sure Thomas hadn’t shared his secret? He had no reason to assume Charles would even accept the way he was. He could never know.

‘The palace of Arendelle is beautiful,’ Charles said. ‘A different style from the palace of the southern isles. Not that that is still in use, it has been turned into a museum. A real shame.’

Charles made no effort to hide the disdain in his voice as he said the word museum.

‘Why?’ Alastair asked.

‘Because there’s no monarchy anymore,’ Charles said. ‘My mother was the Queen of the Southern Isles until two years ago. She ended the monarchy and was elected as president instead. She thought it unfitting for an elected leader to live in a grand palace, so she decided it should be a museum instead to preserve our country’s history.’

Alastair stared at Charles with wide eyes. ‘That’s a possibility? I could just end the monarchy and have elections for a leader? And whoever has good ideas on how to improve the country could just sign up?’

He imagined all sorts of people would be willing to give it a try, and Alastair had never wanted the throne anyway. He had no idea how he’d be king and meet with cabinet members and foreign officials and never show the ice that rested inside of him.

Charles chuckled, as if he’d just said something ridiculous.

‘Perhaps not,’ he said quietly, already feeling stupid.

‘Being a Crown Prince is an honor, Alastair, a great privilege. Who in their right mind would give that up? Why would you not want to be king?’

Alastair sighed. ‘I guess you’re right. It’s just a lot of responsibility, and I’m not sure I’m ready for that.’

‘That’s alright. That’s why I’m here. I might not be a prince anymore, but I have a lot of experience being one and later I helped with my mother’s presidential campaign and presidency. I know how to run a country.’

His friendship with Charles might have been a bit rocky at first, but Alastair soon learnt to trust him more. It was a bit like with Thomas, when Charles was near Alastair felt calmer and could control the ice.

Charles was knowledgeable and took his time to educate Alastair on everything he thought was important for a future king. He was often willing to make time for Alastair, even when it was not convenient for him, and Alastair thought as long as Charles was here, everything was going to be alright.

‘What will you do, when you return to the southern isles?’ Alastair asked him one day.

‘Run for president myself,’ Charles said. ‘It’s not the same as being king, but there’s still much good I can do for the southern isles. My mother has done a good job, but I fear she is too sentimental. I can make my country strong again, that is all I ever wanted.

Don’t worry, I won’t be leaving anytime soon. You still need plenty of my help, and I think together we can set up some better trade routes, build an alliance and find new ways in which we can help each other. I think both Arendelle and the Southern Isles could benefit from a closer relationship.’

Alastair was intrigued. Alliances with foreign kingdoms were what he feared the most of being king. He wasn’t charming, too blunt and straight forward to flatter, but perhaps with Charles he could get started on a good alliance without those skills. ‘Of course. Whatever you need.’

***

Cordelia was beyond excited. Alastair had asked her to join him for a picnic on the palace grounds this afternoon. This would be her chance to get her brother back and a picnic was a decent start. Perhaps someday coming winter they could build a snowman again. Cordelia firmly believed you were never too old to build a snowman.

She picked out her nicest dress, eternally grateful it still fit as she was always growing out of her clothes, and went out to meet Alastair in the gardens. For once he wasn’t with Charles, which was nice because Cordelia did not want to talk about politics all afternoon. She had more important things to discuss.

‘I’m glad you came,’ Alastair said.

He was tense, Cordelia could tell. It was hard to read his moods with Alastair, he rarely showed any emotion, but she had learnt to recognize the slight tension in his shoulders, his stiff demeanor, as if he was forcing himself to speak. She wondered why he would be tense.

‘Of course I came,’ Cordelia said. ‘As far as I know you’re still my only brother.’

‘I’m sorry, for the past years,’ Alastair said. ‘I know you must have been very alone.’

Cordelia nodded. ‘Yes. I know you have to study and prepare for being king and all, but why can’t we at least open the gates every once in a while? Maybe invite some girls my age, or even Charles’ younger brother?’

She knew spending a lot of time with a boy her age would be considered inappropriate, but that was still preferable to keeping the company of the portraits on the wall. She had so little experience with social interaction she didn’t even know how to speak to someone her age, and Father expected her to get married when she was older. How was she supposed to do that when she never met anyone? There was no way she was marrying Charles.

‘I’m sorry,’ Alastair said quietly. ‘We can’t do that.’

‘Father could invite Charles,’ Cordelia protested. ‘Surely we can invite someone else. I still don’t have a lady in waiting.’

‘That’ll have to wait, Layla. I’m sorry. I wish it were different.’

Alastair had called her Layla since she was a little girl, after a girl in a story their mother used to tell them, and it was a bit of a weak spot of hers. Still, she was determined not to let it go, because nothing Alastair said made any sense.

‘But why?’ Cordelia asked. ‘What are you so afraid of?’

‘I’m not afraid of anything,’ Alastair bit at her.

There was that temper she remembered from his childhood. It was good to see he still felt anything at all, but Cordelia did not want to make him angry the first time she’d spoken to him in years. Perhaps she should be a little more tactful about this instead of forcing answers out of him. One thing she knew for sure though, there was something Alastair knew and she didn’t. Perhaps more than one thing, Alastair always seemed to know much more than he let on. It was infuriating.

‘I��m sorry,’ she said and she hoped he would believe her apology was sincere. ‘I just wish I could have friends too.’

‘Maybe when you’re older,’ Alastair said. ‘I’ll do what I can, alright? But no promises.’

Cordelia decided to accept that for now. ‘Your life must have been very boring too. I mean, you have company, but it’s Charles. That might actually be worse than being alone.’

Alastair rolled his eyes. ‘He’s not boring. He’s a politician, and a very good one. He knows everything there is about being king, even if he won’t be one himself anymore. It is very generous of him to come here and help me.’

Cordelia made a face. ‘I don’t like him. Most of the time he ignores me, which honestly is fine, but he also tells me I eat way too much chocolate and need to lose weight.’

Her weight had become a bit of an insecurity lately. She was at the end of her growth spurt and quite tall, which she liked, she was even taller than Alastair, but while she’d stopped growing in length, she kept getting wider and had to throw out dresses all the time. Her mother had told her this was normal for girls her age, but Cordelia was pretty sure most girls her age were much thinner than she was, and princesses were expected to be small and skinny.

If Charles was to be believed, it was because of all the sweets she ate, and reminding her of it was hurtful, not to mention he was always rude and condescending about it, as if she couldn’t possibly know what was good for her.

‘I’m sorry, I’ll ask him not to bother you,’ Alastair promised. ‘But I really need him here, alright? I will be king one day, and I desperately need his help.’

Cordelia snorted. ‘Maybe if you wanted to learn how to be a better king, you could actually go outside and spend time with the people of Arendelle instead of hiding here in the castle.’

‘That’s not possible,’ Alastair said stiffly.

He was worried. Cordelia couldn’t tell what it was, but she was determined to find out.

‘Are you scared to leave the palace?’ Cordelia asked. ‘I read a book some time back about someone who was scared to leave their house. It was very intriguing.’

‘I’m not scared, Cordelia,’ Alastair hissed, but something about his stiff mannerism revealed otherwise.

She nodded. ‘Alright, so you have a fear of going outside like that character in the book. Maybe there’s a doctor somewhere who can help you overcome your fear since I have no idea how it’s done and I imagine dragging you outside might make it worse. But that’s alright, I could go out and into the city for you and report back what I learn. We could be a great team, like we used to be.’

‘No, Cordelia, that’s not… I’m not afraid.’ He stopped abruptly, twisting his fingers together.

Alastair was wearing a pair of fancy black gloves. Now that she noticed, he always wore gloves. Perhaps if he was scared of going outside, he was also scared of dirt? The palace was cleaned, of course, but some rooms weren’t cleaned as often because of the limited staff and would collect dust. She did remember her brother had always been rather neat, that had to be it.

‘We’re done here,’ Alastair said. ‘Goodbye.’

He stood up and walked away. They hadn’t even eaten anything yet. Cordelia ran after him.

‘Where are you going?’

‘Back inside. I changed my mind, I don’t want to have a picnic with you.’

Cordelia didn’t understand. He’d invited her, he’d wanted to spend time with her. Had she done something wrong to change his mind? It didn’t make any sense, she might have been a little pushy, but he had to understand it was for his own good, right?

‘Why? Am I suddenly not good enough for you anymore?’ Cordelia yelled, grabbing his shoulder.

‘Leave me alone, Cordelia,’ Alastair hissed. ‘I mean it.’

Cordelia was taken back by the sudden vehemence in his voice.

‘Fine, go back inside to stupid Charles and his stupid lessons!’ she yelled after him as he walked inside.

He didn’t look back, not even once. As if she was nothing. Great, that was her one chance to win back her brother, to improve her situation here somewhat. Now she had no idea what to do.

She returned to the picnic site and collapsed onto the blanket she’d laid out for the two of them. She stuffed some chocolate into her mouth. Chocolate she’d specifically requested for Alastair, because she knew he liked anything sweet, and loved chocolate most of all. Cordelia did too, curse stupid Charles and his stupid comments about her eating habits. She was the princess, she could eat as much chocolate as she wanted. She needed some way to cope with being alone all the time and if Charles thought it was bad for her maybe he should go find her a friend. As it was, she returned to days of loneliness and practicing with cortana. What else was she supposed to do?

***

‘Your father didn’t show up to our meeting again,’ Charles said. ‘We were supposed to discuss your progress weekly, but most of the time he isn’t there. Do you know if he’s alright?’

‘He’s just sick,’ Alastair said, terrified Charles would find out about his father’s drinking. ‘No one knows what’s wrong with him, but it’s been getting worse. Mother has taken over most of his tasks so he can rest. Thanks to you, I can start helping out too. I’ve been working on my correspondence, and I was wondering if you could double check my letter to the Duke of Weselton?’

Charles nodded. ‘I’ll look at your letter. I am sorry to hear about your father’s illness, Alastair, I know it’s been hard on you. How’s your sister under all this?’

Alastair sighed. A couple of months ago, he’d thought he was making progress. Around Charles he felt so much better, he felt as if the ice wasn’t even there unless he called for it. He had thought maybe he could give his sister another chance and he’d invited her to a picnic. If everything had gone well and he’d felt in control around her, he could have told her the truth there, and show her what he was capable of. But when he’d met with Cordelia, everything came back in full force and he’d have to fight with every bit of his willpower to repress his fear and keep the ice inside of him. Cordelia was still mad about his sudden departure, but he’d had no other choice if he wanted to keep her safe. When he’d gotten back to his bedroom, he’d lost control and caused a snowstorm. While he thought his control had improved since Charles had come, the size of any outburst that slipped through had grown.

He was lucky Cordelia hadn’t seen it and at least now that Father was drunk all the time, he wouldn’t notice and put Alastair in chains. He knew it was all his fault though, his father wouldn’t have started drinking if it weren’t for him.

‘I think it’s difficult for her,’ Alastair said. ‘She mentioned you made some comments about her eating habits the other day. I know you mean well, but she doesn’t like it.’

‘I’m just concerned for her. It’s unhealthy to eat so much chocolate,’ Charles insisted. ‘She’ll thank me when she doesn’t have to throw out another of her custom made gowns.’

Alastair didn’t think it was fair to shame her for growing out of clothes when he did the same. He’d started his growth spurt lately and most of his suits had become too short. They weren’t thrown away either, they were sold second hand, as were Cordelia’s old gowns.

‘I think she’s insecure about how she looks,’ Alastair said. ‘And she has plenty to worry about, I don’t think she should be worrying about her weight on top of that. Your comments aren’t helping her.’

He didn’t understand why his control was so much worse around Cordelia. A long time ago, he’d hurt her, and he was terrified it would happen again. Perhaps that was different with Charles. With Charles he could not feel, like he was supposed to.

The problem, of course, was that with Charles he did feel. Just like he had with Thomas. It had not appeared as fast as it had with Thomas, but it was so much stronger now that he’d gotten to know Charles, had spent nearly a year with him.

He wanted Charles. Loved him, even. Alastair didn’t understand why he felt this way. Years ago, he’d met his cousin Jem who’d told him how he loved both Will and Tessa romantically. Alastair couldn’t imagine loving more than one person at the same time, nor could he imagine loving a woman, but perhaps some men longed for the love of other men instead of women.

Perhaps being in love was what calmed his moods, as long as he wasn’t scared. Right now, he wasn’t, not yet. He knew it was unlikely Charles felt the same way. That was alright, because he still wanted to be near him and then everything would be fine.

‘You know, I always found it unusual how empty this castle is,’ Charles said one day. ‘No one else ever stays, your parents always travel to meet foreign leaders and never invite anyone over. There aren’t half as many cleaners and servants as there were in my old palace.’

‘We minimized the staff,’ Alastair said. ‘It seems wasteful to spend money on staff when that could be spent on improving the kingdom.’

‘You don’t even have friends,’ Charles said. ‘No other noblemen visit, ever. You don’t have any companions, nor a page. You sleep alone. It’s odd.’

Alastair frowned. ‘How is it odd that I sleep alone?’

‘When I was still a prince, I had a page. A boy around my age, who shared my bed at night. It was normal at home, for noblemen and women to have a page or lady in waiting share their bed. A good way to make sure your virtue remains intact and you do not share your bed with a woman you are not married to.’

Alastair wasn’t sure that would be effective. Who was to say nothing improper happened between the nobleman and the person who shared their bed?

‘There’s no one here I could lose my virtue to,’ Alastair said. ‘But I know what you mean, my mother does share her bed with Risa, her lady in waiting. My father doesn’t though, he sleeps alone.’

No one could find out he was a drunk. No one would believe in him as a king anymore, and therefore it was up to Alastair to keep anyone from finding out, just like he had to keep everyone from finding out about the ice inside of him.

‘I imagine you don’t have a page anymore at home?’ Alastair asked.

‘We had a fall out shortly before my mother gave up the crown,’ Charles said in a tone that indicated he did not want to talk about it.

Charles did not bring the topic up again for some time, not until he was complaining about his younger brother one day.

‘He’s been campaigning for the right for men to love other men,’ Charles said with a sigh. ‘And for women to love women. Here I was thinking he’d never give up on being silly and going out partying, but this is worse.’

Alastair tilted his head. ‘Why? Is he not fighting for a good cause?’

‘He will make everything much harder for me, for our family,’ Charles said. ‘People are shunning him, of course. They’re wondering, why is he campaigning for this, what does it mean about him? And my brother does not have the good sense to hide he likes both men and women.’

So Charles’ brother was like his cousin Jem, then? Alastair had not met Matthew Fairchild, but it was difficult to hear Charles talk like this. He felt a familiar tingling in his fingers, a warning he might lose control. Something he had not yet felt around Charles.

‘That is very brave of him,’ Alastair said.

‘I prefer to think of it as foolish,’ Charles said. ‘The people won’t accept him, he won’t change a thing. He’ll just make everything harder for himself, and for me. People will watch us more closely. No one batted an eye when Daniel, my former page, shared my bed for years.’

Alastair gasped. ‘You mean to say you love men?’

‘Unfortunately I do. It’s not easy for someone like me. I have to keep it a secret, or I risk losing everything. No one would vote for a man like me to be president. But with the proper precautions, I’ve been quite successful at hiding my affections and desires while still indulging in them. I wish my brother understood that.’

Alastair put his hand on Charles’ and felt the tingling fade. It wasn’t gone, not entirely, but he wouldn’t lose control. ‘Does your brother know about you?’

‘No. I never wanted him to. You’re the first person I’ve told after Daniel, I know I can trust you to keep my secret.’

Alastair felt special to be entrusted with such a secret, and could it mean Charles returned his feelings? Had Charles told him because he hoped Alastair might want to be with him?

‘When I’m king, I will do what your brother has been campaigning for, I will change the laws and allow two men or two women to be together,’ Alastair promised. ‘Get married, even.’

Charles waved his hand dismissively. ‘Don’t be silly, Alastair.’

His heart sank, the tingling increased. He had to tell Charles about his affections, or else everything would become snow and ice.

‘But I’m like you,’ Alastair said. ‘I like men. And I don’t want to hide forever. What’s even the point in being king if I can’t change such things?’

‘They’ll cast you out, Alastair,’ Charles said. ‘Don’t waste your birthright on something the people will never accept. Best to keep your affections a secret. You’re a prince, you can pick any boy you like to be your page or companion and share your bed. No one would suspect a thing.’

Charles put his hand on Alastair’s shoulder, a bit too long for it to be called friendly, right?

‘What about you?’ Alastair asked. ‘I feel choosing a page to be my love would be unfair. Like, would he even get a say in that? It wouldn’t be like that with you.’

Charles smiled and cupped his cheek with his hand. It was smooth, the hand of someone who had not done manual labor. ‘You’re in love with me, aren’t you?’ he said, his voice gentle.

Alastair rubbed his hands together, forcing the tingling to stop. He felt frost underneath his gloves, but it was still hidden. Conceal, don’t feel.

‘Yes,’ he whispered.

‘I suspected as much,’ Charles said. ‘I like you too, Alastair. You’re smart and beautiful, and you will be a great king someday. But this has to be a secret. You understand that, don’t you? I will be with you, but only as long as you can keep your affections concealed.’

Alastair nodded. ‘Of course.’

Then Charles kissed him, and it was like fire, a sudden heat that melted his frozen heart, that stopped the tingling in his fingers, that calmed the storm inside of him. Perhaps love was the answer after all.

Alastair and Charles explored much more than just kissing together. Charles came to share his bed, claiming it was improper how Alastair slept alone all night. No one suspected a thing, but then of course, there was no one who could suspect. It was the first time in years where Alastair felt he might be happy. Even if he was still too dangerous to be around his sister. He tried once more. No promises this time, he just sought her out in her room to see if they could talk. The storm returned almost immediately and Alastair realized his sister would never be safe if he went near her. The only one he could be around was Charles.

It was amazing at first. Long nights together, Charles touching him, making love to him. He’d never known being touched by someone could feel so good, nor that it would melt the ice inside his heart. Charles knew exactly what he was doing and what he wanted, and Alastair was happy to oblige.

It was wonderful outside of the bedroom too. He loved how Charles would gently touch his shoulder, his wrist as he guided him through their lessons. But it didn’t take long for the secrecy of it all to start to weigh on him. Charles’ younger brother had fled farther south for his own safety, confirming Charles’ beliefs it was better to keep their love a secret. Alastair was scared the same might happen to him, but what could possibly be worse than people finding out he was a monster with ice in his heart?

Perhaps it would be better to leave, to flee into the woods and snow touched mountains and make his home there. The cold didn’t bother him, he would survive. But Charles could not come with him there, and so he stayed. Even while Charles mocked his ideas, told him he was still too young to understand what it was to rule a kingdom and treated him like was a child despite being old enough to be Charles’ lover.

Once he’d been in control around Charles, but not anymore. He wasn’t sure why it had gotten worse, why he was so scared Charles would leave him, that he wasn’t good enough anymore. He redoubled his resolve, made sure to read everything Charles asked him to, be everything his lover needed him to be. Charles was all he had, he didn’t think he could survive being abandoned. They stayed like this for several years. Alastair never took his gloves, not even when they had sex, and never explained why. Charles thought it was odd, but had come to accept it.

Even when he lost control, the gloves kept it in for a little longer, offered a bit of protection, and the time to get away before the storm began. Whenever he didn’t trust himself anymore, he went to his own private bathroom, a place even Charles wasn’t allowed to enter. Now that Charles shared his bed, his bedroom wasn’t a safe place to lose control anymore and he couldn’t exactly ask Charles to leave. So instead, this bathroom had frozen several times over, and whenever he was going to lose control he just told Charles he needed to use the bathroom. At this point, all the pipes had broken, so nothing could be used, but everything had been cut off from the water network long ago and his outbursts didn’t affect the other bathrooms. Charles had not uncovered his secret, and although it was difficult to keep it from him, it was for the best.

***

Cordelia took her father’s hand. ‘Where are you going? Are you sure you’re well enough to travel?’

‘I’m feeling much better, Cordelia dear,’ he said with a smile. ‘Don’t worry about me. I’ll be back before you know it.’

Cordelia wasn’t sure where exactly her parents would be traveling. It wasn’t the first time he left, of course, to meet with foreign nobles, but this time he would be going on a much longer journey, and it had been a while since he’d traveled anywhere. He’d been too sick and Mother had written letters to keep up relations instead.

‘Can’t I come with you?’ Cordelia asked.

‘Not this time,’ her father said. ‘But I promise on my next journey you can come with me. It’s almost time for you to be presented to the world. But this is something I have to do myself, I’m afraid.’

The idea of being presented to the world sounded good, but perhaps that would be a bit much all at once. Perhaps it would be nicer to start with a smaller group of people who could be her friends.

‘What if the people won’t like me?’ Cordelia asked.

‘Of course they will. You are beautiful, compassionate and nurturing, what’s not to like?’

Cordelia could always count on her father to tell her she was beautiful, even if not long ago she’d had to throw out nearly all of her gowns because she’d gained too much weight to fit into them.

‘I’ll still be here, azizam,’ her mother said, which surprised her.

‘Oh, I thought you were going too,’ Cordelia said.

‘I was, but Alastair insisted he was not ready to take over while I was gone and needed me to stay,’ her mother explained. ‘I know that’s not true and Alastair is more than ready, but I thought staying would put his mind at ease.’

Cordelia supposed that should make her less lonely, but her mother spent all her time on filling in for her father and she wasn’t sure where that left her. She knew everyone was keeping something from her, but she couldn’t figure out what and it was frustrating. She’d tried asking her father, who had told her not to worry, that everything would be alright in the end. Then she’d asked her mother, who’d told her that her brother was going through a difficult time, without offering any explanation. Apparently, boys his age often went through times like this, except in Alastair’s case that had been years now. Not that Cordelia knew any other boys Alastair’s age to compare his behavior to, but that was hardly her fault.

It turned out her father wasn’t back before she knew it. It took months to even get word from him. Of course, it was a long journey by ship and it made sense they did not hear anything at first, but after a couple of months Cordelia began to worry. They should have heard something by now, what could have become of him?

‘He’ll be alright, Cordelia,’ her mother had said. ‘We’ll hear from him soon enough. He must have decided to stay longer than intended and it would take time for a letter to reach us.’

But Cordelia could tell her mother was worried too, more so with every passing day during which they did not hear from Elias. Several months after he’d first left, a messenger came.

‘I am terribly sorry to bring you this news, Your Majesty,’ the messenger said, addressing her mother. ‘The King’s ship went down in the southern seas. There were no survivors.’

Cordelia had been in shock at first. Then she’d burst into tears. Mother had cried too, although a bit more concealed. Alastair though, had not shown a thing. He’d taken the news quietly, asked a few questions, and then retreated to his room. As if he didn’t feel a thing, as if he didn’t care.

The funeral was a quiet ceremony, and Alastair didn’t attend. She had been forced to ask Charles where he was and why he hadn’t come to his own father’s funeral. Charles didn’t know the answer either, said something about Alastair being upset and indisposed, but she could tell it didn’t make sense to him either.

Determined not to let him slip away from her like he always did, she went to his room after the funeral, knocking on the door. No response. When she was younger, Alastair would yell at her to go away, he would get angry that she had the nerve to bother him. As awful as that was, his silence was worse.

‘Please, Alastair,’ she said. ‘I know you’re in there. I don’t know why you didn’t come to the funeral, and maybe it was just too hard… But people asked about you, where you’ve been. And I want to be there for you. Just let me in, and we can talk about.’

‘Leave me alone, Cordelia!’ she heard from the other side of the door. He didn’t open it. ‘I don’t care Father is dead, that’s why I didn’t go the funeral. You shouldn’t either.’

It was not the answer she’d expected, although it wasn’t the first time it had seemed like Alastair did not love Father. Sometimes she wondered if Alastair could feel anything at all. She guessed not. There was ice inside his heart, and Cordelia did not know how to reach him anymore. Perhaps it didn’t matter.

With Father gone, her mother was Queen-Regent for now, taking on all of Father’s duties with some help from Alastair here and there until his coronation. Her mother was pregnant, and Cordelia didn’t think it would be good for her to spend so much time working while expecting a child. At least the pregnancy meant that once the baby was here, she would have someone to play with.

In four months, Alastair would turn twenty one and would be crowned king. He only ever spent time preparing for his coronation and his reign, Charles always hovering around him. It was impossible to catch him alone.

Of course, a coronation brought opportunities. Alastair couldn’t be crowned in a small, private ceremony, people from all over the country and even beyond would be invited. Cordelia would finally have a chance to meet actual real life people.

***

Alastair did not attend his father’s funeral. He’d expected knowing his father was gone would bring relief. No more hiding the empty bottles, no more covering up his sickness. No risk Cordelia would find out. Most of all, no risk Father would decide he was too dangerous and would chain him in the dungeons. He had never forgotten that day and even now he still had nightmares. Father had always been cruel to him, and he thought his death would set Alastair free. Instead, he felt empty, he felt a horrible guilt for hating a man who was now dead. He felt the snow and ice tingling against his fingers, seeking release. He pushed it back down with all he had. Conceal, don’t feel, that was what his father had taught him. No emotion, push it all down. Alright then, he would not feel. He would not mourn Father, would not care that he was gone. He would not attend the funeral and pay his respects, it was too dangerous anyway, and Father did not deserve that.

He knew people would ask why, where he’d been, and he made something up about being too sick and overcome with grief to attend. It was a lie. Even without the risk of exposing his ice, he would not have wanted to attend. He hated his father, and he couldn’t bear to listen to people speak on what a great king he’d been. Worse, what a great father he’d been. And there was no one he could talk to. Charles didn’t know what Father was really like, he believed in the lie of his illness. Cordelia was the same, worse even, for she adored Father, she always had. He’d considered telling her the truth, but that would be selfish. It would break her heart, and for what? And Mother had loved Father. Now that he was gone, she wanted to remember the good parts. She was having another baby, and was devastated the baby would never meet his father. Lucky child, he thought. That almost sounded like he resented the baby for getting the safe and carefree childhood he had never had, but that wasn’t true. He was almost glad Father was gone for their sake, and he hoped the baby would grow up happy and loved and protected, even if Alastair could provide none of that himself. It was too dangerous and he would never forgive himself if anything happened to the baby because of him.

***

‘Alastair, are you in there?’

No response. Sona had gotten used to that at this point. She had grown more worried every day. Alastair was to be king in a couple of months, but he had barely left his private quarters since Elias’ death. The only person he spoke to was Charles, and even then Charles had confided in her that he felt Alastair pull away from him. That he wasn’t sure Alastair was ready to be king.

She’d thought, perhaps, as his mother she could reach him. Charles didn’t know about the ice despite them being very close. But with her and Cordelia, all Alastair did was push them away.

He had seemed happy, at least, when she’d told him of her pregnancy, excited to meet the new baby. Mostly, he’d been terrified though and Sona thought perhaps Alastair was scared he’d hurt the baby. She didn’t know what to do anymore. She had to protect her baby, of course, but Alastair was her child too and she didn’t know how to reach him.

Sona knocked on the bedroom door once more. He couldn’t hide in there forever. It was Charles who opened, wearing a dressing robe. Sona knew Charles had been sleeping in Alastair’s bedroom for the past years. It was a way, apparently, to make sure Alastair’s virtue was intact for marriage. Not that Alastair had shown any interest in getting married and with his ice, Sona feared it was too dangerous. She wasn’t sure how Alastair had managed to keep his ice from Charles while sharing a bed, but that was impressive, right?

It pained her, she wanted nothing more than for Alastair to be happy, but she didn’t know how. She’d considered going back to Tessa, had asked Elias to reconsider, but he’d refused. ‘Alastair belongs here,’ Elias used to say. ‘That witch will only take him away from us.’

And now he was to be crowned king and it was too late. At least Charles had been good for him, right? Sona had noticed the way Alastair lit up around Charles, the way he seemed so eager to please him.

‘Your Majesty,’ Charles addressed her. ‘If I knew you were coming, I would have dressed for the occasion.’

‘I am sorry,’ Sona said. ‘Did I wake you? I didn’t realize you tucked in early, I’ve always been a late sleeper myself. I was just looking for Alastair, is he here?’

‘No, he must have left when I was asleep. Usually he goes to the bathroom, his own private one. Even I am not allowed in there. He’s very attached to his privacy.’

Sona knew about the bathroom, the place he went to when he lost control. It was good for him to have such a place right? Somewhere it didn’t matter if the ice became too much for him, because no one would get hurt.

Sona forced a smile. ‘Thank you Charles. I think I’ll look for him there.’

‘I don’t think he’d like that.’

‘He’s my son, and I am worried about him.’

‘He’s been showing progress in his lessons lately,’ Charles said. ‘I do not think you have to worry.’

Sona just nodded, and closed the door. Charles was smart, responsible, and he knew politics, but sometimes she felt he didn’t know Alastair, didn’t understand him. Risa hated Charles, acted as if he’d stolen Alastair away from them, but Sona felt that was a bit too simplistic. It was a difficult situation for everyone, and they were all doing the best they could. Alastair had chosen to spend his time around Charles, and if that was what made him feel better, who was she to judge?

Sona knocked on the bathroom door. No response.

‘Alastair, I’m coming in!’ she called.

She didn’t like invading his privacy, but at least he’d be forced to acknowledge he was in there if he wanted to stop her. He didn’t say anything. Perhaps he wasn’t in the bathroom after all, but it couldn’t hurt to check.

She pulled on the door handle. It wouldn’t budge. Had Alastair locked himself in there? When she pulled a little harder, it broke open and Sona realized why she’d been unable to open the door. It was frozen. Everything in the bathroom was frozen, about half a meter of snow lying on the floor. It was a good thing the door opened to the outside, or she would not have gotten it open at all.

Alastair was lying on the snow, covered in a thin summer blanket. The cold had never bothered him, but he had always liked to hold a blanket when he slept. When he was little, he would sleep with a thin summer blanket in the coldest days of winter, perfectly content.

Should she wake him? He seemed peaceful, at least, now that he was asleep. But he had lost control in here before falling asleep, and she wanted to know what had happened. He hadn’t responded well to his father’s death, and she knew Elias and Alastair had never had the best relationship, but instead of grieving with her and Cordelia, he’d shut them out even more. Sona didn’t think he was alright.

Before she could make a decision, Alastair opened his eyes and pushed himself into a sitting position. Sona wrapped her arms around herself, it was freezing cold in here. That couldn’t be good for the baby, but she was determined to talk to her son.

‘What happened, azizam?’ she asked.

‘I’m sorry, maman,’ he said. ‘I lost control.’

‘I know,’ she said softly. ‘What happened?’

‘I was with Charles,’ he said. ‘He told me he’d been writing with the Duke of Weselton.’

Sona frowned. ‘What’s wrong with that? He’s one of our closest trading partners. Charles has not sabotaged our relationship with Weselton, has he?’

‘No, not like that. You see, the Duke has a daughter around my age and no other heir, and Charles wants to marry her. She will be here for the coronation, and Charles intends to propose there. He thinks the Duke is a powerful ally for him as well as for us. And the laws in Weselton are pretty backward, so if the Duke dies his daughter’s husband will inherit the title, the lands, everything.’

Sona knew Charles liked power, of course. Risa hated him for it, thought he couldn’t be trusted, but Sona couldn’t help but see that even if Charles was a little too power hungry for his own good, Alastair adored him. But if he took the title and became Duke of Weselton, why would that upset Alastair so much? Wouldn’t he be happy for his friend?

‘What does any of that have to do with you?’

Alastair sighed. ‘I know, it’s stupid. But he’ll leave me alone if he marries her. He’d go live in Weselton in the Duke’s palace. He cannot stay here anymore. He’s all I have, I couldn’t bear it if he left.’

Sona took his hand. It was ice cold. ‘You always knew he would return home someday, right? Charles was here to teach you and prepare you, and he has done that. You are ready to be king, joon-am. I know controlling the ice is hard, but you’re smart and compassionate and you will do fine if he’s not there.’

Secretly Sona thought perhaps Alastair would do even better without Charles there. She knew Alastair was kinder, and she feared perhaps it came from a place of self loathing but Alastair was not the kind of king who’d put his own needs before anyone else’s.

Alastair nodded weakly. ‘But I’d be all alone. When Charles and I first became friends, it was the first time I could control myself. As long as it was going well, I mean. I did sometimes lose control when he was upset with me, but he never saw. I don’t know what I’ll do when he’s gone.’

Alastair was crying. The tears froze into snowflakes before they even reached his cheeks. Watching her son cry had always been one of the strangest thing, as if he started snowing. It was heartbreaking to watch, and Sona wished she could hug him, but she knew Alastair wouldn’t let her. He was far too scared he’d hurt the baby.

‘You’re going to be alright,’ Sona said. ‘You’re lonely, I know that. Cordelia is too. But the coronation offers opportunities. Perhaps you’ll meet someone else who helps calm your moods and your ice. You could invite someone to stay, if you want, open the gates.’

Alastair shook his head. ‘It’s too dangerous. Charles is the only one I can trust. I tried, maman. I tried with Cordelia, but every time I go near her I am so scared I’ll hurt her and then the ice takes over.’

‘Perhaps we should return to Tessa,’ Sona suggested.

‘No. The coronation is too close. This curse, it can’t be controlled. Best to be alone, and do what’s right for Arendelle.’

Sona guessed if Alastair wouldn’t return to the village, she’d try to send an invitation for the coronation. Perhaps Tessa could come here and help figure out why Alastair couldn’t control the ice. It was the least she could do for her son.

[riversofmars]

Thank you so much for your lovely comments and encouragement. I honestly didn't expect such a huge response to an opening chapter so I'm absolutely thrilled to have you all along for the ride <3

Chapter 2: The World’s Turned Upside Down

The Library, 52nd Century

River closed the door to the kids bedroom - alone for the first time since the Doctor had saved her to the Library core - and she finally allowed her composure to slip. She pressed her hand to her mouth and swallowed a sob, afraid the kids might hear. She had been proud of herself for staying strong all the way through her final adventure. The moment the young Doctor had turned up  instead of the one her message had been meant to reach, she had realised things would not go according to plan. For the Doctor, it had been the first time they had met. He hadn’t known her yet so she couldn’t tell him why she was really at the Library as she had intended. She also hadn’t been able to take comfort in seeing him though she had so badly needed to. Looking at the Doctor and having him not recognise her was a most cruel trick of fate after everything she’d been through.

At the time, threatened by the deadly shadows of the Vashta Nerada, she had kept her focus on the task at hand: carry out the mission, get access to the Library, get her answers once everything was wrapped up. She had decided she could always fill her Doctor in later; but she hadn’t anticipated this might be a one way trip. When it got to it, when things had fallen into place and she had finally understood how her life had always lead up to this, it had been far too late. Things had been beyond her control. She had to sacrifice her future to ensure her past. The truth of it was only sinking in now that she had space and time to think about it.

River cradled her diary to her chest as she made her way down the corridor to the living room. She dropped onto the sofa and buried her face in her hands as she started to cry; for herself, for her future, for her family. Suddenly, the Doctor’s sorrow at her leaving Darillium made so much more sense. He had known that she wouldn’t return but he hadn’t been able to tell her. Rationally, she knew he couldn’t have told her about her fate, but her sadness gave way to anger regardless. If she had known, she would have made different choices. It wasn’t her own fate she was angry about. As for as dying went, this wasn’t so bad: she was safe, immortal even. Though she was trapped, it beat dying properly. Had she known what was to come, she would not have kept secrets from her husband the way she had.

River trusted Vastra, Jenny and Strax to keep her son safe, and eventually, surely, they would contact the Doctor when they realised she wouldn’t return. He would be angry with her for keeping her secret and rightfully so. But eventually, hopefully, he would forgive her and raise their son. They would be together: Her family. River, however, would never be able to hold her child again. The realisation overwhelmed her and she struggled to breath, her sobs catching in her throat.

Alone with her own thoughts, River allowed herself a moment of weakness; she was dead after all. She could rest from being the strong, self-assured woman she had had to be all her life.

River couldn’t be sure how long it had been when she ran out of tears to cry. She just sat for a while, staring into space that she knew was nothing but strings of numbers. She had been saved to the greatest hard drive in history, everything around her was pure data and so was she.

A realisation came to her like a flash of lightning and she jumped to her feet: She was where she had meant to end up. Quickly, River made her way to the bookshelf on the other side of the room. She was in the biggest Library in the universe with all its knowledge at her disposal. Just because she was dead didn’t mean the forces threatening her husband and child had disappeared.

A new kind of determination gripped her and she pulled book after book from a shelf, that responded to her thoughts of what she was looking for. This was just another stop. Her Doctor was out there still and sooner or later, he would need her help and come looking for her. She wasn’t going to be empty handed when he arrived.

——

London, Late 19th Century

“Jenny!“ Vastra rushed to her wife’s side while the Doctor remained rooted to the spot, trying to work out what was going on.

“Doctor?“ Yaz asked, awaiting some sort of instruction or at least a reaction from her but she didn’t get one. So she hurried to the other unconscious figure. She didn’t recognise what species he was but he seemed to be breathing. They had probably been stunned, Yaz concluded, as there was no blood or other marks of force on their bodies. She took pride in her constantly improving observational skills. This was far better police training than her probationary work ever had been. She looked up to the Doctor who was still staring at the cot, holding on to a stitched piece of cloth. “Are you okay?“ Yaz asked, unsettled by the distinct lack of reaction on her friend’s part.

“Vastra, what is going on here?“ The Doctor’s voice was hollow when she finally spoke. All manner of thoughts were running through her mind but the most obvious explanation couldn’t possibly be true. She tightened her grip around the prayer leaf.

“Doctor, I will explain but first…“ Vastra had pulled Jenny up against herself and pressed a kiss to her forehead, as she tried to gently shake her awake.

“No, explain NOW!“ The Doctor yelled, losing her temper for one terrifying moment that made Vastra and Yaz jump.

“Doctor, let’s look after these people first.“ Yaz stood quickly and placed her hand on her friend’s shoulder, bewildered at the uncharacteristic outburst. The flash of fear across the lizard woman’s face shook her. It was an unwelcome reminder that the Doctor had changed in the nineteen years of prison. Something was weighing her down. They had seen flashes of it in their fight against the Daleks but there had been no opportunity to address it at the time. Now, it became painfully obvious that something was wrong with her. A deep anger had taken root and was bubbling to the surface.

“This doesn’t concern you, Yaz.“ The Doctor bit back and shrugged her hand away. She used her sonic to scan the cot for clues before turning back to Vastra. “Who’s baby was sleeping in that cot?“ She pressed through gritted teeth and Vastra couldn’t bring herself to speak, her throat closing up with sorrow. They had failed the Doctor and River.

“Vastra…“ Jenny mumbled, drawing her attention as she came round slowly. “Someone came… the baby, is the baby okay?“ She asked, her voice weak. Vastra couldn’t answer her wife, she just looked up to the Doctor.

“Doctor, we are so sorry…“ She croaked, her voice full of guilt.

“Doctor?“ Yaz watched and wasn’t following.

“So it worked, the emergency beacon…“ Jenny mumbled, still in a haze. She looked to the Doctor and recognised them from the age of her eyes and the sorrow she found there. A new face was of no consequence.

“You triggered it?“ The Doctor asked.

“Professor Song left it… But we expected you to be…“ Vastra tried to explain that she wasn’t the Doctor they had expected. She was so much older and it only made it harder. She couldn’t bare to think just how long ago Darillium was for the Doctor at this point.

“Where is she? Where is River? Who’s baby is it?“ The Doctor tried her best to keep her voice steady. She needed confirmation. It was so glaringly obvious but also too impossible to believe. How could River have kept this from her?

“Does it really need saying?“ Vastra voice broke and the so did the Doctor’s hearts.

The Doctor hurried down the stairs, she needed space. She couldn’t face the others and she couldn’t keep looking at the empty cot. She tightened her grip around the prayer leaf, her knuckles turning white. She took two steps at a time, running like the devil was on her heels. This was too big, too painful to face and so she ran - until the brittle stairs gave way under her heavy steps and she put her foot through them, crashing through the bottom half of the staircase.

“Oh my God, Doctor!“ Yaz hurried after her, careful not to cause any more damage. She reached under her arms and pulled her up. “Doctor, what’s going on?“ Yaz was at a complete loss, she had never seen the Doctor react like this, not even when they were dealing with the Master. There was genuinely panic and fear in her eyes. The Doctor pulled away from Yaz without a word.

“Doctor.“ Vastra appeared on the landing above and the Doctor’s eyes snapped up to her. “Please don’t run away from this.“ The detective pleaded.

“Don’t talk to me right now!“ The Doctor yelled with anger the likes of which Yaz had never seen. “You don’t get to talk to me right now!“ She struggled down the rest of the stairs without looking back.

“Doctor!“ Yaz called after her as she just carried on, darting to the front door.

“Give her a moment…“ Vastra realised there was no point in trying to stop her, she needed a moment to herself and that was the least they could give her. “In the meantime, would you mind helping me with the others?“

The Doctor slammed the doors of the TARDIS and received a scolding hum for her actions. She ignored it and dropped onto on of the steps in the console room. There she unfolded the prayer leaf again, holding it close as her vision blurred with tears. The TARDIS gave a concerned hum but the Doctor couldn’t speak to answer. She knew the TARDIS understood, their psychic link was stronger than words and the Doctor couldn’t bring herself to phrase everything she was feeling.

She thought back to the last time she had seen River. They had watched the sunrise on Darillium after twenty-four wonderful years there, and then, she had left. River hadn’t been able to keep her promise of return as the Doctor had already known at the time. The Doctor had waited regardless and had set the table for breakfast on the balcony on the off-chance River had managed to trick fate. It had been a long, lonely wait. Eventually the Doctor had busied themselves by fixing up a new body for Nardole when the loneliness was getting too much. For many sleep cycles they’d brought breakfast back to an empty room, setting it on the balcony again and again. The Doctor even did on the day they left Darillium for good and headed to New York to try and clear up the time distortions. It would have been a first step to visiting the Ponds for some comfort after losing their daughter for good, but it had never played out like that.

The Doctor took a deep breath as she considered what River had done after Darillium and before going to the Library. Was this it? Or where they in fact even earlier in her timeline and River had just never told her that the had had a child? Both options were far too painful to contemplate. She was already reeling from imprisonment, the destruction of Gallifrey and learning about the gaps in her past. How was she to cope with this? Her world had turned upside down, inside out, more time than she could count but this was different. How was she to do this without River to rely upon.

“Here we go.“ Yaz helped Strax sit up on a chair in the mostly untouched drawing room.

“I don’t require human assistance.“ The Sonatan protested but Vastra shushed him as she helped Jenny to the sofa.

“That’s quite enough of that Strax, we need to make sure you’re both uninjured.“ The lady of the house stated firmly. Jenny, however, was more concerned with her wife’s wellbeing.

“We’re fine. They only stunned us, but what about you?“ She asked as she reached out and touched her fingertips to Vastra’s cheek brushing off dried scales. Yaz watched the tender gestured as she learned more about the Doctor’s friends. “Your skin appears to be…“

Vastra straightened herself up and rubbed her face to find herself shedding more scales.

“It appears the blast of whatever that bomb was aged me…“ She observed, witnessing the sped up effects of her amphibian skin renewing itself. “Not to worry, dear, I still have a lot of life left in me, perhaps our life spans are more aligned now.“ She gave her a soft smile and her hand a squeeze.

“So you are the Doctor’s friends?“ Yaz spoke up at last as it seemed they had all recovered from the attack they had been subjected to.

“Old friends, yes. By the look of them, it has been a long time indeed…“ Vastra commented with an apologetic smile. They didn’t mean to keep the Doctor’s young friend in the dark but she had to see to Jenny and Strax first.

“So you knew her before she changed?“ Yaz concluded. She had met a few people from the Doctor’s past now, Jack, the Master… she was eager to learn how these three fit in.

“First a young man with floppy hair, then the old Scot…“ Jenny recalled and Vastra finished the sentence for her:

“Now a pretty blonde.“

“Oi!“ Jenny gave her wife’s arm a slap, feeling a lot more like herself now. The after-effects from the stun blast were wearing off.

“Pretty?“ Strax interjected confused. “He looks the same as ever.“ The three women paid no heed to him.

“So when you called for her, you expected her to be a younger self?“ Yaz concluded. Time travel was confusing but she was getting the hang of it.

“Indeed.“ Vastra nodded.

“So what happened here? Who attacked you?“ Yaz pressed on. A child had been abducted so surely, time was of the essence. “And what about the baby?“ She carried on as she looked into deeply unsettled faces. “Who’s is it?“  

“It’s mine.“ The Doctor’s voice made them all jump.

“Doctor, we’re so…“ Jenny attempted to get to her feet. She wanted to apologise, plead for forgiveness as they had failed her, but Vastra gently pushed her back to sit down.

“What?“ Yaz frowned, confused as she watched her friend walk into her room. She looked a lot calmer than she had when she had stormed out of the house but her was expression remained grim. Yaz noticed she was still carrying the green cloth. Judging by the way she ran her fingers along the stitching, it had to bear some meaning to her.

“That’s right, isn’t it, Madame Vastra. River entrusted our child to you.“ The Doctor concluded looking to Vastra accusingly.

“You have a child?“ Yaz was stunned. She looked around the room, into grim but knowing faces, and found that she was the odd one out.  

“I didn’t know, my wife never told me.“ The Doctor answered without looking to her young friend, she kept her focus on the Silurian, excepting an explanation. Yaz was only getting more confused. This was the first time she had heard the Doctor mention a wife. She had so many question but she realised now was not the right time to ask.

“She was pregnant when she left Darillium. She couldn’t return and had to have the child by herself. Then she entrusted him to us before going to the Library.“ Vastra kept her voice calms as she explained, keeping her answer brief.

“Why would she do that?“ The Doctor snapped. Just because she had already assumed as much didn’t mean she understood it.

“She was trying to keep you safe, keep all of you safe.“ Vastra carried on. She couldn’t presume to know the Professor’s mind but she knew what she had told her and what she had read in the notes she had left behind.

“It’s not really worked out that way, has it.“ The Doctor shot back, upset.

“Strax, how about some tea?“ Jenny looked to Strax, hoping to calm the situation before it could escalate again.

“I was quite enjoying being in the line of fire once again.“ The Sontaran retorted but Jenny’s expression left no room for discussion.

The interruption as they left for the kitchen was enough to calm the Doctor for the time being. She kept her eyes on Vastra, her expression making quite clear how disappointed she was in them for having gone along with this.

“Who was it?“ The Doctor said at last. “Who took my child?“ The words echoed through the silent room, their meaning so poignant it made all their hearts ache. So soon after finding out, the Doctor had already accepted that this was her child, her family, they were talking about. And in the same sentence, she had already lost them. It was too painful to contemplate.

“I honestly don’t know.“ Vastra broke the silence at last. “It all happened very quickly. I was going to answer a knock on the door as Jenny and Strax were upstairs looking after the little one. An explosion happened and then you woke me up. I’m afraid that’s all I remember.“ She explain sorrowfully, begging forgiveness in every syllable.

“A chronon mine… that’s Time Lord technology.“ The Doctor said after briefly considering her words.

“I thought you said all the Time Lords are dead?“ Yaz asked, remembering the Doctor’s account of what happened on Gallifrey after they had left.

“They are. The Master killed them all.“ The Doctor nodded in agreement.

“Perhaps not all of them… at least that was your wife’s theory.“ Vastra said slowly and went to the bureau in the corner to retrieve the file River had left. “She left us with this, accounts of what she did since leaving Darillium.“

——

Sheffield, early 21st Century

“Feels weird, doesn’t it.“ Ryan Sinclair observed walking past by the apartment block Yaz’s family lived in. The spot where the TARDIS had been a welcome sight stood empty. The Doctor and Yaz had left a few days ago and the reality of them being out on adventure by themselves had yet to fully sink in.  

“Feels right though.“ Graham O’Brien placed his hand on his grandson’s shoulder as they turned and continued down the street. They had had wonderful adventures but it was time for both of them to carry on with their lives. There were things at home that needed fixing too, not just out in the universe. The most recent misadventure with the Daleks had proven as much.

“Shall we just nip round to the Chippy for tea?“ Ryan suggest when they reached home and he pushed his bike into the garage. The time up in the mountains practicing was starting to pay off. He knew his nan would be proud of his progress and the pride he saw reflected in Graham’s eyes was confirmation of that.

“Sounds good, just let me grab some cash.“ Graham grinned unlocking the front door. “I think I have a twenty in my other jacket…“ He turned into the lounge and jumped with a very undignified yelp. A woman was sitting on his sofa and greeted him with a smile. “Ryan?!“ He called out and his grandson joined him quickly.

“What the…!“ Ryan stared at the woman in shock. She was tall, blonde and altogether far too relaxed for sitting in someone else’s lounge as they returned. “How’d you get in here?“

“Apologies for startling you, Mr. O’Brien, Mr. Sinclair… I hope you don’t mind that I let myself in.“ The woman got to her feet. A empty cup in front of her indicated that she had been waiting a while and hadn’t been shy about helping herself to refreshments.

“We do mind, actually! Who are you?“ Graham tried his best to sound authoritative. Talking a good talk was half the battle, or so they had gathered from how the Doctor approached trouble.

“Kate Lethbridge-Stewart, Chief Scientific Officer at UNIT.“ She extended her hand that neither of them took.

“UNIT?“ Ryan echoed with a frown.

“Rings a bell, doesn’t it.“ Graham sensed that they were both thinking the same thing.

“The Doctor might have mentioned us.“ Kate smiled and sat back down, gesturing for them to do the same. Graham and Ryan exchanged confused looks, not used to being told what to do in their own home. They were, however, relieved that the stranger didn’t seem to be here to kill them.

“You know the Doctor then?“ Graham’s relaxed a little as he sat in an armchair across from her.

“Yes that’s right, didn’t the Doctor try and contact you when we found that Dalek the first time round and you didn’t exist anymore, or something?“ The penny dropped for Ryan as well as he perched on the end of the sofa. He couldn’t quite keep the accusatory undertones out of his voice that he felt were justified. Only the UK would dismantle a useful agency in order to cut public spending. If the Kasavan hadn’t taught them a lesson, surely the Daleks would have now.  

“Yes. I’m afraid at the time, UNIT was not operational…“ Kate retorted pressing her lips to a thin line. Clearly the budget cuts were a sore subject for her as well.

“And where were you this time around, eh? Daleks all over the place, straight from the government, all them politicians involved in it, surely that’s the sort of thing you should have intervened in.“ Graham crossed his arms in front of his chest. They had done their very best researching the Daleks in the Doctor’s absence. If UNIT had been about, things surely would never have gotten as far as they did.

“I’m afraid we have had greater concerns to deal with.“ Kate revealed sounding regretful, yet matter-of-factly.

“Greater than an army of Daleks trying to conquer Earth?“ Ryan retorted with a huff and a laugh. He found that very hard to believe.

“With UNIT officially ceasing to exist, it has given us the opportunity to retreat into the shadows and work undetected. We couldn't risk revealing ourselves.“ She gave an apologetic smile. “You might not be aware of it yet but there are far greater forces at work on Earth right now than a rouge strain of Daleks.“

“Don’t like the sound of that…“ Ryan mumbled and Graham leaned forward in his chair:

“Have you spoken to the Doctor about this?“

“Not yet.“ Kate admitted. “Not until we know more. We can’t always rely on the Doctor, they have other things to concern themselves with. Rest assured we will reach out when the time is right. Until then… we are recruiting and Captain Harkness was kind enough to provide your address. Hence the house call.“

“Of course he did…“ Graham shook his head to himself at the mention of Jack Harkness.

“Recruiting for what?“ Ryan asked.

“Humanity’s last stand, should it come to it.“

[nooneeverlookedforagirl]

AU where Drogo does not kill Viserys.

Jhiqui runs to him when Viserys drags Doreah to their tent by her hair. She says the foreigner is mad with anger and she fears for the khaleesi. He walks in just in time to see him slap Daenerys so hard she falls to the floor. Daenerys, the girl Viserys gifted him. Daenerys, his wife. Daenerys, the moon of his life. Daenerys with their son in her belly.

Whatever Viserys might have done or said after hitting her was nothing. His fierce little wife strikes him so hard across the face with a golden chain that it leaves a mark. He falls to the side just as Drogo reaches them, and he picks Viserys up by the throat with one hand.

Drogo might have killed him then and there, but his wife begs for his life. He is her brother, her only family, she says, in broken Dothraki. Perhaps he does not understand all the words, but he understands enough. Send him away, Daenerys pleads, but do not kill him.

It might have been better if he had. Viserys follows them on foot for many days. On their first encounter with another khalasar, just outside Vaes Dothrak, Drogo gifts him to the other khal. The Andal tells his wife, he knows, but she says nothing to him and if she is angry it does not show.

Then Drogo falls from his horse on the Dothraki Sea, and Daenerys is reborn in fire and blood. One of their children she names Viserion, for her brother.

When Daenerys burns the khals one of their riders brings her a gift. It's Viserys, filthy and despondent, but alive. Neither knows what quite to do with the other, the beggar king and the dragon queen. Still, for the blood they share, Daenerys gives him a simple tent and male servants and a single horse, and he rides with her when they leave.

He rides with her all the way to Meereen, for when she finds Drogon on the Great Grass Sea she tames him with nothing except a whip, her khalasar in awe as she lands him in their midst. She looks at Viserys, and he at her, and then she pulls him onto Drogon's scales and together the last dragons fly toward the besieged city.

Daenerys keeps looking at him like she expects a fit, like she expects him to demand what is rightfully his, from a crown or a Targaryen bride to rooms suitable for the queen's brother. He does none of that. When the city has calmed and the slavers have died, he goes to her in her counsel room and kneels before her, taking her hands in his.

"I'm sorry." Viserys says, looking up into her eyes. "I was a poor brother and a worse king. I hurt you, I thought only of myself, I sold you into slavery. I was young and afraid and desperate, but I should have protected you. All we had was each other."

This Mother of Dragons, this Breaker of Chains, she is above all a rescuer. Daenerys drowned the slaver cities in blood rather than leave strangers to their chains, she can scarcely abandon her own brother. Instead she drops to her knees beside him on the floor and tells him of all that has happened since they parted.

When she is done, Viserys says, "I cannot be the king. You must go on in my stead."

"The throne is yours by right." Dany replies.

Viserys pauses, then admits, "I can father no children, Dany. You are the last of our house. You hatched dragons and conquered cities. You must be the queen."

"The maegi said-"

"That you would go to the Dosh Khaleen and become one of them. Or that you would die on Drogo's funeral pyre." Her brother touches her face with a gentleness she has never felt from him before. "A witch who murdered your son and husband is not a reliable source of information, Dany."

"If one of us has a child, then they must take the throne," she insists, "I am the blood of the dragon and for that I ruled, but Viserys I only want peace. The little house with the lemon trees and the red door. Peace."

"Let us rule together, then. As brother and sister," Viserys tells her, "We are the last of our blood and we only have each other."

Then they return to Westeros, where Cersei and the White Walkers await them. The dragons do not allow Viserys to ride, but they seem to like him. Brother and sister, Viserys rides behind Dany on Drogon's back, the last dragons the five of them.

"You are not here to be queen of the ashes," Tyrion tells her.

"Nonsense," Viserys scoffs, "You've lived through a starving Kings Landing, Lord Tyrion. It's said they ripped people apart and ate them still living in front of your eyes."

Drogon burns the Red Keep to the ground with its inhabitants inside but saves thousands from starvation and wildfire. The siblings find Cersei dead on the throne, having poisoned herself, and Tyrion weeps over her. Daenerys returns her body to the Rock, for his sake, and names Olenna Tyrell their Hand.

"With the queen's permission I'll go north and take one," Jorah Mormont offers.

"None of our men are going beyond the Wall. This is all ridiculous. You, the "King in the North" are going to personally go to the most dangerous place in the world for the sake of Jaime Lannister and his men?" Viserys touches his sister's shoulder gently. "You can never trust a Lannister," he tells her, Tyrion looking more uncomfortable by the second, "when Tywin Lannister swore to our father that he would fight for him, he sacked the city and murdered Rhaegar's family. Rhaenys, all of three. Aegon, the rightful king. Elia of Dorne. Jaime Lannister himself broke his sworn oath to our father. Do not trust them. Do not."

Jon Snow goes without Jorah Mormont, and of all the men that step beyond the Wall only he makes it back, bloody and battered, barely alive. Those that had gone with him had traded their lives for his, and had died for nothing. Jon has his wight. Jaime Lannister does not stir from the Rock. Perhaps he swears not to attack them, but he did not have the strength to fight in the field anyway.

"You will rule wisely and well, while she-" Varys begins, but Jon cuts him off.

"If you want another ruler, go and speak to Viserys."

And Varys has, but whatever happened to him in Essos has made it so that he will hear not a word of it. What Varys did say he expects made it back to Daenerys. "Viserys is his father's son, just so, and Rhaegar's son comes before his brother."

Varys will burn that night, when Viserys and Jon both swear that he is a traitor. Viserys would burn Jon too, but Dany refuses him. Burning the North's chosen ruler will do little to make them love her, she says. I love him, she does not, but he hears anyway.

Viserys has seen Jon's eyes. He is a Targaryen, that one, not a Stark, not like his beloved Ned. He takes to wearing full armor, even on Dragonstone, and warns Grey Worm as well. They come to an understanding, if an uncertain one, for Grey Worm has lost Missandei and he will not lose her as well.

As the Red Keep is rebuilt, Dany goes to walk among the ruins. Sometimes she goes up to the Iron Throne, although that room has not been started yet, just to be alone and think. She takes no guards but her children. In the throne room, she welcomes Jon to her, angry or not. They argue.

Casterly Rock has burned, and Viserys is looking for his sister. He finds her usual guard in the hall, and asks where she is. "The throne room," they say, "Jon Snow is with her."

He starts to run. Alarmed, the Unsullied follow him. She had commanded to be left alone, but Jon Snow is one of her generals, one of her trusted allies. The queen has been alone with him before, in more intimate places, and

"You are my queen." Jon says, and she lets him embrace her. There is a blade in his belt, one that almost killed his brother. He reaches for it.

Yet Viserys is not fast enough. He is only a man, but Drogon is not. While he is not Viserys' in the way he is Daenerys', he still feels his fear, still knows it's for his mother. With a flap of his great wings he shakes the snow away and soars up to the ruined keep.

Viserys bursts into the throne room steps ahead of the guards to find Daenerys naked and on her knees, weeping over the corpse of her lover, half-burned away along with her clothes. He still holds the blade he would have killed her with.

Removing his cloak, he drapes it over her instead, hiding both her nakedness and the swell of her stomach as she cries. Viserys pulls her away from the body, turning her face into his shoulder. His mother was careful, so careful, to shelter him from the worst of his father's atrocities, but this is not the first time he has smelled burning flesh. It's all he can do to mummer in High Valyrian to his sister, trying to calm her.

"You were right." Are her first words. "I should never have trusted him. You were right."

Above them is Drogon, the son she bore from Khal Drogo's pyre. Because of her they sit in the halls their ancestors built and call themselves king and queen. Three cities yet stand in Essos, their slaves free for the first time in thousands upon thousands of years. All her doing.

Viserys accepted a long time ago that he was never going to take back the Seven Kingdoms. He was never going to go home. Yet here he stands, all because of his little sister. Viserys had wanted his father's throne; Daenerys envisioned a new world. Jon Snow is but dush and ash.

"No," he presses a kiss to her forehead, and tries to wipe away the tears. "You're a conqueror, Dany, you're a queen. He chose the old world, and you will craft a new one."

[clingypope]

i am steter trash so i wrote an au where stiles is a spark that lives in the forest because he killed his dad in an accident back when he was a kid and couldn't control his magic and his moms family was just made up of mages and he is the first one to actually be a born spark with loads of power so she raises him and teaches him everything she knows

and in this au sparks are being hunted and put down like animals so claudia builds a house in the forest with stiles where he can live and study magic on the land of their family and after she dies stiles moves there.

(and yes hes a lot older in this because it makes me antsy to write about eighteen year old stiles and adult peter. sorry. I'm a pussy okay.)

and stiles meets his gang! and scott is a dryad, lydia is a mermaid, jackson and danny are mermen (and jackson and danny are together by the way), i planned allison as a regular human that meets scott on a walk in the woods and falls in love with him later in the story because the hale fire storyline is still happening, and kira is an ancient kitsune who also lives in the forest and is good friends with stiles, and erica, boyd, isaac, liam, theo etc are not there yet but thats cause stiles is pretty alone.

he just minds his own business and takes care of the dryads and meets fairies (who live in the forest) and makes a deal with them that they'll stop screwing around with humans and stay in the forest and he'll protect them and take care of them because sparks are powerful and the fairies appreciate that instead of being afraid of him.

and stiles just does his thing for a couple of years until the fairies go a little bit too far and peter hale, who is stupidly a little too far in the forest on his patrol, gets caught in a storm they cause and gets lost in the woods, and he finds stiles' house and stiles takes him in and gives him dry clothes and then guards him back so peter won't get himself fairy'ed

and then a week passes and stiles is kind of anxious peters family will tell him to fuck off the woods (even though it's stiles' heritage to take care of the forest, the hales just live there) and then: the actual plot

a little apple dryad tells him scott found a dying fairy. this fairy apparently told scott in her dying breath something wolfish killed her, and stiles wrongly thinks peter and his family did that, and he goes to find scott to ask him about it, but scott is just gone. stiles can't find him and gets worried and checks his wards, and when he gets to the wards around the hale property, he meets laura. he asks her if she's seen scott, and she saw him going back into the forest, but stiles still can't find him.

laura leaves and stiles finds the ward to their territory broken, and it stinks like druid, so he figures it was this deaton guy because werewolves aren't sneaky like that.

stiles visits lydia (because he still can't find scott and lydia knows how to calm him down) and finds out jackson and danny saw a monster while making out under the surface of their lake and from then stiles knows that the hales have got nothing to do with this because what lydia describes Is Not a werewolf.

so he gets pissy, and then ultimately is enraged when he finds a dead stag this monster killed, and because he's pissy he visits the hales to tell talia he's rightfully going to kill their emissary for being a bitch and breaking his wards and letting some monster walk his territory.

and talia is all "what the fuck how do i not know you." and stiles is all internally "i see my darling peter kept his promises" and then he's internally like "wait fuck i'm not really in love with this guy am i" and then he's like "oh. OH."

and talia convinces him not to kill deaton because shes awesome and stiles grumpily agrees because... not agreeing would be a dick move and it would mean. War. Basically.

so the hales offer their help looking for scott and stiles finds this monster thing on his search and its a wendigo yay, and scott has been following this thing around for days now because he's a dumbass and wanted to help, and they bro out

and the hales and stiles kill this thing, which means magic action. and stiles is awesome. and everyone knows that now.

what follows is just steter get-to-know-eachother and the hale pack are the biggest wingmen (wingpeople) ever and there's fluff and magic and a lot of flowers because stiles is a person that can't for the life of him say the words "i love you" and gets incredibly anxious when people say "i love you" so he mostly displays his feelings for peter in hanakotoba, the traditional japanese flower language that kira taught him, and peter eventually catches onto that and they get together in a load of angst and fluff and they have sex. because of course they have loads of sex. bold of you to think peter can keep his hands off stiles for longer than a day and likewise.

and there is like a load of stiles/hale pack friendship dynamics because i love them all and then suddenly yeehaw. hale fire.

So paige has already happened in this timeline before stiles and peter met, and derek still meets kate and she does her scum thing and uses him. a bunch of hunters show up to the hale house, shoot them with wolfsbane bullets and gather them so they can burn together.

stiles wakes up in a rush because something bad is happening to his wolves but then his eyes fall closed again and he can't get out of bed for a solid time because someone freaking poisoned him and he's fevering and weak and everything is dizzy, but he forces himself up because something. bad. is happening. to his. wolves. he stumbles into his kitchen and almost dies right there and then, because the poison is wolfsbane and he feels like he got tons of it shoved down his throat by the person that poisoned him. his life starts flashing in front of his eyes and he fights back at it and vomits the wolfsbane out, believes it out of his system and when it's gone, he's just left raging.

because i hate kate, stiles loses control when he meets her at the hale house and kills her. he gets the pack and gets them out of the house, breaks the mountain ash circle and they leave. the hales can't go back to their house because the place is swarming with hunters

and peter and stiles figure out it was deaton who told kate everything she needed to know to set this trap and the mountain ash circle also stinks like druid, so deaton gets revealed as being the bad guy all along. stiles figures that he also poisoned him so he wouldnt interrupt, and that deaton wanted thalias alpha spark. the wendigo was a test and deaton put it there on purpose to see how strong stiles was and if he would care about the hales, because deaton knew stiles would feel the hunters killing them and ever since peter and stiles got together the druid knew he would have to murder him too to get the hales dead.

and stiles is just half feral in his wrath and the aftermath of the wolfsbane poisoning, and derek is sobbing and muttering about this being all his fault, and peter has two bullets stuck in his knees and has to be held up by his niece and his brother-in-law, and every one of them is shot and hurt and crying and talia does her best to comfort derek while shaking as well

and stiles just closes his eyes. takes a deep breath. and takes care of his family-in-law, because fuck if he isnt gonna marry peter after this. he takes them in, gives them clean and comfortable clothes, patches them up, lets them shower, yeets his living room so they have space for a big puppy pile, gives them food and water to drink and then draws a ward around his house that is strong enough deaton won't be able to find them unless he sells his soul to the king of hell.

when he's done with that, he locks the hales in and asks kira to take care of them and make sure they're okay while he's gone. she agrees and stiles goes and because he's angry and kind of more dark than i let slip until now so he just. slaughters the hunters that are left. and he enjoys it.

then he shows up to chris argents house, shocks the living hell out of allison because he's still covered in blood and ash, and goes talk to gerard, who is there for alibi purposes. he just flatly tells the truth and asks gerard how many times they've done this now. and the second the old man lets slip the hales weren't the first, stiles goes full Older Derek Hale Mode and slams him against a wall to threaten the living shit out of the man.

by threaten i mean he says that he'll kill him and there's nothing the guy can do about it, cause stiles will find him, no matter how far he runs. yknow bamf dark stiles shit. i am living for writing this scene right now bye

and then he looks at chris and allison. allison looks scared out of her mind and then she asks if thats true. if her family really did something like that. and chris has to look her square in the eye and tell her through gritted teeth that, altough he didnt know about this, yes, they did that to innocent people.

and stiles looks at chris and gives him a nod, because he knows the guy can get this right, he knows allison is strong and fierce and will be fine no matter what. he looks at gerard and sneers at him in disgust. then he leaves like the dramatic bitch he is, but not without ensuring chris will clean this mess up and make an alliance with talia.

he goes back to the house and the only one still awake is peter, and stiles breaks down completely, covered in blood from head to toe and scared out of his mind too. peter holds him, gently leads him into the shower, and helps him get cleaned up, washes his hair, picks out clothes for him, and they go to sleep together.

then, recovery. stiles organizes therapy for derek because lord knows the boy needs it, he nurses the hales healthy, shows them around in the house, they meet his friends, cora and lydia take a particularly special interest in each other, scott is sad because allison broke up with him but stiles visits the argents and talks to her a lot and they become friends too, and he knows scott will get over her eventually, just as she's getting over him.

and stiles shows the hales his life for a while until everyone is recovered, and then they go back to the hale house that he cleaned up already (because, uh, corpses had to be buried, floors had to be cleaned from blood and the smell of magic and mountain ash had to be erased)

and then peter proposes to stiles and they have a beautiful wedding by the lake where cora can talk to lydia, and derek ends up talking to scott quite a lot because scott is nervous and sweet and falls head over heels for the quiet werewolf, and guess who allison ends up with? nobody. because allison is fucking awesome and in the hunter business and she takes it upon her to start cleaning up the community and goes against hunters that are like her aunt just killing innocent people and a relationship with anybody would just be annoying. maybe she realizes she isnt even into relationships, i don't know that yet. aro ally would be interesting, dude.

And then in the end stiles goes to live with the hales and they mend their territory together so he can still visit his friends and he leaves the house to cora who eventually moves there as an adult so she can live with lydia. he and peter move out as well and they go back to town when stiles is ready, because he's lived so freaking long in the fear someone will hunt him down and kill him for his power, and now everything is peaceful. so he puts down his weapons, stops fighting, and lives happily ever after.

and has loads of sex with peter. just because.

[merakiaes]

Fly, Butterfly - Oscar “Spooky” Diaz

Pairing: Oscar “Spooky” Diaz x reader

Requested: Yes. 

Prompts: None. 

Warnings/notes: I got a request like a week ago about Oscar saying some hurtful things to the reader in a fight but I lost the request, so I hope the requester sees this. This is a whole mess hahah. Not proofread so sorry in advance for any mistakes, Spanish translations at the end. I hope you like it and let me know what you think xx

Wordcount: 6335

Summary: Oscar breaks up with you for your own good, but that doesn’t make it any less painful. 

Part Two

Oscar called you ‘mariposa’, because when you met for the first time at the Summer Nights Lights fair in the Freeridge Park, you may or may not have had your face painted as a blue butterfly, courtesy of your younger sister’s endless nagging.

You had been sixteen at the time, Oscar seventeen and Cesar no more than nine. You were new to Freeridge, just having moved in with your mother, younger sister and older brother after your mom had finally found the courage she needed to leave your cheating, scumbag of a father.

Up until then, you’d lived a life of luxury, but with your father’s salary now gone from your income, you didn’t have much left to live on and you were forced to settle with what you could afford; a beat down house just down the street of the Martinez family.

For a girl that had grown up spoiled, getting everything you pointed at, it was a big change to suddenly have all that taken away from you.

You didn’t mean any harm, but with the big change, you often found yourself slipping up and offending people around the block by complaining about your lost privileges to a start.

Oscar was the one who took it upon himself to teach you the importance of family and community over riches and bring you down to Earth, taking a liking to you despite your spoilt princess attitude because despite it all, you weren’t judgmental.

The nickname stuck with you, even when the face paint was long gone, because like the metaphorical butterfly, you had the potential to go wherever you wanted in life if only you took the step.

The promising possibilities you had ahead of you gave him hope that maybe, just maybe, he’d be able to get out of the life he was stuck in eventually, too, but his hope was killed when he was arrested and locked up on a sentence of four years on the day of your high school graduation.

You’d known each other for two years at the time of his arrest and during that time, you had managed to get close enough for both of you to know you were in it for the long run, whatever it was that was going on between you. 

You had plenty of chances to get with other people during those four years that he was gone but you had no interest in anyone but him, the perfectly balanced give-and-take bond you shared being way too rare to be thrown away like that.

He never actually expected you to stick around and wait for him but he was happy to find out that you had and that your family had actually taken Cesar in during the time he’d been gone.

The second he got released, he came straight to you. Not to Cesar, not to any of the Santos; you. After being locked up in that cramped, cold cell for so long, he craved your touch like he’d been starving.

In a way, you both had. 

A year had passed since he got released now and you had been inseparable every day since. You had pretty much moved in with him at this point, taking care of him when he forgot to take care of himself in the midst of the gang madness.

In turn, he kept protecting you like he’d done ever since day one, but sadly, he couldn’t be one step ahead or glued to your side all the time and sometimes, you ended up caught in the crossfire of the Santo-Prophet war.

And naturally, Oscar blamed himself for getting you involved, even though he’d never done anything but protect you.

You could see it on his face where he sat beside you on the bed, his cold, hard eyes staring down at the bloody rag he’d used to clean up your cuts only minutes before.

He hadn’t said anything the entire ten minutes you had been sitting there and the thick tension hanging over you in the air was becoming too much to handle, making you more and more anxious for every second that passed.

After the traumatic experience you’d just gone through, all you wanted was for him to hold you and assure you that everything was going to be okay, but he couldn’t even look at you.

You knew that he could feel you looking at him and yet, he was avoiding your gaze as if he’d die on the spot if he met your eyes, which did nothing to soothe the intense stress you were still feeling after the night’s events.

An involuntary sigh left your nose and you touched your feet together where you sat at the edge of the bed, your hands tucked under your thighs.

You leaned your head against Oscar’s shoulder but he still didn’t move, so you carefully brought one of your hands from under your leg and reached it out to take his, which was still holding on to the rag.

His hands stopped fumbling with the bloody piece of fabric and his entire body tensed beside you.

Looking up at him, you found that his previously emotionless face was now pulled into a deep glare, his eyes squinted with anger and his lips and nose turned up with the distaste he was obviously, and  rightfully so, feeling about the whole situation.

A frown etched itself onto your face at the sight and your lip automatically pouted. “Don’t make that face, baby.” You mumbled, forcing one of his hands to let go of the rag in order to intertwine your fingers with his. “I’m fine. I’m fine, alright?”

“You almost died!” He suddenly snapped out of his trance, whipping his head around to face you and causing you to flinch in the process.

Guilt and shame instantly filled your entire body and your eyes left his, but he paid no mind to your discouraged attitude, bringing his face closer to yours and glaring fiercely at you.

“You’ve got a brain. Why don’t you use it?” He inquired, raising a bloody hand to your head and pressing a harsh finger into your temple. “What made you think it was a good idea to go out, by yourself, on the night that I specifically told you not to? ¿Por qué nunca me escuchas? Huh? When they brought you back you were pale as a ghost and there was blood everywhere. I thought I lost you.”

Throughout his scolding, his face ended up so close to yours that you could feel his breath on your lips and the little droplets of saliva hitting your face when he quite literally spat out the words on his mind.

You’d had your fair share of arguments through your relationship but he rarely went off on you like this, with so much rage behind his eyes, so you couldn’t deny you weren’t feeling very good about being on the receiving end of his anger.

But still, you kept your calm, simply blinking the tears away from your eyes and cautiously bringing your hand up to his cheek.

“You didn’t.” You whispered softly to him, your voice trembling and eyes searching his. “I’m here, okay? And I’m not planning on going anywhere.”

His lips turned up, pulling into a line so straight and tense that his dimples were put on full display. You tried searching his eyes for anything else than anger, but he instantly closed them and turned his head away from yours.

You moved your hand after his face. “Hey, look at me.” You said, turning your face slightly to keep searching for his eyes. “Please.”

A moment of silence fell over the two of you, the only sound you could hear being your own heartbeat in your ears and the sound of Oscar’s ragged, angry breaths.

But after a few seconds of seemingly being deep in thought, he finally turned his head back in your direction, opening his eyes and staring right into yours, his nostrils flaring and his lips still pulled into a tight line.

You cradled his cheek and rubbed your thumb over one of his dimples, mustering a hesitant, careful smile. 

“I love you.” You whispered leaning in and pressing your forehead against his. “I love you. I’m not going anywhere.”

Your heart sank in your chest when he didn’t say anything back, but you pushed the feeling away, instead leaning in to press your lips to his, a warm, content feeling spreading through your body when feeling him relax into your touch.

His hand slowly came up to grab the wrist of your hand that was still pressed against his cheek, his lips slowly but surely molding against yours.

When you broke apart, you smiled, looking into his eyes while rubbing your thumb over his cheek. “Please, come to bed.” You whispered. “I don’t want to sleep alone tonight.”

He looked at you, saying nothing and showing little to no emotion on his face or in his eyes. But a second later, he threw the bloody rag to the floor and began moving up on the bed.

You followed his example, moving backward to your side of the bed to allow him to lay down on his, moving closer to him and cuddling up to his side once he was settled.

No more words were exchanged between the two of you and you knew that your argument was everything but finished, but you were happy to be where you were in the moment when Oscar after a while kissed your head and pulled you tightly against his chest, successfully lulling you off to sleep.

Unbeknownst to you, he laid awake all night long, fuming about everything that had happened and thinking about what he was going to do to stop you from further putting you in harm’s way. 

And come next morning when he got out of bed, he got the answer to his question handed to him on a silver platter, almost as if someone had heard his prayers and shown him the way.

You were content when you woke up, despite everything that had happened the night before, but that was quickly turned around, your happiness turning out to be very short-lived when you entered the living room to see Oscar sitting at the table with a very familiar piece of paper in front of him.

It was familiar, because you had thrown it in the trash the day before and even hid it under the other garbage to avoid him finding it but apparently, it hadn’t been enough and it had all been in vain.

He looked up at you as you entered the room and wasted no time in raising the paper, causing you to come to a halt right in the doorway.

“¿Qué es esto?” He asked you and your wide eyes flickered between him and the paper.

You gulped, swallowing the anxiety and slowly starting to walk again. “You obviously already know exactly what it is.” You mumbled, going over to the table at which he was sitting and sitting down across from him.

His head raised in a pissed-off nod, his eyes squinting with anger and accusation. “So you just weren’t going to tell me that you got into the college that you’ve dreamt about going to since you were twelve?”

You rolled your eyes and heaved a sigh, reaching out to snatch the paper back from him.

“I told you last night that I’m not going anywhere.” You repeated last night’s promise and crumpled the paper in your hand. “It wouldn’t be worth it without you. I have my entire life to get an education and I can pursue my dreams later with you by my side, after you’ve left the Santos.”

He did nothing to stop you from destroying the letter of acceptance but the glare remained on his face as he answered. “That might never happen.”

Your eyebrows creased together and you put the crumpled paper to the side, standing up and walking over to him. “I’m willing to take that chance, and to wait for you.” You said simply, reaching out to take his face in your hands to get him to look up at you. “You know I am.”

His eyes stared into yours, unwavering, and to a start he said nothing. But then he nodded his head. 

“Yeah.” He agreed, and then he turned his head out of your grasp to reach under the table, and you watched as he pulled out a gym bag packed full.

Your eyebrows instantly shot up in confusion. “What’s this?” You asked, wrapping your arms around yourself and taking a step back when he stood up. “Are you going somewhere?”

“No.” He quickly denied, his eyes not once leaving yours as he roughly pushed the bag into your arms. “You are.”

You’d never experienced heartbreak before but you never would have guessed that this was how it felt. Suddenly, all of those sad love songs made perfect sense.

Even though the breakup hadn’t happened yet, you were smart enough to understand what was to come, and at that moment, you could feel all the butterflies slowly dying in your stomach.

“What?”

Your voice cracked and your wide eyes stared at him with disbelief. Still, in the midst of your shock, you held onto the bag now in your arms as if your life depended on it.

“I’m done with you.” He clarified and if your heart had been broken before, it was absolutely shattered now.

The words came out soft, as soft as they could be when coming out of the mouth of Spooky, but their punch was everything but and as they progressed in your brain, all the air left your lungs in one single breath.

“You’re leaving me?”

He didn’t say anything, only stared at you with those soft brown eyes, his hands clenched at his sides. He pressed her lips together and shook his head once, looking as if this was the most natural thing he’d ever done.

“I can’t with you anymore.” He spat out and you stiffened.

Your eyes traveled from the bend of his shoulders to his rapidly moving chest, then back to his eyes where you held them steadily, even as they filled with tears.

“Was it something I said?” You asked, your tone holding nothing but pain. “Something I did? Is it because I didn’t tell you about Yale?” Despite the heat rising to your neck, your voice came out eerily calm; a sharp contrast to how you felt, to say the least.

But he only shook his head. “No, it’s not any of that.”

You waited for him to continue, the crease between your eyebrows deepening. 

The silence and tension between you expanded, taught like an overfilled balloon waiting to be burst, and you quickly realized he wasn’t going to say anything else.

You held his gaze steadily, bravely, and that’s when the emotions he was trying to hold back caught up with him, forcing him to break eye-contact and look to the side.

When he did this, you walked up to him, taking his face in your hands and forcing him to look right back at you.

“Then what is it?” You asked, pushing past your tears with a shake of your head. “There has to be an explanation. Why are you leaving me?”

He said nothing, and you continued. “Whatever it is, we can fix it, right? Come on, baby.” 

The lack of response you were receiving was making you desperate now, your face fallen and tearful eyes staring up at him while your hand cradled his cheeks to hold his face in place. “We’ve come this far. Just tell me what the problem is and we’ll fix it. Please.”

Again, you received no response, so you did the only thing that came to mind and leaned your head up to press your lips to his.

Your lips only got to brush together for the briefest moment, however, before he turned his head to the side and ripped himself out of your grasp.

“There’s someone else.”

Your eyes widened and when the words reached your ears, hitting you like a bag of bricks. 

You could feel every vein of blood In your body turning cold; every muscle turning stiff and your heart seemingly coming to an abrupt stop in your chest.

“What?”

“You heard me.” He replied without missing a beat, and you instantly began violently shaking your head. 

“I- wha- no. No there’s not.” You could barely form a coherent sentence, your mind spinning with thoughts and emotions.

But he didn’t seem bothered in the slightest about the hurt he was currently putting you through, his eyes now wiped completely free of emotion and his face pulled up into a fierce, spiteful glare as he answered: “There is.”

The look on his face was one you’d only seen him give his enemies before, people that dare threaten his power or the safety and wellbeing of the people he held dear.

No matter how angry he got at you, he had never even gotten close to looking at you like he was now; like he didn’t even know who you were. 

You had never, in a million years, thought that you would one day be on the receiving end on one of those looks and yet here you stood, flinching when you felt a jab of pain in your heart. 

For a moment, you thought it had just been your imagination playing tricks on you in the foreign situation you found yourself in, but you quickly came to the realization that all of it was real.

Oscar was really throwing you to the curb, and your heart was actually, physically hurting.

It felt as if it was being shattered into a million pieces, like it was being mercilessly stomped on, shredded, cut up and thrown in the trash, left to rot, and in a way, you guessed it actually was.

You suddenly felt unable to breathe, your chest tightening, a tight knot building up in your stomach and your throat turning thick, barely even allowing you to get your voice out.

“I thought you loved me.” You managed to get out through the lump in your throat, and it took everything that you had in you not to break down right then and there.

Oscar was as unbothered as ever, taking a step closer to you and leaning down to your face. “You’re right, I did love you. I just can’t say the same now.” He spat, looking down at you with pure distaste. “I want to be with more than just one hyna throughout my life. I want to experience, experiment. I don’t want to be tied down like this anymore. I don’t want to be responsible for you, I don’t need that shit right now.”

“Experiment?” You breathed out, suddenly feeling the heartbreak being replaced by a momentary, hot flash of anger. “Experiment?!” You exclaimed, your face pulling into one of pure madness.

You could finally bring yourself to drop the bag in your arms, your hands instead flying out to hit his chest with every word. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?! After all that we’ve been through? After everything I’ve done for you? We’ve been together for seven years. Seven years, Oscar! Did none of that shit mean anything to you?! Did I not mean anything to you? We’ve talked about having children, getting married, building a future together. Was that just talk? I thought I was worth more than this. How could you? How could you, how could you, how could you-“

“¡Paren!” He yelled out angrily, catching your wrists in his hands to stop you from repeatedly hitting him.

You only shook your head, staring straight at him. “I trusted you.” You spat. “You told me you loved me and I- I trusted you.”

At the end of that sentence, the anger melted off and as the heartbreak and hurt suddenly struck you again, coming crashing back down on you like a wave, your legs gave up from underneath you, sending you stumbling straight into his chest as you finally broke down.

He hugged you tightly to a start and you melt into it, crying into his chest and holding on to the front of his shirt like your life depends on it.

His chin hit the top of your head and then, just like that, he pushed you away, his face that had briefly fallen changing into a glare again and his hand coming up to pull over his face in a frustrated manner.

“Leave.”

The word left his lips so simply, so easily, only causing your tears to fall at an even quicker speed.

“So this is it?” You asked, your voice trembling and your lip with it. “All of the years we’ve spent together, just thrown away because you want to experiment?”

“Give it up. It’s over. We’re over.” He glared at you, his entire posture rigid. “I haven’t loved you for months, I just stayed with you because you’re so damn dependent of me, I was scared you were gonna go all loco and hurt yourself.”

Your face pulled into a glare to match his own at that, glowering at him through your blurring vision. “Are you saying you thought I was going to kill myself?” You inquired slowly, your voice low and full of hatred, although not really. 

You shook your head, looking at him with disbelief. “I may love you more than anything, but that doesn’t mean I love myself any less.”

He stared at you for a moment and then he sniffed, pulling a hand over his mouth and chin and turning away from you. “Doesn’t matter now. Take your shit and go. We’re through.”

A humorless snort left your lips. “You’re a fucking asshole, Oscar Diaz.” You whispered out through your tears, shaking your head. “I wish I never met you.”

“Yeah?” He turned back to you quickly, picking the bag up from the floor and marching up to you with two long strides, shoving it into your chest just like he had the first time. “I wish you never met me, either. So go,”

Your eyes widened at the proximity and threatening tension between you and you swallowed, closing your eyes when he leaned his face closer to yours and spat out through gritted teeth.

“Before I do something I’ll regret.”

You looked up into the ceiling in an effort to stop the tears from streaming down your face, the lump in your throat still as thick as it had been when you had left the Diaz residence earlier that day, if not even thicker.

“I-“ A quivering sigh escaped your lips. “I don’t know what to do or how to feel. He’s been such a big part of my life, we’ve been together for so long and now it’s all just… gone.”

You looked straight ahead as the tears fell, shaking your head slowly. “I don’t know what to do, Jasmine. I really don’t want to lose him.” You said, your voice cracking. 

Jasmine sat above you, slowly stroking your hair in a soothing manner where your head rested in her lap. 

She was the first one you’d called when you got back home, locking yourself inside your room and refusing to open to anyone but her.

She may have been younger than you but she was wise beyond her years and didn’t get half as much credit as she deserved, and at the end of the day, you knew that she was the only one in Freeridge who wouldn’t go reporting everything you’d said to Oscar.

“Girl, if you’re meant to be, you won’t.” She replied, shaking her head. “No matter how much time you spend away from each other and no matter how far away from each other you are. Love doesn’t know distance nor time.”

You tore your eyes away from the ceiling to look at her. “What are you saying?” You asked, and watched as her face pulled up into a comforting smile.

“I’m saying you should go to Connecticut, (Y/N). That’s why he did what he did.”

Even the thought of moving forty-two hours, almost three thousand miles away from Oscar made you flinch, feeling your heart tugging in your chest. But more than anything, what brought you pain was everything else.

You shook your head, clenching your jaw as a new set of tears built up in your eyes, turning your gaze back to the ceiling above you. “There’s no excuse for what he did.” You managed to get out through your angry tears.

“You were going to give up your life-long dream, an opportunity of a lifetime, to stay here with him. In the hood, with the constant risk of getting rolled up on the street.” Jasmine kept arguing, her hands stilling in your hair.

“Can’t you see?” She asked. “There is no one else. You should see him when you’re not around, he doesn’t even look. He only said all those things so that you’d leave, to make sure you’d be safe. He gave you a chance to get away from here and you’re going to take it. If I have to tie you up and force you to the airport then so be it, you’re not giving this up. You’re gonna go, and you’re gonna make Freeridge proud.”

Your eyes flickered back up to meet hers, a bitter snort leaving your lips. “I’m not even from Freeridge.” You pointed out stubbornly.

But she wasn’t phased in the slightest by your attitude. “Boo, it doesn’t matter where you’re from.” She said, waving a carefree hand. “You’re family, and as your family, it’s my duty to make sure you make the right decisions. Now come on, let’s get some ice cream.”

You heaved a tired sigh but nonetheless let her pull you out of bed. 

You would have much rather stayed there, crying your life away, but in retrospect, you were grateful that she stayed with you and forced you to keep yourself busy, or else you probably still would’ve been in bed.

The first four or five days were the heaviest and full of tears, but you managed to get through it with the help of your friend and your family.

A week passed, two weeks passed and three weeks passed, and you had now gone back to living your life as you would any other time. 

But of course, you still thought about Oscar, missing him to the point where your heart would clench at mere the thought of him and the memories you shared.

After Jasmine’s little clarifying speech, you’d began realizing why Oscar had done what he did and what drove him to do so but despite it, you couldn’t help but be angry at him.

You tried telling yourself that it was because you thought he’d handled the entire thing wrong, but in reality, you and everyone else knew it was just your way to cope with the lingering pain.

And it was especially hard to think about him on this day, when you were packing the last of your things into the car that would take you to the airport where you would catch a plane to the school that would serve as your home for the next four years.

You hadn’t seen or heard from him ever since the day of your brutal breakup.

You knew that Cesar must have told you that you were moving at this point but you still didn’t expect him to suddenly make an appearance and say goodbye, which was why you were so surprised when you caught sight of him walking up to your house when exiting the said house with another box in your arms.

He was wearing a pair of gray sweatpants, white sneakers, and his signature black and gray plaid shirt. 

Already from a distance, you could see that his head had been freshly shaven and the mere sight of him was enough to cause you to come to a halt on the porch.

Your eyes locked with his and you quickly covered the shock up with the anger you’d been forcing yourself to feel over the past three weeks, setting your feet into motion again.

“How you been?” He gave you a casual nod once he reached you and suddenly, much to your luck, you didn’t have to fake the anger anymore.

“How do you think?” You spat at him, walking straight past him and heading for the car.

He walked after you with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his sweats, one of them coming out briefly to motion at the open, fully packed trunk. “You’re leaving.”

You snorted dryly. “An observation anyone with a pair of functioning eyes would have been able to make.” You turned to him, giving him the nastiest glare that you could muster. “And it’s what you wanted, right? So, congratulations.”

He just stood there quietly, watching you intently and taking all of your rage. 

You turned away from him again the second you were done talking, ignoring his presence to your best ability and turning your attention back to the box in your hands.

You moved it into the trunk of your mother’s car and pushed it, but quickly let out a frustrated breath through your nose, your movements turning rougher when you realized something on the inside was preventing it from going in.

“I got it.” Oscar’s hands were suddenly on yours in an attempt to take over and at the feeling of the familiar sensation of electricity shooting through your body, you hurried to rip your hands away, taking a step away from him and whipping around to face him.

In turn, his head turned towards you at your sudden, harsh movements. His face was wiped free of emotion but you knew him well enough to read the sullenness behind his eyes, not that it mattered now anyway.

You kept glaring at him but he said nothing, simply turning back to the box now in his hands, reaching one hand into the trunk and carefully adjusting something inside and getting the box in with one single push.

The fact that he managed so easily only annoyed you further and you crossed your arms over your chest to cover up the fact that you were growing sadder and sadder the longer you were with him.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, sighing. “Haven’t you done enough already?”

He turned back to you, nodding his head and looking at you calmly. “You’re angry. I get it.”

“I’m not angry, I’m fucking hurt.” You quickly objected, glaring fiercely at him and completely missing the way he flinched at your change of volume in all your furious glory.

You let out a dry, humorless laugh. “You broke me.” You threw your arms out. “Are you happy?”

His face suddenly turned hard, his eyes squinting together and you sucked in a breath when he started walking toward you with slow steps.

“I didn’t break you.” He denied, backing you into the side of the car. “I gave you your wings back. You were going to give up your dreams. I wasn’t going to let that happen.”

“So you had to lie to me about there being someone else? You couldn’t just talk to me?” You asked without missing a beat, your chest heaving up and down rapidly both from the anger and the nerves you were having from being so close to him again, after such a long time.

But he was used to your attitude by now, clearly only finding your anger amusing judging by the way the corner of his lip twitched and his eyebrow rose.

“Would you have listened?” He inquired back, and your eyes instantly flickered down to the ground. “That’s what I thought.”

Your anger melted off, being replaced with the sadness you had been trying so hard to push back. “Why are you here, Oscar?” You asked again without looking up.

He took a step back and in turn, you allowed yourself to relax and carefully look back up at him, meeting his gaze and watching as he nodded at you. “Just wanted to say goodbye.”

You stubbornly glared at him. “You already did, when you pushed me away.” You said, and watched as he shook his head.

“You need to understand that everything I’ve ever done has been to keep you safe.”

“You don’t have to hurt someone in order to keep them safe.” You glared but you quickly let it go, looking to the side again with a deep sigh.

He didn’t say anything else, just allowing you to take your time. You chewed on the inside of your cheek while you thought, trying your hardest to calm your violently racing heart and not think about his intense burning into the side of your face.

You slowly let your eyes trail away from the pavement under your feet to his hand where it was hanging limply at his side, taking in the way he was absentmindedly moving his fingers around.

His knuckles were bruised as they always seemed to be and everything seemed to be the exact same as when you had last seen him. 

But that’s when you caught sight of it; a tiny speck of blue peeking out from under the sleeve of his shirt. That had definitely not been there before and your interest was instantly piqued. 

Before you could stop yourself, you had reached your hand out to grab his wrist and pull his arm up for you to better be able to inspect the new detail.

He did nothing to stop you, watching you closely as you brushed the sleeve up his arm to reveal a vibrantly blue butterfly permanently inked into the skin on the inside of his arm.

Your breath caught in your throat and much like when he had dumped you, your blood turned cold in your veins.

“When did you get this?” You asked, your voice barely even audible, coming out of your lips a mere whisper.

He stood still as the pads of your fingers brushed over the new tattoo, secretly thankful for the fact that you were too occupied with inspecting it to notice the way the hair on his arms stood up with the goosebumps your touch left behind in its wake.

“The same day you left.” He replied lowly and you swallowed, tensing your jaw and looking back up at him to meet his soft, brown eyes.

“Why?”

He stared back, taking the smallest step closer to you. “To keep you with me, even when you’re not.”

You swallowed again, turning your head to the side and glaring into the distance to keep back the tears burning your eyes and threatening to fall. 

He took a hesitant step closer to you and if you hadn’t completely misread the situation, it seemed like he was going to move in to hug you.

But before he could, your mother walked down the porch of the house with your suitcase in one hand and your sister’s hand in the other, coming up to you and, unfortunately. causing Oscar to take a step back again.

Her eyes flickered between the two of you a few times before finally settling on you, silently giving you an apologetic look. “It’s time to go, honey.” She said and you nodded, staring into the ground as she rounded the car to get your sister situated in the backseat and give you some privacy.

Your first instinct when they were gone was to turn to look at Oscar and when you laid eyes on him, you found that he was now smiling down at you.

At that moment, it became clear to you how hard he was trying to keep up a façade. He was smiling, but the smile didn’t even reach half the way up to his eyes, showing you that he was feeling just as sad as you were.

But still, he pushed himself to widen his smile and nod towards the car in encouragement. “Go.” He said, his voice soft. “Spread your wings, mariposa.”

He raised his hand to your cheek and you automatically leaned into his touch, tears blurring your vision and threatening to fall. 

“I love you, Oscar.” You whispered, staring straight into his eyes and reaching your hand up to hold his wrist.

His face fell for the briefest moment but he quickly covered it up. He said nothing, simply kissing your forehead, dropping his hand from your face and taking a step back. 

You didn’t say anything else; you couldn’t bring yourself to, because you knew that if you’d tried, you would have broken down right then and there and refused to leave.

And you knew that he knew that, too, which was why he hadn’t said anything either and which in turn was why, for the first time since your breakup, you were able to feel grateful.

You watched him raise his hand in a mediocre wave in the review mirror as you drove away, before tucking his hands into his pockets and turning around to walk down the road in the opposite direction.

Only then did you allow yourself to cry quietly, your mother squeezing your hand over the console in silent comfort.

There was always going to be that one person in your life that you couldn’t walk away from even if you knew that you had to, and Oscar was that person for you. You might not have been with each other in physical form right then but you would always be his, and he would always be yours.

You loved him and he loved you, but it just wasn’t that simple. It never had been. Honest feelings and bad timing made the most painful combination and you realized now that you’d probably always known that you were going to go your separate ways sooner or later.

It wasn’t easy leaving someone who still had and always would have a place in your heart, but you knew that everything Jasmine had told you when nursing you back to sanity after your breakup was true.

You didn’t know what the future held for you but you knew two things for sure; he was the best thing that had ever happened to you and you would be together again.

With Freeridge becoming smaller and smaller in the review mirror, you thought sadly to yourself that someday. Someday you’d be together again.

But until then, until the time came for you to meet again, you would honor his wish, spread your wings and fly, like the butterfly he had always known that you were and that you always would be.

His little butterfly.

Translations (I’m not a native Spanish speaker so this might not be a hundred percent accurate):

Mariposa - Butterfly

¿Por qué nunca me escuchas? – Why do you never listen to me?

¿Qué es esto? – What’s this?

¡Paren! – Stop!

Loco – Crazy

Tagged: @babienay​ @firebenderwolf​ @chaneajoyyy​ @moanlightbaby​ @dolanackles​ @marvelously-flawed​ @ugh-jalynn​ @jazzwhitlockhale​ @joyrivh​ @socialistavocado​ @turn-diamonds-into-snow​ @clemmingstylins0n​ @trublmr​ @fairygardenss​ @spookysnena​ @shadow-of-wonder @bxmaaa 

[popculturebuffet]

Amphibia Reviewcaps: The Dinner/Battle of the Bands “It’s You”

Hello all you happy people! And i’m almost to the finish line.  6 months (subtracting the ones where there were no new episodes) worth of weekly coverage and with next week i’ll have completed my second full season of reivews of a show as they came out, and my first full season of amphibia. If you’d like to see season 1 it’s up high on my stretch goals at 45 with reviews of Disney movies based on shows (The Proud Family, Recess and Kim Possible), Gravity Falls and more along the way if your curious. Check it out HERE. I’m also doing exclusive reviews eveyr month now with the coasional one thrown in randomly so check that out. New period starts in a week so please join before then.

So naturally with the big finale and all the tensions in amphibia close to reaching a boil next week, this week’s a bit more low key. Still not unimportant, with some massively good character work and in fact The Dinner is easily one of my faviorites of the season, but still nothing to move the plot too far forward. Just some nice character stuff to help inch us towards the climax next week. The calm before my heart is stillbeatingly ripped out of my chest. Which I will grant the show, having my heart ripped out Mola Ram style by some combination of Brenda Song and Keith David is how I wanted to go, i’m just not ready yet. So while I steel myself for the utter heartbreak of next week, I have my throughts on this weeks episodes under the cut!

The Dinner: 

I did tip my hand a bit by saying this was one of my faviorties of the season.. and I stand by that. This one was excellent. It was rife with tension while still somehow being a fun breather episode before hell arrives. 

As the title suggest the Plantars are having Grime and Sasha over for a fancy dinner, followed by games and such. Only Annearcy are happy about this though, Marcy still not getting quite how bad Sasha has gotten during her stay here and Anne hoping she has changed.  The Plantars, Sprig in paticular, still resent them for the whole toad tower fiasco, which is fair. You don’t forget someone trying to murder you over night, let alone your whole town. Hop Pop is using Frobo as the Grill by the way which is just visually fucktacular I gotta admit. He does get some more use these episodes, being used as a Grill here and as the fog machine and Polly’ sminon next episode. Good work boy. That’s my robot frog soldier builder whatever you are. 

Sasha and Grime are likewise not enthused. Sasha isn’t because her friends expect her to “Ugh” change and grow and stuff and isn’t happy about it and is confident she can return to rulling over them once her plan is done. Dude.. that’s not how a healthy throuple works. Or a healthy anything. Grime is more worried about her blowing it with her anger and control issues, but feels. this is VITAL to convincing the plantars to trust them long enough for their plan to go off. He even demands she remove her sword and all her knives... and she has a lot of them. Evne in her boot “How do you even walk?” Good question grime. 

My answer?

So what follows is about 8 minutes of the most hilariously awkward dinner since that time Micheal Scott decided to have a dinner party even though his relationship was horribly crumbling, as everyone but Anne and Marcy shoves their foot in their mouth at some point or makes some sort of screw up. Oh and Polly I guess she’s more content to just watch the show. Seriously i’m not usually a fan of cringe comedy.. but the series makes it work here as our heroes attempt to interact with thier old eneimeis and vice versa. 

For starters we have our guests arrvial, where Grime and Sasha both look objectively terrifying before things cool down. Then we have dinner itself where both Hop Pop and Grime prove to be the racist kind of grandpa as Grime asks what frogs they subjigated to get these turnips and Hop Pop makes an awkward lightbulb joke about Toads that Grime finds hilarious but everyone else was rightfully afraid would get the old man gutted by the other more violent old man. I imagine this happened a lot on the Lost Light once Megatron took over co captiancy. You just don’t fight a guy for a good hundered years without being nervous he’s going to blast you to fucking pieces. 

Sprig dosen’t help before all this by taking a seat next to anne and marcy specifically to piss her off, and out of all of them is the most openly hostile to her. Given Anne’s his best friend and Sasha did a LOT of emotional damage to her.. yeah fair enough. 

Things only esclate when it comes to frog pictionary. Suprisingly Hop Pop gets Grime’s Drawins and Sasha gets his, with both her and sprig trading escalating barbs and her barely containing her rage when Anne calls her on it since unlike her, Sprig has a reason to still be upset with her. This reaches a breaking point when Sasha attempts things, trying to desperatly win her friends back with the old times now they have their ownt imes apart.. only for Sprig to accidnetlay mock Sasha’s near sucicide,s aying she “slipped”.. granted I do think he geninely just can’t forgive her.. but it’s very clear she did not.. she let herself go to save them, and he’s just as in denial about it as Sasha and just as much a dick about it. 

Sasha flips out at him, and gets penalized for talking which only pisses her off MORE and understandably so. Anne leaps to the plantar’s defense but honestly.. both sides are understandabliy angry here. The Plantars are right to still not trust her after everything especially since she hasn’t outright apologized to them and her and Grime’s general response to the incident is “One Time!”... which works for say, taking the last slice of pizza without asking or slamming their face in a car door, but not so much “Trying to murder all of you for personal and stupid reasons.”. But at the same time Sprig DID cross the line really bad when she saved his fucking life. It dosen’t automaitcally erase the bad things she did but it dosen’t give him lisence to mock her. WHile I get he’s 10 and dosen’t get it was part suicide, he still is blantaly ignoring her trying to do something selfless because he can’t admit there’s any good in Sasha. Sasha is not a GREAT person.. but there IS good in her. She just has to WANT to seek that out instead of her inherent seflishness and need for control and Anne and Marcy are absolutely right for trying to help her instead of just slamming the door in her face. 

But soon eveyroen gets distracted by the cake which floods the room with molten lava. Hop Pop assumes it was some sort of trick.. but hilariously turns out no, Grime really was trying to be nice. That’s just how this works and it’s delcious once it hardens.. assuming you survivie the hornets, with fighting them being the best part of it. And yes hornets shoot out of the cake. Are you suprised at this point? They also paralize grime leaving our heroes without the one person among them who knows what their doing. 

SO our heroines are forced to fight some hornets, with Sasha trying to take lead.. only for Anne to do so and succeed at it, figuring out that while weapons can’t pierce them their own stingers might and having Marcy use her crossbow to launch the stinger in grime at them, and then has Sasha distract the rest to take them out. 

So our heroines reconcile with Sasha admitting she might not want to change and Anne admitting that’s okay.. she just has to accept things have changed with THEM and that her friends HAVE. And genuinely or not Sasha agrees to that, while Grime is bummed he missed the party and the lava hardens into chocolate, with eveyrone enjoying some cake and dead insects. As you do

Final Thoughts on The Dinner: As I said, this is one of the best episodes of the season> The tension is paltable, and it dosen’t fully resolve it, rightly as we still have one final season to go for that. More than that.. it’s hilarious. All the jokes land, and there were far too many to get into here. 

Battle of the Bands:

Now this is a classic breather episode, our last chance to rest and get all slice of lifey before things go up in flames next week. 

With the town all nervous because of Sasha and Grime’s presence, Mayor Toadstool decides to spin the wheel of fun to decide on an activity. I can’t remember if this is a new thing or not but I loves it. It lands on Battle of the Bands so the girls decide to get their old band Sasha and the Sharks back together. As for the rest of the cast, Hop Pop and Sprig join a Jug band and Grime has his own musical domination to plot out, so that just leaves us with the thropule, Poly and Frobo for an episode. 

The group have fun... until Anne unveils her heartfelt song based on her time here. Well okay only Sasha isn’t having fun and quickly tries to take over, as you’d expect and Anne pushes back as you’d expect. Sasha takes her ball and goes home as.. you get it by now> The plot here is not very complex or unique.

But as with all the Sasha episodes this season including the last one, we get a deeper sense of her character. Here she outright admits she dosen’t know what to do when she’s not in control. She needs to be in charge of the situation. It also explains why unlike Marcy and Anne she didn’t change for the better: Her need for control shuts out any possiblity of self reflection and thus self improvment. Self Improvment, and I know this from experince, requires you to admit your flaws and face them. It’s something I can admit to struggling with as I fall back into old patterns often. Admitting flaws would be admitting a loss of Control and Sasha.. can’t. She honestly can’t. 

Of all people i’ts TOADIE who convinces her sometimes i’ts better to let someone else take the lead and that it’s better to support the ones you love than subjugate them. Granted Toadie himself is too far in the opposite direction, but he makes a valid point.. something I never thought i’d say. Sometimes you just have to let someone do what they want.. and watching her two girlfriends perform up on stage.

I also will say I love a good talent show, battle of the bands what have you episode. One of my faviorite movies, True Stories, climaxes in one. 

And yes that was John Goodman and yes he does indeed sing...

Seriously watch this movie. It’s fucking amazing. And yes that was the Talking Heads David Byrne, he wrote this movie and there’s two talking heads songs in it. Watch it. 

Point is we get a great one, paticuarlly chuck. 

He grows SINGIN tulips just a fun one.. but i’ts that finale with the girls that really makes it with Sasha realizing that them being HAPPY is better than her being in control..and they didn’t grow PAST HER or leave her behind just because they grew.. they simply should be free to be themselves. And that maybe trying to conquer a country just to do that ain’t right. IT’s really sweet

So she runs in to do the guitar solo, and its aweosme and they only don’t win because it turns out Grime is fucking MAJESTIC on a harp. But Sasha finally grows a bit admitting that having fun is what mattered... 

And it’s abotu to burst as Mayor Toadstool, in a show of how far he’s come, points out Anne is leaving soon and Anne gives a heartfelt goodbye to everyone.. that said.... someone clearly has other plans.. and for once i’ts NOT Sasha. 

There’s nothing but foreshadowing in that face. That’s a face that says “Uh.. about that”. And again SASHA is showing emotinal vunerablity and hapiness.. but it’s Marcy, whose pretty open emotiionally whose visably worried and clearly knows Andrias has other plans.. other plans he talked her into. Gratned he probably didn’t tell her said plans involve The Watcher with a Thousand Eyes, but she still KNOWS she’s plottingthings.. and know’s she’s about to betray the people closest to her. 

Before we move on though those outfits ar esharp. Just damn. Especially Sasha’s punk look. The songs this episode are also both excellent and I had no idea Brenda Song and Anna Akana could sking like that. God damn. 

So with Anne leaving for home she gets one last group photo. It’s majestic and we’re out. 

Final Thoughts: This one is pretty good. Not a lot to talk about outside of Sasha but a really fun episode that both moves her foward and moves us toward the finale. ANd it’s nice to see the three just happy together... before the hell that’s about to arrive. 

Next Week: War Were Declared, our heroes prepare to fight bravely against the hoard of toads... and both Sasha and Marcy come to the crossroads of destiny Tommorow ON This Blog:

So it’s up to Jean Grey and Emma Frost to go in and sort it out.. and then fight off the full might of an alien empire. No pressure. 

Until the next rainbow it’s been a pleasure

[oneofyatosfollowers]

Yatori Week 2021- Day 6

@yatoriweek2021

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32090953/chapters/79500055

Fanfiction: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13905660/1/Yatori-Week-2021

There were many reasons Hiyori and Yukine had been upset with Yato keeping his secrets. 

For one, they were dangerous to both him and the rest. Another was trust. That was something that bothered Yukine more than Hiyori; after all, she understood the many reasons why Yato didn’t tell them and she couldn’t blame him for it. But the reason that most upset Hiyori, was one that she had to face after he first disappeared.

Hiyori didn’t know Yato at all.

She knew nothing about him, couldn’t even take a guess as to where he would go. No favorite restaurant or bar, no other friends, no relaxing hobbies. And while there was once a time that wouldn’t have bothered Hiyori, that was no longer the case. Especially now, when they risked their lives for each other over and over.

Of course now, she knew more about him than anyone did. Yukine knew a lot but there were still aspects of Yato he didn’t understand yet. Yato had told them most of the important stuff, confirming or denying any questions or theories they had. But even so, Hiyori was just a speck. Just a sudden, minuscule existence in the grand scheme of the centuries of a god's life. Whether or not Yukine liked to think otherwise, there was no possible way for Yato to tell them about all his experiences in the one year he knew them. Considering they had trusted each other for less than that.

Unfortunately that didn’t change the fact that all those pieces, big and small, were a part of him. Parts that they-she- didn’t know. Yato was full of surprises and even though that was usually fun to experience, the distance between them didn’t become more apparent until right now. With Father being locked away in heaven, stuck in an immortal existence to keep Yato alive, the heavens ultimately proclaimed him dead in every other sense of the word. As such, his children were left in an odd sort of limbo between mourning and dealing with the aftermath of his punishment.

Since Nora was rightfully struggling with the adjustment, even though she had been living at Kofukus for the past couple months, most of the actual work had been left to Yato. He attended meetings in heaven, completed any paperwork, rounded up all the masks that escaped. He also located all of The Crafter’s storage houses, living spaces, and any other place he kept things for him or the masks. Heaven took care of most of it, preferring to keep his children away and out of suspicion; but Ameterasu left the fate of the main house to Yato. Out of either pity or consideration.

Originally, Yato and Nora were content to simply burn the estate house to the ground with all the contents and beasts inside. But Hiyori and the rest convinced them to at least look through it, saying it was okay to take the time instead of just cutting it off. In hindsight maybe the two didn’t want to go back to such a traumatic place (and maybe the others were just curious) but Hiyori could tell Yato had some longing to go there, safely. He and Nora had argued against anyone else going, even her and Yukine, but that opinion was ultimately swayed too. It was easier to do that nowadays, Yato wasn’t as stubborn as he used to be. Still bogged down by guilt of all kinds. But everyone promised the both of them they wouldn’t do or touch anything without permission and Yukine insisted on staying by Yato’s side.

That didn’t stop their jaws from dropping as they followed The Crafter’s children south along the coast and far up into the mountains. Yato and Nora decided to walk there, out of habit, and the rest had no choice but to do the same. An old stone staircase led from a small back road up into the trees. After about another mile, they met a driveway and a large bamboo fence. It was old, but clearly still used and well maintained. The height wasn’t anything extravagant- Hiyori knew she was the only one that couldn’t leap over it- but the large chains that crossed over the entrance warded others to stay away.

They waited patiently for Nora to unlock it before the doors swung open and they were met with a beautiful front yard and house. It wasn’t extravagant by any means but the yard was well kept with hydrangea bushes lining the fence and white pebbles accenting most of the plants and house. The house itself was rather grand. Far too nice for someone like Yato but everyone had the sense not to comment on it. The estate was very old fashioned, a traditional Japanese style with two floors and probably an attic. The white building had long hallways sticking off either side and thin wooden slats covering all the windows. They were the same dark wood as the naked support beams around the outside of the house and matched nicely with the dark pointed roof.

In fact the only “crafter” thing about the house was the handful of masks that slept in the front yard. Three of them looked like large deer, that raised their heads at the intruders but did nothing more. Some smaller ones skittered under the porch while two wolves dashed out to see the new guests, happy to finally see members of the family. With one nod from Yato and Nora, Bishamon dispelled these rather peaceful creatures. Hiyori didn’t try to think about it too much.

Nora unlocked the front door, sliding the wooden door open and letting the group into the mud room. For a moment everyone stood, unsure if they were supposed to take off their shoes, but when neither of The Crafter’s children did, they didn’t either. Down the hall to the left was the living room, straight ahead was the hallway and kitchen, and to the right were stairs to go up. Wordlessly, everyone separated and got to work. Since Yukine stayed with Yato, following him to the back of the house and down the right hallway to The Crafter’s workspace, Hiyori stayed with Nora in the kitchen. It was just as old as the rest of the house, mostly running on fire and various stone appliances.

“If you want to go with him, you can,” Nora said suddenly.

“Huh?” Hiyori jolted and dropped the tied trash bag, trying and failing to hide the fact that her thoughts were now upstairs. Nora didn’t say anything more, just leveled Hiyori with a polite but challenging look. Hiyori swallowed and looked down, attempting to hide her blush. There was no point in denying it, everyone in this house knew- and saw- that there was something between them.

“Hey Nora?” Kofuku peaked her head in the kitchen with Daikoku, Bishamon, and Kazuma over her shoulder, “we finished with the left side of the house. Except for Tenjin and Mayu who are still in the library. What else should we do?”

“If you walk straight out the back for a little less than a mile there is a holy spring. In the stream leading to it is a fruit net and laundry. There is also a garage in the back with Father’s sport’s car and Yato’s motorcycle. You can probably get rid of all the tools or something,” Nora said. There was another moment of stunned silence, something that has happened a lot since coming here, but everyone quickly delegated the work and left. Hiyori took a moment to drag the trash bags to the pile set neatly outfront on the porch before coming back. Before Yato agreed to let them come in, even with the promise they would not question or disobey his orders, he laid down several ground rules. One of which was that gods must always travel with their shinki, even from room to room. Apparently there were still masks that hid in the walls as security and Yato wasn’t sure how’d they act without their master. This was also the reason no one was to make any loud noises, or a ton of sudden movements. It was no wonder Yato and Nora were such naturally quiet people.

“I just- I don’t,” Hiyori started. She was cut off by Nora’s sigh as she worked to tape a box of glassware shut.

“Hiyori, I’m fine,” Nora stated, “this is my home. I’m not like Yato where I view this as a scary place, this is where I would go to feel safe and comfortable. It’s sad to see it go but this is hardly the first time we’ve moved. They’re just things.” The girl spoke as simply as ever, lifting the box and setting it atop the others for someone stronger to put in the mover’s truck one of Bishamon’s shinki drove. Ebisu offered to have a yard sale of The Crafter’s belongings after thoroughly cleansing them. He was planning on giving the money to Yato, who offered it to Kofuku, who decided to put it in a savings account for family emergencies.

“I know and that’s great. I just don’t want you to be alone, you know?”

“Then I’ll join Tenjin in Father’s study. We’re just about done here anyway,” Nora stood and wiped her hands on her hips. The cabinets in the kitchen were empty, the oven was cleaned out of wood and charcoal, and the floors were swept clean. Without another word, Hiyori opening and shutting her mouth, Nora left the room like a ghost. A shiver immediately ran up her spine and Hiyori’s fists squeezed. She couldn’t run, afterall she just got her tail fixed but still wasn’t able to leave her body, so there was no reason for her to go antagonizing phantoms. Down the hall and up the stairs Hiyori was stuck between two bedrooms. Fearing the thought of walking into the wrong one, Hiyori waited and listened.

“Isn’t this room bigger than ours?” Yukine said.

“Not quite but almost. I usually shared it with Nora.” Came Yato’s reply.

“All I’m saying is that this isn’t what I expected someone like you to have.” Despite the bratty tone, Hiyori could tell Yukine wasn’t angry. Nor was he blaming his dad. It sounded more like he was trying to have a normal conversation.

“That’s because I don’t. This isn’t my house,” Yato muttered, “and I never wanted any of my shinki to come anywhere near this place. Especially you.” His voice was muffled from behind the door that Hiyori awkwardly faced. She didn’t want to walk in on one of their moments, they needed that, but she wanted to make sure Yato wasn’t pouting.

“I know.” Yukine finally mumbled, dropping the facade he tried to wear. It was more Yato’s thing than his, Yukine could only ever wear his heart on his sleeve. She could sense the tension on the other side of the door and Hiyori knew she had to step in. Besides, she didn’t like having her back to the bedroom of that wretched man. The door slid open and Hiyori readied herself to settle messy emotions only to see Yukine giving Yato an awkward side hug, both of them crouching on the floor. Their heads were pressed together as Yukine rubbed Yato’s back up and down. Suddenly the blonde’s head popped up and looked at her.

“Hiyori,” Yukine said. It took a moment for Yato to raise his head and look over his shoulder. He wasn’t crying, he hardly even looked upset, but he did have that look in his eye. The one where he blamed himself for bringing some sort of misfortune on them.

“Hey ‘yori,” Yato gave her a smile, “Yukine’s being a good kiddo and guide. Makin’ sure I’m doin’ alright.” The two separated as she walked in. She smiled at Yukine’s blush.

“That’s wonderful. I just came up here to see if you needed help. We just finished the kitchen.” Hiyori said as she knelt down. On the far wall were two large closets, the right one Yatos, the left one Noras, above was more storage that they seemed to make little use of save for some awards. In between the two closets was a mirror and vanity with hairbrushes and hair accessories. In front of Yato was a box of kimonos, the closet was open to reveal he had about four left to fold. They were all plain, just various colors of white, black, and blue. There was one green but it seemed barely worn.

“What about Nora?” Yukine asked.

“She went to help Tenjin in the library. Bishamon and Kazuma finished with the music room and basement while Kofuku and Daikoku cleaned out the garage and all the bathrooms. Like you asked, none of us went into his room.” Hiyori relayed.

“Yeah, I think Nora wanted to do that. Leave it for last and all. Of course she’ll need Bishamon or Tenjin with her just to make sure she doesn’t try anything.” Yato muttered as he folded the last of his clothes.

“There’s still the, uh, attic. But other than that everything is done.” Hiyori felt bad reminding the two of Yato’s deeds as a God of Calamity. The ceiling was filled with nothing but boxes of newspaper clippings and requests of those who’ve died by Yato’s sword. Hiyori didn’t want to go in there, yet another forgien aspect of Yato she didn’t want to know. Yukine paused his cleaning as Yato sighed.

“Forget it. There’s definitely nothing in there the heavens or anybody wants. We can just burn it as it is tomorrow,” Yato deadpanned, “unless you want to go look. It’s okay.”

“No,” Yukine said immediately without anger.

“No,” Hiyori said after, “it’s fine.” The room fell into a strange but comfortable silence as Hiyori put all the vanity stuff into a box and sealed it. She looked for something else to clean, knowing there was not much more to be done.

“Are you really going to get rid of all this stuff?” Hiyori asked as she scanned the room. Yato placed his box of clothes in a pile by the widow, stacked atop about five others, two of which had Nora’s name on them. All in all, this room, this house, was rather empty. It seemed Father was the only one with sentimental objects but even then it wasn’t anything that couldn’t be replaced. Save for a couple cringey family photos and mask research, there was nothing worth saving.

“Mm-Hmm,” Yato hummed. He took a moment to gather two boxes in his arms and jump out of the window then back. He fixed her with a smile that stalled her heart for a moment, it was soft but genuine, like the more they cleaned out of this house the clearer his mind became. On the opposite wall, on either side of the door, were swords of all sizes and some certificates. Hiyori got to work there, grabbing one of the flatter boxes.

“Like I said to Yukine, this isn’t my room, not really. There’s nothing here I need,” Yato walked up to her, “besides, I already have everything I want at Kofuku’s.” His smile was telling and Hiyori focused on his lips for longer than she was comfortable with admitting. Yes, her soul was fixed, with the help of a sun god and some magic peaches. But not before receiving a desperate kiss from a close friend who gave her a piece of himself to hold her together until they could get help. Red faced, Hiyori looked away as Yato got to work on the rest of Nora’s white, red, and pink patterned kimonos.

“Are you sure? I mean some of this stuff seems like you should keep it. They're your things.” Hiyori said, almost like a sad plea. In her hands were two very prestigious college degrees, one for art and one for math. Below them was a certificate for japanese calligraphy, an acceptance letter to a professional baseball team, and an invitation to the winter olympic qualifiers. What Hiyori said was true, they were unequivocally Yato’s possessions, things that were so painfully him and no one else's. Yet they were so forgien. Yato the vagrant didn’t keep things. Especially so neat and preserved like this. Nor did he try to do things the right way that involved paperwork.

“Yeah, I mean. They’re just pieces of paper, it’s not like getting rid of them will take away my talents. I hardly look at them anyway.” Yato waved her off. Before she could say anything more, Yato had finished the closets and leaped out the window. With a sigh Hiyori went to the other side of the room and picked up two traditional old swords and a violin, ready to move them towards the window.

“Ah! Ah! Wait!” Yukine scrambled from atop a step stool, “not those!”

“But Yato just said?”

“I know but those, uh, he said I could have those.” Embarrassed, Yukine took the objects from her arms and scuttled them back to the corner. Hiyori crept behind him and scanned the growing pile: two swords, three daggers, a couple of boxes, and a book that looked like a large photo album.

“What’s in those boxes?”

“Stuff from the wars,” Yato suddenly popped up behind her.

“Which ones?” Hiyori blinked.

“They’re kinda mixed,” he shrugged, “mostly metals and grimy uniforms, but the kid really wanted them so. You can take things too if you want. Though I still don’t understand why.” It was a sweet sentiment of Yukine but the concept was still strange. Yato didn’t offer things. Well, he did, but he never actually had the material things he tried to offer and would usually offer services or lip service. Hiyori wasn’t sure he liked this version of Yato. She didn’t hate it- this was part of him after all- but Hiyori couldn’t fit these images in with her picture of him. She worked to process it as the group cleaned out the rest of The Crafter’s house, the building not seeming any less empty.

Bishamon’s shinki started the journey to Ebisu’s shrine while she and Tenjin took the mask materials up to heaven, as ordered by Ameterasu. Nora offered to cook dinner, planning on spending a final night saying goodbye to the house, but Kofuku and Daikoku decided to head into town for food. That left just them, Yato’s immediate family and her. Hiyori didn’t want to spend any more time here than she needed to but she still refused Kofuku’s offer to take her. With Yukine and Nora silently prepping food in the kitchen, Hiyori made her way through the back door where Yato had just finished chopping food. He didn’t look at her as she closed the sliding door and took a seat next to him.

“How are you feeling?” She coaxed, arm already around his shoulders.

“Good,” Yato huffed a sigh, “I mean I’m not happy. Not upset either. Just here,” he shrugged. Then he turned those blue eyes on her.

“How about you? Are you okay?” He asked. That was more like him, to ask how others were feeling when he was the one with the problem.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She said. His arm wrapped around her waist but before she could turn her blush on him, he buried his nose in her neck.

“It just doesn’t feel real, you know? I know he’s not dead, so it’s not over, but it just feels like it is?” Yato lowered his voice so the kids inside didn’t hear him worry over nothing. Those were reserved for Hiyori, just like her monologues were only for his ears.  

“A new beginning,” Hiyori offered. She felt him smile against her neck and Hiyori’s blush reached it. Out of habit, she held out her hand and let him intertwine their fingers.

“I have a new life now,” Yato mused, “hopefully one without him in it.”

“But with you still here,” Hiyori squeezed her hand for emphasis.

“Haha, yeah. Of course. Me and you and Yukine, with a little less baggage.”

“Yato,” Hiyori sighed with a smile. She didn’t have the heart to tell him that simply cleaning out his father’s house was enough to make the emotional problems go away.

“I know,” Yato murmured. He nuzzled a little bit more, Hiyori waiting to rest her cheeks on his head. She stared at their hands with a soft smile, the feeling just as familiar as it was forgien. Hiyori came to the conclusion that she might not ever truly, fully, know Yato but that it wouldn’t stop her from loving him all the same.

“It’s a little bit of a shame though,” Hiyori said.

“Hmm?”

“Your stuff. This house. It’s almost like a waste.”

“Not a waste,” Yato said, “a new start. One with you in it.” The smile was evident in his voice and Hiyori could feel the steam rise off her face. She would never get used to such blatant flirting, especially when he grinned so charmingly at her from so close.

“But you’re welcome to take something. Something to remember me by.” Yato’s eyes drifted to her lips and back to her drooping eyes.

“You?” Hiyori said without thinking. Just as she leaned in for another precious kiss, Yato bursted out laughing, tips of his ears a bright red.

“As you wish!” Yato exulted. Hiyori was too lost in her embarrassment to look at him, not even when Yukine threw the kitchen door open to yell at his teasing master. There was still something there, something that overshadowed them with forbidding, but with Yato’s comforting laughter ringing throughout her bones, Hiyori knew they would be alright.

[thefloorisbalaclava]

pragma - part thirteen

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Female reader

Warnings: canon-typical violence

A/N: I’m not a fan of this chapter at all but I hope someone out there likes it. I wanted to do a chapter from Frankie’s POV and then one from reader’s POV just to touch on how each of them are faring with this whole thing. I glossed over a few things from the movie because I didn’t want this to turn into a full on summary but...yeah. Here it is.

Summary: Frankie hates how quickly everything went downhill but he’s fighting through to get home to you.

pragma masterlist

Frankie was already over this. He couldn’t think of the reason he agreed to do this. His hands shouldn’t be holding a rifle, they should be holding her.

And he wondered what she was doing now. The worst things always came to mind. What if her ex decided to come back? What if he hurt her?

Or what if something bad happened to her all because he was here and not there? She could easily go off and find someone else while he was gone. Would she do that?

His comm crackled to life as he stood hidden in some brush overlooking the place where this money supposedly was, but he could hardly make out what anyone was saying. He just wanted to be home. He wanted to be holding her.

They had made a plan on when and how they would get into the heavily-guarded home then met up again somewhere safe. I mean, if there was a such thing as safe.

It was downtimes like this when he would pull out the picture of her and just stare at it. Her smile. That’s all he ever thought about. Oh, and the way she laughed without holding back around him. Sometimes when he closed his eyes, he could see her standing right in front of him. Sometimes he saw her the way he did as Pope drove away: on her knees and crying into her hands. He had done that. She cried because of him.

“Hey, man, have a drink.” Pope slapped him on the shoulder, shaking him from his thoughts.

“Nah, I’m good.” He looked back down at her picture and ran his finger over it.

“You miss her?” Pope asked.

“What do you think?”

“Right. Dumb question.”

“What are you moping about, Fish?” Ben asked suddenly and now all eyes were on him.

“Nothing.” He shrugged and tried tucking the picture away before anyone saw but it was too late. Ironhead had stood and took the picture from him. “Give it back…”

“Hey, isn’t this-"

Frankie snatched the photo back. “Yeah, it’s her.” He put the picture away and avoided their gazes but that didn’t stop the barrage of questions and comments.

“I thought you two broke it off years ago.”

“Didn’t she, like, run off with another guy?”

“Didn’t she break your heart?”

“She’s hot man. Damn. She always has been.”

Frankie slammed his hand on the table then stood and walked away. Pope walked over a few moments later and tried to smooth things over.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly as Frankie stood on the balcony and looked up at the moon. Is she looking, too? He thought.

“Not as sorry as I am,” Frankie responded and Pope knew he wasn’t talking about what just happened.

“She loves you,” Pope started.

“Yeah, I know…and I fucking left her. Alone.” He kept looking at the moon. “You know, her ex-husband beat her, man? I broke his fucking nose.”

“He deserved it but…why are you telling me this?”

“Because all I can think about is something bad happening to her while I’m not there, because I’m not there. What if that fucker decides he wants to hurt her again? She’s alone, Santiago, and I left her that way.” Frankie had never really liked himself all that much, but now he hated himself.

“Nothing is gonna happen to her, okay? She’s a tough one. We taught her everything we know, remember?” And it was true. They both had taught her how to fight and defend herself.

“Still, I gotta get home to her. I fucking…love her.”

“You’ll get home. This’ll be easy, you’ll see.” Pope clapped him on the shoulder again and walked away.

*

Easy it was not.

First there was the money. Getting into the place went off without a hitch, sort of. But then there was no money. And they had all seen the picture of it. Where the hell would it be?

“What does that smell like to you?” Pope asked, sniffing around the room they stood in.

“Like a serious fuck-up,” Frankie said. He was angry and rightfully so. If all this was for nothing then…

“Paint…”

They broke through the walls and found millions of dollars. Every. Fucking. Wall.

But that’s where the trouble began. The fucking money.

Tom got too greedy and tensions flared. This was not what he signed up for.

*

No one ever told him that this mission would have him flying a helicopter in dangerous conditions. Nor did he think that he would be walking along the side of a mountain with a fucking burro, but wonders never cease.

And late at night as they sat in the rain and freezing cold, he would carefully take her picture out and stare at it then he would look at the moon, if he could see it. He could be at home in bed with you. Warm. Soft. Loved. That was all he wanted right now. The guys would give him shit sometimes but he didn’t care—he wanted his girl.

He was tired of killing and tired of being shot at all for some money that they had lost most of anyway.

And then they lost Tom.

That definitely wasn’t supposed to happen. As selfish as it sounded, Frankie couldn’t stop thinking about what if that had been him. What if he had died and one of the guys had to bring you that news?

“No,” he said out loud, making the other guys look at him.

“What?” Pope asked.

“Uh…nothing.”

“I need you to focus.” Pope was wound up tight and ready to snap but so was Frankie.

“I’m doing the best I fucking can, man! None of this was supposed to happen and now look, we have nothing to show for it! Our friend is dead because of this fucking money!”

“Calm down, Fish,” Ironhead said but Frankie only glared at him and walked away.

*

“Put the fucking picture away, Frankie! We don’t have time for that!” Pope yelled.

“Fuck you!” Frankie was on edge the entire trip but now he was about ready to go over. Everything had gone wrong. It was nearing the end but he had no idea how to deal with everything that had happened. They were speeding through some part of the jungle after a kid tried to kill them. “We should’ve killed that kid.”

“We’re not killing anyone else,” Pope said.

“Ben better be there or I’m fucking killing people!” Frankie shouted as he drove. Ironhead was the most level-headed, telling him where to turn and what to do. They spotted Ben with the boat—their ticket out of this mess. Over the dune and straight into the water, they all hopped out, shooting and being shot at as they carried the money they could along with Tom's body. As they sped away, he refused to look back. He couldn’t wait to leave it all behind.

*

Frankie wondered what she would think when she saw him like this—he had his hair cut and was clean-shaven. She was the only thing on his mind even with the stacks of money sitting in the middle of the table.

They had all decided to give their shares to Tom’s family and leave it at that. Even if they hadn’t, Frankie was ready to give it all up just to get home to her. He signed what he needed to sign and walked out into the busy street, breathing in the air and letting out a sigh of relief.

The other guys joined him soon after and they said their goodbyes.

“What are you guys gonna do now?”

“I gotta get home,” Frankie said, waving around the picture of her. “Got someone waiting for me.”

“Go to her, hermano,” Pope said as he hugged him. “I’m sorry for…all of this. For taking you away from her.”

“I get to go back now, don’t I?”

“And in one piece so she can’t kick my ass,” Pope joked.

“If you ever come home, I’m sure she’d have something to say to you,” Frankie said with a sad smile.

“Don’t make that face. You’ll see me again. Besides, I’m sure she’ll keep you so busy you’ll hardly think of me.”

“Take care of yourself,” Frankie told him.

“Claro que sí.” Pope hugged him one more time and Frankie finally turned and walked away. He had just said goodbye to one of his best friends and gave away over a million dollars but he felt nothing but relief and happiness.

Home. He was going home. And the love of his life would be waiting for him. Everything that happened was behind him now and as he put her picture back into his pocket and tapped it, he smiled.

Soon they’d be looking at the moon together again.

[fourteen]

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