#and also. would like to touch upon how she still managed to care so blatantly. Trying to apologise to Torog at any opportunity.

[gay-dorito-dust]

would you be able to do an aemond x reader where she's high born and good at fighting etc and defends aemond by threatening others

A/n: this was incredibly rushed, no solid idea seem to stick to my brain, like at all. Also this is me choosing to make Ser Criston Cole even more of a dickhead.

“A highborn should never dirty their hands, there are those who are more then willing to make a name for themselves.” Was your parents response when you voiced your desire to pick up a sword. They saw it unbecoming and a hindrance towards potential suitors from more predominant houses such as House Targaryen and House Stark. Your parents counsel didn’t deter you from going behind their backs and descend to the training grounds dressed as a man; For had you went as yourself, the knights would be inclined to go easier on you or outright deny you the chance to train in due to your gender.

However those days were forcibly drawn to a close once you were sent off to your new home at the Red Keep in KingsLanding. Yet that didn’t meant you couldn’t descend to the courtyard every morning to watch Aemond train with Ser Criston Cole from the archway. To everyone in attendance you were just fulfilling your duty as the future wife of the young prince by being supportive. You manage to have everyone fooled, everyone except for Aemond, who noticed a sadness in your eyes as though you were mourning the missing part of your heart as blades cross in a flash of silver; He even took note of how you’d instinctively rub at certain spots of your arms when he managed to nick his opponent as though you were expecting the same pain. Or as though old wounds were reopening upon a sense of old memories resurfacing. Needless to say he grew curious about the contents of the habits you indulge in your spare time.

Aemond seemed to be so caught up in his thoughts that he almost forgot that he was still in the training grounds until Ser Criston Cole managed to take advantage of this and disarm him swiftly. “Had this been a proper battle my prince, you would’ve been slain on multiple occasions.” The knights eyes shifted over to the archway where you stood, cross armed and all before they shifted back to Aemond who’s jaw clenched at the implications that Criston was placing upon you. “It’s best to not be distracted by menial things.” Criston said with a carefree tone that told Aemond that he did not care for what was to happen to him as he was intentionally trying to provoke him. Aemond’s anger didn’t quell silently as it only boiled beneath his skin, like the raging lava of a dormant volcano ready to burst forth in blinding fury.

Meanwhile you were unfazed by the knights comments. It was blatantly obvious that he never felt the genuine loving touch of a woman despite coming from one. You genuinely wondered what his poor mother would think if she were to see her son making a fool out of himself and his family name; You certainly wouldn’t stand for it and you’d like to believe that neither would she. Aemond knew how to handle these sorts of situations himself, so you refrained from intervening in something that ‘didn’t involve you’ when it clearly did given Criston’s unsubtle and unprovoked jab. Neither you nor Aemond wanted to give the man any satisfaction whatsoever. Yet you noted in the way Aemond held the handle of his word, he was clearly close to severing Ser Criston’s tongue from his mouth.

“Don’t be provoked by him Aemond, the man speaks with a mouthful of shit.” You told the prince, causing a brief chuckle to pass his lips at your crude words. See Criston however didn’t find this as hilarious, “your foul mouthed bitch needs to keep her trap shut. It’s unbecoming of a lady,” he pauses to laugh nastily, “though then again if I were to say, it seems that between you and her, she’s more of a man then you are to speak to others in such a manor.” The small smile gracing Aemond’s face was quickly wiped clean off in exchange for one of pure anger. The courtyard that heard Criston, fell silent. You on the other hand, finally had enough of sitting on the sidelines and decided to step up to defend your husband to be; Marching up to Aemond and snatching his sword from his hand before quickly knocking Ser Criston’s feet out from under him, causing him to fall backwards on his arse and then poising the end of Aemond’s blade at his throat.

“My Aemond is more of a man then you’ll ever be,” you hissed venously, “you should be gracious that I don’t cut your tongue out right here and now for your impudence behaves should the current circumstances been any different, I’d make certain to drag your decaying carcass to the dragonpits to be fed upon.” You leaned closer to his face, pressing the blades tip just underneath his chin, “do I make myself clear Ser Criston.” “Crystal clear Lady y/n.” The knight merely murmured under his breath, embarrassed that he had gotten overwhelmed by a woman in front of an audience who would certainly let word spread throughout KingsLanding and beyond. He could already envision the smug smirks upon both Daemon and Rhaenyra’s faces which only made his blood boil even more. You smirked, having this fight won with ease whilst high on Ser Criston’s humiliation.

“Good, I would offer a hand but I feel as though your more suited right where you are.” You said snidely before looking back at Aemond who’s only eye beamed with pride as you expertly handed over his sword. “You didn’t inform me that you were well versed in the art of the sword my dearly betrothed.” He says as he sheaths his sword and escorting you back into the Red Keep, “Though I must say, It would’ve ruined the surprise had I known beforehand.” He adds. “Highborns aren’t meant to take up the sword but I always found swordsmanship to be quite the therapeutic stress reliever.” You responded, beaming with self pride and relief that Aemond didn’t think of you any less because of it. “Then perhaps we should train together sometime?” The prince inquired. You smiled as you reached for his calloused hand, “only if you won’t become a sore loser when I hand your royal ass to you.” Aemond couldn’t help but laugh at your pride as he stopped you to lean on close to your face. “If that’s your way of claiming a challenge my beloved,” he says in his velvety soft voice that housed a hint of mischief, “then I accept wholeheartedly.”

[saberstars]

I'm Here

Pairing: Gender Neutral Y/N & Loki

Fluff, angst, implied smut

Warnings: Mentions of depression/mental illness, epilepsy/seizures, mentions of sex, as always if I missed anything feel free to let me know

Summary: Loki & You have a pre-existing friendship with benefits & one night you have a seizure after some spiciness. He cares for you helping you afterwards & makes sure you rest easy & safe. Reader is portrayed to have seizures more so during changes in sleep phases, not awake. The wake seizures or more of a medium ish absence/ focal aware seizure that only occur on occasion & can be “fought” through.

Word Count: 1796

Notes: This was intended to be a gender neutral reader. I think I removed all he/she pronouns.

Additionally, I know that not everyone experiences seizures the same way, and that epilepsy can affect people differently. This is all written from my experiences with it, so I ask that you do not tell me I portrayed something wrong. I can and will accept constructive criticism, But I will not accept someone telling me blatantly that I am wrong with my experiences. Therefore please keep that in mind when reading. I genuinely hope this fic brings others comfort if you suffer from epilepsy or any disorder that causes seizures. Thank You <3

It’s been three years since you found out you suffered from epilepsy. A diagnosis that came late in your life to be fair. As a young child up until you reached adulthood, you suffered from eye shakes that would eventually turn into stuttering spells that made it difficult to breath or not breath properly at all. You never passed out though, you got close a few times, but you managed to stay awake and “fight it off.” You started to notice over time that you’d also get a strange taste in your mouth, almost like metal or as if you were sucking on a battery and it had that zing flavor. You knew that was a precursor and would panic on cue rightfully so. You hated when you had your mini stutter fests because all you could do was hope it didn’t happen.

Of course you complained to your parents as a child but they didn’t think it was anything. They said it was just a panic attack. So you took their word for it. That was until you started having grand mals in your sleep. At first you thought they were just a part of some strange dream, that wasn't real to you, not yet anyway. You would wake up exhausted, sore, sometimes unable to move properly, walk, open and close a fist, and you just overall couldn't stay conscious sometimes. Again you complained to your parents about it, but they said it was nothing. You probably had night terrors or some form of minor sleep paralysis. So you dumbly believed them.

When you moved out, You sought answers, and eventually got them. You were grateful. The medication they prescribed helped tremendously though, it did make you tired but it was worth not having your episodes. Thankfully your case wasn’t as severe as others and it was manageable so long as you took care of yourself and took your medications. Though you were warned, breakthroughs were common, and missing your dose can and would cause a seizure.

Despite having such a diagnosis, you kept it to yourself. You never really told anyone. It wasn’t until you started sleeping with a friend, that you finally divulged your secret too in the event that it ever happened whilst they were with you.

It was someone you randomly slept with on and off with. A friend with benefits, his name was Loki. You had met the god shortly after his father had passed and his home, destroyed. You found comfort with each other despite it being more of a sexual comfort. You both used sex as a way to fight your own demons, a distraction, a quick grab at serotonin. Despite the sex you both developed a very deep friendship. You’d read together on occasion, have very interesting debates on current events, history, as well as other nuances, and a lot of other things. You even met his brother and the avengers at one point.

You both slept soundly after spicy events had taken place 2 hours prior, Loki had come over desperate for attention of any kind. He didn’t say why, but you knew it was a rather serious topic he wished not to discuss and rather lessen the pain with ecstasy. Little did you know, on this day a few years ago he indirectly murdered his mother. He blamed himself dearly, he knew if he would have kept his mouth shut for once in his life she may be here today. So he needed a genuine distraction. One of any kind. Preferable you. Due to the spicy events that took place you missed your dose, due to falling asleep promptly after, which cost you dearly. Missing doses always caused this to happen no matter what.

You gasped for air like usual, your body contorting outwards first with a thrust. You were awake, conscious, and terrified for the few seconds you normally were given before blacking out. You began to stutter violently all the air leaving your lungs as it happened. Until no sounds were made and it was just you chattering. Loki woke immediately, with a completely calm exterior despite a raging mixture of emotions internally. He knew you never called an ambulance for these things because you were normally alone & unaware until you became conscious again. She made him promise to never call 911 unless it was over a certain time length, to save her medical expenses, or unless she stopped breathing for good.

Loki dare not touch you though as you shook and curled up. The last thing he wanted was his godly strength to crush you somehow or cause you more pain. Instead he watched and hovered until you finally stopped. It was a short 50 second one, which was under your time limit, but he still debated calling. It’s not like You would’ve known he lied.

His breathing hitched as he went to check your pulse and airway, ever so delicately, which were both clear and strong.

“Oh thank you.” he whispered

A few hours had slid by with still no response from you. Loki sat next to you, staring down at you, to the point where he would fight the urge to blink, waiting for a stir of some kind from you. He did give the courtesy of redressing you though, in a nightgown from a drawer after an hour slid past. He even went as far as ensuring that you were adequately covered by the blankets to avoid being chilled. It has been 3 ½ hours now, with no stir of any kind from you. He knew it would be awhile before you showed any signs of movement possibly but this worry tore him to his core. In the midst of waiting he refused to just idly go back to sleep next to you, he was determined to stay awake until you were conscious again, so that you knew, he stayed there waiting for you. Loki didn’t know when he found himself talking to you as if you were awake, but all he knew was that it made him feel a bit better, and he hoped that when you woke it would make you feel better too.

“You know, I’ve been reading this really dumb gothic romance novel. I think you’d like it because of how naive the girl is. I know you like to criticize and pick on how they make decisions.” he spoke with a chuckle in his voice thinking back to how you’d flail your arms and drop your book to scream about how dumb some main protagnist could be.

“I'll have to buy you a copy or give you mine when I’m done.” Loki shifted his weight from his right to his left brushing your bangs out of your eyes.

“I don’t know why you keep those so long, all they do is get in the way of your gorgeous eyes.”

It was in that moment you rustled, you shifted your neck ever so slightly, Your eyelids twitch. Loki leaned forward parting his lips as he watched with a heart of hope completely overwhelmed with joy when he saw the color of your iris’s. He exhaled a shaky breath cupping your cheeks which caused you to flinch sending a wave of shocks through your body. It was at that moment you knew. You knew what he saw, what he had gone through. Your heart sank and you immediately berated yourself internally despite your exhausted state.

“It’s ok you don’t have to say or do anything. I’ll stay, I’ll take care of you for as long as you need.” Loki assured you, wanting you to know that you didn’t have to go through this alone. You never really had anyone stay, let alone worry about you. Your eyes began to water as tears rolled down your face.

“I’ll go grab you some water, you’re probably parched. I’ll also grab you a banana. I read that potassium can help with the cramping.” Loki said leaving to yourself for a moment. He also grabbed tissues for your eyes and nose just in case. Upon returning her placed everything at your side offering help to sit up. “Do you need to use the bathroom or help sitting up?” He asked with a gentle tone.

You nodded trying to take a good deep breath so you could speak a bit. “I’m so sorry you had to see that… but thank you. Thank you for staying, for helping. I do need the bathroom and I would appreciate help. My legs are still...” you mustered out with all your might but after a point your tongue refused to work with you.

“Of course, I may be a monster but I’m not entirely cruel. If it helps… you can just think to yourself and I can listen that way. So that you're not struggling too much.” Loki admitted with a tone of self depreciation.

“You're not a monster just because you're different & have made mistakes.” you thought as Loki picked you up bridal style walking you to the bathroom. Of course he placed you down on the toilet and waited outside for you to do what you needed. Since he had only added a nightgown to your previously naked body it made things easier. It was exhausting to just sit up and do everything but you pushed through. You even pushed yourself up and limped to the sink best you could to wash your hands. Upon hearing the faucet though Loki came back in standing behind you offering support if needed.

“Catch me~” you thought before falling back into his arms with a snort.

“You're lucky I have godlike reflexes you minx.” He replied with a hint of flirtation. You had used more than you had in you to wash your hand. Loki caught you obviously and carried you back to the room placing you back on the bed. “No, more like I knew you were ready to catch me.” you slowly thought as exhaustion tugged at your consciousness again. Loki noticed the pill bottle on your dresser before prompting you to take it. Instinctively opening it and sliding one into his hand.

“You should probably take this before you fall asleep.” You took it mentally saying thanks drinking the glass of water with it.

“Yeah that would probably help avoid some added breakdancing.” You joked trying to use humor to lighten the situation. Loki stared plain faced trying not to entertain your joke though, despite finding it secretly witty. Maybe he’d laugh at it when you felt a bit better. Soon after you began to dance between awake and sleep. Loki took note based on how your thoughts jumbled around between multiple things, laughing to himself a bit before minor intrusive fears began picking at you. Loki immediately jumped into action in an attempt to squash them soothing you a bit.

“You can sleep soundly, please get some rest. You don’t have to force yourself to stay awake out of fear or guilt.” Loki spoke in the most caring and sweet tone he could muster up. Trying to convince you that it was going to be ok & it worked. Somehow you knew he was right & that you could trust him completely. You drifted back to sleep peacefully thinking about how for the first time in your life, you didn’t fear sleeping in your bed. You didn’t have intrusive thoughts about whether or not you’d wake up in the morning or not. Which honestly brought tears bubbling their way up and out of Loki's eyes. The amount of trust you had in him in your thoughts, at that moment completely took his breath away. And that was something he wasn’t going to break or ever lose.

[detectivehannibal]

Two Timed

__

Hannibal Lecter x Will Graham x Reader

Warnings: Language, Angst.

Requested by: @vampirevatican​

A/N (edit): I hear you guys’ plea for a part 2. I have another request to write, but it is on my radar!

Word Count: 2,598

“Don’t give him the satisfaction of a second chance.”

__

You had been suspicious for awhile. It was surely hard to ignore the tug in your chest that was telling you something was off. In the seven years you had been married to Hannibal Lecter, you had learned how to be a keen observer. You had learned to be a careful listener and a focused watcher. In a general sense, he had taught you to be extremely in touch with all of your senses. This was turning out to be your worst nightmare. 

For starters, he was later coming home from work. You initially shrugged this off as perhaps he was off doing his unspeakable errands. However, the situation became very clear when he came home with just the slightest bit of lipstick on his shirt collar. Something that a non-observant person would blatantly miss. After that, all the signs were like a stop sign in your face. The unfamiliar scent of perfume that lingered around him when he walked past you. The simple yet vague answers he would give when you asked him about his day. It all came together quickly and life as you knew it was crashing down.

You didn’t want to believe that he was cheating on you. Hannibal Lecter, the most refined and morally just man you had ever known, being unfaithful to his wife. It was shocking and quite ironic. You didn’t want to have to go snooping for answers. You had always respected Hannibal’s space and personal belongings and never touched anything without asking first. However, you were too upset one fateful evening to care at this point. You searched every part of his study searching for even the smallest hint as of to who this mystery woman was. 

That’s when you found the letter. 

It wasn’t easy to spot. It wasn’t exactly sitting in plain view. You had to rummage through stacks of papers and folders before you saw it. The letter had been written on archival paper, something a little more formal and had some weight to it as it rested in your hands. The seamless piece of paper was addressed to “My dearest Alana” in Hannibal’s unmistakable handwriting. 

Oh. 

Your heart sank into your shoes when you read the header. This had to be a mistake. Surely this wasn’t the Dr. Alana Bloom who had been over for dinner on multiple occasions. The woman who had been mentored by your husband when she was in school to be a psychiatrist. It made your stomach curl in the worst way. The very woman who was acting as your husband’s mistress had been under your nose the entire time. You had almost wished she had been a stranger to you. 

The fact that you were finding out due to a letter was a double smack in the face. When you were dating Hannibal, he often would write you letters of the same magnitude. They expressed his deepest care and feelings for you. It was his way of pouring his soul and heart out to you. Now it seemed that had meant absolutely nothing.

Hot tears wasted no time filling your eyes and streaming your cheeks. This was the most betrayal you had ever felt. You were overwhelmed with anger, sadness, disappointment, and hurt all at the same time. How could he do this to you? You never in a million years would you have seen this coming. He was so adamant about people who were disrespectful and had no regard for others. This was very out of character. 

You shoved the letter back where you found it and raced to your car. There was no way you could stay here. You needed to get away to think. You needed to find someone who would care enough to listen before you did something stupid. Will Graham was your first immediate thought. You had been friends with him before ever knowing Hannibal. As a matter of fact, you met Hannibal through Will. You knew Will would listen. He was always there for you no matter what...whether he cared to be or not. His home was about an hour away from you and Hannibal’s shared home. It was a bit of a drive, but you were desperate. You pondered how to handle the situation while you were in commute. 

Your immediate solution was to turn Hannibal in to the police. You knew he was the killer they had been looking for. It would be the ultimate revenge and the most badass way to leave your lasting mark. You could have Hannibal Lecter at your mercy. You had the power to end his reign of cannibalistic terror. Unfortunately this plan had its leaks and you realized something infuriating. Hannibal would always be one step ahead. More than likely, he’d find out that you knew of the affair just as you were reporting him to Jack Crawford. He would obviously know that giving him up would be your first response and he’d have ample amount of time to get away without a trace.

And then you’d end up dead at his hands.

Damn him. At the time being, you were unsure of what to do. You could never attempt to live life as it was before while also knowing of his secret affair. That would be too cruel to yourself. You were worth way more than that. You deserved better. 

After what felt like an eternity, you pulled into Will’s yard. You hoped he wouldn’t mind an unexpected visit. It wasn’t too terribly late into the night, only about 9:15 or so. You knocked on his front door gently, this was followed by a sound from the inside of multiple sets of fuzzy paws rushing towards the door, alerting their human that he had a visitor. You peeked through the window to see a group of wagging tails and bright canine eyes. Oh, to be one of Will’s stray pups. You would always be well fed, treated with care, and have a cozy place to live. What a life. 

Will approached the door finally, his brows slightly dipping upon seeing your reddened eyes and flushed skin. You managed to hold it together long enough to muster a shaky greeting once he opened the door;

“Hi, Will.” 

He was holding the doorknob with one hand, his other resting on the door frame; 

“Hello,” He said suspiciously; “Have you been crying?”

Your lip quivered at his questions and a fresh round of tears welled up;

“Can I come in?” You asked choking down a sob. 

A brief flash of panic crossed the unofficial FBI agent’s face. He didn’t do well with a crying woman. He stepped aside to allow you to enter his home. You were happily welcomed by his dogs, Winston even sitting by your feet to request an ear rub. You squatted in front of him and stroked his soft, honey colored fur. He licked your salty tears from your cheeks, a sad laugh coming from your chest. 

Will closed the door behind him and frantically tried to see if he could figure out what was wrong without having to ask and further upset you. He noted that you weren’t wearing your wedding ring. You never left the house without it, so he knew it had something to do with Hannibal. Once you rose back from the floor and turned to him, he spoke;

“Did Hannibal do something?” He asked as gently as possible. 

He hated seeing you upset. He didn’t want to make it worse. You nodded in response, the flood of emotions washing over you again. The reality of the situation was really beginning to set in. 

“Yeah. He...He’s cheating on me,” You said with a cracking voice. You went on at the sight of Will’s face going white; “I found a love letter in his study.”

His eyes widened as he took a moment to process what you were saying. Who would ever want to be unfaithful to you? You were perfect in every way. 

“Are you sure it wasn’t for you? Perhaps he hadn’t addressed it yet?” He offered a simple solution. 

If only that simplicity was the truth. You fell onto his sofa and shook your head;

“It was addressed to Alana.” You stated.

Now that made his blood turn cold. This couldn’t be happening.

“Alana Bloom? What makes you so sure it’s her?” He asked in disbelief, sitting next to you

“Because she’s the only Alana that Hannibal and I both know, Will. She’s the only logical person. They go way back.” You said feeling defeated. 

Will stressfully ran a hand through his hair. As a third party this was a lot to take in. He could only imagine how you were feeling. Just like you, he never would’ve expected this from either of them. 

“[Y/N], I’m sorry.” He apologized.

He couldn’t help but feel a little responsible. He was the one who had introduced you two after all. He felt that this could’ve been avoided.

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault,” You said honestly; “I’m sorry for coming over here and making this your problem too. I didn’t know where else to go.” 

“Your problems can always be mine. I guarantee that. You can always come here.” He comforted.

You gave the best smile you could. Will had really always been there for you. If he was being honest, he wanted to kiss you in that moment. He just wanted you to understand how much he cared about you. He never wanted you to doubt it. But he didn’t kiss you. He would never take advantage of your emotions like that. After all, you were still a married woman. He didn’t want to force you to stoop to Hannibal’s level. Instead, he just put a hand over yours and rubbed his thumb across the back of your hand. 

On the subject of Hannibal, your phone had buzzed in your bag several times over the last several minutes. You knew it was Hannibal wondering where you were. You also knew he would quickly figure out that you were at Will’s home considering that he’s the only person you’d ever go see this late at night. It wouldn’t be long before Hannibal would be at his front door looking for you.

“What am I supposed to do? I can’t live with him knowing he’s got someone on the side.” You admitted.

“You especially shouldn’t live with him now. You can’t stay married.” He advised.

You knew this. You had a strict rule that always applied to your previous relationships. There was no excuse for cheating. That would be a dealbreaker every time. Divorce was common, but you never thought you’d end up a divorced woman. 

“I know. I mean what do I say to him?” You asked.

Will tucked his head to the side. It was a loaded question for sure. He wasn’t the relationship expert. He hadn’t had many serious relationships in his life. 

“Tell him how you feel. Make sure he understands how much he’s hurt you. Don’t hold back just because you love him,” He replied; “Don’t give him the satisfaction of a second chance.”

You were listening against your better judgement. You wanted so badly for this to just be a horrible dream. You wanted to wake up and this not be real. Silence fell over the both of you. You were out of things to say. You started sobbing again, collapsing into Will’s arms. He held you as you cries filled his home and caused his dogs to whine in sympathy. Your pity party was interrupted by a knock on the door a few minutes later. 

The man of the hour had arrived. 

Part of you wanted to run away and never see him again, but then you’d never get to tell him how you felt. And also he’d find you in record time. Will shot you a look before getting up to answer the door. Hannibal was standing there, still in his work suit and his demeanor was as cool as ever. 

“Hello, Will. Is [Y/N] here? She doesn’t seem to be at home,” He stated. 

“Yeah,” Will responded flatly; “She’s here. You’ve got some nerve showing up here, Dr. Lecter.”

Will was upset. His trusted psychiatrist had hurt his best friend by using his other friend. He had a right to be angry. Hannibal looked over Will’s shoulder to find you on the couch. He pushed past Will and into the room;

“Darling, I really wish you had informed me that you were going to be here.” He said disregarding Will’s previous sentence. 

You stood from the couch. You were furious, yet calm. You stood in front of your husband, looking into his dark eyes with a numb expression. This was your chance. 

“I know, Hannibal. I know about you and Alana.” You confessed.

While his face didn’t show any signs of shock, his heart skipped a beat. He obviously had never planned on you finding out, so this wasn’t what he expected. Will was watching, arms crossed as he observed. 

“How did you find out?” Hannibal asked nonchalantly.

If he had to guess, he would’ve suspected that maybe Alana came clean to Will who conveyed the truth. That was the first time Hannibal would’ve been wrong about anything. 

“That doesn’t matter. What matters is that I know about it. And I want you to know how much you’ve hurt me because of it.” You said. 

You weren’t crying anymore. You were past that point. 

“When I said ‘I do’ on our wedding day, I meant it. Every word of my vows was the truth. I was ecstatic to spend my life with you. I was beyond thrilled to have forever to spend with someone I loved. I just wish I had known it didn’t go both ways,” You spoke softly; “If our marriage wasn’t what you signed up for, then I suppose I owe you an apology. But if it was everything you expected and it still wasn’t enough...then I don’t know what to tell you. I gave you...I gave us everything I had. My whole heart and soul. I wanted to be sure we were each other’s forever. But I see I didn’t do as well as I could have.”

Hannibal was speechless. There wasn’t anything he could say. He was ashamed. Ashamed of getting caught and ashamed for hurting an innocent person. You reached into your pocket and pulled out your wedding ring. You silently took his hand and placed it in his palm. It was cliche, but it was powerful. You were done. 

“I’ll be moved out by tomorrow. Don’t try calling me. Don’t come looking for me. I’m leaving. I hope you can live with what you’ve done,” You said brushing past him. 

You looked at Will as you went to exit his home. He knew you’d call him in a few days after you had time to yourself. You would never leave him behind. You stopped at the door, leaving Hannibal with one final sentence;

“Goodbye, Hannibal.” 

You walked down the front porch steps and into your car. You didn’t know where you were going to go, but you had to get away somewhere. You drove away in silence, letting the road take you wherever it wanted. You couldn’t help but reflect on the good times you had with Hannibal. It would be inhuman not to. At the end of the day, even if it didn’t work out, Hannibal was your love story. You would never be able to change that.

No matter how hard you tried.

[fanficparker]

A GAME OF DIAMONDS AND HEARTS // H.O.

>> CHAPTER SIX

“They agreed with each other violently and disagreed with each other pleasurably.” - A Suitable Boy, Seth

(Frenemies to Lovers! Mob AU! ) Harrison Osterfield x Fem!OC

Word count: 2.13k words

Warning: Swearing, guns, knives.

Synopsis: After the sudden death of his uncle and the eccentric multi-millionaire mafia king Lufian Clarke, Harrison Osterfield’s almost decent life is mostly devastated especially when half of what should be rightfully his fortune is transferred to their immediate rival for reasons he doesn’t know. What’s remaining is him trying to figure out how to deal with this collaboration of two rival corporations that don’t belong together and work on the side of the woman he never knew would ever be referred to as his partner in crime while they are dragged into a mess bigger than what they were trained to handle.

<< FIVE [ MASTERLIST ] SEVEN >>

"Who let you enter my private study?"

Harrison asked, stopping with one step inside his office, fixing the watch on his wrist. His eyes focused on the uninvited guest.

"My ability to walk." A smirk played over Sandhya's lips as she flipped a page in the file she was holding, twirling the ball pen between her fingers. The base of the pen rested below her lip as she lifted her eyelid to catch a glimpse of Harrison's irritable face. And damn he indeed was irritated.

"No one comes here without my permission." He hissed, striding into the centre of the room, staring at her furtively until his gaze landed on the other parts of his office. His office was a mess. Not anywhere near how he left it. His file cabinet was open and at least twenty files were lying on the sofa and a few over his desk. There were two on Sandhya's lap as she sat with her legs crossed over each other, leaning back leisurely in one of the chairs, skimming through the papers. An empty plate and a coffee mug were also sitting on his desk. The mug wasn't even placed over a coaster. He could even see some bread crumbs scattered on the wood.

He barely managed to not lash out at her, clenching his fists. Drawing in a shallow breath, he opened his mouth in an attempt to reason with her but she was the first one to speak.

"Can you log into the system? I need to look up something." She pointed the tip of the pen at the computer placed on his desk. Her voice was far from that of requesting even if she framed it as a question.

Harrison's brows pinched, "Are you serious?!" His voice sounded so pitchy, almost resembling a train wreck about to happen.

"Yes."

That's all? His stomach rumbled with anger. She didn't even look up at him. That bland yes twisted like a snake in his gut. He was past taking orders, especially from her. So, he walked up to her, swallowing his building rage and snatched the file she was holding.

"Hey!" She squealed, trying to take it back as he pushed it over his head and out of her reach.

She rose from the chair, about to grab it when he dropped the file on the floor behind his back, scattering the papers.

"Why would you--"

"Because it's my office and those are my files! And fucking," he seethed, trying to keep his voice casual, lifting the mug from the table, "We don't eat in the study, let alone dump the scraps on the desk. Also, you didn't even use a coaster!" He groaned upon noticing the ring the liquid left on the wood before he settled the mug again on the table, only this time there was a coaster beneath it.

Her eyebrows pulled together, disbelief roaring through her head, "You are worried about the coaster--"

"The white oak---"

"The uncle was murdered in this house and the nephew is more interested in coffee stains." She squinted her eyes, shaking her head.

Harrison bit back a groan. Her words had managed to flip his stomach. He sighed keeping his conduct civil.

"As much as I am curious about Clarke's mysterious death," he spoke as calmly as he could, meeting her eyes, "We aren't even sure if he was murdered in the first place."

"You gotta be kidding me!"

"I am not kidding you!" He bit back, "And anyway, get out of here. I don't like outsiders touching my stuff," he shifted his gaze to the side, hands folded across his chest.

She scoffed, almost scornfully. "Says the one who had no problem sleeping together."

Harrison's neck snapped at the words, his temper reaching new heights. Gritting his teeth, he took a step forward, looking down at her face. "If I had known it was you, I would have never--"

"Exactly!" She snapped, "You didn't know who you were sleeping with, how do I ensure you know about the people working here?"

"That's bullshit."

Sandhya exhaled, failing to reason with him. It was harder than she had expected. So, she tried the gentler way, trying to make her words sound closer to a request, "I need you to give me access to your computer." For no avail--

"What made you think I would do that? You have already seen enough." His hands dropped from his chest and she fought back the urge to roll her eyes.

The last attempt at asking and being gentle, "Look Harrison," her voice was sweeter as if she had accepted her defeat, moving to the last resort, "You have already ruined my Plan A and now I need to know about certain things to come up with a Plan B."

"You really think you're some kind of mastermind in planning? Don't you?"

"Harrison, that was my job back then--"

"Oh. I thought your job was to seduce strangers and sleep with them." He didn't hesitate but when the words finally parted his lips, he noticed the light in her eyes dimming for a brief second, the little grin on her lips fading. His heart thumped in his throat. Perhaps, he went too far.

But what he said wasn't a lie. Perhaps, it was okay. He didn't care anyway, yet his eyes moved to her neck, somewhere-anywhere, away from her face.

Those scars on her throat fell into his line of sight. Fine red lines, shallow, peeking off from her pink hoodie. He hadn't paid much attention before but she looked cute in the outfit, a way he had never expected her to look. Her expression defied the notion though, driving his brain back to the thick air that engulfed them.

Her hand came to cover her throat, gently rubbing across the marks. He swallowed. His eyes flickered back to hers and she averted her gaze to the side. Probably, that was the closest he would ever get at marking her.

He was waiting for a reply, a sharp hit back. Instead, the air between them seemed to hum quietly. Harrison had hit the mark so blatantly, Sandhya didn't even bother refuting it. And that somehow bothered him.

She tore her gaze from him, turning on her heel. He felt the urgent need to cut the silence.

"I don't support the idea of a murderer walking among us." He spoke slowly.

He heard her sigh heavily.

"Well enough," she made up her mind, walking away from him and picking up the file, he had previously dropped, "You live in your protected shell, dreaming about sunshine and rainbows while someone stabs you in your sleep," her voice was still without heat or anger, "But you know what..."

She turned to face him again, eyes hardening, "I don't want to die or lose what I have earned so, I'm going to do something about it."

"Good luck." He muttered, eyes never leaving her figure as she stormed off the room.

***

The day was heavy on Sandhya. Checking up all the records of the people Clarke had ever worked with was more time consuming than she had thought, especially considering how her initial plan of dividing the work with Harrison went amiss.

She had navigated through whatever documents he had in his room, along with Clarke's and had taken the help of Holly to get access to their server. It would have been nicer to have her in person than on a phone but she was indeed helpful, although, Sandhya hadn't found anything game-changing. There was at least a compact list of people she had her suspicions on, though.

The library was bigger than what it appeared from afar. Probably they could shoot a Jurassic Park movie in here. Or Night at the Museum or library or whatever. She had laughed at the thought. She had also walked through all three tiers of the magnificent space, analyzing the delicately carved rosewood shelves carrying books older than time. They even had some of the original manuscripts of the classics. Unbelievable.

But now she was tired. It was over six hours, she was sitting there, skimming through all the information she could get her hands on. The mob business was full of mischief. Interacting with people you should definitely keep a six feet distance from was customary .

She sighed, shutting the library computer and keeping the files aside. Untying her hair and pressing her fingers against the pulsing side of her head, she tried to relax. A gasp left her lips. She bet she saw a shadow move outside.

Her heart stopped for a moment when the lights flickered. There was definitely someone who shouldn't be here.

Slowly, carefully, she rose from her seat, ducking down the table. Then she heard it. Footsteps. She scrambled forward, keeping low, hiding behind a pillar, drawing the knife from her clothes. She waited and waited, breathing through her nose. But no one came for her. And then it hit her.

They could be here for Harrison.

She risked a peek, looking outside the library. There was still no one in sight. The alleyway seemed dark, dead; enough to accelerate her pulse. She climbed down the stairs, one foot at a time, letting her eyes wander around the hall. Stopping and hiding behind an intersected wall, she saw it: A guy in all black, twisting the knob to Harrison's room, the haft helpless in the vice of his grip. He entered inside.

Sandhya swallowed. Her throat felt dry. She only had a knife on herself right now. Protecting Harrison at all costs was a requisite. Even when he was an insufferable jerk.

He was a team.

And she hated teamwork.

She also hated jerks.

Harrison turned in his sleep, lying over the left side of his body, hugging the silk sheets that covered him. His room was pitch black, with curtains all drawn shut. He preferred sleeping in the dark and maybe that was the reason why the silver light shining over his thin eyelids discomforted him. He wasn't a heavy sleeper and little sounds managed to bother him.

He had somehow grown accustomed to the noise his clock made. His mind erratically jumped between disconnected, unwanted thoughts whenever he sensed other sounds in his proximity. Sounds that didn't match the rhythm of his clock.

Noises of shallow breathing.

Noises of out of tune footfalls.

Out of tune...

His eyes flew open, wide, fixed on the dagger that stood three feet above his chest, reflecting the minimal amount of light his window shades failed to conceal.

He tried to kick off his sheets but the dagger lunged forward swiftly like a wild animal. He squirmed, unable to move, waiting for the impact. Only that he never felt the object pierce his body. The guy groaned, his steps faltering backwards.

Harrison unspooled himself from the sheets, quickly switching on the lamp. Leaping from the bed, hands first, he landed on his toes, squatting.

Sandhya's arms were crossed around the guy's neck from the back. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she tried to push him back.

"Don't just stand there!" She cried, struggling to hold the big guy as she pulled him backwards, pressing her forearms against his throat.

Harrison shook his head, jumping forward. His heart pounded in his chest as he hit the man over his shoulder. The guy with his face blocked out with a black woollen mask, wailed, stumbling on his feet. He slammed Sandhya's back against the window, dropping both his weapon and the whimpering girl on the floor.

Harrison tried to catch him but he ran, pushing him back, storming off the door. His eyes roamed at the door and then at Sandhya. He sighed, giving out his hand. Grabbing it, she pulled herself on her feet.

"Don't say it." He mumbled, jutting his tongue out of his compressed lips.

"Told you so." She said anyway, voice so low that only he could hear, flashing him a small grin, more of a grimace, actually. His own mouth twisted but then his eye caught the sight of his window, the shades drawn away because of the rustling. His slight frown turned into a scowl.

"Watch out--" He grabbed Sandhya by her waist, pulling her down with him, capturing her body beneath his as a gunshot blasted the window of his room, crashing, shattering the glass over them.

A moment passed in silence as they tried catching up their breath.

"Are we even?" He mouthed, manoeuvring his eye line back up to her face. She was horrified, her chest rising and falling.

"We'll see..."

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[dracosaurusrex]

Scavenger Hunt

Part 6 to Notebook! Notebook Masterlist

Summary: In which Draco is torn between his morals and desires, but chooses you.

Pairing: Draco x Gryffindor!reader

A/N: I don’t know how I feel about this chapter, pero lyke I think the two need a little push? More substance? Hnnnnghhhhhhh. It’s challenging to write Draco with realism aha, but I think it’s crucial for their growth as a couple (?)  IDK...but as always, feedback is lovely and I appreciate it greatly. I hope you enjoy!

A certain blonde found his thoughts often flitting to the recent memories of the time he spent with you in Hogsmeade. He remembered how he well your hand fit into his while cherishing the taste of peppermint toads. Whenever he was alone, he’d remember all those small details: the feel of your touch, the shape of your smile, the ease of holding an actual conversation, and the overall warmth that you exuded on a day that was particularly cold. His heart skipped beats upon recalling these sensations. After all, it was relieving to put down the mask he has been keeping for so long. It was relieving to allow his walls disintegrate for even a moment.

Draco Lucius Malfoy was the only born son to Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy and the heir to an ancient and obnoxiously wealthy line of purebloods. He was raised upon expectations for perfection. Grades, appearance, skills, status, even the people he connected with—anything  less than such was a call for a reprimanding followed by a constant reminder that he mustn't fall into the wrong sort. Such perceptions were embedded in his upbringing, and with efforts to bring his parents much pride and joy, it was his intent to strive for that very definition of perfection. Up until now, his life has been built around the goal of pleasing them.

“Tell me who your friends are, and I’ll know who you are, Draco. Remember that.” His father would tell him with a pompous and conceited tone.

The boy responds, “Yes, father.”

His childhood was a lonely one to say the least. Although he was surrounded by people his parents had approved of to be his friend, they felt more like acquaintances. Furthermore, they resembled hollow relationships founded upon networking and money rather than genuine care and trust. Perhaps that is the reason why your relationship with the golden bunch triggered him. The warmth that he felt with you can easily be seen in the way you interact with your imperfect friends, and he longed to preserve the feeling of it throughout his life. 

You were of a different caliber. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that he was—simply put—an outsider looking into your life. 

In all his honesty, Draco only knew several things about you based off observations and word of mouth. For starters you were in the rivaling house. You also weren’t as wealthy as he was. He knew that the people his parents strongly disapproved of were ones that seemed to bring you much happiness. Additionally, you never gave much priority for your status as a pureblood. Regardless of that, you somehow managed to live a vibrant and seemingly happy life. A life that highly contradicted his own. To that end, he knew deep down inside that you didn’t meet the standard of perfection set by his family. He could see his parents (mostly his father) scowl. But beyond all of the limitations the familial factors presented, your existence seemed to fill what resembled closely to a hole within his heart. He treaded over the line between securing the comfort of the reality he lived in and making the risk to realize the reality he wanted—you. His heart leaned towards the latter.

The weekend transitioned into Monday, and you still haven’t returned Draco’s notebook. While it frustrated him quite a bit, he felt butterflies over the idea of seeing you again. Class was going to start within 30 minutes, and the boy found himself seated on a tree within the courtyard, watching other students pass by. Sporadic sights of red, yellow, blue, and green crossed his line of vision until they landed on a rather large group of Gryffindors congregating near a corner. Seen among them was you.

A smile was plastered on your face as the attention of you and your friends was fixed upon George Weasely, who could be seen holding a camera. He set his device atop of a wall as he directed commands for you all to bunch closer together. After confirming the satisfaction with the placement, he clicked on the shutter and ran frantically to his place next to Fred.

“Say ‘Gryffindor’” You all responded enthusiastically. Arms were wrapped around each other's shoulders, cheeks pressed closely together, smiles all wide with glee. *snap* The scene elicited a tinge of jealousy within Draco’s heart. Before deciding to act upon his emotions, he remains planted on his tree, watching the scene continue to unfold.

“Y/N, Mione, Ginny, come over here! Let me take one of you girls.” The three of you arranged yourselves with you in between your two friends. Your arms interlaced with theirs and you gave a smile to the camera.

“Loosen up, Y/N! You look like you saw a basilisk!” Ron chimed. You threw a glare and adjusted yourself accordingly.

“That’s it! Smile now! 1, 2, 3!” The shutter went off, and you relaxed. Draco kept his gaze fixed on you separating from the two girls as you approached Ron to throw a seemingly painful jab to his shoulder. Draco chuckled from afar.

“Don’t be offended! It’s the truth!” Ron defensively rubbed his now sore arm.

“Oh, shove off Ronald!” You shared a laugh with the boy.

As your friends start to leave the site, your eyes met with the blonde, triggering a grin to spread on your face. You looked back as the group dissipated, heading to their respective classes.

“Mione, Ginny, go on without me! I forgot something, and I have to go and get it.” You called out to them. They nodded in understanding and followed the boys.

Once they were completely gone from your sight, you turned your focus back onto Draco and made your way to the tree he was in. In response, he jumped down and met you halfway with a discrete smirk.

“Didn’t know it was picture day.” He said coyly. You only rolled your eyes playfully and nodded.

“Yes, yes,” you chuckled, “It’s been a little tradition we have had since we were first years.”

There was a fond look you had on your face as you took a brief second to reminisce. Taking notice of this, the jealousy that was kindled in Draco’s chest only grew.

Without even thinking, he said, “I don’t understand why you associate yourself with the likes of them.” The rude tone in his voice offended you.

“Excuse me? What’s that supposed to mean?” Shocked at the question, you brought your hands to your hips as an incredulous expression fixed itself on your face.

“Granger’s a mudblood. The Weasley’s are quite crummy and embarrassingly poor. Potter’s got only a scar to prove his worth in the wizarding world. I simply don’t understand why you associate yourself with people as such.” There wasn’t a single stutter in his statement. Suddenly, the adoration that you once felt was replaced with fumes of anger.

“Who are you? Moreover, what makes you think it’s right to say that!?” You looked at him disgustedly.

“I beg your pardon?” The sight of your expression pooled the feeling of regret in the depths of Draco’s stomach.

“What’s got you acting like a total git?? Seriously incredible, Malfoy! Perhaps if you gave them a chance, then you’d see why I associate myself with the ‘likes’ of them!” You said mockingly. You fished his notebook out of your bag and shoved it aggressively against his chest.

“Not everything is about status, you know?” There was venom laced in your tone, which was accompanied by a look of disappointment within the angry expression on your face.

“But, then again, status must be all that you know.” You stated coldly before turning on your heel to march briskly away from the boy. Draco only stood there dumbfounded as he saw your figure retreat from view. Not knowing how to react, he smacked his face and begrudgingly went to class. This was not how he envisioned his Monday to play out.

His mind was absent from lectures throughout the day as he contemplated your words. Although his constant berating of students from other houses didn’t normally faze him, your words caused an internal uproar and prompted him to question his actions. It was the first time he’s ever seen you react to him so blatantly. Moreover, it was the first time he felt so ashamed of his values. Knowing that the girl he fancied saw him in an ill light made him feel sick to the stomach.

“Tell me who your friends are, and I’ll tell you who you are.” His father’s words echoed ever so clearly within his mind as Draco continued to think about you. The boy felt like he stood at a crossroad upon recalling your exact words. Uncertainty and instability filled the borders of his belief system, situating himself between the tug-o-war of his heart and mind. However, what hadn’t changed was his ardent desire to feel the warmth again. Therefore, as he situated himself in his shamefulness, he thought of ways to gain your familiarity once more.

 Meanwhile, as the day trudged on, your thoughts distracted you from focusing on your studies, and you found yourself filled with an odd mixture of emotions. It initially comprised anger and frustration, but soon transformed into disappointment the more your mind lingered on the subject. Your internal turmoil had projected itself in the form of your oddly quiet nature, catching Hermione’s attention. While you were able to conceal your feelings for the young heir, the girl was always still pretty perceptive with your body language, so it wasn’t difficult for her to notice when you acted so distant throughout the day. She began suspecting you when she saw you doodling on your parchment instead of taking actual notes during transfiguration. Not wanting to assume so much, she continued to observe you. Her assumptions, however, were confirmed during dinner. You typically feasted excitedly whenever pasta and cookies were served, but as the others continued to pile their plates, your usually bubbly aura remained absent.

“Y/N” she called out to you. You looked up from the sad pile of noodles on your dish.

“Yes?”

“Are you okay?” The concern that was conveyed in her voice broke your walls. You weren’t sure what it was about Hermione, but she always seemed to have a nurturing and motherly character. You were very thankful for it.

“I’m not actually,” you said softly, not wanting to gain the attention of others, “Can I confide in you?” Your eyes searched hers with desperation for a solution. Noticing this, she motioned her head towards the entrance of the hall and picked up her plate to make her way there. You copied her actions without looking at your group of friends. Fortunately, though, they didn’t seem to notice. You didn’t want to draw any attention to yourself with your issues.

As you exited the room, your eyes met briefly with Draco’s as his vision followed your movement. You didn’t know how to react, so you kept to yourself and kept on walking. You and Hermione found yourselves situated on a bench in the same courtyard where your clash with the boy had occurred. The moon was shining above you, as the lights from the illuminated hallway framed the scene’s serenity with comfort and familiarity. You held your plate on your lap as you twirled your fork to pick up some of the pasta.

“Okay, what’s the matter?” The girl asked.

You started off slowly, “I have a question- a hypothetical one.”

“Go on.”

“Let’s say you like someone, and he’s entirely different from you. You don’t know him much, but he makes you feel good. He treats you well, and you want to know him more. When you get to spend time with him, those feelings only get amplified, and it feels perfect.” You take a break to examine her reaction so far. She only urged you to go on.

You continue, “But it starts to crumble when he says something insensitive about something you care about. Of course, you get mad. Who would ever say such a thing? Right?” She nods in agreement.

“But what if you still want to like him despite the disappointment and frustration? What would you do?” Hermione’s eyebrows were furrowed as she allowed herself to contemplate on the situation you described.

“I suppose there should be a reason for his opinion. Hmm...If he truly cared, then ideally, he would talk to you. There might not be any excuse for his actions, but if he makes the effort to talk to you, then I feel that would show that he considers your feelings. How you respond is totally up to you, but on your end, I say that you should allow him to speak and listen.”

“Even if he was a total arse?”

“Speaking from a logical standpoint, you’d be a total idiot to accept an arse. However, disappointment and mistakes are bound to happen when getting to know someone. You might as well allow the person to show himself without your expectations pinned on him. You might be surprised with what may result from it.”

“What if it’s not good?”

“Don’t hesitate to walk away. You are deserving of much more than an ignorant git.”

You were grateful that Hermione didn’t press forward to ask about the identity of this person. Furthermore, her words imprinted themselves in your mind as the week went on. It made you feel a bit better, but Draco made no approach to you ever since that night, leaving you with a bitter taste of discouragement. Despite that, you found pride in keeping your emotions at bay, deciding to focus more on your schoolwork instead of allowing your mind to wander far.  Friday had come along, which meant that you found yourself in the library once again. You recalled the week prior, and how your level of attraction towards the boy skyrocketed in the span of two days. It was in this very building that sparked your attraction, but you began to falter on the thought that it would become something more.

 You sat at the same desk you did last week. Papers scattered all over once again. This time it was study of ancient runes, a class that you did well in. A good hour was put into translating runes to English, however the passage was so extensive that the process felt like ages. Feeling as though your head was about to explode, you laid your head down over the mounds of work hoping to close your eyes for a bit. Your moment of peace was interrupted upon the sound of an unknown object landing in the space in front of you. As you lifted your head, your sight was drawn to the presence of a paper crane.  Written on its wing says, “Open it”. You follow the instruction with pure curiosity. Within the folds of the paper is another command: “Meet me at the reference section, vanishing charms.” You wearily look around to find any clue who the sender of the crane might be. Without a single sense of danger, you stood up from your seat, not bothering to tidy up your things, and navigated your way to the reference section.

Your fingers trailed through spines of familiar books as you recalled the first assignment you and Draco had worked on. A rosy feeling spread across your chest as you remembered how unusual his affections contrasted with his typical cold and insensitive demeanor. Could he be the sender? Why else would anyone guide you to the vanishing charm section in the library?

Soon, your fingers crossed over a foreign sensation, which broke you out of your thoughts. Your gaze was then set upon a piece of folded paper tucked so carefully between the spines. You pulled it out gingerly, admiring the precision of the creases before opening it. The next message elicited a smile from you:

“I was never good with expressing feelings. I still find it pathetic and have denied the ones I’ve had for you so long. Much to my annoyance, though, I find it pleasurable reminiscing the scene that took place in this remote little spot.” Your eyes trailed to the bottom of the page.

“Do you remember where we sat to work on the essay?” Your heart was bounding as the context of the messages confirmed the identity of the owner. Much like your first interaction with him, you didn’t know what to expect. That, however, did not stop you from walking towards the table situated beneath the window that casted rays of light from the setting sun. You began your search for the next note. The surface of the table was empty, chairs were tucked in neatly—it didn’t seem as though anyone had crossed this area.

‘What would Draco do?’ You thought. You recalled qualities that you were familiar with. He was pretty witty. At times he was annoyingly rude as well. He comes from a wealthy family with corrupt ideals. Regardless, the warmth that he had shown you had no tone of ill intent behind it. In fact, its very existence, in contrast to what others saw, illustrated an image of the boy being surrounded by walls within your mind. You then concluded that if you were Draco, you would be cautious about displaying affection. Keeping this in mind, you thought of areas that could be discrete enough to hide a note. Your hand reached towards the underside of the table and skimmed through its rough texture, hoping to find any abnormalities. Suddenly, a wave of satisfaction overcame you as your finger pads were met with a contrasting smooth surface. As you did before, you carefully plucked the new paper crane as your excitement continued to grow. The words “Almost there” was written across the wing. You opened the note and there was, yet again, another message:

“Y/N, truth be told, I’m quite taken by you—Your beauty, your warmth, the comfort you bring, your shyness when you say my name, the way you look when you’re so focused as you work, even the way you interact and defend your other Gryffindor friends,”

“I’ve made a mistake that Monday morning, yet the time spent away from you makes no difference in the way your presence occupies my mind. I fail at the very act of shoving you away. I see glimpses of you in smallest and largest parts of my day. Meet me at your desk?”

Written on the bottom of the note was a signature: “Draco Lucius Malfoy”

While peace filled you, there was still a feeling of uncertainty. You were overjoyed by the fact that Draco had feelings for you, but there was no denying that a relationship with him would be difficult. The boy carried a lot of baggage, and you weren’t sure if you could handle it. However, with a brave face, you walked towards the area where you had started your little adventure.

As you drew near, there was a familiar blonde figure seated at your desk. His facial features filled with admiration as his fingers stroked your work, fingers flipping through the loose pages of parchment. You giggled to yourself, recalling the way you had done the same just a week prior.

You came up from behind him and whispered in his ear, “Hello, Draco Lucius.”

His heart almost beat out of his chest at the sound of his name rolling so fluidly through your mouth. You pulled out the seat next to him and gave him a sad smile, his eyes not leaving yours for a moment. There was silence. Both parties were at a loss for words to say, and so you remain seated without a sound, allowing the comfort to trickle in.

It had been five minutes since you arrived, and Draco kept his head down low as his stare stuck to your knees. He, then, hesitantly looks up at you, and with a soft voice, he asks, “May I?” You meet his gaze before his eyes flutter to your hands. Instead of giving a response, you grab his hand and interlace your fingers with his, your other hand covering the one that’s already clasped. You immediately take notice how large his hand feels as it’s wrapped within your own. Silence overcomes you once again as your thumb rubs the surface of his own. It was a sensation both had missed

“I’m sorry.” The words tumble out of his mouth suddenly. You look up to see that he’s already staring at you.

He repeats himself, “I’m sorry.”

The silvery eyes that were once filled with arrogance and pride were now desperately searching yours with regret. If they could speak, they’d be screaming right now. You squeezed his hand harder before unfolding it only to hold it once more, except this time you were tracing the lines engrained on his palm.

“May you explain to me why you said those things?” You asked gently.

“Can we go somewhere more private?” He responds, his tone expressing a tinge of vulnerability. You give a nod of understanding before reaching over the table to gather your belongings. You hadn’t noticed how fast your heart had been beating until this point. All of your affectionate gestures came naturally within the moment that when you released his hand from your grasp, your emotions caught up to you.

You take a look at him and notice subtle things. You notice the way he towers over you, the way his body is angled in your direction, leaning towards you with a possessive stance. You notice the way his hands hang loosely on his sides and how he keeps his gaze on you with an expression that you can’t quite describe. His breathing is even but he looks at you with much intensity.

“Draco,” You call out. His attention goes to your face. Allowing your need for affection to overtake you once more, you take his hand once again and look in his eyes—they looked much relaxed now. You release a small a smile before standing on your tip toes to plant a long and affectionate kiss on his cheek. His grip on your hand had tightened in response.

Your lips ghost over his ear, “Lead the way.”

A/N: Idek. I hope you have a great day tho!

Taglist: @m-winchester-67 @bbeauttyybbx @un-limit-edd @poetontheblock @tttyrus @stretchyice  @vaeonshi @bittersweetthoughts–ofinsanity @saptediavoli @kookie-vuitton @thatguppienamedbae  @ccabian

[hi-hey-haechan]

Perfect ~ Qian Kun

Pairing: Qian Kun x reader

Word count: 3.7k

Genre: Fluff, smut, angst

Warnings: mentions of starving oneself and insecurities about weight. I hope I didn’t romanticize this too much. It’s something that we deal with daily, and love isn’t enough to fix our own views of ourselves. This is also smutty, too.

When Kun began eating less, you didn’t think much of it. His comeback was nearing, and you figured that SM would probably force him to take off his shirt again. You believed that he looked stunning, even with his abs or jawline less prominent, but he didn’t think the same. Oh, how you wished he saw what you saw.

When “less” became even less, a gradual decline stretching out over several days, it didn’t go unnoticed. Kun knew exactly what he was doing, and so did you. While attempting to lose weight, he also tried to hide it from you. Eating more fruit (much to Ten’s dismay) and veggies, fewer carbs and less sugar, too. Overall, however, there was just a smaller amount consumed.

His energy hardly wavered, at least to the extent you could see. Kun continued to practically overwork himself, practicing arranging, producing, and writing songs into the dead of night. You saw him less, due to this, but you were sure he was living off of two hours of sleep and eight cups of coffee.

For tonight, he was back home, looking tired but happy to see you. His jawline was sharp, sharper than usual, and it kind of worried you. Have you eaten?  you wondered, looking at his slumped shoulders yet bright eyes. When you went up to hug him, he felt thinner in your arms. His hoodie didn’t hide the fact that his torso felt more rigid, less soft than before.

“I missed you,” Kun sighed, but his smile was bright. Your heart melted a bit -- gosh, you’d missed his beautiful grin. It had been so long since you’d genuinely had quality time with him, excluding a few hugs or kisses between the late nights and early mornings. He was still just as strong as his arms embraced you.

“I missed you, too. Have you eaten?”

Kun hated lying to you. He remained silent for a few seconds, considering his words carefully. “No, but I’m alright.” It wasn’t a lie: he hadn’t eaten that entire day, but he could continue to hold out. He was fine.

You couldn’t help but notice how his gaze was no longer trained on you. He didn’t want to see the expression on your face when he told you that he didn’t need to eat dinner. “You need to eat, Kun,” you told him softly. Your voice was gentle, but at the same time, you stated it like it was a fact that he couldn’t ignore.

“I’ll eat tomorrow.” That was a lie.

Based on how much weight he’d appeared to have lost, as much as you wished his statement to be the truth, you couldn’t. “I don’t believe you.”

“Okay.” His statement was plain and emotionless, like he didn’t care that you didn’t believe him. It was so much unlike him. When you looked at him, you could see that he was clenching his jaw, almost like he was angry.

“Why are you acting like this?” you felt a bit hurt by his words. You wanted him to look you in the eyes and see the softness and the warmth that was always there.

“Acting like what?” he spat.

That hurt. Kun never raised his voice. He was so patient, so level-headed and even-tempered. You thought it out. He was being defensive over his eating habits, and now he was attempting to stand his ground. He wasn’t telling you to go away or shut up, meaning that he still needed and wanted your presence, regardless of the squabbling. Kun couldn’t look you in the eye. If he stood up and left, you realized, he’d break down. He’d be running away from himself, which he wasn’t one to do. If he did this, he would force himself into the same cycle tomorrow of not eating.

You didn’t have to read into him any further. You knew him too well. He was never so blatantly against eating. He was even thinner than usual, and he was so defensive when you attempted to correct his eating habits. “Why are you starving yourself?” You had lightened your tone, trying to make it sound more welcoming, more understanding.

Kun took a ragged breath as his head slowly turned away from you. At first, you thought he was ignoring you, refusing to answer. You couldn’t see his face, but you could hear the slightest sniffle come from him.

You could only imagine how he was feeling. Now that you’d outright confronted him, he had nowhere to run. He always forced himself to stay strong, to put on a brave face and show nothing but kindness and love to the world, even when he was breaking down inside. Kun always bottled up how he felt, never wanting to burden the other people around him. But here, when you’d asked him outright about this vulnerability that he hid from others, he was breaking down, perhaps for the first time within this entire predicament. At the same time, you were stunned. You’d never seen Kun cry. Sure, he had been close to tears, like at the Beyond Live concert, where he looked so utterly happy and touched. You’d never seen him break like this, though.

You threw your arms around him. “It’s okay,” you murmured, “Cry, let it out, it’s okay.” He picked you up and placed you on his lap, granting him better access to you. His face buried itself into your shoulder, and his arms wound around your body tightly, as though you were the only thing anchoring him in that moment.

He didn’t contain his sobs, and his body shook as he cried, muffling the sounds of his sadness into the fabric of your his hoodie. His soft blue hair tickled your neck. Kun held you like you were his lifeline, hardly allowing you to move. You’d never seen him so upset, so utterly broken and vulnerable. Seeing him hurt like this without being able to help or relate to him was what was the most painful.

Upon listening to him the slightest bit further, you heard repeated whispers of the word “sorry.” The word left his mouth over and over, and you could still just barely hear him. He said it more loudly, an utterance you were intended to hear.

“You don’t need to be sorry. Don’t you ever feel sorry for hurting.” As soon as you said your words, you knew they couldn’t be attained. He felt sorry for making you see him like this, the opposite of the person he wanted to show you. As much as you didn’t want him to be sorry, he was. Because that was the kind of person Kun was: someone who would deeply regret any slight mistake he’d make and do anything to reverse it.

But as Woosung says in “She’s in the Rain” by The Rose, “It’s better to be held than holding on.”

Seeing him so broken shattered your heart into pieces. Your smiley, kind, talented, smart boyfriend was the same boy who was in your arms, sobbing because of a weakness he couldn’t overcome. You hugged him on the outside, but he was only suffering on the inside, and you didn’t know how deeply your hug would manage to touch him, to help him.

After almost an eternity, Kun’s tears and sobs ceased. He didn’t stop holding you, clutching onto you with everything he had. Even when the worst of the storm had passed, the bad weather was still present, just as Kun still needed you near.

“If I ask you something, I need you to be completely honest in your answer,” Kun said. “Please, don’t worry about hurting my feelings. Lying will hurt more than the truth.”

His head had withdrawn itself from your shoulder, his face tearstained and red. Kun’s eyes were slightly red from all the crying, and the sight made your heart clench. You leaned forward and pressed kisses to his cheeks, his nose, his mouth, trying to calm him down, to make him feel loved. His skin lingered with the salt of his tears, but you didn’t care. “Ask me anything,” you replied.

“So you know how they call me ‘Fat Kun,’“ he began, unable to look you in the eyes. Just hearing that statement alone sent a wave of anger through you. He then continued, “How accurate is that nickname?”

Oh, that’s why he’s been doing all this to himself. His members had given him that nickname back in 2018. One of his members would occasionally let the name slip now, but Kun would just brush it off, grin and bear it. What was worse was the fact that his fans picked up on the nickname. They found it funny and affectionate to pick on their favorite idols like that. NCTzens should have known damn well that calling him “Fat Kun” was not a term that made him feel good about himself. To some fans, that was his only character trait. Kun had outright said that being called by that derogatory nickname made him uncomfortable, yet people kept doing it. Some NCTzens sucked. Of course he felt self-conscious, if his own fans kept calling him fat.

And he wasn’t even fat! You were honestly concerned for his weight, since he was forced to conform to the beauty standards of idols, which meant being quite thin. He already was thin. You knew that Kun’s body gained weight easily, but you saw how conscious he was of it. He always watched what he ate and exercised daily.

“It’s not accurate at all, in the slightest,” you told him honestly.

“I knew you’d say that.” Most people wouldn’t be able to tell from him, but the slightest hint of disappointment was in his voice. He wanted to hear a different answer. If you’d called him fat indirectly, it would give him motivation for working towards being slimmer. You couldn’t call him fat for two reasons: one, it wasn’t true, and two, it would hurt him. The fact that he thought you were lying to him, the fact that he believed himself to truly look a certain way, was what caused you to embrace him, pulling his head to your chest.

His soft hair tickled against your neck at chin, but you pressed your lips to the top of his head regardless. One of your hands reached up to the back of his head, pulling it even closer to you. You heard Kun take a deep breath in, attempting to keep and remain calm. “I said it because it’s true,” you murmured. “You’re slim, Kun, and you care so much that it worries me.”

“I guess I just want to look my best? For the NCTzens and Weishennies?”

Kun was too sweet. Seriously. You smiled at it and stated the most truthful words you could: “Best? Kun, you’re too perfect for this world. You care about your fans, who usually don’t deserve a fraction of what you give them. You lead the other members so well, always caring for them. Your voice is beautiful, but it could never be as beautiful as your heart. Nothing could be as sweet and kind and open and wise as your own heart. Plus, you look absolutely beautiful, too. Your smile lights up the world and brings joy to my life. Your eyes are full of sincerity. That face you make when people tease you and you’re annoyed but just laugh it off because you love them too much? It’s so cute. Your dimples that pop out whenever you talk or laugh make my heart melt. You’re absolutely perfect.”

“Hey, don’t disrespect the fans like that,” he reprimanded gently. The fact that he cared so much about them made you want to cry. The way he had so much love for everything was so pure and sweet. He gave you a smile, and it felt like an apple cutter was trying to dig out the center of your heart, causing your stomach to do flips and your entire being to want to kiss him.

“I’ll disrespect anyone who makes you feel bad about yourself,” you told him.

“It’s part of life. I’ll get by.”

A thought suddenly occurred to you, and upon this curiosity, you inquired. “Wait, is this why you’ve been so...shy these past few weeks?”

The tips of Kun’s ears turned red, and his gaze shifted to something that was behind you. “I had felt bad about it before, you know. It’s just...I didn’t want you to see me like that until I had bettered myself.”

It broke your heart to hear. He wanted to be his best for you, and at the same time, he didn’t believe he was enough. You’d barely seen him for weeks, much less been able to be this close to him, due to how distant he was being. Intimacy had been practically nonexistent.

“Baby,” you whispered. You hardly knew what to say. “I love you no matter what you look like. You could be a potato and I’d still love you. Well, okay, I do love potatoes in general, but I hope you get what I’m saying. I, and your fans, too, love you for you, and not for your visuals or your abs or jawline. Yes, every physical part of you is absolutely perfect, but you’re more than that.”

You wished your words were making sense to him. You hoped you were making your point, that you loved him so, so unconditionally, and you couldn’t even try to change that. You didn’t want to change it.

“You don’t have to believe me,” you assured him. “I know that another person’s comments aren’t enough to change a person’s view of themselves. Just because I tell you that you’re perfect doesn’t mean you have to believe it. But I believe it because it’s what I see when I look at you.”

Kun’s eyes had met yours again, and they were bearing into yours with so much emotion that you almost wanted to cry. “Thank you,” was all he really could say. “I love you. I love you so much.” After hearing your words, you knew he had so much to say, so much to think about, but he didn’t know how to say it, especially without crying or being disingenuous towards himself.

So you kissed him. You had kissed him just a few times in those past two weeks, but this one was different. You could taste the salt of his tears on his lips, and you pulled him closer, trying to portray every feeling you had through the connection of your mouths. He held you fast, arms remaining tightly around your body. Kun’s lips were soft as ever, but they way he was kissing you, grasping onto you desperately, wasn’t quite so soft.

His mouth was moving against yours fervently, and the words he silently spoke were a mix of “I love yous,” “I missed yous,” and “I need yous.” He meant that last phrase in every sense of the term. He needed you in his life; he needed you to love him and anchor him when his entire world was chaos. He needed you close to him, as close as you were right then.

But any closer was when Kun’s brain would come into play, trying to turn his momentary comfort into something different. The prospect of you seeing him completely naked scared him. His confidence had never been too high regarding his physical appearance, but after dwelling on nothing else, twisting what he saw into something he disliked, he didn’t want you to look at him, no matter what you may have thought before.

Kun’s brain was running a million miles a second. He broke away, needing to understand his thoughts.

“What are you thinking about?” you asked quietly. “Are you alright?”

He looked at you apologetically, and his face was red. “It’s just...I want to make you feel...good. But the idea of actually getting undressed doesn’t sound...”

“You don’t have to explain. I understand. We don’t have to do anything. I care about you more than anything else.”

“But the problem is the fact that I want you so bad. I missed you in every sense of the word, but I can’t...show you me?”

“And you don’t have to.” Kun kissed your lips again, desperate and loving and understanding and lustful. His hands moved from your waist, to your hips, to your head, fingers tangling in your hair. When you ground your hips down on him, Kun’s member was already hard. You were just testing the waters, in a way, waiting to see his reaction, but you already knew what he wanted, both by the erection that pressed against your crotch and the quiet groan that was stifled in the back of his throat.

“Y/n,” Kun sighed against your mouth, “I missed you so much.” His lips captured yours again, and you couldn’t help but feel warm and loved. You adored this feeling of closeness, and you were aware of every detail of his body. His fingertips were lightly brushing against your scalp. His hair tickled against your forehead, and his heat radiated from his perfect mouth. Your own throbbing core was pressed against his erection, the layers between you refusing to limit the effect he had on you.

You broke away for a second, and your fingers flew down to his hoodie, lightly disappearing under the hem of it. “Can I...?” you whispered. The feeling of his skin under yours would make both of you into messes, and the heat of him would create an unspoken, powerful intimacy, just as it always did.

“Just for a minute,” he replied. Your mouth was no longer against his, and you slid your hands further up. The glancing touch of your fingertips made contact with his heated skin. You made sure to be gentle, and you dragged your hands down his stomach, running over the clear muscle that was present. The ridges of his abs turned you on even more, but it also reminded you how hard he worked to look perfect, how much he cared.

“You’re perfect,” you told him with unabashed sincerity. You kissed him again. “Absolutely beautiful,” you mumbled against his mouth. As you remembered his instructions, you withdrew your hands and tangled your fingers in his hair, kissing him harder, more roughly.

Once again, you ground your hips against his, letting out a soft “Fuck” as his hard-on pressed onto your clothed clit. His mouth opened against yours in a tiny gasp, and this allowed you to deepen the kiss.

Kun moaned into your mouth when you ground on him again and slid your tongue into his mouth. He felt too wrapped up in you to think of anything else. His senses were filled with you, how perfect you felt and how much pleasure you brought to him.

You two were in your own little world. You continued lightly humping on his hard member, coaxing the prettiest noises from him. Kun was clearly sensitive, hardly having been touched for a few weeks. With all the pent-up stress and emotion, he needed the release all the much more. Admittedly, you weren’t doing too well easily, either. You felt his erection press into your clit, indirectly dragging through your dripping folds. Shamelessly, a whimper passed your lips.

Kun, you realized, despite being under you, knew how to bring you the most amount of pleasure. He grabbed your waist, helping to guide you down on him more harshly. It felt even better, the increased pressure emitting moans from both of you. When he rotated you on his hips, the gyrating motion was right against your clit.

“Again,” you begged, which was when you realized how raw and husky your voice was.

After another gyration, Kun bucked his hips up into yours, letting out a breathless moan. “Why do you feel so good?” he managed to say.

When he began to help you move into a rhythm, you knew you wouldn’t last. The constant friction right against your clit, against your throbbing core, made you almost close your legs from the sensitivity. You could barely comprehend why grinding against his hard-on turned you into a mess, but you loved it so much.

“K-Kun, baby, I’m gonna cum,” you whispered against his sweatshirt, for your head was buried in his shoulder.

His hands squeezed your waist, and his cock twitched under you. He swore, which he really didn’t often do, and stuttered, “M-me, too,”

Your movements were faltering, and the knot in your stomach was begging to come loose. Kun and you couldn’t hold back your sounds of pleasure. Missing each other, deprived of touch, had taken its toll on both of you.

When you came, your thighs clamped more tightly around him as your pleasure overtook you. A choked sob passed your lips, and you found yourself clenching around nothing, squirming on his lap. You managed to squeak out his name multiple times, and you were gripping onto his shoulders as you got went over the edge.

Kun, too, was a mess when he came, legs shaking, breaths uneven, moans and breathless, beautiful sighs left his mouth. Under your core, which got so wet that it leaked through your leggings, you felt his hot seed be shot from him with nowhere to go. He was hugging you tightly, grasping onto you as he came hard, his cum staining the front of his sweatpants.

As soon as his breaths returned to normal, you embraced him again. “You’re perfect, Kun, in every single way. And if you don’t see it, I’ll remind you of it until you do.”

When Kun kissed you again this time, it wasn’t lustful as it was the first time around. This was gentle and patient. “I love you, and I’m sorry.”

“Don’t you ever apologize for being insecure.”

Kun didn’t answer, but instead went back to just holding you. “I think I need to clean up,” he said, out of nowhere, despite it being true.

You laughed, climbed off his lap, and held out your hand. As soon as he cleaned himself off, and so did you, you refused to ever let him go again, and you two clung to each other endlessly.

I saw people still calling him “Fat Kun,” and I heard rumors about him starving himself, especially around NCT 2018. Kun is perfect, beautiful and precious in every way, and so I wrote this purely self-indulgent thing that took like a week.

[fizzingwizard]

Frantically playing catch up because I’m gone the rest of the weekend so here’s day 6 after all! Blatantly Takari. This one surprised me by how easy it was to write so it got a bit longer than the others. I’m sure there are many typos, please overlook. Also has two quotes, one in the text and one at the end, from my long-time favorite poet, Walt Whitman. BTW, I don’t really get everything that went down with Ordinemon, but I did my best to fit canon.

One month post-Bokura no Mirai, Takeru and Hikari go on a date and Hikari encounters something unexpected, which leads to a very overdue conversation with her brother.

Warning - there’s mention of the death of sick baby. It’s not huge but it matters to the story. I don’t want to shock anyone.

---

Tri week day 6 - Journeys - Death of a Comet

"How are you?" Takeru asked, watching her carefully.

Hikari only smiled and pretended not to notice. "I thought we'd known each other long enough to skip the niceties, Takeru-kun," she quipped. It was a far cry from her old playfulness, she knew, but she also knew he wasn't going to call her out for it it just yet.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Takeru rolled his eyes with an exaggerated, put-upon sigh. "I didn't realize relationship length was proportionate to amount of shits given."

"It is, at least when the last time we talked was an hour ago over text."

"Duly noted."

"Let's go?"

He nodded. He was wearing another hat she'd never seen before, a dark blue beret that looked about to tip off the side of his head with a light breeze. She wondered if he went out and bought a new hat each time before they went out together. Like how a girl shouldn't be caught in the same outfit twice. He probably did. That was Takashi Takeru, vain as fuck. But there was also something kind of adorable about it.

They'd "officially" been dating for a couple weeks, and Hikari wasn't sure yet how she felt about it. Of course, she'd agreed to it when he asked her. What else could she do? They'd been flirting and toying with each other off and on for years, in a childish way, but she couldn't pretend she didn't know full well what she was doing. She'd even sometimes daydreamed about what dating him would be like. Mostly she imagined it would be a lot of sitting in the bleachers at his basketball games.

She didn't consider Takeru the most mature of the boys in their year, but he wasn't as bad as some. Plus, they'd been through a lot together, so she knew what he was made of. And he really liked her. And she liked him. It seemed unavoidable. She'd said yes because she had no good reason for saying no.

It still felt a bit weird when he reached to hold her hand. Two weeks in, and they had yet to kiss. For the most part, it felt like nothing much had changed between them, except that Takeru no longer tried to hide his excitement when she was near. That was... flattering. And she had no qualms with taking it slow either.

They got on the Yurikamome train and stood together by a window, watching the Odaiba waterfront speed by as they traveled over the Rainbow Bridge. The sky was blue and cloudless. It was the kind of weather Tailmon loved, but Hikari had already talked to her about why she sometimes couldn't come along when she and Takeru went on an "outing." Tailmon had blinked lazily and said that was alright, and given her claws a long, purposeful lick. ”But if he ever hurts you, don't you dare hide it from me.”

Hikari promised, but thought the reverse scenario was far more likely.

Takeru had a more difficult time explaining it to Patamon, she'd heard. Supposedly, after Takeru had given his spiel about how growing up meant needing more time to oneself, Patamon had blurted out, "Are you going to kiss Hikari!? You've got to kiss her, Takeru!" loudly enough that some boys at school had overheard, and as a result everyone knew that they were an item before they'd even been out on a single date.

Such was life with Digimon.

"You know where it is, right?" Hikari asked as they got off the train.

"Yeah, I've come here with my mom for other exhibits," Takeru said, leading her out the exit and onto a busy street. "Mom's really into modern art. We've gone to see Kusama Yayoi's sculptures on Naoshima like four times. I'm pretty sure she goes whenever she breaks up with a boyfriend."

Hikari laughed. "Wait, really?"

"Well, she never introduces them to me, but I can tell when she's seeing someone. She touches up her roots more often."

The art exhibit they were going to see was some sort of interactive light show. Hikari had seen pictures online and thought it looked beautiful. Her father was of the opinion that they only ever put the best pictures on the website, and the rest of the exhibit was probably in some big, white-walled room that smelled like someone had microwaved fish for lunch. Her mom had been more enthusiastic, and added that, if the art did turn out to be a dud, it was as good an excuse as any to sneak off somewhere quiet with her Romeo and, you know, romance him.

Hikari was definitely not going to do that.

She'd timed things with care. Taichi had morning soccer practice until ten. After that he'd come home for lunch. The exhibit opened at eleven, but her concerns about there being a line fell on deaf ears, since Takeru claimed he knew this museum and it was never crowded. (Which didn't do much to mitigate her concerns about the exhibit being any good.) So the earliest she could convince him to catch the train was ten fifteen. So if she left right at ten and headed directly to the station, she ought to be able to miss her brother coming home completely.

It felt like fate was laughing in her face when she ran into him on her way out.

Her shock was mirrored on his face as they both stood in the doorway, staring at each other as if unable to understand why their biological sibling would be there, in their childhood home.

Taichi spoke first, if speech it could be called. "Uh," he said.

"Oniichan," she stammered back, "why - how - you got home fast."

"Yeah... Yamato was having band practice and he gave me a ride on the scooter," Taichi replied.

Hikari kept her mouth shut. Had Yamato orchestrated this? Was Takeru in on it? She knew it wasn't likely in either case, but her hackles were raised. "Oh," she said.

They continued to stand in the doorway. This was, Hikari reflected, the longest conversation they'd managed to keep going in almost a month.

"You... going somewhere?" Taichi asked after a while, tilting his head and looking up and down.

"Museum. With Takeru-kun."

"Oh. Well, have fun."

"Thanks."

As if suddenly realizing he was blocking the exit, Taichi stepped to the side, and Hikari barely restrained herself from running down the hall. The damage was done, though. The minute the elevator door closed, the tears started leaking down her face. Dammit. She'd been so careful.

She'd had to stop off at a nearby convenience store to hide in the restroom. She splashed her face and dabbed her eyes with her hand towel until they were less red, until the evidence of the havoc wreaked just by seeing her brother was hidden under a fresh layer of make-up. She never even wore make-up much before - after all, she was fourteen and blessed with good skin. Dating Takeru had been a convenient excuse to explain to her mom why she suddenly needed extra allowance for concealer, despite having no acne.

She wound up ten minutes late meeting Takeru and still, he could tell right away that something was wrong. She'd managed to deflect, but...

Hikari had never been any good at lying, even to herself. But she was surprised by her own cruelty, dating Takeru because she needed the distraction, an excuse to be anywhere but home. His feelings for her were genuine. She was a monster.

"Hikari-chan?" Takeru gave her a nudge that jolted her into the present. There was, indeed, no line to get in at the art show, and Takeru was trying to hand her a ticket. "Are you sure you're feeling okay?"

She nodded resolutely. "Yeah, of course."

"It's just, you're being kind of quiet."

"Well, sorry but I'm not a professional entertainer."

He didn't reply to that barb. Hikari felt even more miserable. If only Yamato's stupid motor scooter had broken down on the road...

They handed in their tickets and went through a pair of double doors, into a wide room lit by myriad streamers of blue and purple lights wafting on the air like strange, hypnotic jellyfish. No pictures were allowed, so Hikari kept her camera stowed, but she couldn't bring herself to regret it. Any pictures she tried to take while in such a stormy mood were bound to end up in the trash bin anyway.

They followed the path laid out through fiber-optic tallgrass in silence. Takeru was still gripping her hand, even though her own hung like a dead fish. The next section was a blacklight room with an even more obvious sci-fi vibe, bright cables painted brilliant colors in the impression of sea snakes creating circuitous archs on the walls and ceiling. The heat-sensor flooring lit under their feet as they walked.

Takeru leaned towards her, the blacklight setting his white T-shirt aglow. "This is like some disco-era alien planet," he joked, offering her the olive branch.

Well, she owed it to him not to let this date be a total disaster. "The room before reminded me of the tree in Avatar," she said.

"I bet the next one's gonna be something from Fifth Element."

"No way."

"Could be."

"Completely different aesthetic."

"It's gonna be that giant McDonald's sign made of stained glass. Wait and see."

It wasn't, of course. Takeru continued to insist they'd see the sign in the next room, and the next, until they reached the end of the exhibit, where he finally admitted defeat. At least room four had clearly been lifted from Finding Nemo, he said.

The final room was, in fact, an open space with white walls, but Hikari didn't notice any stomach-turning smells. A combination of 2- and 3D works of art were mounted around the room, and they took their time browsing, continuing to try to outwit each other with their increasingly outlandish, and even somewhat insulting, art critiques. It was a lovely show, Hikari thought. If she'd come to see it in a better frame of mind, she would be raving just now. But though she'd recovered her ability to match Takeru quip for quip, she still felt heavy with gloom. Geez, why did he want to date a rain cloud like her?

"Want to go for lunch?" Takeru asked as they took in the last piece of art, an abstract mosaic made of vibrant, blinking lights laid into a glass frame on a large tabletop. Hikari circled it slowly, watching lights ripple across the frame, stitching the full picture together bit by bit.

"Sure."

"There's a cafe my mom and I go to nearby. It does amazing pancakes."

"Sounds good," she said vaguely, her brow creasing in thought. She took a step back, gazing at the table from what she'd discovered was meant to be the foot, where you could see the picture in full if you craned your neck just so.

It wasn't abstract art. It was Ordinemon.

Her whole body stiffened.

"The orange marmalade pancakes are my favorite - you listening?" With a confused look, Takeru glanced from her unchanging expression to the table. His eyes went wide. "... Let's leave, Hikari-chan."

He gave her arm a tug. She didn't budge.

"Hikari-chan, there's no need to stay here. Come on."

"Why," she said. It came out in a harsh whisper, like a frozen wind. "Why would someone make art of... that."

Takeru didn't answer for a minute. "Because... they saw it," he said after a while. His grip on her arm tightened, as if expecting her to try to break away. "So they want to express what they saw."

"It's an abomination," she choked out. Humiliating tears welled up in her eyes.

Takeru seemed to hesitate. Then he stepped back, and his arms circled round her shoulders, locking her in a tight hug from behind. The warmth of his body flowed into her ice cold one, solid, real. Her mind flashed to another day, with a roiling sky black as night, when she'd come to in an unfamiliar bed with Takeru at her side and known, with a rush of deadly certainty, that she'd destroyed everything she ever cared about.

Her brother. Her beloved partner. Her friends.

By her own will.

She didn't know what she'd done. Or how. That almost made it worse, the not knowing. Her heart broke, watching her brother disappear in the earthquake. That was all. Her heart broke and she... stopped. And when she started again -

It was too late.

Tailmon had told her she didn't regret the fusion with Meicrackmon, that she'd been able to hold poor Meicoomon together, just a little longer. There was nothing for Hikari to regret, she said. Powers beyond her control. Yggrasil and Homeostasis felt they could wage their little war and pick their champions, and dispose of them when they felt like it. No sooner had she shaken off Homeostasis's hold over her that Ordinemon happened.

Hikari hated that once upon a time, she'd believed Homeostasis was a benevolent presence. That she'd willingly let her into her mind.

Now she didn't know what to believe.

Rage flared, hot as ice. Her whole world, none of it made sense anymore. She was adrift, she was unmoored, there was no safe harbor, not even in the brother who she loved like no one else. He could make a choice like that, to kill Meicoomon, to kill their friend's irreplaceable partner. The one person who deserved the most to be saved. And she'd helped, because that was what you did, on a team, at least, if you couldn't come up with a better plan yourself.

She realized she was shaking. Takeru only held her tighter, his nose buried in the crook of her neck.

"Hikari-chan," he said, and he sounded - terrified. "What if - what if it's not, though. What if it's not an abomination. What if..."

"How can you say that," she hissed frostily.

"I mean - I'm not saying it was good. I'm not saying I don't wish none of this had happened. But - I think - Ordinemon, she was created from despair, yours and Meicoomon's. She was used, and it tortured her. We freed her from that. She would have destroyed everything, even though it's not what she wanted, and she was in so much pain -"

"Stop!" Hikari yelled, pushing away from him. There was enough strength behind her need to get away and he was not expecting it, so he toppled to the floor while she raced out the exit. She kept running, hardly aware of dodging people on the sidewalk, and ran until she found herself in a small park with nothing but a two-seater swing set and metal slide. She sank into one of the swings and dropped her head in her arms. And cried.

Cried for Meiko, for Meicoomon. Cried for the future they would never have.

Cried for her brother, who had changed, and she understood why, but she still missed the way he used to be. Her guiding star.

Cried for herself, a lost comet streaking through an unfamiliar galaxy, wondering if she would vaporize shooting too close to an alien sun, or if she'd putter out slowly until she was nothing but lifeless, crumbling stone.

Her phone buzzed in her purse - Takeru, surely, trying to find her. On top of everything else, she'd ditched the boy she was stringing along, who cared about her, and who had tried so hard to let her know she wasn't alone. She didn't deserve Takeru. She would break up with him - she had to. He should be with someone stronger than her, who wasn't going to fall apart at the seams just from a silly piece of art at a museum gallery.

After a while the sobs let up enough that she could see without tears clouding her vision, and she figured she should at least let him know she was okay. She pulled out her phone and scrolled through her messages.

12:35: Takaishi Takeru: i'm so sorry. i didn't mean to upset you.

12:35: Takaishi Takeru: where did you go? someone said you ran past the 7-11 but I have no idea where you went from there

12:37: Takaishi Takeru: please tell me where you are. If you don't want me to come, I won't. I can call someone if you want.

12:38: Takaishi Takeru: I just want to know you're okay

12:40: Takaishi Takeru: hikari-chan PLEASE respond

12:45: Takaishi Takeru: I asked at the 7-11 but they said they didn't see you. am walking around aimlessly now. no idea where to look.

12:48: Takaishi Takeru: hikari-chan if you don't reply soon I'm gonna have to call Taichi-san

12:52: Takaishi Takeru: wound up back at the train station, if you want to meet me here.

12:55: Takaishi Takeru: if you don't respond in five minutes I'm calling Taichi-san, I mean it.

12:58: Takaishi Takeru: I love you, by the way. think I always have. thought you might want to know

Fresh tears pricked her eyes. Leave it to Takeru. How could he pick now to spring that on her?

She should be happy. She wanted to be happy.

13:02: Me: I'm okay. I'm sorry. Go home. I'll talk to you soon.

Her finger hovered uncertainly over the keypad. She typed:

The real abomination is me.

Then she deleted it, and pressed Send.

---

Little though she wanted to go home, Hikari didn't have an excuse for staying out past dinner. She stayed in the little park until it started to get chilly. A couple times, the occasional grandma stopped to ask if she was alright, but she smiled and waved away their concerns. Finally, when twilight fell over the park in a gossamer curtain, she stood and stretched out the kinks in her back before heading back to the station. It felt like she'd been out much longer than a few hours. She thought briefly of asking a friend if she could spend the night, but didn't like the idea of needing to pretend to be peppy and cheerful.

On the ride back, she did a search on the artist who'd made the Ordinemon mosaic. Why, she had no idea. Some self-hating side that wanted her to hurt, she guessed.

The artist's name was Matsuyama Risa, a Tokyo-based sculptor, whose partnership with Fujii Fiber-optics had given birth to the displays they'd seen today. Hikari let her eyes skim the article, categorically uninterested in the number of lights used or how they were installed. What she wanted to know appeared like magic, tacked on at the very end of the article.

Art of Nippon Now: The last room in the showcase features a magical light-up mosaic of a subject that could be disconcerting for some viewers. What led you to recreate the monster that much of Tokyo watched terrorize the sky last month?

Matsuyama: I put that piece together in a feverish rush. Most of these installations took weeks to install, but I insisted on this one, even though it was such short notice. I had to have it. I heard that many people never saw more of her than her massive wings, but I happened to have a very clear view at the time. It made a huge impression on me.

ANN: You said her?

Matsuyama: It was a she. Or, perhaps it's better to say she might not have a gender,  but she deserves better than the pronouns we use for inanimate objects, things without personality.

ANN: Are you saying this monster was a person?

Matsuyama: I don't know if you heard her cries, but they were deafening. They reminded me of how my son wailed in the night when he was first born. We didn't know why he was so colicky. Nothing we did calmed him. I was so afraid that he wasn't getting enough sleep. It turned out he was very sick and we just didn't know. The illness was hidden. We spent many nights in the ICU, holding out hope that he would be alright. I remember thinking, if he wasn't, it would destroy our marriage.

ANN: That sounds like a terrible experience.

Matsuyama: When our son died, it was terrible, but it also came as a relief. At least we knew he was no longer suffering. I was depressed for months. I couldn't make any art. Every day I expected my husband to leave me. The first day I pulled myself together enough to sketch something, he said I should sketch our son sometime.

ANN: So your husband didn't leave?

Matsuyama: No. He stayed by my side. When I cried that he deserved a woman who could make him happy, who would give him healthy babies, he told me I was the strongest woman he knew, and that I'd given him the best son in the world.

ANN: Wow - would that we all meet men like that.

Matsuyama: And women. That's why, although the creature that appeared over Tokyo was very frightening to look at, when I heard her cries all I heard was suffering. I thought, that is a real creature, who wants her pain to be understood. She represents something. Perhaps she was sent to show us the harm we do when we choose not to act to help others. She shouldn't be forgotten.

ANN: So you memorialized her in this mosaic?

Matsuyama: Yes. It was the right moment, even though I had no time. I wanted to recreate her likeness using lights. I set her into a table, because I felt that putting her on a wall would be too imposing, and viewers would only remember the fear she engendered. Lying down, it would seem as if she were in a coffin, finally laid to rest. But she's lit from within, and it's the light of life, desperately clinging on till the final moment, the same as any being with a soul.

ANN: Did you ever complete the sketch of your late son?

Matsuyama: No. I never did. But I think I will soon. I want to lay him to rest in my heart.

ANN: It's interesting that when you say 'lay to rest,' you seem to mean we should remember them.

Matsuyama: Our memories make us who we are. The past is always with us. My son, that creature, they are both part of my journey, as an artist of course, but also as a person in the world. You could say my son is the light of the world and that creature is the darkness, but I hold both light and dark in me, just by existing and being human.

ANN: You added a quote to the piece that said something of that nature.

Matsuyama: Yes, from a Walt Whitman poem, 'Song of Myself.' The quote reads: "I am not the poet of goodness only, I do not decline to be the poet of wickedness also."

ANN: Maybe Whitman never expected his poem to be used in this way.

Matsuyama: That's the nature of art. It is a journey in and of itself. It fluctuates and changes to nourish the times. I hope everyone who sees my art understands that they are on a journey as well, and everything they do creates the work of art called "the future."

ANN: Thank you for your time, Matsuyama-sensei.

---

Her brother was home, but her parents were not. The arrangement of shoes in the entryway said as much. Taichi was seated at the kitchen counter, eating a bowl of noodles and reading something. He looked up when the door opened and pushed his seat back.

"Hikari - you okay?" He peered at her, concerned. "Takeru didn't do something stupid, did he?"

So Takeru hadn't told her brother that she'd run off. Gratitude flooded through her. "No, of course not."

"Good." Taichi's hand rifled through his hair, the other planted on his hip, and he looked perplexed. "Then why do you look like you've been crying all day?"

Hikari walked inside and sank down on the couch. "Because I have been crying all day."

She could feel his hesitance as he wavered in the hall, trying to decide if he should press her for more. If that was still something he was allowed to do. She knew he would try. He wouldn't be Taichi if he didn't.

"You want to talk about it?" he asked, moving to sit on the arm of the couch, but he didn't relax, as if expecting her to tell him to leave her alone.

"No," she replied.

He nodded. "Okay." There was a pause. "You're sure Takeru didn't -"

"No, Oniichan."

"Okay, okay."

She sat there for a few minutes, staring blankly at the black TV screen. Soon Taichi slid off the arm into the seat beside her, allowing several inches of space between them. He didn't try to talk anymore. Didn't even get up to bring his bowl of noodles over, even though it was going to get cold.

Hikari tilted her head ever so slightly to peer at him. Dark circles ringed his eyes. She knew he hadn't been sleeping well. Something about his face looked more defined, less roundness to his jaw, starker cheekbones. Hadn't been eating much either, she guessed. It gave him an oddly grown up look. She would have to call him on losing weight from not taking care of himself, but that could wait for later. She was struck by how little he looked like their father. Everyone always said Hikari was the spitting image of her mom, so it seemed natural that Taichi should take after their dad, but though she searched she couldn't find many similarities. Taichi was just Taichi.

He gave a start when she leaned toward him and settled her head on his shoulder, but didn't say anything.

Hikari thought about many things.

How unbearable it was to feel helpless. How much she wanted everyone who cared about each other to be together, and for no one to suffer who didn't deserve it.  How deeply she loved her friends. How easy it was fall apart.

Maybe all that meant was her worldview had been too delicate to begin with. A painting on a porcelain vase wouldn't stand the test of time unless handled with the best of care. The real world was too chaotic, too disordered. She could wrap her dream in newspaper, cover it in packing peanuts, tape it into a box marked "Fragile," and it would still end up in shards. She would try to put it together again, but the pieces were sharp, and she kept cutting herself on them.

She still wanted it. So, so much.

"You stay that way. You can hate me if you want," her brother had told her. Trying to put everything on his own shoulders, as usual.

"I will probably never forgive you," she'd said, and wouldn't let him. "But that's why I'll fight with you."

"Oniichan," She slipped off his shoulder, buried her face in his chest. She didn't know how she could still have more tears, but they darkened her brother's shirt as her hands hugged him tight. "I'll always fight with you."

Surprised, he didn't move for a moment, but then his arms wrapped around her the same way they always had, ever since she was small. His grip was sure, but not out of naivety. Yes, he'd lost his innocence. It wasn't coming back. But what grew in his place, she realized, was his choice. And she got the feeling he'd already decided.

"That's good to know," he murmured softly, lashes brushing her cheek, and she thought they might be wet as well. "Because I'm never going to stop fighting for you."

They held each other for a long time.

---

The next day, Hikari showed up at Takeru's door with flowers and a box of chocolates. He made a funny face, looking her over.

"Flowers and chocolates? Shouldn't this be reversed?"

"Didn't know you were such a traditionalist," she joked. "But I'll eat these myself if they hurt your manly pride."

A hesitant grin spread over his face. "To hell with convention. Those are my chocolates, keep your paws off them."

It was silly, and cliche, but this was her life. She could be as silly and cliche as she wanted. She pulled his shoulders down and kissed him. It was light and quick, but he still looked flustered when they parted.

"My mom's home," he said with an unmistakable note of regret.

Hikari only nodded. "Figured. Video games and chocolates?"

The grin unfurled for real. "Yeah, that would be great."

Nothing had ended. She hadn't gotten over anything. But she felt, for the first time, that now she could accept it. It was a piece of who she was, and it would be a piece of who she became. But just who that person would be, she intended to decide for herself. Even if her path got buried under mountains of broken shards of glass, that was just a part of being Yagami Hikari.

"Do I contradict myself? Very well, then I contradict myself, (I am large, I contain multitudes)."

[hoe-imaginess]

Kakashi Hatake x blind!s/o

STOP this was so cute I had to write immediately. Chose Kakashi because he jumped at me and demanded it

and thank you so much!! (hope you’re staying safe as well!!!)

~

With the sun going down, the glow of activity in Konoha’s streets was diffusing. Shopkeepers closed their doors for the evening, and vendors packed their merchandise and disassembled their stalls.

Kakashi strolled through as the village quieted itself. One of the shopkeepers, recognizing him, waved in greeting. He waved back, sluggish despite having taken a relatively early leave from work. 

Though the hour was a rare but generous one for Kakashi to find himself on the path home, he was exhausted to his bones and had to more than once remind his feet to carry their own weight and stop dragging along the dirt. 

He loosed a sedative breath. 

Paperwork had done in him that day, and though the notion of sliding under his sheets and picking up a novel he was close to finishing was a tempting one, he didn’t think he could scroll his eyes over another inch of lettering without going nauseous. He decided he’d let his pillow have his attention the rest of the night. He needed sleep, desperately. 

And so deciding, took a shortcut down a narrow alley which would bring him closer to his street. Turning out of the the alley, he glanced another shopkeeper, stooped to the ground and gathering something in their hands. 

When they stood, unaware that Kakashi—who was himself errant of his surroundings, courtesy of exhaustion—was at their heel, their pivoting motion put them in his path and they collided. The shopkeeper’s belongings were knocked from their arm’s clutches.

Senses returned, Kakashi managed to snatch one or two of the tumbling items, which he now saw were various books and pamphlets, before they toppled down into a heap with the rest. 

“I’m sorry,” he uttered quickly, going on his haunches to retrieve the others, as he did so, noticing the shopkeeper bent down with him. “I didn’t see you there.”

“It’s okay,” she said, her hands roaming over the ground in search of the fallen objects. He was too muddled by his own inattentiveness to notice the oddity of her seeking movements. “I didn’t see you, either.”

Only once they’d gathered her capsized belongings did he glance up to greet her with his eyes, and only then as he took his careful inspection did he understand why her previous comment had been fastened with such a... nimble, humorous undertone.

She was blind. The glaze of cloudiness over her pupils was indicator enough—a paleness unlike those of the Hyuuga, Kakashi saw—but not the most telling demonstration; though she faced him, she didn’t appear to be looking at him, her eyes idling somewhere around his chest, centering where they felt most agreeable without the proper perception to guide them. 

“Sorry,” he muttered again, now stranded with an advancing fluster, and stood to his feet slowly, rising in punctual fashion only when she followed suit. 

“It’s okay,” she insisted again.

Behind her on the shop windowsill was a box, which she reached for and claimed with surprising precision. Once she’d slipped her reclaimed books inside the box she proffered it to him, and realizing, he carefully placed his own salvaged items along with hers. 

“I wasn’t paying attention,” she granted, smiling kindly, eyes still settled comfortably on a horizon of her choosing, somewhere under his chin. “I might have heard you coming otherwise.”

“My fault, really,” he amended. “I was... I’m sort clumsy when I’m tired.” 

But the desire for sleep had absconded his head, and the uncomfortable debacle pumped alertness back into his system. It was silly of him to be so debilitated by this, he knew, yet the pulsing nervousness in him went undisputed.

Another box filled with books caught his attention, previously stocked and placed against her shop door. 

“Can I help you with all of this?” Unthinking and without a reply to inspire him, he bent to take the box. “Are you packing up for the day?”

The box included scrolls swathed in metal clasps. She knew he’d claimed it in his arms when the clasps rattled noisily against one another. “I am,” she said. “These are the things I keep out here, on display. And I appreciate the offer, but I can manage. I live a ways down.”

Her nod in the direction at her back confirmed that assistance would take him in the opposite direction of his home, but a searching and restless energy had curtailed his desire to go there.

“I really don’t mind,” he insisted, a touch of over-enthusiasm in his tone. A kind description of willingness in his expression clearly would do no good; he would have to compensate how he could to win her assurance. But he swore he could hear the sheepish skittering of his own voice, and hoped she didn’t hear it, too.

“I do it every day on my own,” she said, with what he presumed was a practiced patience; she still smiled at him, but there was a curve in her lips now that was aware of his fluster and unabashedly amused by it. “Don’t go out of your way.” 

Readjusting the box already in her grasp to rest upon her hip, her free arm extended to him, inviting his relinquishment of her other possessions. 

Fearful that his persistence might offend, but unwilling to so carelessly resign, he debated his next move until his hands decided course for him; they held the box to his chest resolutely. 

“It’s the least I can do,” he said, moving, making his foot falls pointed and auspicious as he took a step in her desired direction. “I’m off work early today, anyways.”

“If you insist,” she yielded with a little laugh, still committed to her friendly smile.

He watched her carefully as she walked in tandem at his side, holding his tongue when he saw some foreboding dip in the terrain’s evenness, or a fellow villager on a direct course to bump into her. But each of these encumbrances she remedied flawlessly, with an unhurried detour in her gait or an acute twist of her body. Clearly she had been telling the truth when she mentioned this being normal routine. Kakashi was almost convinced that she had memorized each and every step of the route.

“Kakashi, is it?” she spoke up, pulling his focus from external anxieties.

“Uh—yes.” Before he could form his next inquiry—though given its presumptuous nature, it would have been a hesitant one to produce, anyways—she anticipated his puzzlement, and granted him mercy by way of an unprovoked answer.

“I’ve heard your voice before,” she explained. “It’s easy to remember voices. Once that’s the only thing you can go off of, at least.”

There was no self-pity in her voice, which in turn, invited none from him. He imagined that was a purposeful tactic of hers. 

“But it’s also the chakra,” she went on. “Everyone’s is a little different. Not by much. I’m not a sensor by nature, but I rely on it now. The body will adjust, give a little in one respect when it feels a lacking in another.”

Kakashi looked at her. She was still smiling her little smile, as though this wasn’t the first time she had reasoned through the phenomena and wouldn’t be the last. Nor was the explanation without a sort of confidence; she appeared to have no qualms of her condition, and spoke of it with such steadfast acceptance that it was no doubt she gave it much thought at all anymore.

It was a nice thing, he decided, but it returned to him a meek warmth of shame that he had been so blatantly skeptical before, that he had made such a show of charity in response to his own preconceived doubts.

“That’s interesting,” he replied. “So... you weren’t a sensor at birth? Or at least, as far back as one can really remember that sort of thing...?”

A sweet chuckle sounded from behind closed, smiling lips. “Exactly. I don’t remember much, but I do know when I first started noticing.”

The proceeding conversation put him at ease, made the guilt he felt for trudging along in a hopeful correction of his earlier embarrassment slowly ebb away. She was kind, and clever, too, with an unfairly natural quick-wittedness about her. She made him laugh more than once: a genuine laugh that felt good and warming to be loosed through his wearied body after such a long week. 

“I can take it from here,” she said, and came to stop in front of a house. 

Kakashi slowed at her side to give the abode a quick admiration: small, but modest and seemingly comfortable. Potted plants lined her windows, well-nurtured vines and flowers sprouted over the edges. 

He entertained no hesitation when she reached for the box in in his hands; he gave it over, but, feeling suddenly restless with its desertion, stuff his hands into his pockets to keep them from fidgeting. 

“Thank you,” she told him. “I hope this didn’t put you on too much of a detour.”

“Not at all.” He swore her eyes were higher in their post now, though not quite where they could yet make an imitation of eye contact. But Kakashi found it comforting, in a way, and for his own indulgence would resign it as something purposeful and not coincidental. 

“You live near my shop, don’t you?” she was asking. 

He nodded. “I do. A bit farther down...” Without prompting, he knew what should be offered to mark a pleasant end to their short—regrettably short, if he was being honest—chat, and to secure they might be granted another one soon. “I’ll make sure to stop in when I can. I read quite a bit. Is that all you sell? Books and the like?”

“Among other things. It’s a little ironic, isn’t it? Why own a book shop if you can’t make use of the books? Most people get a laugh out of it.” As if to prove a point, and furthermore soften the vexatious innuendos, laughed at her own notion. “I have my reasons.”

Though he was curious to hear those reasons, the sun was going down behind them, orange and warm, but a reminder nevertheless, that their encounter was a chance one and better left concise for the time being. 

“I’d like to hear them at some point.” He would settle on saying that much. Another lukewarm suggestion, a way to tease a future promise of reunion.

“I’ll be happy to tell you. Do stop by, when you get the chance.” 

“Will do.”

“Goodnight.”

“Yeah, goodnight.”

He waited until she had felt her way up her porch, opened her door, and closed herself inside—all of this, while still supporting boxes under each arm—then he set about back the way they had walked.  

The attentiveness to conversation which usually suffered him through unwanted dialogue had diffused, yet that adrenaline, the one which kept him as engaged as his duties usually needed, still remained. Clearly, it hadn’t been unwanted dialogue after all. 

There was a comforting hum relaxing his limbs as he walked, making the hands buried in his pocket slump cozily with the ease of gravity. Liable as he was to avoid trivial contact which exasperated him when he could, especially with his job making sociable demands of him already, this brief run-in had been all parts trivial but none exasperating. 

Had such an incidental thing really been so eventful that it continued to swarm over him long after he had left her? Long after he had walked by her shop again, taken a good few minutes to admire it, before heading home?

It was like a little glow, one that hadn’t been there before, clinging to him now that they had parted. 

Even when he arrived home and climbed methodically under the sheets, the glow went with him, straying his mind from the invitation of sleep and instead recounting the evening’s events. 

Piecing together every little facet of the encounter was like a game, a silly and overkeen game which kept his brain up far longer than his body would have liked. 

What was that thing she had told him as they walked, about having in her collection one of the oldest scripts written on The Land of Fire’s river systems?  And had she really been returning his attentive glances, as though she had noticed him staring, or was that a trick of his mind? Had he said goodnight first? Or had she? And did she have that same smile on her face when she said it? 

Some of the answers were stolid in his memory; others he fought to elucidate, for no reason other than the fact that he wanted to appreciate their encounter in its true, undiluted form. 

Such confusing and superfluous thoughts. He was being so stupid, he told himself. Stupid. 

But when he twisted under the sheets and finally set his mind to finding sleep, little inklings of memory, her face, her smile, her laugh, continued to ripple beneath the surface. 

[xoruffitup]

TROS (Mis)Characterizations: What Was and What Could Have Been

What started as responding to an anon ask turned into an entire meta... but working out all these thoughts has at least eased a bit of my TROS pain. :’) 

From my perspective, TROS managed to destroy not only the characterizations built so far in the sequel trilogy, but also the entire story built upon these characters (mainly Reylo) as we knew them. While talking to a family member about the movie a few days ago and voicing my grievances with the story, he pointed out how someone could watch TFA and skip to TROS without realizing they’d missed much. That’s mostly true and entirely gutting.

Since I had an ask to talk about how TROS regressed in terms of characterization, I’ll start with the most hurtful of defacements: All of the nuanced vulnerability that made Kylo/Ben our most beloved character. We had absolutely nothing in TROS like the complex masterpiece moments of TLJ. Think back to “You are a monster.” / “Yes I am” – delivered with glowering menace as Kylo stalked closer, simultaneous to the tell of fragmented uncertainty in a quivering bottom lip and chin, all while his eyes remained completely riveted on Rey. Think back to “You’re not alone” – delivered with a wet sheen to his eyes in a soft cracked voice, but with self-loathing still smoldering behind his expression. Until the scene with Han, Kylo was shrunk into an entirely two-dimensional cookie cutter “villain” figure in TROS, seemingly more committed to the dark side and the First Order than he ever was to begin with in TFA. (I say “seemingly” because his true motives and interior dilemmas are frustratingly unclear in the entire first half of the movie. Cue me loathing the mask more than ever.)

Though Kylo seems uncharacteristically committed to the Supreme Leader role in TROS, considering he ended TLJ in a supplicating position fixing regretful eyes up towards Rey, luckily TROS did at least maintain the Force bond. …or at least the concept of it, because in execution the Force bond scenes achieved approximately nothing of what TLJ so uniquely excelled at: Creating a sense of intimacy, understanding, and forbidden tenderness between Rey and Ben. Instead of soft-spoken entreaties and promises across the soft glow of a fire or the dappling light of rain (ugh, remember the way light and shadow literally played out in contrasts across Kylo’s face during “I am a monster”? TLJ is a cinematic wonder, pass it on), we get scenes where the two yell and spit spite at each other. Most frustrating is how absolutely out of touch Kylo’s dialogue is with the Ben who was revealed through previous Force bond scenes. In a regression that makes absolutely no sense after Ben’s big proposal of “It’s time to let old things die: The Jedi, the Sith… I want you to join me” – he literally has the most reductive, bland, and meaningless lines such as “I will find you and turn you to the dark side.” ……..? Kylo has literally never been that boring or straightforward ever, not even since the TFA interrogation scene. He offered to be her teacher, sure, but never on terms that simplistic or blatantly combative to Rey’s will.

What I’ve always passionately loved and defended about Reylo is that Kylo never forced Rey to do anything harmful or against her will. Even pushing her to the painful moment of admitting the truth (or so we FUCKIN’ THOUGHT) about her parentage during the throne room scene did, in the end, help her character come to terms with repressed trauma and move forward in her journey of self-determination. (haha look at me, still stuck in my feminist goggles as if they haven’t been ripped off my head by TROS…) The point is: The TLJ Force bond was never a means of threat. It was never a tool for Kylo to say something as blatantly antagonistic as “I will find you and turn you to the dark side.” (Wow, did a Kindergartener write that? Come the fuck on, JJ.) And I was deeply disappointed to see the Force bond reduced to a tool used only to tell a part of the story unrelated to Reylo; rather than being the means of developing their relationship in and of itself.

This feeds into my overall biggest grievance with how Kylo/Ben was handled in this film. Similar to the Force bond – Ben’s character was reduced to a secondary prop piece who mostly served only as a narrative device in advancing the Rey-Palpatine plotline. Look, I imagined for months ahead of TROS the kind of candid Force bond conversations we might hear. Like “No one (knows me)” / “But I do.” (Where the FUCK did that line go?! Apparently JJ doesn’t know her…) Or perhaps Ben apologizing and opening up to Rey about how unhappy he is in the dark, how alone he feels. Instead…. we got shit like “You’re his granddaughter.” Like how dare they disrespect Academy Award Nominee Adam Driver’s talent like that?

Now, looking past the fact for a moment that the Rey-Palpatine addition is insulting, unoriginal, and sexist; there could have been a very interesting dynamic here. We would have the grandson of Vader and the granddaughter of Palpatine feeling very different pulls to both light and darkness, Force bonded together as they struggle with the weight of these legacies. Kylo, I imagine, was probably partially excited when he learned it, because maybe this means that Rey would understand him fully and perhaps this time, once she learned the truth, she would finally be with him. But nope, we don’t get nearly that much of a look into Kylo’s head. He does say at one point “You can’t go back to her (Leia), just like I can’t,” but the line missed the mark a bit for me because TROS still had Kylo appealing to Rey from the perspective of “Join the dark side as if we’ve done away with all that grey morality complexity we introduced last movie” – rather than from the perspective of “Neither of us should feel alone ever again.”

I’m rather unspeakably bitter that we had no exploration into what Palpatine’s return meant for Ben. I imagine he would have gone a bit wild upon learning that the man who was responsible for his grandfather’s fall was still alive. And the revelation of “I have been every voice you’ve ever heard inside your head”? This was enough to bring Ben Solo stans to tears before we even watched the movie, and yet it was treated completely off-handedly. Ben never even gets his own moment of coming to terms with Palpatine’s return. No “My grandfather killed you – how is this possible?” Nothing like that at all – even though he’s the character who would be most affected by his return in terms of legacy implications. Nope; Ben’s first encounter with Palpatine at the beginning of the movie – the same encounter where we learn Palpatine has apparently been behind all of the dark side grooming, manipulation, and isolation Ben has suffered since he was literally in the womb – quickly veers towards “Kill the girl / She is not who you think she is.” Early warning here that Ben Solo as a character in dire need of resolution is about to be treated with utter apathy by this film.

Here’s where I need to pause for a moment of self-awareness. While arguing with my Dad about this movie (he loved it), he threw at me that he thought I was being anti-feminist because I disliked the ending of Rey being alone. I quickly did my best to disabuse him of the idea that feminism = women being forever alone. This did make me think though about the implications of TROS veering away from the dual protagonist story framework that had been established up to this point; in favor of a narrative with Rey as the single and clear protagonist. The two main reasons I had such a knee-jerk reaction against this shift were A) It left a bad taste in my mouth after Rey ended TLJ emboldened by her acceptance of her past and unremarkable lineage; and B) It upended Reylo as the foundation of the entire story – also which we’d been led to expect. And I’m not just talking TLJ – I’m referencing back to JJ’s own Director’s commentary for TFA where he says “Now back to the story we really care about” when the film goes back to Rey and Kylo’s forest battle; who described Kylo as “a sort of prince,” and insinuated “you get the feeling there’s more going on here” when Kylo decided to spirit off Rey on Takodana. JJ set all the fucking clues here and then apparently forgot about each and every one.

However – am I perhaps not being fair to Rey in my disappointment that she doesn’t end the film in domestic bliss with Ben? Was I expecting something beneath her potential? Can I really say it’s a bad thing that the narrative rearranges itself in this film to focus chiefly on her? 

The reason it all sits so wrong with me is because Rey’s characterization became bastardized for the sake of her solo narrative. Her character was essentially entirely effaced. The emphasis of her journey thus far pointed towards the crafting of one’s own identify; to the fact that might and greatness can reside within anyone, and it is up to that person alone to decide what kind of life to live with such power. Rey’s development at the end of TLJ indicated she’d found freedom from her past, and was now fully embracing the act of forging her own path without any constraints or shadows. But then, this road she’d been paving for herself was abruptly switched in TROS to one already completed and well-traveled, lined with unoriginal identity struggles and a copout for assigning Rey’s instincts of aggression and passion to the hereditary and ungendered “dark side.” This sudden switch stripped away all of Rey’s unique identity struggles, as well as her agency to define her own story.

Confining Rey to such an unoriginal and unfortunate struggle also required that her own goals and desires be changed as well. When faced with a legacy of evildoers, Rey’s story immediately shifts away from being focused on her, and rather to remedying the mistakes of men who came before. Rey’s own story was about a thousand times more interesting when she was in the center of it. As a twitter post I saw a few days ago but now frustratingly can’t find said very aptly: Male viewers found “Rey Skywalker” satisfying because they see a happy ending as being the “best” or the most powerful. Female viewers see a happy ending as being truly seen, understood, and valued for the person one is. (If anyone knows the source, please let me know...)

Rey used to say she wanted to learn “her place in all this.” That doesn’t indicate a thirst for greatness or power; but rather for belonging and connection. She has spent most of her story so far thinking back to her parents, then spent a solid 2 minutes in TROS looking longingly and smiling at the alien babies on Pasaana, which hello motherhood signaling. She has been happiest in moments when she felt valued and connected to those around her.

The idea of having greatness bestowed upon her by some external entity (aka a man) was already examined and rejected in TLJ. (Read: throne room proposal scene.) But in TROS, this act of external determination is thrust onto her regardless of her will. In so doing, her possession of a legacy rewrites and predetermines all of her goals, battles, and the key facets of her identity. She no longer has the freedom to embrace and cherish her found or chosen family; instead, her goal is to rid herself of the “family” that’s been thrust upon her – making what’s now presumably her happy ending of being disconnected from her assigned family the complete opposite from everything her character previously yearned for. Standing alone in a desert with the company of only half-remembered spirits is likely what filled the nightmares of young Rey of Jakku.

This is, of course, why the dual protagonist/Reylo narrative we expected to see in this film was so compelling. While doing none of Rey’s decision-making for her or removing any agency from the formation of her own identity; her force-bonded relationship with Ben offered Rey belonging, understanding, and purpose. Ben was the only character who could understand how debilitating and frightening it was to feel her Force sensitivity come alive and waver between the light and dark; just as he was the only one who could comfort her in that conflict without infringing on her independence. Once we saw dark!Rey in that D23 footage, I think every Reylo imagined scenes where Palpatine begins to sink his control into Rey’s mind and Ben rushes to her side to pull her back towards the light, because he knows all too well what those voices are like inside his head and he’d rather hear them all again than watch Rey suffer it.

From several perspectives, Reylo fighting and defeating Palpatine together is also the only ending that makes sense from a holistic storytelling perspective. (I mean both of them wielding blue sabers against Palpatine and fighting together in tandem – rather than that single crowd-pleaser shot of them hefting their complementary lightsabers together before Ben gets brushed off into a pit…) While Ben is the legacy character, representing all that our beloved original characters fought and suffered for; Rey is the new-generation character, representing a new age and the banishing of old mistakes which continued to perpetuate conflict. Only these representatives of new and old; of royal legacy and self-made upstart; could truly banish all of the harm committed in the galaxy by Palpatine and remedy all the loss and suffering effected throughout the Skywalker line. To have only a single character recently revealed to be related to Palpatine facing him alone (no matter how “badass” that might make said female character seem by superficial standards), rather than a union with the single remaining descendant of the Skywalker line himself is simply unsatisfactory and directionless storytelling. It is Palpatine’s manipulation towards three generations of Skywalkers that was the sole catalyst for all of the warfare, struggle, and conflict we’ve witnessed throughout this entire 9-film series. To not even engage with Ben Solo-Skywalker’s troubled relationship to that heritage and to completely fail in realizing the emotional catharsis and resolution that stood there waiting is nothing short of infuriatingly shortsighted storytelling. J.J. claimed in several interviews that this film was crafted with the entire preceding story in mind, as a cap to everything that came before. I have absolutely no idea which story he was referring to.

And so, from the perspectives of this film alone, the sequel trilogy, and the entire 9-film saga as a whole – Yes, I do claim that it was a poor decision in terms of story telling and character integrity to reconfigure the narrative to focus solely on Rey. For the reasons just mentioned, it was an utter disservice to Rey’s character arc. To reduce all of the tragedy, charisma, and youthful potential in Kylo/Ben’s character to a secondary narrative device is nothing short of shameful. Not to mention wasting all of Adam’s potential for playing truly heart-wrenching scenes of Ben’s penitent soul-searching. I will never forgive the fact that Ben had literally not a word of dialogue after his quick conversion scene halfway through the movie. Not only does he play no major role in the final battle with Palpatine, but aside from charging in heroically and doing a phenomenal Solo Shrug, he isn’t allowed a single moment of interiority. He has no speech to Palpatine declaring his change of heart and his reclaimed heritage. Perhaps most painful of all – he and Rey never even have their Big Talk where we expected Ben to apologize for the doings of Kylo Ren and for both of them to affirm their desire to be together and their devotion to each other. Adam did a pretty amazing job demonstrating all that in how he cradled Rey’s body and couldn’t even bear to look into her lifeless face (RIP my heart). But no matter how phenomenal and tender the Reylo kiss was, how luminous Rey’s smile was when she said “Ben,” and how achingly loving his eyes were when he looked at her – I can’t help feeling crushingly cheated that their love itself wasn’t what enabled the victory. Rather than the strength they lent to each other through a union that defied light-dark dichotomy (as it should have been and as the story was previously leading towards), it was rather Rey’s miracle heritage that won the day. The fact that Ben never says a damn word when he stands before Palpatine, or when Rey kisses him and he finally realizes she does care for him too – makes both their bond and Ben’s entire character feel like a throw-away prop only there for Rey to wear so long as this feeble story needed it.

I’ve been trying to put my finger on what made TROS’ plot so underwhelming and lifeless compared to TLJ or even TFA. The difference between TLJ and TROS in the simplest terms is that TLJ’s narrative was character-driven, whereas TROS subjected its characters to a narrative. Rather than a huge space battle, TLJ’s biggest moments are Rey and Kylo’s throne room proposal and Kylo and Luke’s showdown on Crait. Both of these moments had huge emotional stakes for the characters involved, which was what made them epic. TROS’ narrative, meanwhile, uses twists like the Rey Palpatine reveal to manipulate its characters in inorganic directions, and builds towards a finale that is unrelated to any of the long-standing challenges our heroes have confronted throughout the story. TROS derided its characters down to mere tools for a superficial spectacle of a story. TLJ, on the other hand, made its characters the story. It’s no wonder I found myself strangely numb and disconnected the first time I saw TROS.

Now, I’m just angry and disappointed. Disappointed that such brilliant, wonderful characters were wasted. Angry that we’ve imagined a hundred endings more appropriate and fair to the characters we hold dear. I am trying to appreciate what I can from the film and hold on to the few beautiful moments, but I definitely plan on writing my own fic version of how TROS might have played out, had it upheld the complexity and integrity of its characters. Even still, I’m quite sure we all know and understand Ben Solo much better than J.J. or Chris Terrio, so in our hearts Ben will find the happy ending he deserves.

[rosegoldannie]

Tell Me no Lies - Chapter 13

ENJOY THIS EXTRA LONG CHAPTER NOW THAT FINALS ARE OVER!!!

masterlist

That was how Rowan found her, several hours later: curled up as much as she could, fast asleep yet still bawling. For as long as she lived, Aelin knew that she would never forget the panic in his voice when he’d found her.

“Aelin? Aelin! What--are you alright? What happened? Are you hurt?” His artfully calloused hands skimmed over her body, never quite touching her. 

Slowly, she lifted her head, taking in his panic-blown eyes, the paleness of his cheeks. For a split second, she wanted to come clean about everything; the pain, her inability to walk, the car crash, Arobynn, everything.

And then she remembered. This was Rowan. 

Rowan who would be gone in just a few months. 

Rowan, who once he left, she’d likely never hear from again.

Something impossibly similar to dissapointment flooded her.

So instead, Aelin held her head high, met his eyes, and lied. “I fell.”

Nearly two weeks had passed since their non-fight. Rowan remained near-silent, but was always just an arm’s length away, and constantly watched her every move.

Even now, as he was chopping vegetables for their first-annual Friendsgiving, he had somehow managed to keep her in his direct line of sight, as if he didn’t trust her to not fall again -- which she would not, seeing as she had been all but forced to take the last few days off of work, after a particularly embarrasing evening where she had been unable to get out of bed, having no feeling below the waist. Rowan had been drawn into her room by the sobs, and she had lied yet again, that time saying she had thrown her back out at work, lifting a patient.

Her roommate let out a sharp curse, throwing down the knife with a sharp clang. Aelin glanced over, from her place perched atop the counter. Rowan was examining his finger, where a small drop of blood had beaded. He let out another colorful curse. 

Carefully lowering herself to the floor, Aelin gripped his hand, any butterflies in her stomach drowned out by her training. Rowan made a weak attempt to pull back, but she held on tight. “I’m a nurse; let me take a look.”

He fell silent, contemplative.

As she carefully cleaned, then bandaged his cut, Aelin glanced up to find his eyes trained soley on her, damn near staring into her soul. Aelin blanched, and found it difficult to look away. Those butterflies in her gut returned with a vengance, threatening to burst up into her throat. “Why are you mad at me?” She stammered, still holding his gaze.

Rowan blinked, then blinked again. “I-I’m not.” He said, gently withdrawing his hand, and turning to brace his hip against the sink so he could face her fully. “I just… wish that you’d told me you had a boyfriend.”

Her face scrunched up. “I don’t, though.” She murmured.

“You… what?” Rowan crossed his arms, his eyebrows drawing together. “But I saw you kiss that Chris guy…”

A light smirk tugged at her lips. “Chaol. He’s not my boyfriend anymore, Ro.” For the first time, no dissapointment tugged at her, reminded her that she was alone. “Chaol’s married. We broke up a long time ago, and we were just catching up. The only reason we kissed is that Arobynn doesn’t know we’ve broken up.” Then, as an afterthought, she added, “Though he probably does now.”

Rowan held her gaze, searching, searching, searching. “This Arobynn, what does he look like?”

She froze, a small joke dying on her tongue as that dread at last made its home in her gut. “Tall, auburn hair, muscular.”

Her roommate was silent for several long moments. “I’ve seen him.” He murmured.

“You what.”

“I’ve seen him.”

Panic siezed her, the thought of losing Rowan as she’d lost Sam, those gorgeous brown eyes nothing but ash in the wind, scarred, ruined, burned flesh. Then the image of Rowan in his position, sprawled across that cursed damned dining room table, motionless. Lifeless. Blood spattered across the walls, where those green eyes--

Aelin shoved away from him, ignoring the pain as she bolted into the bathroom and crashed to her knees before the toilet, and heaved up her lunch. 

Loud footsteps, then a careful, tentative hand rested on her shoulder, and, when she didn’t push him off, began to rub slow, soothing circles.

Once she was finished, she flushed the toilet, slammed the lid, and allowed Rowan to help her up to sit.

Kneeling before her, he braced his hands against her calves. “Aelin…” He began, some hidden-yet-completely-not-hidden emotion swimming in his eyes. 

“Don’t. Please.” She muttered, allowing her head to drop dangerously close to his shoulder. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Just then, her phone buzzed, and Aelin jerked away from him as if she’d been burned. 

Get over here. Now. It’s Lys.

-Aedion

Aelin froze, that stupid, sickening feeling forcing its way back. After asking several times, Rowan simply took the phone from her, reading the text aloud.

At last, she met his eyes, a question burning between them. Can you drive me to his house?

“Of course,” Rowan murmured, standing and offering her his hand, “just go grab a jacket.”

She nodded, scampering as fast as her legs and back would allow, to her room. After pulling on the first hoodie she saw, she realized it was Rowan’s, as their laundry had been increasingly mixed up together. She couldn’t find the will to change.

Rowan was waiting by the door for her, a strange look all too similar to a blush spread across his cheeks when he realized she was wearing his sweatshirt.

Tentatively, he took her hand in his, and led them down to his car, holding the door open for her.

A bolt of dissapointment rippled through her when he didn’t take her hand again once he was merged out into traffic, but she ignored it, and instead opted to watch the city pass them by. As always, Aelin loved to watch her city change throughout the seasons. Loved the trees, how they gradually lost their leaves. How they went from calm, green serenity to flaming orange or red, a mirror image of her eternally burning soul.

Her roommate let out a sigh as they parked in front of Aedion’s house.  He paused for several seconds before speaking. “I don’t suppose you’ll tell me the truth about who Arobynn is, will you?”

Aelin’s jaw dropped. She blinked, staring at him. “I…” Some part of her truly did want to confide in him, in those green eyes that somehow always managed to know what she needed. But then that damned voice returned, whispering that he would be gone forever in a matter of months. “...I’m sorry, Rowan. I can’t.”

Biting his lip, he nodded slowly. “Okay.” At last, he faced her, those forrests, those hidden realms within his eyes near glowing in the dim light. “You know that you can talk to me, right?” He leaned forward a slight bit, allowing his arms to rest on the center console. “I’m here for you, Princess. I mean it.”

Tears pricked her eyes, as Aelin scooted towards him as much as her seat would allow. Lowering her head, she quickly swiped at her cheeks. “Thank you,”

Strong hands gripped her shoulders, guiding her up to face him. “Aelin, I’m serious. Whatever this is… I will help you get through it.”

At last, words failed her as those tears flowed down her cheeks. Throwing her arms around him, she buried her face against his neck. Strong arms wound around her as she murmured, “Thank you thank you thank you,” into his shirt.

When they at last pulled apart, his nose brushed against hers, and she was stunned to find their lips only inches apart. Even more stunned by the realization that she was blatantly staring at his, slowly leaning forward. The final nail in the coffin was when she realized Rowan wasn’t moving away. If anything, he was also slowly leaning forward.

Just as their lips were about to meet, a sharp knock on her window had them jumping apart, as if they were teenagers caught making out. It might have been her imagination, but as she turned to face Manon, Aelin thought she heard a low groan come from her roommate.

“Let’s go, we’re waiting.” Manon huffed, hands on her hips, jaw set against the chill. “Stop your make-out sesh and get inside!”

A flush spread across her face - that was most definitely not due to the cold - as she climbed out from the car, and was utterly unable to look at Rowan, except for a small apologetic smile as she shut the door. Though, apologetic for what, she didn’t know. Was it because they’d damn near kissed, or because they’d been interrupted?

Aelin shook those thoughts from her head as she followed Manon into the house, Rowan not far behind.

Inside, Aedion was holding a pale, shaking Lysandra, murmuring something to her that was far too low to be overheard, the rest of their friends were spread throughout the living room. Surprise coated Aelin’s features when her eyes landed upon Evangeline--Lysandra’s sixteen year old sister--curled up by the fireplace, with Hollin’s--Dorian’s eighteen year old brother, who for all intents and purposes was an absolute pain--arm draped uncertainly around her shoulders.

Settling in next to her cousin, as Rowan went to speak with Dorian, Aelin found herself genuinely afraid to speak, as if it would shatter whatever peace her friends had had. “What happened?” She murmured.

Aedion opened his mouth, his lower lip trembling with fury, those Ashryver eyes glowing in the firelight. But it was Hollin of all people, who answered. “Arobynn.”

Lysandra slid away from Aedion to rest against Aelin’s shoulder. Elide, and who Aelin surmised to be Yrene, Chaol’s new wife, came over to them. “I was at work,” her friend began shakily, holding Elide’s gaze, “and I had gone out to my car… and I found a note in the glove compartment.” Lysandra paused, swiping at her glistening cheeks, mascara running down her beautiful face. “All it said was, ‘I’m back.”

Across the room, Chaol let out a harsh curse.

After several tense moments, Evangeline cleared her throat. “After volleyball, I, uh, I was walking home--hell I was in front if the school, and this car drove up, and it followed me for several blocks, and the guy inside kept telling me he was your friend--” She looked pointedly to her sister. “--and that you’d sent him to pick me up. I knew who it was, and luckily Hollin saw what was happening and gave me a ride, but…”

Shaking his head, Aedion scoffed. “The prick’s getting bolder.”

Dorian made a noise of agreement. “He’s been lurking outside my work for a few days now,” He muttered, watching his brother, love and some other emotion swimming in his azure eyes. 

“Same here.” Rowan stated, his eyes trained on Aelin, as they had been for the last half hour.

Elide, who had since returned to Lorcan, and was now curled into his side--something more than a few people had smirked at--nudged Lorcan with her elbow. “What? Oh, that. Do any of you know of a woman named Maeve?”

“She’s Arobynn’s wife,” Lysandra murmured, her eyes unfocused.

Lorcan made a noise deep in his throat. “She’s been harrassing Elide for a while,” He admitted. Several heads snapped in their direction at that. “She’s been showing up anywhere we go; Work, the gym, the store, you name it, she’s there.” After several moments, his voice took on a dangerous undertone. “She threatened Elide this afternoon.” He paused, and met the eyes of each and every person in the room. “Whatever this is, whatever bad blood has caused it, we need to end it before someone gets killed.” He met Aelin’s gaze, something akin to sorrow in his obsidian eyes. “Again.” 

Grief turned her vision watery for several minutes as everyone discussed their next steps, and how they could combat the harrassment and threats.

At last, it was agreed that they would all go to the police and file restraining orders against both Arobynn and Maeve. Though, deep down Aelin knew that would do nothing to stop them until Arobynn decided he’d had his fill of punishing and tormenting them.

tag list:  @sailorsassley​ @whiskeybusiness1776​ @mad-scientist-pyromaniac​ @la7sorcellerie​ @dayanna-hatter @mis-lil-red

[quintessence-sentimentalist]

How would you fix the disappearance of Eric?

*pounds fists on table, chanting* New Power Eric NEW POWER ERIC

Ahem... okay, incredibly self-indulgent AU aside, how else would I try to fix this plot? I don’t immediately have a solid answer to that, seeing as W.i.t.c.h. canon is largely dead to me post-Ragorlang arc (though I’ll give myself the W.i.t.c.h. On Stage special, as a treat), but let’s see what I can come up with.

For the most part, I’m alright with Eric having moved away from Heatherfield - seeing as he was the new boy in town living with his grandpa and came in midway through the second arc, to me he always felt a bit more temporary. (It’s probably helped by him having such a strong connection to astronomy - he’s in orbit, never really grounded anywhere.) I mean, it utterly wounds my heart to see Hay’s devastation over losing him to long-distance (I think she’s the W.i.t.c.h. girl whose emotional lows get to me the most in both media), but they managed to work something out! Eric sends her a laptop with a webcam so they can easily stay in touch, and she gets to come for a visit later on, even though, yes, that visit is more of a plot point to kick off the arc someplace on Earth other than Heatherfield.

So we’d seen that it’s possible for them to work something out between them long-distance; I fail to see how this couldn’t have continued, or why we’d be given no explanation at all if it somehow no longer was possible. We got a whole special dedicated to why Cornelia and Caleb wouldn’t have worked out in the end, and yet not a word on HL x E’s sudden vanishing act of a relationship. They’re Schrödinger’s Ship - they could still be together or they could have broken up, we know exactly the same information to support either option, which is nada. (I’m blatantly ignoring that one later issue that has Hay crushing on a random rocker guy from afar, because that was Bad Writing.)

Which brings us to the fixing! Simply put, just let these two have their long-distance relationship dammit. (Or if not, tell us so.) I’ve always liked it when Earth action has moved outside of Heatherfield (i.e. Redstone, stopping by to see Kadma in Fadden Hills, beginning the Ragorlang arc in Open Hill, etc.) - to me, it always made the girls’ everyday world that much bigger, and I feel like that doesn’t usually happen with magical girl stories. So give us a bit more of Hay making a trip out to see Eric (without life-consuming shadow creatures this time), or Eric popping back into Heatherfield for a spell (because correct me if I’m wrong, but his grandpa still lives there? It’d be pretty simple for Eric to swing by and stay the summer with him, especially since his parents also seem to be the orbiting, never-really-held-down-anywhere type). 

But let’s add some self-indulgence without me going full-on “Eric should have been the New Power guy”: I do think Eric should have been next to find out about the Guardians. It’s not as much of an apparent necessity as it was with comics Matt (because all that WxM back-and-forth for the first forty issues basically wrote the narrative into a hole where a Reveal needed to happen for things to have even a chance of working long-term. Which, to me in retrospect, cheapens the reveal a little bit). But again, Eric comes from an entire family of astronomers and has such a passion for space himself - can you imagine his utter excitement upon discovering the existence of life in dimensions beyond Earth? And his girlfriend, who he loves so much, is so integral to keeping those worlds safe and is even more powerful than he already knows she is? Listen, the boy would be a goner, and also just be immensely supportive. 

I mean, just imagine Eric knowing: Hay can pop over to Open Hill just about any time she wants using transposition (yes, the Council might consider this misuse of the Guardians’ powers, but let’s also say that in this fix-it ‘verse there are more efforts for reform as Kandrakar finally starts listening to what Taranee’s been saying since the third arc and learning decades too late from everything that happened with the prior generation. They’ll give the girls this, because having outside support will help alleviate the burden of Guardianship). The two of them can go stargazing and Eric will point out their galaxy’s constellations while Hay does her best to point out the approximate locations of the other worlds she’s seen. 

Just... Eric being so eager to learn everything he can. Eric being so proud of his girlfriend, who’s a literal force of nature yet kind and caring as a gentle summer’s breeze. Eric holding Hay and comforting her when things get a little too strained between the Guardians again after their latest mission or just everyday tensions.

And now think of Hay Lin, looking up the weather forecast in Open Hill and striking up a deal with the air so Eric and the Lyndons have a clear night sky when they have a family bonding stargazing evening. Hay sending Eric sweet little murmurings on the wind, or maybe getting it to playfully muss his hair. 

Hay taking Eric flying one night, and watching his face light up in wonderment. 

...Evidently, all my fix-it ideas for Eric involve him being clued in to the Guardian Secret in some way or another, and... yeah, yeah that checks out.

[ours-is-feral-love]

Summary - A witch with a vendetta learns Klaus’s biggest secret, and Klaus must break his promise to Caroline Forbes to keep her safe. 

A/N: I haven’t touched these guys in a while, so excuse any screw ups. Very AU story, post 5x11 - like, really post - but also I’m basically ignoring everything that happened after 5x11. Such as Caroline’s babies, Stefan, and so on and so forth. 

Enjoy.

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In Death I See Only You

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The witch has his heart. She has his heart clenched in her bony fist, and she is unafraid. Her hand has gone through his chest, pushed past his ribcage, and is clutching his bloody, undead heart, and she is smiling. A wicked sort of smile that displays the evil beneath her young face. The evil, she claims, that was placed within her by him.

Klaus’s legs buckle. His face contorts in confusion—how has this girl managed to overpower him?—and he staggers back, bringing the raven-haired witch with him. Her fingers bare down and her nostrils billow out as he opens his mouth, gagging on pain. With a gentle push, the witch has him on his knees before her. Her short stature means she does not have to distort her own body to accommodate this shift. She stands above him now, his head level with her collarbone.

He is entirely at her mercy.

Niklaus Mikaelson, the fiercest, most depraved creature to walk the earth is bowing at the feet of a teenaged witch.

Anger writhes away inside of the Original vampire. This is impossible. This is not right. He is more than a millennium old. He has fought demons about which this girl has only read. He has laughed in Death’s face. He has survived so much. What power has this girl been granted? What gives her the strength, the right, to look down upon him?

“Do you know why I’m here?” the girl asks. He doesn’t answer right away. He doesn’t want to. But she won’t let him go silently. She places a gentle pressure on his cold, dead heart, her lips quivering with the power coursing through her, and says again, “Do you know why I’m here?”

Klaus stares at the dirt by the witch’s feet. “Yes,” he growls.

“Look at me when you speak!” she demands, squeezing hard. His heart feels as if it will burst. Yelping like the dog he is, Klaus’s head snaps up. He glares at the girl, his breathing staggered. Blood pours out of his mouth. Runs down his chin. His canines drop and dig into his bottom lip. Her mouth twitches in satisfaction. “You remember me, then,” she says.

“Yes,” Klaus says, spraying red.

“Good. Now the real fun can begin.”

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He should not be have been there. There—out in the open. From where he stood, leaning against the large tree by the playground, moments before she found him like she promised she would when she was only five years old, he could see a mother pushing her little girl in a swing. And that was probably when she decided to corner him. When she decided he was vulnerable enough, weak enough, to be taken. Because no matter how badly he wished for that child to simply disappear from Hayley’s womb, the moment she was brought into the world Klaus awoke to a love unlike any he had experienced before. It was a primal sort of love. There was nothing he could do about it. The preservation of his bloodline had always been the most important thing, and then there was something new carrying his history, and he knew he would do anything in his power to stop her from leaving him.

But all good things must come to an end. While he was busy doing all he could to protect the girl, the rest of the world was thinking of ways to destroy her. An ancient coven, having heard of the impossibility of her existence, awoke from a millennia-old slumber in order to find her, fearful of the power brewing inside his infant child. Klaus heard of their emergence. An instant chill settled in his evaporated soul. A sickness spread through him, and he worked to hide her from their plan. Using all of his influence, every member of his family, his attempt lasted little more than a month before they found her.

Their anachronistic spells quickly tore through every barricade. The long, sharp sliver of white oak their leader carried with her helped aid their destruction of his family until he and the small child were the only ones left. And soon, all that remained was him. But even the most powerful coven in existence is no match for a vengeful father. This woman, her magic having cloaked them from the world and turned day into twilight, is all that remains of that group of witches after Klaus ripped all of their heads from their shoulders.

“I’ve been following you for a long time, Niklaus,” she says, and he can feel the poisonous wrath pulsing against her fingertips as she holds his heart. Night falls fast under the witch’s spell, and soon there is hardly any light in their bubble. “Watching you. Studying your movements, your strength. I’ve bided my time, and now look at us. Once, you made me afraid, but I was only a girl then. Are you ready to fear me?”

The truth is, Klaus already fears her. But he isn’t stupid or weak enough admit that. He has sensed her throughout the years. Each move he has made has been a calculated step away from her. But today, at the playground, he lost himself in memories of his dead child, and she took advantage of his sudden dip into humanity. He can hardly blame her.

And if he is being truly, truly honest, he has been waiting for this. Yearning for this. God, he is so tired.

With her free hand, the witch reaches inside her back pocket and pulls out a folded cloth. “You know what this is,” she tells him, because there is nothing else it could be. White oak. He can sense its desire to puncture his heart. “But I won’t use it yet. I want to have some fun with you first.”

Still with her fingers wrapped around his blackened heart, she returns the splinter to its holding place and touches his forehead. She digs her nails into his flesh and scrapes his temple slowly. Blood trickles down his cheek. Pressing her index finger against his open wound, sending a shockwave of pain down his spine, her eyes roll back and before he can struggle against her interference, she enters his mind.

Memories course through his mind, clashing against one another in a great battle for dominance. The memories are filled with people. Enemies. Friends. Family.

Lovers.

He sees his brothers, sisters. His parents. His mind reawakens to the childlike fear his father instilled within him. He remembers the love of his mother. Their betrayal.

He sees his child in the arms of the woman who birthed her. The memories flash forward, and he sees only blood. The witch has taken them to the day her coven took his family from him. Klaus feels himself crying out in pain. His throat aches, but he cannot hear his own screams. Silently, he watches every person he has ever loved be ripped to shreds.

Then, the images stop, as if the witch has paused them. In the distance, Klaus sees a blond curl. A flash of blue.

“You like horses,” he hears himself say. He watches her follow him with unamused eyes, an exhausted sort of smile flickering on her mouth.

“I’m not talking to you until you tell me why you invited me here,” she says, and even in the haze of an old memory he feels that throbbing ache in his dead heart.

“I fancy you,” he confesses blatantly. “Is that so hard to believe?”

“Yes.” There is shock in her voice. He hears that now. He didn’t back when the word was first spoken.

In a flash of light, the picture in his head moves, and she is there again, only this time she is wearing a dress that rides up her thighs with each frustrated step she takes. They skip forward a moment, and he is standing in front of her, speaking of hummingbirds.

Then, he is grabbing her by the hair and sinking his teeth into her neck. He can still taste her blood, feel it quench his centuries’-old thirst. Then, she is lying before him, and he is stubbornly refusing to save her.

“I know that you’re in love with me,” she says weakly. His chest burns as if she has pierced him with a stake. “And anybody capable of love is capable of being saved.”

He remembers exactly what he says next without needing to hear himself say it.

“You’re hallucinating,” he says, because she has found him out, and it frustrates him. It kills him. He can’t even look at her.

“I guess I’ll never know,” she whimpers, and his body goes still, and he looks at her with fear burning his eyes. He says her name. Once. Twice. No response, so he goes to her, lifting her head, and forces her teeth into his wrist.

The satisfaction of her feeding on him is indescribable. It’s like sinking into a warm ocean with no fear of dying.

The memories buzz forward, but come to a halt as the image of her in a red graduation gown bursts to life. She’s smiling at him. She never had smiled at him like this before. Like she forgives him. Or, at the very least, is starting to forgive him. And even with his heart in the hands of a fellow monster, a warmth spreads through Klaus as he looks at this phantom.

“Tyler is free to return to Mystic Falls.”

“What?”

“He is your first love,” he says, his lips tingling, warning him to stay silent. There is danger afoot. Always. And if he speaks these next few words, if he confesses to her, then she will never again be safe. He is assuring her doom. But he can’t help himself. He really can’t. So, he says it. “I intend to be your last, however long it takes.”

His lips burn as he presses them to her cheek, and as he pulls away, the image of Caroline Forbes splinters until she is no longer standing before him. In her place is the witch, whose face has contorted in hesitation. Confusion.

“You loved her,” she says, her eyes still glazed over. Terrible fear bursts inside of Klaus. “You still love her, I can feel it.”

“Please,” Klaus says, the word tasting of blood.

“How is this possible? You have never cared for anyone outside of your family for so long.”

He says it again. Debases himself again. “Please.”

The witch’s eyes snap back into focus. She stares at him, dropping her hand from his head, her pupils the size of pinpricks. “You’re just as human as the rest of us, aren’t you? The great Niklaus Mikaelson falling in love with a baby vampire. How pathetic. Maybe I should pay this girl—Caroline, yes?—a visit. After I’ve finished you off, of course.”

“No,” Klaus shrieks, though it comes out as a muffled groan. The witch has tightened her hold on his heart.

“There’s nothing you can do to stop me, Niklaus,” the witch taunts. She retrieves the white oak. “Nothing at all.”

But she is wrong. Klaus fell in love, and that love, the love that still courses through his blood, is not a weakness. For so long, he thought it could only be the source of his downfall. Of both of their downfalls. It’s why he made that promise to her in the woods. Why he has kept away from her for all of these years. But Caroline Forbes is in his mind again, and she is lifting his right arm, encircling his hand around the witch’s wrist, tightening his fingers so hard that a snap resonates from the bones in the witch’s forearm.

The witch screams in pain. Her fingers go limp around his heart, and in one pull he is free. Gasping, bleeding, Klaus scrambles to his feet. He wants to attack the witch. He lunges for her, but she disappears before he can get his hands around her neck. He grabs at air, staggering forward. Light returns to his surroundings. The families in the park eye him worriedly, but he pays no attention to their intrusive stares. There is nothing left of the witch. She has gone to search for her.

He must go too. Find her before the witch. Run away with her, like he should have done ages ago.

Klaus knows where she is. He always knows. In a flash, he is gone.

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Rain splashes over his head, whipping him as a wind carries it forcefully into his face. He knocks again on the door. If it doesn’t open in five seconds, he will rip it off of its hinges.

The witch’s attack has worn him down. He feels sluggish. His chest smarts with each movement. He may be the most powerful being on earth, but having his heart toyed with like that has reminded him of the witch’s words. You’re just as human as the rest of the us.

Gearing up to burst through the wooden structure, Klaus stops short when his ears pick up on creeping footsteps. He recognises her footfalls, and suddenly there is an altogether new type of pain running through him. An anxiety. A trepidation. The door unlocks. Opens only an inch. Where he is standing, he can see through the slight crack. Her blue eyes pierce through the rain and sear a hole into his already open chest.

She gasps. The door falls open. “What the hell are you”— She doesn’t finish her question. Her eyes land on the fabric of his white t-shirt running pink with blood. “What happened?”

He is about to speak. About to explain. To beg. He takes one step forward, but a coldness seeps into his bones and he falls to his knees. His hands slam into the ground. He hears Caroline gasp again before a blackness consumes him.

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Someone is stroking his hair. Running their fingers along his scalp and threading through his curls. He relaxes into the touch, which he knows he should not do. He should get up. He needed to tell someone something.

“Hey,” a voice says, right next to his ear.

Klaus opens his eyes slowly. Caroline Forbes tilts her head to the side. What alternate universe has he entered?

Then, it hits him. The witch.

Klaus sits up suddenly, realising momentarily that he must be in her bedroom. On her bed. Caroline’s hand falls from his head and she jumps to her feet.

“What?” she asks, a quiver in her voice.

He can imagine, just imagine it so well, how she has been living her life the past few years. Small town in Washington state. No lurking evil vampires. No werewolves. No magic of any kind. Working as a journalism teacher at the local high school. Pretending not to miss the menacing thrills that greeted her every day during her time as an infant vampire.

All that is about to change. There can be no more playing make-believe now.

“A witch,” Klaus sputters. “I killed her coven and she tried to get her revenge. She almost did, but I managed to get away, but not before she found you.”

Caroline’s eyes blossom. “Found me? Found me where?” She makes no mention of the fact that he wiped this girl’s coven from existence.

Klaus touches his temple. Then, he pats his chest, and it is here that he realises she has stripped him of his shirt. His wound has healed nicely. How long has he been unconscious? “She knows of our connection,” he says. “I have to get you out of here.”

“Out of here? What, so she’s hunting me down, preparing to kill me,” Caroline says mockingly. “I don’t attract that kind of stuff anymore. And if you leave me, like you promised you’d do for, like, eternity, I’m sure she won’t be able to find me. Bonnie lives nearby. I’ll call her and get her to cast a cloaking spell or something.”

“That won’t bloody work,” Klaus says, recognising the tang of metal still sitting on his teeth. “She is more powerful than you can imagine. She nearly killed me without using any sort of spell. Imagine what she could do to you.”

There it is. A small jerk of her eyes. A twitch. Caroline is afraid. “Yeah, but, what’s the point in killing me?” she asks. She has always done this so well. Pretended as if she has everything under her control. “I mean, what am I to her? I’m a nobody.” She laughs nervously. She has lost her touch after so long out of the supernatural spotlight. He doesn’t even need to be paying attention to pick up on her unease.

“You’re all I’ve got left,” he says, staring past her at the photograph of her and her group of meddling friends at their graduation. The room is spacious. Tidy. He remembers something about her love of cleaning.

“Klaus,” she says with a sigh, and hearing his name fall from her lips is almost enough to bring him to his knees once more. “That was a long time ago. Haven’t you moved on yet?”

“Have you?” he says, and she turns to see where his eyes have landed. Beside the window looking out onto the stormy, dark street hangs the picture he drew of her. The sight of it makes him ache for a time long since passed. He looks back at Caroline to find that she’s avoiding his eye line. “Run away with me,” he says, and he reaches out for her hand. It hangs limply at her side and she makes no effort to pull away.

“If I don’t,” she says, “the witch will kill me.”

“Yes.”

“And if I do . . .” she trails off, finally catching his eye. He has missed her. So much. “Okay.”

“Okay?” he parrots, unsure if he heard her correctly.

She nods. “I’ll go with you. You’re afraid, and if you’re afraid, then I’m absolutely fucking terrified.”

“You trust me?”

“I trust you.” She laughs, squeezing his hand. “Oh my, God, I can’t believe I just said that.”

And he laughs too, and it feels good, and he thinks maybe the time and the distance has been good for them. Enough to wipe away the toxic air of their past.

She’s missed the dangerous side of being a vampire. He can tell, because even though he has told her all about this coven’s history, their supremacy over the magical world, she is giddy as she packs a bag full of essentials. She has the workings of a small smile as she phones her boss to say she’s had an emergency and must leave town for an indefinite amount of time.

“Where do we go from here?” she asks when she’s done, and he thinks that, maybe, she has missed him too.

“Somewhere she’ll never find us,” he says. “Somewhere we’ll be safe until we can think of a way to kill her.”

Caroline finishes tying her hair into a bun and picks up her bag. She stands at the doorway in her bedroom, far away from Mystic Falls, but no longer far away from him. “Lead the way.”

[darkpoisonouslove]

Falling for You (to Catch Me) Chapter 1

Summary: Faragonda is swallowed by the Christmas chaos when she slips on a patch of ice and tumbles right in the middle of the best Christmas present she could've wished for.

(This is the closest to a Coffee Shop AU I’ll ever get.)

I am so proud of the descriptions in this so... feel free to appreciate them. ;D

Gone. All her time and money were gone. She couldn't really regret anything since they’d been well spent at that Christmas bazaar that was raising money for charity but she still had to go and buy something for Griselda. She had a ton of Christmas trinkets now but she wanted it to be something special that she’d picked for Griselda and not just something she’d assigned for her for the lack of resources she was currently facing, but that meant going back to the dorms to get some more money.

She needed to unload her purchases anyway but the fact that it was cold and she was in a rush didn’t make the trip all that pleasant. She was exhausted and just the thought that she had to go back out instead of curling up in bed with a cup of tea and that book she wanted to finish before Griselda gave her her own Christmas present–it had been a total accident that she’d found the book while she’d been going through Griselda’s things in search of a pen she’d later remembered she’d thrown out the previous week–made all leftover energy drain out of her. But she had to do it for Griselda. It wasn’t her friend’s fault that she’d let all her time that was planned for finding the perfect gift slip through her fingers. For a good cause, of course, but nonetheless...

Her luck seemed to have abandoned her, too, as she slipped on a patch of ice that she hadn’t seen in her hurry and lost her balance.

She closed her eyes preparing for the impact of the fall but it didn’t come. Instead she felt two arms coming underneath hers from behind stopping her fall, holding her firmly as whoever had caught her helped her back on her feet and didn’t let go until she was stable again.

“Thank you,” she said, slightly out of breath and with burning cheeks which she hoped her savior would ascribe to the chilly air, as she turned around to look at the person.

She was met with a pale woman that was taller than her, whose expression was serious but her bright honey-colored eyes were warm like the sun. They clashed well with the vibe she was giving off with her wine red trench coat and black gloves that looked more like accessories rather than like they were serving any actual purpose in protecting her from the cold. It was like she refused to be bothered by it which the lack of a hat also suggested. It did leave her long light purple hair that was braided and falling over her shoulder fully on display so that it could enchant Faragonda with its shine.

“You’re welcome,” the woman spoke, her voice elegant and mellow even with the certain edge which seemed to be present in every aspect of her. “Please, do me a favor, though,” she said, grasping all of Faragonda’s attention and holding it on her like she was the center of the universe. “Be more careful when you walk because I’m not sure I can be there to catch you next time you slip,” she was serious again but still with that warmth coming off of her that didn’t allow Faragonda to take her words as berating and left her with a fuzzy, yet, still somewhat embarrassed feeling as she realized the woman truly cared for her. Or at least she cared that she didn’t break a bone on the sidewalk.

“I’ll do my best,” she said, nodding to support her words since she didn’t know how to express her gratitude. Not only for the rescue but also for the way the woman handled the situation, without making her feel clumsy or incompetent. It was a rarity that someone would go through the trouble of doing that for her, and people usually took her optimistic outlook on life as an invitation to be blatantly rude to her because she’d find a way to pick herself up after they were done demolishing her. “I was in a hurry because I need to get something for my friend,” she explained, hoping to focus on what she still needed to do rather than on the unpleasant thoughts.

“I’m sure your friend would prefer to have you safe,” the woman said, her eyes locked with Faragonda’s as if that was the way to get the message to the depths of her soul. And it seemed to be working. “And if not, then they don’t deserve you,” she said, her features turning somewhat sharper, though her gaze remained caring enough to make Faragonda take the words as advice rather than meddling into her life.

She nodded again, for it was all true. Griselda wouldn't want her hurting herself just to get her a present and cutting toxic people out of her life was something long overdue since some people would never change no matter how many chances she gave them and that was becoming painfully obvious the more she forgave them.

“Thank you again,” she said because, really, the woman had only been in her life for a minute and she already felt like her guardian angel. “I’d like to invite you to a cup of hot cocoa,” she blurted out before she could think. But the thought that they’d go their separate ways and would never meet again was scarier. She’d already had one miracle happen to her that Christmas, she couldn't count on another one. If she wanted to make the kind stranger a more permanent part of her life, she’d have to take the initiative.

“Didn’t you have to go get something for your friend?” the woman reminded, almost making her facepalm.

Of course! How could she forget? It would turn out it was her who didn’t deserve Griselda if she kept going on like that. Or rather, it would be confirmed since she already suspected something like that. Griselda claimed it was because she wasn’t used to basic decency thanks to all the shit her family had put her through when she’d deviated from the expectations they had set for her, but she knew it wasn’t just that. Griselda seemed cold but was actually a very caring person. Much like the woman currently standing in front of her but in a different way. Griselda hid her real behavior behind a feigned one while the woman that had caught her seemed to combine both sides in her personality and made her want to learn more about how such a balance was possible. It didn’t mean she needed to forget all about Griselda, though.

“Perhaps another time then?” Faragonda asked, amazed once again by herself and by this strange woman she’d met. Going after what she wanted was not her strong suit since it had been frowned upon in favor of the family agenda her whole life and she was still trying to shake that learned stiffness and conformity off. The woman had managed not only to not embarrass her with the gentle reminder she’d given, but also to make her keep pursuing what she wanted. It seemed like she’d fallen into the right hands.

“I’d like that,” the woman gave a small smile that could make the ice Faragonda had slipped on melt. Good thing the snow had already melted because the streets would've been flooded by the water just like Faragonda’s heart was flooded with warmth. “Although, I am more of a tea-all-year-round kind of girl,” she said, hugging herself as if the cold finally got to her now that she was missing the warmth of her favorite drink.

“Tea is my favorite as well,” Faragonda reassured, watching the other woman come out of herself like a flower that grew from under the snow when caressed by the first sun rays of spring. While she could understand the hardships of tea lovers–it was so annoying to be asked all the time if you’ll be drinking tea again, especially on the holidays when everyone was drowning in hot chocolate or eggnog punch or at summer when your cup was unsightly compared to all the rest that had cocktail umbrellas in them while everyone was hiding under beach umbrellas and your drink was the only one that wasn’t ice cold–she was somewhat concerned by the reaction. The woman seemed to retreat in herself as if she expected to be slapped with judgment the moment she’d revealed her favorite drink. So maybe Faragonda wasn’t the only one who could use a friend–or rather, another friend–and the miracle had gone both ways. “How about having a covert tea party then?” she asked, lowering her voice to make it sound conspiratorial.

“It’s a date,” the woman returned in the same tone of voice and it was the first time Faragonda didn’t have her childishness frowned upon–as much as Griselda loved her, there were things that pushed her over her limits and that was one of them–and once again made her feel like she’d met a soulmate. It was truly the magic of Christmas. “How about tomorrow? Eleven o’clock? The campus cafe?” The woman was all business now, her sharpness intact once again but it just washed over Faragonda like a blanket of security to have her potential new friend be herself.

“It’s a date,” she said, making the woman’s eyes sparkle with amusement, and they looked like the day sky was filled with stars, light amongst more light, such a breathtaking sight. “I’m Faragonda by the way,” she said as she offered her hand, looking to touch all the tenderness that was standing in front of her as a person.

“Griffin,” the woman said as she took her hand, her grasp gentle on Faragonda now that she didn’t have to keep her from an unpleasantly intimate meeting with the ground. And the full smile that made her face light up had all of Faragonda’s thoughts circling around it long after it had remained only in her head. It was a sight that would stay with her for a long, long time and she hoped she’d see it again, in real life and not just in her memories, and soon at that. And she was definitely glad that the days where she hadn’t known that smile were gone now.

[thetaboochristian]

Some Mother’s Day Musings

Ok, so this post is going to hit a few different angles, as it relates to motherhood. I’ll mention a little bit about my mom, but I’m also going to throw a couple other philosophical ideas in here too the most people might not think about when it comes to Mother’s Day.

I’m totally not going to mention anything about “Rebecca” in this post, nothing really positive or negative, even though yes technically I mean she is the mother of my son... she has a new husband to celebrate her in that regard and that’s fine. I still love my son “Aaron” and... “Rebecca” has still taught him some good things despite all of the conflict you’ve already heard about in my previous content, and I believe that my son will still learn some great things from her in the future.

Ok so moving on from that, I want to first say thanks to my mom for all of the crazy things she put up with as I was growing up and even during much of my 20′s, since I still had to be around her a lot for work even when I wasn’t living with her anymore. 

Even though my mom and I have certainly had our rough patches, my relationship with her is WAY better than my relationship with my dad. With my Autistic brother requiring most of her attention growing up, and my dad not around or doing stuff with me that often, I spent most of my childhood alone. I mean yeah, my mom fed me and took care of my basic needs, but I spent most of my day playing or researching stuff on my own, or day dreaming... lots of day dreaming and philosophizing, even as a little kid.

You see, my mom feels kind of bad that she couldn’t spend more time with me as a kid, and while I understand it, it shaped me in a way that has helped me a great deal in my life as an adult. All of that time spent alone helped me become the intrepid researcher, scientist and philosopher that I am today. Because of that upbringing, I don’t mind being alone most of the time, and aside from my current desire for a wife (a good one this time around), I don’t have much NEED for friends, though I don’t mind socializing with others as long as they aren’t @$$holes and the socialization isn’t impeding on some big important project that I want to get done for my business or personal development.

So thanks mom, for loving me and supporting me through all of the awkward stages of my teens and early twenties as I figured out what I wanted to do and become in life. {*I’m writing this in her honor, but I sure as heck would never let her read this, or my blog as a whole that is at least, because I DEFINITELY don’t want her seeing some of the other things I’ve written about... they’re just not things that parent’s and their children want to hear or know about each other.*}

Ok so now, I’m going to get into something a little bit more abstract, regarding the mothering instinct and heart.

This is going to get a little spiritual here.

In Christianity, God is referred to as Heavenly Father, and if you believe the Bible is true, then you know that God Himself spoke that to people, told them that He was a He... however, God made human kind in God’s likeness... both the male and the female. So, in reality, while God may assume the form of a man/father, God also contains the feminine nature and mother-heart. God has an equal amount of masculine and feminine qualities inside of Him, in His heart and soul and mind. 

Interestingly enough, though I’ve often times considered what I’m about to say next as a curse, I noticed something interesting about myself when I thought about this concept of God’s dual masculinity and femininity. So... I am a man who has a good amount of masculine nature inwardly and outwardly, but I also have... maybe a little bit more of a feminine nature within my heart than most men do. I’m not effeminate, as like a gay man would be, but I think I have an interesting blend of masculine and feminine traits that makes me much more like God and Jesus than I once thought.

You see, Astrologically speaking, I am an Aries/Pisces cusp... I’m a mix of the two signs based upon when I was born. Aries is the MOST Alpha (Type A) of all the signs, and Pisces is the MOST Beta (or Type B) of all the signs. Aries is the most Masculine in terms of personality and behavior, and Pisces is the most Feminine in terms of personality and behavior. I would say that if I had to really break it down, I’m 65% masculine and 35% feminine overall, in regards to my personality, world view and lifestyle.

When it comes to tackling tasks that need to get done, or trying to fix some urgent problem that could wreak havoc on me or my family if it isn’t resolved soon, I’m 100% Aries mode, I’m like a bulldozer with nitrous tanks and a turbo! I’m attacking that problem with everything I’ve got and people better stay the heck out of my way and not hinder me unnecessarily. 

When it comes to socialization, I either have nothing to say or I’m almost too chatty. I never know which one is going to come out of me when I’m in a given situation. I guess I’m more feminine when it comes to having conversations with people.

When it comes to romance, I start off VERY Pisces-like (feminine), very slow and gentle and wanting to rub, cuddle, nuzzle and slow kisses, etc. Then, once that has started, I start turning more and more Aries-like again (masculine), increasing in intensity regarding the forcefulness of my touching, kissing, and expressing my burning flame through my voice and words. This is where I need a girlfriend/fiancé/wife who’s OK with being told blatantly X-Rated things that I want to do to her OR for her, once we’ve reached the point in our relationship where we’ve had the talk and know each other’s “Yes and No” list. If she can’t handle and enjoy dirty talk during the right times, she’s not the one for me. I need a woman who will let me fully express my sexual energy to her through words, and who will do the same to me. 

Once it gets to sex (which is only within marriage according to the principles I practice), I will naturally repeat the cycle of Pisces-like first, and Aries-like a few minutes in, and I’ll alternate back and forth throughout the time together unless she asks specifically for one or the other primarily. It really though, boils down to “Vanilla” days and “Not-Very-Vanilla” days, regarding my desires and expressions of them within a marriage.  

When it comes to managing a house hold, parenting, finances, etc, I’m very masculine. While I care about people’s feelings, they don’t come before the structure, cleanliness and integrity of our house, car, bank account, etc. I will NOT let my kid make huge messes, or I will ONLY let him make messes in designated places. I don’t mind saying NO to something that my kid would find fun if it can’t be done without damaging something in my house/car or wracking up a bunch of debt for something that’s not a necessity.

Finally, when it comes to movies, TV shows and books, I kind of rapidly cycle between Masculine and Feminine. Basically, anything in a story, show or movie that typically makes most women cry, it will make me cry too. I can’t help it. I really can't! Sometimes I’ve even gotten more teary eyed and emotional over something than my mom or one of my exes did. While that might be kind of embarrassing in one way, it shows what a genuinely caring and empathetic person I am. If I see something on TV about a little girl in a hospital bed and they bring in a therapy dog for her to pet and she get’s all excited and emotional about it, I’ll usually get a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes. 

Same thing applies to tragic stuff in movies and shows. When there’s a 100 car pile up in the middle of a blizzard and people are trapped and freezing and rescuers have to go around and help people... that makes me tear up. When someones’ loved one is dying in a hospital bed... it makes me cry. I REALLY took it hard when I read 50 Shades of Grey and got to the end of the first book in the series and Christian Grey whipped Anastasia with a belt really hard over and over and she got so upset and cried and ran away and said to the effect of “WTF is wrong with you?! How can you enjoy doing something like this to a woman?!” I know that in the next story, Christian eventually learned his lesson and felt sorry and changed and became a better person, but my goodness... I understand LIGHT bondage/“Soft-Dom” and I’ve kinda grown into my interest in that (both to give and receive it in my next marriage if she’s willing), but I just can’t understand people who get pleasure out of INTENTIONALLY trying to inflict pain on other people. I guess I thought about it from the perspective of what I would or would never do to a woman who I loved. Arguments and hurt feelings are inevitable but physical harm... I could NEVER do.  

What’s so interesting about my Masculine/Feminine balance is, if you read the descriptions for Aries signs and Pisces signs, I’m like a 95% accurate match to BOTH of them, even though they are pretty opposing. This strange combination probably played a large part in what made me into a “Sigma Male”.

You’ve heard of “Alpha Males” and “Beta Males”, “Alpha Females” and “Beta Females”, but a SIGMA is one who has a unique balance of both Alpha and Beta characteristics, but this doesn’t make them “average”... it makes them incredibly special and unique. Most people are only either Alpha OR Beta (though there are some other types that are less common, like Omegas who just sit around all day goofing off and have no ambition or drive for anything except video games, internet and junk food.)

But anyway, SIGMA men and women are like lone wolves, they have some big grand mission in life that they want to accomplish, and they care little for the rules of Social Hierarchy. They can be friends with pretty much any clique but are rarely close to anyone except a romantic partner. They find socialization a waste of time many times, and prefer to spend most of their time doing something productive or pleasurable. Sigmas are the Christian Grey’s of the real world, in the sense that they prefer to be rich, mostly isolated people who are ABLE to socialize and be a people person but like to do so only when it fits their schedule. Minus the abuse part, I saw A LOT of similarities between Christian Grey and myself when it comes to how I would structure and manage my life if I had a lot of money. I’d be just like him, just with Christian moral values and no sadomasochism. If you look at all the other personality traits and world views, etc that he has, it’s probably 75-80% similarity to my thoughts and feelings and interests and world views.

While I couldn’t find any lists of famous people who are Sigmas, I did find some  links to webpages that explain Sigma’s in more detail. Even if it says it applies to Males, the characteristics pretty well cross over to women too, and I know because I used to date a Sigma girl, and she was the best girlfriend I ever had, even though we eventually broke up. 

Here are the links:

https://herway.net/life/11-traits-define-sigma-male/

https://hackspirit.com/sigma-male-11-things-they-do-and-how-you-can-become-one-too/

https://www.zoosk.com/date-mix/dating-advice/sigma-male/

https://www.aconsciousrethink.com/9304/sigma-males/

SO... in closing...

What does all this Sigma stuff have to do with Mother’s Day and mothering nature? Well... I believe that Sigma men (straight ones that is) have a particularly high amount of “mothering instinct” without being effeminate or seeming devoid of masculinity. I believe that Sigma men and women both exhibit the most “God-like” or “Christ-like” nature just how they naturally are. I believe that it’s probably fair to say that GOD is probably a Sigma... if He had to be classified as having one specific personality type. God is the epitome of Masculinity AND Femininity (in all of their good ways), and I think that Sigma men and women are also like that... the best balance of Masculine and Feminine in one being. 

Come to think of it, my mom seems an awful lot like a Sigma to me, now that I think about it... and while my dad is a little bit more “Beta”, he also has a good bit of “Alpha” traits too, so when I consider what both my mom and dad are like, maybe that’s where I got my Sigma traits from... but more so from my mom... I’m sure. 

My dad for the most part taught me what I did NOT want to do or be like, and my mom for the most part taught me what I DID want to be like. Come to think of it, now looking back I think that my mom’s dad (who recently passed) seemed a lot like a Sigma male too. Maybe that’s where my mom got her’s from. My grandpa on my mom’s side taught her how to be a good hearted person and how to not take advantage of people or be greedy. He taught her how to be financially responsible and care for those in need who can’t help themselves. While some of my mom’s siblings may have not adopted all of those good life lessons and characteristics, thank God that my mom did.

While I may not have much good to say about my Dad or most of the people on his side of the family, I am sure thankful to have had all of the good lessons, teachings, foundation and love that came from my mom’s side of the family, which my mom passed on to me and lavished upon me, even when nobody else had my back. 

:) <3

Until next time, take care and God Bless!

“Luke Davidson” - Author of The Taboo Christian book and blog 

[queen-of-bel]

Back at it again with the character analyses. My girl Mari is up next.

naoya | kaido | atsuro | amane | gin

Mari has always been a really interesting character to me. She may seem a little bland at first but I think that’s bc she really forces herself to keep up a perfect facade in front of others.

There are two aspects about her which I find really interesting in conjunction with each other. The first is that she’s a nurse at an elementary school. The second is that her late lover was the founder and leader of a gang group in Shibuya.

The reason I find this intriguing is because of society’s expectations of school staff and administrators. The actions of the people who work at the school directly reflect upon the school itself.

We know this is the case because if Kazuya warns Mari to remain rational during the riots, Mari says “Even if I don’t look it, I still work for the school. I have to try to set an example.”

This is a pretty loaded statement, and there are two things we can take away from this. The first and obvious one is that Mari is aware and conscious of the fact that her actions as an individual has an effect on the reputation of the school she works at.

The part of the statement that I think is really interesting, however, is when Mari says that she doesn’t look like she works for the school.

Nothing about Mari’s physical appearance or demeanor makes her not look like a school nurse. She expresses concern for the health of others in the lockdown, and in the material collection, Yasuda even apologized for her cliched nurse outfit.

So why doesn’t Mari think she fits in with the image of a school nurse?

This is where the other part of her character comes into play– her relationship with the leader of the Shibuya Daemons.

She is aware of what is expected of her, and yet she still chose to be in a relationship with the founder and leader of a gang. Granted, Atsuro states that the Shibuya Daemons are known as one of the more charismatic gangs, but they are still a gang nonetheless. When Atsuro says “more charismatic”, that means charismatic relative to other gangs– not objectively charismatic.

They’re not a group of boy scouts or a neighborhood watch. They are still a group of thugs who commit crimes. This fact seems pretty self-explanatory, but the game explicitly states this as well. If Kazuya doesn’t manage to save Keisuke, Keisuke will touch on what the Shibuya Daemons have done. Keisuke says that the Daemons break things out of pure anger and spite, and that they “resort to violence when someone looks at them funny, or at the slightest annoyance”. Kaido doesn’t deny any of this, so we can take Keisuke’s words as truth.

Another moment in the game that points to the shadiness of the Daemons is in Naoya’s eighth day. Kaido states that having others out to kill him is nothing new, which prompts Mari to gently remind him that most people aren’t threatened with death every day. If Kaido truly is regularly receiving death threats, then the Daemons have to be making a lot of enemies, even if it’s just from other rival gangs.

I know it seems overkill to prove what most people assume to be an obvious fact, but establishing exactly what kind group the Daemons are is crucial to understanding Mari as a character.

Again, the actions she makes as an individual reflects upon the school as a whole. Considering who her late lover was, Mari has created a direct connection between the school she works at and the Shibuya Daemons. It can’t look great for the school to be linked to a group like that.

If Mari is aware of the fact that her relationship might reflect poorly on the school, then it becomes clear why she thinks she doesn’t look like she works for the school.

Mari truly loved Kaido’s brother, but we know that she also has a love for nursing and caring for others. She had been studying for nursing school for years now, and during the lockdown, she can’t help but worry about the patients in the hospitals, prompting Atsuro to comment on how dedicated of a nurse she is. Even in the material collection, it says that her favorite type of music is “healing music” (whatever that means).

Being a nurse at an elementary school and having a relationship with the leader of the Shibuya Daemons seem like they are mutually exclusive, but Mari decided to have both anyway.

I don’t think it’s much of a stretch to say that her relationship could have threatened her job. Her relationship already is the reason she feels that she doesn’t fit in with the image of being a school nurse, but the way she acts indicates that she’s hyper-aware of how others perceive her. Not only does she try to be viewed as a perfect nurse, she’s also desperate to make sure she is never seen in a negative light.

A good example of this is when Mari tells Kazuya and the others about the bloodless killer. She states that “I hate the killer so much…” before apologizing because she keeps showing her unattractive side to the group.

This line always stood out to me because I never once thought that this statement showed an unattractive or negative side to Mari. Mari wasn’t swearing or losing her temper. She was just sadly saying how she hates whoever killed her lover. It would actually be weird if she didn’t express contempt for the killer.

And yet, she still felt the need to apologize to everybody. The only reason I can think of is because she has so much pressure to be “perfect”. If her relationship were to threaten her job, she could point to the fact that she has always been a kind and patient person. She wouldn’t want to give her employer any reason to fire her based on her own performance or temperament.

As a result, she tries very hard to make herself seem as perfect as possible, and gets scared if something negative (like her hating someone or something) can be associated with her.

However, Mari is only human, and not as perfect and selfless as she tries to present herself as. Like nearly everybody else in the Yamanote line, the events of the lockdown brought out Mari’s darker side, but what’s interesting is that Mari made a very clear and conscious decision to abandon the “perfect” persona that she spent so long trying to uphold.

This trait shows up a few times, one of which is in Naoya’s eighth day.

When Naoya gives Kazuya a choice between killing and not killing the people who oppose him, Mari never rejects the idea of killing others. She states that both methods have their pros and cons, but she never lists the most blatantly obvious drawback of the kill route, which is that killing the demon tamers is… not really the morally correct thing to do.

If Kazuya chooses to kill all those who oppose him, Mari never objects to this. She is perfectly fine with Kazuya’s decision, and the only reason she leaves the group is because Kaido forces her to.

All of a sudden we see the disconnect between an elementary school nurse who worries about hospitals running out of supplies and a woman who happily goes along with a plan to massacre civilians. Mari originally was terrified of seeming the slightest bit negative to others, to the point where she apologized for saying she hated the bloodless murderer. But now? She’s content with murdering others, and has zero regard for her public image.

It’s certainly very odd, to say the least, that she seems to have changed her morals in just a matter of days. However, there is one more piece of information about Mari that ties these seemingly contradictory aspects together– Mari blames herself for her late lover’s death.

After defeating Kudak, she thanks Kazuya and the others, saying she always thought her lover’s death was her fault somehow. She also expresses this sentiment in a line that’s specific to Overclocked.

In the original game, when Kaido tells Mari to stay away from the bloodless killer case, Mari begins to say the two of them were lovers before Kaido becomes enraged and cuts her off. In Overclocked, however, this line interestingly got changed to Mari saying that Kaido’s brother’s death was her fault.

The fact that the writers changed this line shows that Mari’s guilt is essential to understanding her character.

So back to why this guilt bridges the two conflicting parts of her personality.

As I said earlier, Mari was walking on a tightrope trying to balance her relationship and her job. I have no doubt that she was devoted to her lover, but in order to minimize any threat to her employment, she probably publicly downplayed her relationship with the leader of the Shibuya Daemons. (Although we know she didn’t hide it completely, as she has no issue mentioning it to Kazuya and the others).

However, it’s because she didn’t go all in with her relationship that she feels guilt over her lover’s death.

After Kudlak is defeated, Mari says that her lover’s death always ate away at her for some reason, and she blamed herself for his death. She knows that the guilt she feels is irrational, but she can’t help those feelings anyway.

This would explain why she’s so willing to follow Kaido and Kazuya no matter their decisions. She feels an incredible amount of guilt (these strong feelings allowed her to summon Kresnik to begin with), and she wants to make sure she never makes that mistake again, no matter the cost.

Another thing which supports this theory of where her guilt came from is actually to compare her unequivocal support with Atsuro’s.

As I said in my analysis about Atsuro, he is loyal to Kazuya, but in doing so, he turns a blind eye to the fact that he’s sacrificing his morals. He expresses doubt at the morality of his actions, and during Naoya’s kill route, desperately tries to convince himself that what he’s doing is for the greater good, even though he knows deep down that isn’t the case.

Mari, on the other hand, shows no qualms about killing YHVH and other people, as evidenced in Naoya’s route. However, we know she doesn’t care much about the war between demons and YHVH either, since she asks to join the group during Amane’s ending.

Not once does she ever talk about the morality of her actions like Atsuro does. Seeing as she’s happy to either kill or support YHVH, she clearly has no regard for the outcome of humanity. All she cares about is giving her full support to those she cares about.

What we can gather from this is that once Mari decides to move on with her life after defeating Kudlak, she not only has totally forsaken her morals, but welcomed and embraced this change in her. The only thing driving her actions is the desire to never feel that level of guilt ever again. To her, the only way to do so is by giving her full and unconditional support to those she cares about.

The best proof that this is her new motivation is when she joins the group on Naoya’s seventh day. After Kaido tries to discourage her from teaming up with them, Mari says that Kaido let Mari lean on him, even though she was being selfish regarding how she went ahead with searching for the bloodless murderer. She then continues to say “That’s why… This time, it’s my turn to let you lean on me.”

This would explain why Mari has no qualms about killing others. Remember, the first person to propose killing the demon tamers in Naoya’s eighth day wasn’t Naoya. It was Kaido. After the group runs away from the demon tamers, Kaido asks why Kazuya can’t just kill a few of them to set an example. It’s after this suggestion was offered that Naoya states killing others is one way of handling the situation.

Because this was Kaido’s idea, Mari is more than willing to go along with it. Mari doesn’t really want to kill others, but if that’s what Kaido wants to do, then Mari will support it wholeheartedly.

This unwavering loyalty is also demonstrated in Naoya’s kill route, when she tries to convince Midori and Yuzu that Kazuya’s actions are justified. Her attempt fails, but we clearly see that Mari is still trying to support Kazuya despite being kicked out of the group.

When we compare the woman Mari was introduced as to the woman she becomes after defeating Kudlak, the difference is striking. She seems almost like an entirely new person in just a few days. I found it fascinating how she so willingly gave up her perfect facade once she got revenge for the man she loved. She may seem simple and plain at first, but once you start connecting the different pieces of her personality together, she becomes a highly complex character.

[genderfluidfuckernamedfox]

The Witch is Sealed

Chapter 1 

A/N: This is my first fanfic and I’m really nervous about posting this but I hope that some feed back might encourage me to post what I write more often.

Italics means flashback

Namjoon x Reader x OC   

fluffy with some angst.  

      There was once a time, in a universe far different from ours, where the Earth was filled with extraordinary beings who possessed strange and unique abilities. These beings were called elementals or chargers but they were more commonly referred to as witches; they lived alongside the humans in peace. The two would help each other grow in knowledge that was ever expanding and art that shaped the idea of beauty for a millennia. It was a renaissance of dreams and aspirations, a time when humanity pushed the boundaries of the natural law with the help of witches. There were no wars, the very idea was inconceivable to the old generation nor was there famine, it was truly a time when the world was at peace with itself. Unfortunately just as quickly as this everlasting peace had blossomed, it collapsed. One witch was all it took. Her soul was corrupted and turned rotten from the inside out, there was nothing but evil and darkness left in her blackened heart. She used her new found dark powers and previous knowledge of the world to massacre thousands of people, not just ordinary humans either, she didn’t care who was caught in the crossfire of her rage. Entire cities were burned with a single wave of her outstretched hand.  

After the dawn had broken the new day, all that was left were the ashes of memories and towns burned to the ground. The evil witch was said to have hung herself as at sunrise, but others have speculated that she still lurks somewhere within the shadows. As a result of her uncontained violence and the utter destruction she released upon the world, a council was called upon to rid the world of witches, the people had turned against each other. The world was abruptly thrown into a dark age, with nothing but slaughter and violence to paint the years. The council consisted of three humans and three witches; together they came to a compromise. The remaining witches would leave the humans domain. The earth they were to live upon was to be hidden from sight. ( a small chunk of land deep within the forest)The new world for witches would be contained and enchanted, so that no human could ever stumble upon it. 

After the witches disappeared, over the years they were forgotten, only a select few were allowed to remember. The council and their descendants were sworn to secrecy. Over the last thousand years however, someone betrayed that promise. Only a century ago the humans openly hated the witches and a group of new age witch hunters would even go so far as to burn someone convicted of being a witch at the stake; just like in the dark ages. As a result of this witches were here on banned from ever leaving their separate domain, a spell was cast, an invisible force kept it hidden from human eye. No one would dare step near it in fear of the consequences of crossing the line that divides the two worlds. That was the original deal, stay on your side and no one gets hurt, but you never know what kind of lost soul could be wandering about the lines that separate our realities.

-------------------------------       

      It had started out as any regular day in the cabin like cottage. Except the normally clean living room was a mess with half burnt candles and the smell of sage was left lingering throughout the house. A slight ache pounded through your temples; most likely a result of last night's bonfire event. You and your two roommates had celebrated you passing your midterms with flying colors. They had surprised you when you came home; the two had greeted you at the door with your favorite cake and a few packs of soul juice. More commonly known as soju for short, the amount you consumed explained the small headache. Namjoon and Al were still passed out somewhere in the house. The three of you occupied the small space in the middle of the forest just two miles away from The School of Powers. You had been training under Namjoon and living together with him and Al for the past six months and honestly things were going great.  You all went to the college for chargers and elementals. Al, your older house mate and current best friend, was majoring in spells and enchantments and you happened run into them on the first day of freshman year. 

Walking through the crowded halls whilst trying to find out where your next class was, had proven to be beyond difficult. A few people ran past you in the crowded hallway accidentally knocking you over, you braced yourself for the cold hard wood floor to hit your skin. Yet what you felt were a pair of strong arms enveloping your frame and your back prest to a warm chest. 

“Are you okay sweetie?” a soft voice asked. 

“Y-yeah, sorry I’m just trying to find Enchantments 101,” when you finally turned around to look at the stranger who had saved you from falling, you were met with a rather short boy about 5’3 with the deepest ocean green eyes and jet black hair, his ends dyed a caramel blond and his lips resembled that of a plump rose. He smiled softly as you continued to blatantly stare. He winked at you. 

“Well, since I can tell you think I look good like this,” he motioned to his body, “wait til you see my other form.” Confused and now blushing from embarrassment as you had been caught checking him out, you wait to see what happens. Within the blink of an eye you find that a cute girl resembling him is now stood in front of you. Her hair slightly longer and face more rounded, she throws the same wink at you. Her white hoodie seemed longer and was filled out more in the chest area where as the boy you just saw a second ago in the same sweater was definitely flat chested. 

“The name’s Al, my special ability is form shifting. So I can go from this,” they then shifted back to their original form that you met them in, “to this.” Voice now much deeper but somehow still sounding the same. 

“Wow,” was all you managed to choke out while unable to tear your eyes away from them. 

“Enchantments 101 is the room right across the hall by the way.” You finally gathered yourself enough to smile at them and say a quick thanks. They gently grabbed your shoulder before you left. “You never gave me your name,” realization hit you and you suddenly felt very rude.

 “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry, how impolite of me, my name’s Y/n. It’s very nice to have met you.” They chuckled at your sudden panic. 

“No need to be so formal, it’s quite alright. I’ll see you around sweetie, now get to class.” you nodded and headed off to class, for some reason now feeling more at ease in this new school. 

The cabin that you lived in wasn’t big by any means but it has always been super comfy. However since it wasn’t very spacious, whenever someone cooked something on the stove or in the oven, the whole house went up a few degrees. Knowing this, and also knowing that this would definitely make Al uncomfortable because they had to have the house at 75 or below or else. You began to cook some eggs and toast for everyone’s breakfast. There was just something about today, you didn’t know what but you knew that something was going to happen, call it witches intuition. Breakfast seemed like the most pleasant thing that could happen right now. While scrambling the eggs and adding in the cheese you noticed a tall figure emerge from one of the rooms. 

“Y/n?” a deep sleep filled voice asked, “What’s for breakfast?” you turned around and smiled at Namjoon already setting down a plate for him and Al. 

“Scrambled eggs with cheese and some toast.” he nodded, content with your answer. He was dressed in his regular Ryan pajamas, which consisted of a long sleeve button up shirt and matching shorts. His tired eyes meet yours with a sweet dimpled smile, his line of sight shifts from you to the food as he begins to spread butter and jam on his toast. Meeting Namjoon had been weird at first but you were almost immediately comfortable with him. 

In your skill set course, everyone was supposed to show off their abilities to the class on the first day, so far three kids had gone. The first one was a fire starter and he danced around the class with his flames, it was a really beautiful performance and quiet the cool skill by Park Jimin, the applause he received was deafening. The next one could duplicate herself, it was an amazing skill but it also took a lot of her energy away. Since she wasn’t and elemental she couldn’t draw on the forces of nature to supply her magic energy, she had to recharge herself through touch. That’s the problem with having these powers, it’s a give and take relationship. The more you use your power the more it takes out of you. Depending on whether or not you're an elemental or a charger determines where and how much energy you can give or get. She went to her friend for a long hug after almost passing out due to duplicating herself twice. The class waited until she sat down to cheer for her. You thought to yourself that she shouldn’t have pushed to hard and you hoped she’d be okay, but she seemed fine after a few minutes with her friend. Upon closer inspection you could see their name tags the girls name was Lisa and her friend was Jisoo. 

The next skill that you saw sent a chill down your spine; slowly turning your blood to ice. He was an energy manipulator, it’s one of the most dangerous skills out there in the magic world; not to mention extremely rare. The way magic works is that certain people have two types of energy forms. Regular non magics have just one, in simpler terms it’s what’s referred to as the soul and magics have two distinct energy forms, their souls and then their magics. It’s what determines if they can get energy from nature or have specific chargers like people or animals and rarely there are types that charge in isolation, it lets the body know how much energy intake it can withstand before it becomes too much for the person. Being able to manipulate that is truly terrifying. The boy seemed so strong and his skill emphasized that feature ten fold. Jungkook was his name and his demonstration wasn’t exactly what you thought it would be. When he spoke it was gentle, he projected his voice enough for the whole class to hear but it was still soft and the way he spoke was kind.

“Unfortunately I’ll need a volunteer from the audience, my skill has no effect on my own energy or body... I promise I won’t hurt you, my skill is very unique and I’ll admit it can be quite dangerous. I’ve taken many precautions in my life to ensure that I don’t hurt someone. For this demonstration of my skills I’ll suppress the volunteers energy, you’ll feel sleepy and like you’ll need a nap. Once your asleep I’ll stop suppressing it so your natural energy can flow again, waking you up.” Immediately seven or eight hands flew up. You heard the class murmuring about how charming and handsome this guy was, you came to the conclusion that they wanted to be held in his arms while he put them to sleep, because that would be romantic somehow. You decided to raise your hand out of pure curiosity, you didn’t trust him but for some reason that made you feel safer about volunteering. 

“You, please come to the front of the class and stand next to me.” he pointed at you and motioned for you to stand with him. The teachers assistant stood next to you on the other side of Jungkook. 

“You’ll most likely fall or stumble a little so I’ll stand here to catch you.” you nodded as he placed his hands on your arms, barely touching you, glancing at his name tag it read ‘Namjoon’ looking back over at the boy who would temporarily be messing with your energy you gulped feeling your palms begin to sweat. Your nervousness was obvious and Namjoon began to draw soothing circles on your arms in an attempt to calm you. Jungkook noticed this too and looked you directly in your eyes. 

“Hey, it’s going to be okay. Sleep.” he whispered the last part as his palm was held up to your face. Your eyelids slowly shut and the next thing you know you’re waking up on the floor with Namjoons body beneath yours. Quickly you stood up but stumbled about momentarily unable to find your balance. Namjoon was quick to his feet, and Jungkook placed his hands on your back to keep you from falling. With them now both holding you on either side your senses had come back and you were now fully alert and unharmed. Looking down you noticed that your glasses however were not unharmed you must have fallen on them or something because they were broken into two pieces. Namjoon leaned down to pick them up as Jungkook apologized for the accident. When Namjoon handed you back your glasses they were completely fixed, not a scratch on them. 

“How did you do that?” you asked still in shock, he sheepishly smiled. 

“That’s my skill, I can bind any object on a molecular level.” you looked up at him with a sparkle in your eyes. 

“That’s so cool!”  he smiled again, this time brighter and you admired his deep set dimples and the way his eyes were shaped like crescent moons. The teachers spoke up, voice directed at you. 

“Well miss Y/n, since you’re unharmed and already up here would you like to go next?” you gave a quick nod before turning to look at the class. 

“My skill is levitation.” You got a few ‘ooh’s, and awe’s” from the class. You breathed in deep as you focused on trying to levitate a small object. Pencils are always good for this kind of activity, it started with one, then three, then six pencils were suspended in the air. Eventually everyone’s pencils and pens were floating above their heads, even the teachers cup full of pens were dangling in the classroom. You then began to gently set them back down onto the desks, exhaling as you did so. The class applauded you and Namjoon whispered in your ear.

“Great job Y/n,” as he placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. You smiled to yourself, finding this boy to be utterly captivating.

“Oh my god,” you heard Al’s voice as they shuffled into the kitchen area. “It’s so hot! I feel like I’m in Satan's urethra and he has a UTI.” Their hair was a complete mess and they were wearing nothing but baggy shorts that hung loosely off their hips. Thank god they were in male form or else you and Namjoon might have a heart attack. They looked lovingly at Namjoon as a small smile crept up onto their face. 

“Your hair’s a mess Joonie,” they ran their fingers through his hair gently fixing it. 

“You’re one to talk.” Namjoon rebutted while leaning into Al’s touch, his eyes still halfway closed not completely awake yet. 

“If you keep rubbing his hair like that he’ll fall back asleep” you warned. They nodded and moved their hand back to their lap as they sat down. 

“Yeah, you’re probably right sweetie.” you felt warmth bloom in your chest at the nickname they had given you on the first day you met. These two were your first friends in college and you felt so much love for them both, just as they did for you. 

“Love you should eat. Look at all this food Y/n cooked for us.” love was the first of many nicknames Al gave to Namjoon, he never seemed to mind. The three of you were sat down at the island in the kitchen to finish eating your breakfast. As your mind wandered off, coffee mug in hand and gazing with fondness at the two, you began to reminisce about the first time you saw them both together. 

The library is the perfect place to study for exams and get caught up on coursework. As you walk in the giant building you notice chandeliers hung up high on the large roof and what seemed like miles and miles of bookshelves against the walls and a nice common area with couches and bean bags placed all around. You notice two people studying and quizzing each other from afar. As you walked towards the familiar figures, it was Al and Namjoon, smiling to yourself you walked faster to go greet them. 

“Hi guys!” you waved frantically like an over excited child. They both looked up and smiled at you 

“Sweetie!” Al greeted back and immediately ran up to you to suffocate you in a bone crushing hug. Face now buried in their chest, you were about the same height as them but they wrapped one arm around your head and the other around your back, shoving you into their boobs. You choke out a quiet 

“Can’t... Breath.” they let go placing their hands up 

“Sorry sweetie, I just got a bit excited,” they shyly smiled and looked down avoiding eye contact, you reassured them it was all right and you both went to go sit next to Namjoon. 

“Y/n, it’s so nice to see you again,” he gently patted your back. You had never been one to be a fan of physical affection in particular but something about these two put you at ease. You felt safe with them. You looked down at the table and noticed that there was a scoreboard with their initials on each side of the paper that was split in half. So far Al’s side had 15 marks and Namjoons side only had three. 

“What’s this for?” you wondered aloud. 

“Ah, this,” Namjoon pointed to the scores, “Is a wager, that Al is currently losing.” they looked up at him and pouted. “ I honestly don’t know why you bet on these every time when you know you can’t beat me.” Still curious as to what exactly was going on you figured you might as well ask. 

“So what’s the bet?” Namjoon answered you again. 

“If Al beats me on the scoreboard then I owe them 20 bucks, but if I beat Al then they will buy me black bean noodles for dinner.” You nodded still not quite understanding how the game works. 

“Sounds fun but Al has more marks on their side, so doesn’t that mean that they are winning?” finally finding their voice Al chimed in 

“No, each question that we get wrong is a tally mark on our board so whoever has the highest score loses.” You nodded again 

“Ah, I see. So what subject are you studying?” 

“Spells.” Al and Namjoon said in unison, the three of you looked at each other and chuckled. You spent the rest of the night studying with them and when it was finally time to go, due to the library’s closing hours, Al packed up their stuff and shifted into their male form 

“Come on guys dinners on me.” They winked at both you and Namjoon and you noticed that he tensed up a bit at the sudden change in Al’s form. He bent down next to you as they were almost to the front door. 

“I swear I’ll never get used to how fast they can change forms, it shocks me almost every time.”  he laughed nervously. You gave him a reassuring smile 

“I’m sure you’ll get used to it eventually. Plus it’s a super cool skill to have. I kinda want to talk to them more about it and find out exactly how it works, the same goes for your skill of course, like can you combine any two objects or can you do more than two? you guys are both just so cool.” he smiled down at you a slight blush dusting his cheeks 

“Thanks Y/n, that’s really sweet of you to say. Your skill is cool too, is it only small objects or can you lift anything?” you were about to reply when Al shouted at the both of you. 

“Hey you guys coming or what? We can’t have a sleepover in the library, it’s getting late.” you and Namjoon both jogged to catch up with Al as they were leaving the building. He leaned over and whispered to you “They’re joking, we actually sneak in here every few weeks for a sleepover.”you laughed to yourself, trying to hide your red cheeks from Al and Namjoon. 

A slight drizzle fell from the sky and onto your party of three. Al started laughing and jumping about “Hell yeah!” they exclaimed now taking their shirt off and tying it their waist 

“What are you doing!?” you almost yelled, shocked. 

“Catch me if you can!” they yelled back running away from you and into the storm. Confused you looked to Namjoon to find some answers, he seemed just as shocked as you. 

“What-” you began but were cut off.

“Their an elemental. Specifically they get their energy from storms and rain.” you also being an elemental understood this, however you got your energy from being in the forest, it must be inconvenient for their elemental to be storms because the area that you are in usually has really great weather. you looked in the direction that Al went, they had completely disappeared from sight. 

“Do you know where they’re going? And also how the heck are we supposed to catch up with them?” he nodded 

“Yeah there’s a Korean restaurant a few streets from here, and we can catch up to them if you get on my back.” your eyes nearly bulged out of your head 

“What do you mean!? Wouldn’t that slow us down?” he laughed at your expression 

“Calm down, I’m no elemental but luckily my charger is people. So if you get on my back I can carry you while you charge my energy. Sound good?” he asked with cautious eyes probably sensing that you were uncomfortable. You nodded and climbed onto his back, nuzzling your face into his neck you suddenly felt very tired. He was so warm against you and it felt good compared to the cold in the air. He chuckled and whispered “cute” under his breath at your already half asleep form. You closed your eyes for just a minute but when they reopened you were already at the restaurant. Al waving at you both from a booth, they had shifted back to their female form and thankfully put their shirt back on. You all sat down at the booth enjoying your warm meal and talking about your majors and general life goals. It was a beautiful time with friends who you really began to cherish.

An abruptly loud crack of thunder aroused you from your thoughts, at the sound you jumped. Next to you, Al’s entire body perked up and they walked straight out the door. 

“Sorry I gotta go guys, I’ll be back before dark. Love you!” they left while grabbing a white tank top off the back of the sofa, refusing to look anywhere but forwards. Their plate still warm on the island between you and Namjoon. 

“Oppa, should we be worried about them?” you turned to him voice laced with concern, using the name he had told you to call him upon you two becoming friends, you only used it when you were worried or tired though and today you were both. He stuck his hand out to ruffle your hair. 

“I’m sure they’ll be fine baby.” he smiled kindly at you as you blushed at the nickname. 

“Let me get the dishes,” he stood up cleaning off the counter and washing the dishes as promised. You plopped down onto the couch ready to watch some netflix 

“Hey, do you wanna watch Mulan?” he shuffled over to the living room to look at the screen. 

“Sure,” he said before sitting down beside you. You looked over at him after pressing play. 

“Do you wanna cuddle?” he raised an eyebrow at you. 

“You will most definitely fall asleep if we do, you know I take energy from people.” you nodded.

“I know but I’m already sleepy and kinda worried about Al. I’d rather sleep than worry.” he then brought you into his arms, head resting on his chest as you listened to his heart beat. 

“Okay” he spoke gently, “I’m sure they’ll be fine.” he reassured you while running his fingers through your hair. It wasn’t uncommon for you and Al to cuddle with him, he did gather energy from touching and sensing others. It was also just nice for the three of you to cuddle sometimes. Slowly you drifted off into a deep sleep, what had started out as a weird dream filled with giant school books soon turned into a nightmare when you were crushed by the weight of a giant mathematics book. Suddenly you’re back home sitting at your desk that has clusters of notes and crumpled up sketches. The book open in front of you is an old journal that you used to keep ‘hey, I remember this.’ the door burst open almost flying off its hinges. 

“Y/n!” a deep familiar voice filled with anger screamed at you. “What the hell is this?” the tall man held up a sheet of paper, it was the first time you had ever documented your skill in levitation, you managed to lift up a small pebble on the playground and throw it two feet in front of you. You were so excited and proud of yourself you wrote it down, along with the next few tries. The man starts advancing towards you, you try to move but your limbs are numb and the only feeling left in your body is paralyzing fear. A sudden pain shot through your scalp, tears burned your eyes as your vision blurred. 

“Dad,” you brokenly sobbed out as he sent you flying into a wall. 

“No daughter of mine could be a magic, filthy witch.” venom spewed from his lips “Your whore of a mother must have been fucking around with a magic.” Hearing him speak of your deceased mother that way sent rage filled tears streaming down your cheeks. The look in his eyes was that of pure hatred, never had you thought he would act this way toward you. Sure he was strict and never very loving but he never laid a hand on you, not until that day.

You woke up crying into Namjoon's chest, breath short and eyes puffy. He must have dosed off as well because he sleepily grunts upon feeling you shift, gently rubbing his eyes. your body stiffens, not wanting to wake the sweet boy beneath you. He really was a beautiful person, so kind and handsome, you’d hate to make him worry. The way that the dim light hit his face giving him an unearthly glow, your heart could so easily fall in love with him if your brain didn’t know better. You slowly made your way off the couch taking care not to disturb his deep slumber. Weather like this always did this to the two of you. You’d sleep the whole day away if it wasn’t for Al’s loud personality keeping everyone more than awake. They’d always disappear for a while, never longer than three hours though. An overwhelming feeling of worry settled in the pit of your stomach. Realization hit you, they had left this morning and it was now dark outside. You felt like crying again, what could have happened to them? This late at night there’s no way that something bad didn’t happen to them. Your thoughts ran wild, but the more rational part of you dialed their phone number. Unfortunately you heard it ringing from on the island in the kitchen. They had really dropped everything and left this morning. Before you could start panicking the door was thrown open as a flash of lightning brought about another downpour of rain. Al stood in the doorway eyes halfway hidden by their drenched black and caramel locks, pupils blown wide and chest heaving up and down frantically. You noticed a large gash on their right upper arm. Lips parted trying to take in more oxygen as blood trickled down from their busted lip.

 “I fucked up.” Was all that they uttered before grabbing you by the hand and dragging you to the bathroom. 

“Woah, woah, slow down, what do you mean? Where the hell have you been? I was so worried. Tell me what’s going on,” you demanded. They grabbed your face, gently caressing your cheeks with their thumbs, looking into your eyes. 

“I promise I will sweetie, I’ll tell you everything but I need some help with this first okay?” they said getting the first aid kit out of the bathroom cabinet. You nodded taking over for them. “If we have any of that numbing potion we made a while back for shit like this I’d really love some right about now. This hurts. A lot.” you nodded finding the small purple bottle. Placing two drops on the wound causing them to sigh in relief, their shoulders dropping as they began to relax. 

“It looks like it needs stitches. We’ve got some healing tape, that should work.” they nodded giving you permission to place the sticky bandage on the gash. 

“Thank you, Y/n.” It was odd that they weren’t using the nickname they gave you. Something about it was unsettling and the air in the bathroom was now very tense. You searched for an answer to all your questions in their eyes. You took time to admire the small features about them that you haven't noticed before, like the baby freckles that lined the center of their face and the small hickey shaped birthmark on their neck next to two more prominent freckles, like constellations, they were beautiful. Al looked back at you, as if they were looking into your soul. It felt so intimate yet almost normal, their gaze drifted down to your lips before they quickly moved off to the side, avoiding eye contact. “I need to tell you what happened.” they ran their fingers through their still damp locks. 

Suddenly grabbing your hips, placing you in a sitting position on top of the toilet seat. “I like to run around the border.” They stated simply. Your eyes widened in disbelief, sure you knew that Al like to play around and be mischievous a lot but that was something that was strictly forbidden by the council. It was dangerous and they proved that today by coming back home a bloodied mess. What the hell were they thinking? Biting back your anger for their reckless behavior you waited quietly for them to continue. “First of all I know it's dumb and I'm sorry for making you worry but there is something going on here that we don't know about,” their eyes fell upon you once again as they continued. “I think we have a witch hunter problem on our hands.”