#and that she may indeed hold interest towards him to some degree but her warning him off states she has a reason for doing so

[shidoukanae]

*rereads Paris and Helene's second meeting for the nth time*

me every goddamn time: THEY HAVE SO MUCH CHEMISTRY HOW THE FUCK DO THEY HAVE THIS MUCH CHEMISTRY

It's so so so SO fun watching this entire meeting and how they both seem to constantly be in a little dance of sorts wherein Paris openly declares his interest in her and Helene keeps shutting him down ("You should come to Kylon. We won't overwork you the way your family does" -> "I don't have time to indulge in a life with people who don't think" -> "well that's good because i think about you so much i can't sleep"-> "and? get to the point already". like jfc he's not fucking vague about this At All).

But the best part is, for offstandish and disinterested as Helene is towards Paris (with her words cold and blunt towards him), it's really hard to deny that there isn't some interest on her part without there really being interest on her part (which is. confusing i know but. in context. oh. my god. she's a queerplatonic icon around Paris and i adore her for it)

My favorite thing to see in this scene is the way Paris reaches for Helene's face, casually brushing the back of his fingers against her cheek and through her hair (while commenting on how being this close to her makes his instincts spike with unease), and the moment Helene downs him she does the same exact gesture to him, lifting up his chin and brushing the back of her fingers against his face similarly. Which. Wow. I need more female antagonists to do this shit it is literally so cool to see.

Also the way Helene and Paris constantly are gauging each other is so neat. The way Helene tells Paris to "not long for what he can't have" (i.e. herself) is so neat. The way Paris is clear about his interest in Helene and she in turn matches that interest by toying with him in a way she's done with no one else in the cast is just. there is sooooo much there between them and i greatly enjoy whatever the fuck kind of chemistry it is they share because it is literally the epitome of what i crave in ships

[bytesmith]

The hair on the backs of Pellaeon's hands rose slightly as they entered the cell; the drop in temperature was noticeable. Not extreme, to a human it barely registered as mild discomfort. To a member of a species that couldn't produce its own body-heat it would be debilitating.

It wasn't an unreasonable precaution. For all their demureness and their slight, almost fragile-seeming build, the Chassa had never quite left their predatory roots behind them - and they were patient. You never quite knew with a Chassa. They might act content to serve the Empire for weeks, months sometimes, only to turn without warning and sink their fangs into the highest-ranking officer in the room. Chassa always killed for maximal damage to their enemy, just like they always went for the throat.

And indeed the prisoner's eyes focused on the Grand Admiral the moment he came into view and kept following him like a turbolaser's targeting system. Pellaeon found himself irrationally wondering how long it would take for the body-heat of three men to raise the room's temperature by those crucial few degrees.

Clearly Governor Nochras had no similar compunctions. But then, if there were any actual physical danger he probably would have held his little presentation via a holofeed.

"Grand Admiral Thrawn," he announced with a pleasure veering on smugness, "may I introduce Lady Itturka, daughter and designated successor to clan-leader Ittursh."

"My lady," said Thrawn, inclining his head with no hint of irony.

The Chassa of whose name Itturka was the mangled approximation manageable to a human throat perched on the cell's bench, her back as straight as any Imperial officer's, her crouch reminiscent of the carnivorous lizards she was descended from. She too inclined her head with glacial slowness.

"Forgive me for... not rising," she managed through half-closed lips, her speech slurred and sluggish from the cold, her eyes baleful.

"I regret the circumstances of this meeting," Thrawn replied mildly, ignoring the sally. Then he turned to Nochras. "The daughter of Ittursh", he repeated slowly, a speculative tone to the first word.

"Exactly so, Admiral", the man replied, picking up on the emphasis but mistaking its meaning. "Her only heir. Chassa aren't sentimental but they care a great deal about bloodlines. Now Ittursh's bloodline is the Empire's to cut and she knows it."

Pellaeon briefly glanced at the prisoner - the hostage - whose head had risen back to its original haughty tilt. Her alien face remained as unreadable as Thrawn's.

"You were appointed Chass-Rasshka's regional governor five standard-months ago," the admiral said.

"Yes, Sir. Right after the reconquest."

Reconquest was a rather grandiose term, Pellaeon thought dourly. Chass-Rasshka was too deep inside the Empire's remaining territory to have ever been taken by the self-styled New Republic in anything but declaration. However by the same token it had been too far on the fringes of the Empire's original territory to merit much of a permanent occupational force. In the chaos following the Emperor's death, when reprisals were no longer just a hyperspace-jump away and administrators could no longer be easily replaced, the Empire's hold on the planet had simply slipped until governing the planet in anything but declaration had become impossible as well. What Nochras so confidently called a reconquest had been the simple act of putting some boots on the ground, which was a far cry from actually controlling the Chassa.

"And since then you have made... progress with pacifying the populace?" Thrawn inquired in a tone of polite interest, giving voice to Pellaeon's own misgivings.

"They gave us some trouble in the beginning. Sabotage, isolated attacks on our people, the usual. But things are under control now," Nochras added with a jerk of his head towards Itturka.

"One of your first acts here was to halt the reconstruction of a certain building that had been undertaken in the interim and to have the restored parts destroyed again."

The governor blinked at the seeming non-sequitur. "I- yes, Sir. What they call a palace, or fortress, of the bloodline. A previous governor had the original demolished as a punitive measure. Letting them rebuild without expressed permission would have set a bad precedent."

"No doubt. Did you look at it first?"

"Not... not as such, no..."

Thrawn nodded and then addressed Itturka again.

"I had the privilege of seeing holographic copies of the reliefs in the original palace of your bloodline.”

"Not a privilege we would have granted," she replied. This time Pellaeon could see the flash of pale needle-like fangs as she spoke.

When her lips closed again his gaze briefly moved along the line of her jaw, to the delicate pattern of green and bronze scales that ran down the sides of her neck and disappeared beneath the collar of a plain prisoner's tunic.

While Pellaeon would readily admit to a complete lack of understanding when it came to art - especially alien art - even he had been impressed with the precision and attention to detail with which Chassa artists had set similarly complex patterns into mosaics on the walls of the now destroyed palace of Itturka's bloodline. Every pattern was unique, Thrawn had told him, and every one of the many-armed figures making up dozens of tableaus was patterned with a perfect likeness of the intricate swirls and stripes on the depicted Chassa's hide. Staring at the holographs in Thrawn's inner sanctum on his flagship, Pealleon had found it hard to credit but believe him he did. He'd quickly learned to never doubt the Grand Admiral on matters of strategy and art.

"I would have liked to see the art in the reconstructed palace as well," Thrawn continued mildly. "Even unfinished it must have been something to behold."

"Not a privilege we would have granted, either," replied Itturka. Pellaeon couldn't be sure but he thought there was bitterness in her voice when she added, "If given the choice."

Nochras, having grown slightly less sure of himself during the brief exchange, cleared his throat.

"Forgive me, Grand Admiral, if I had known you had an interest in- I mean, I didn't think to-"

"Governor Nochras, I can hardly fault you for failing to anticipate my personal interest in Chassa artwork."

He paused.

"Of course it would have been beneficial to have an image of Lady Itturka. Unless you already have the relevant information that would give us."

Pellaeon watched her face for a reaction but she didn't move a muscle. Here was drawback to keeping a prisoner near cold-rigor - it stilled any little twitch or tell that could give away her feelings.

Nochras had no such advantage. His discomfort was palpable and growing with every second Thrawn's glowing red eyes were on him.

"I- That is-" He gave up. "I'm afraid I don't understand, Grand Admiral."

"No," Thrawn mused softly. "I take it you never paid any attention to contemporary Chassa art, or you might have stopped to wonder why a humanoid species would choose to depict themselves with up to eight arms each."

The man frowned in confusion. "I'd assumed those were gods of some sort."

It wasn't a bad guess. Pellaeon himself had thought as much when Thrawn put that same question to him earlier, in the holographic twilight of his personal command suite. But then, he hadn't been the governor of this planet these past five months. He wouldn't be expected to know the dominant religion among the Chassa had not for millenia involved the worship of anthropomorphic gods, many-armed or otherwise.

Thrawn gave the governor a long, thoughtful look. Then, abruptly, he turned to fully face the Chassa.

"Lady Itturka," he said softly. "How many arms did your likeness in the palace of your bloodline show?"

The Chassa's head and shoulders lowered slightly. Not a sign of submission, Pellaeon reminded himself. Her primordial ancestors had been the planet's apex predators, they had never cowered in tall grass or underbushes to escape danger. They had crouched before attacking.

"Knowing that," she hissed, "is another privilege. One I can choose not to grant you."

The challenge hung between them, heavy and oppressive like ionized air just before a thunderstorm. Nochras cleared his throat, as though he felt the tense silence should only be broken very carefully, bit by bit.

"Sir, with all due respect", he murmured, "may I remind you that holding Clan Leader Ittursh's sole heir, alive and- and relatively unharmed..."

"-would be a key strategic advantage, I agree," Thrawn finished the sentence for him without taking his eyes off Itturka's. "Therefore we should ascertain if that is, in fact, the situation."

Nochras opened his mouth as if to protest but wisely closed it again when the Grand Admiral continued.

"You are correct inasmuch as Ittursh has one heir, the way the Chassa see it. However that doesn't necessarily mean you captured the only member of her clutch who lived to adulthood."

"I- What?"

"To put it bluntly, Governor Nochras, the question is whether, in the eyes of the Chassa, you're holding a complete hostage or just an expendable part of one."

Itturka still met his eyes, unblinking. Even considering that it was mostly the chill that turned her face into a motionless mask Pellaeon had to respect her composure. Few had the nerve to hold Thrawn's glowing red eyes for long, and even fewer would manage it when facing the prospect of an Imperial interrogation. No doubt she expected the definition of 'relatively unharmed' to become rather malleable once the Empire learned she might still have sisters at large.

Except the Chassa wouldn't consider them sisters. They would consider them to be extensions of the same person. Executing her - this one member of the gestalt-person that comprised Itturka - might be considered a maiming, if anything, as long as at least one of her clutch-mates was still alive. The bloodline that the Chassa set so much stock by would remain unbroken.

Pellaeon supposed this way of looking at identity made sense when out of a clutch of half a dozen eggs only one hatchling survived more than a few days and usually wound up devouring its weaker siblings into the bargain. However it seemed the Chassa had collectively refused to change their outlook when advances in agriculture gave them easy access to extra protein and twins and triplets became commonplace.

He glanced over at Nochras, whose face had turned ashen when the implications dawned on him.

"I didn't- I wasn't told-" he stammered, but Thrawn cut him off.

"It isn't something the Chassa like to discuss with off-worlders, not even in the days of the Old Republic."

And of course they wouldn't dream of doing so now when it could be turned into a tactical advantage against a hated occupying force - although Thrawn believed it was as much because of a strong societal taboo that kept them from acknowledging the existence of surplus siblings, except as coy allegories in the artwork that would immortalize them to their descendants.

The governor swallowed drily and with visible effort drew himself up, with his hands clasped behind his back, presumably to hide any fidgeting. Of course, Pellaeon mused, he was old enough to have served under the late Lord Vader, when an oversight like this could get a man strangled on the spot.

"Will you want to oversee the interrogation personally, Grand Admiral?" he asked in a subdued tone that was a stark contrast to his earlier demeanor.

"Perhaps in due course, if it proves necessary. For now have everything prepared for a prisoner transfer to the Chimera. The Lady Itturka will be moved off-planet. Indefinitely."

That did get a reaction out of her. Her clawed fingers flexed, slowly and no doubt painfully from the cold, like those of an old woman with gout in her hands.

"If you do this thing," she hissed, "if I am no longer here, seen to be under your power, there will be nothing to stay my mother's hand. There will be blood again."

"There may be blood," Thrawn corrected her. "And if there is, maybe the Empire will shed yours in return. And maybe not. Your mother will never be sure. You will never be sure."

That last 'you' referring to any sister-selves she might still have on Chass-Rasshka. Pellaeon tried to imagine having a limb anesthetized, strapped down outside of his view, without knowing whether it would be returned to him eventually or be chopped off - or already had been. Yes, he could see how such uncertainty would be destabilizing to the Chassa's alien psychology. Certainly enough to make up for losing the poisoned fruit that was a hostage who might turn out to be an acceptable loss to the enemy after all.

And if he'd had any doubts, they were dispelled by Itturka slowly curling her lips, baring her inch-long, needle-shaped fangs in a mute display of emotion – though whether it was fury or anguish Pellaeon couldn't tell.

[bakuhoes-dumbass]

Aberration - Chapter 2

MHA!Various x Fem!Reader

Thriller/Horror/Drama

Criminal!AU

Words: 1.5k

A/N: Yay, here’s the second chapter of my new AU! It’s a little shorter but I promise chapters will get longer as we go.

Warnings: Yandere Themes, Mentions of murder, blood, felonies, bullying, swearing.

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of MHA, just this story. In no way does this reflect the characters, writers or VAs of the show/manga. MINORS DNI.

~~~

Aberration Masterlist

~~~

"Now, on to your next subject. Inmate 04, Eijiro Kirishima." You flip the page of your inmate profiles to see a picture of a red-haired man. "He is of a higher danger level, so make sure to keep your guard up. And for the love of God, under any circumstances…

Do not touch him."

Only slightly acknowledging his warning, you look down at your notes, eyebrows shooting up in surprise at the words on the page. "He suffers from Erotomania? Interesting…"

Aizawa nods. "Ah, yes. A very rare condition indeed, especially in males. The affected person strongly believes that another individual is in love with them. This delusion develops and persists despite clear evidence to the contrary."

"That's a very exciting find. I can't wait to meet him." Your eyes light up, quite intrigued.

Aizawa sighs and gestures with his head. "Follow me."

Kirishima's room was only a few doors down from Tokoyami's. Once again, Aizawa presses his hand to a key code and you hear the door unlock, following a buzzer. You slowly make your way into the room. It mirrors Tokoyami's down to the last detail, the only difference being a redhead was currently doing pushups.

He barely acknowledges a person stepping into his room, eyes flitting to your form and back to the ground. It takes him a moment to realize it was someone new. As soon as he does, his eyes widen and he springs onto his feet, slightly startling you.

"Oh! Hello there! You're new!"

You nod your head and smile at the red-head. "That I am. My name is Y/N and I'm the newest scientist at this facility. My role here is to get to know and observe you all to help further our findings for a cure." You choose to leave out the 'friends' part, as something about him makes you weary. You don't need anything being misinterpreted.

"Hello there, Y/N! My name is Kirishima!" He takes a step towards you but is suddenly stopped by a lower force. You look down to see his ankles chained to the heavy-duty bed frame, connected to him by quirk-canceling cuffs. You look back up to see him looking at you intensely, with a shark-toothed smile. "Man, you're really pretty!"

You swallow thickly, but keep your smile. "That's very kind of you to say, Kirishima. Now, if I may." You take a seat at the desk like you did with Tokoyami. Kirishima follows suit and sits across from you on the bed. His smile never wavers, making you slightly uneasy. You ignore it and turn to a blank page in your notebook. "Now, if you could please state your full name, age and date of birth?"

He gives you a chuckle and points to himself proudly with his thumb. "I'M Eijiro Kirishima! I'm 22 years old and my Birthday is October 16th!"

You giggle softly at his extroverted personality. "Ahh, same birth month as Tokoyami." You mumble to yourself. His ears perked up and his smile faltered slightly.

"You met Tokoyami already?"

"Hm?" You look up and smile fondly. "Ah yes, I have. He was the first one. A very nice young man."

You look back down at your notes, failing to see Kirishima's eye twitch slightly. He returns to his signature smile as you look up at him again. "And what is your quirk?"

"Oh, it's so cool! I can harden my entire body to an extreme. I can make myself a shield or a weapon! Pretty manly, am I right?" Kirishima wiggles his eyebrows at you, causing you to chuckle.

"That is definitely a unique one, Kiri." You, once again, fail to notice the way his eyes light up at the nickname, too busy looking down at your notes. "Now I see here that you've been charged with Stalking and 2 counts of second degree murder. Is that correct?"

"Yup! Although I don't understand how it would be considered 'Stalking', when she always knew I was around. She was okay with it, too! I mean, we WERE in love, you know." He furrows his brows.

You raise a brow and write down everything he says. "Care to continue explaining what happened? Why were you brought into this facility?"

Kirishima sighs and rests his chin on his hand, a dazed look on his face. "Well, you see. There was this girl. We were totally, completely head over heels for each other. You've probably heard of her, Kim Hyuna?"

Your eyebrows shoot up. Yeah, you heard of her. She is one of the biggest idols around right now, extremely pretty and extremely talented. She has millions of fans from around the world. You already can see where the direction of this story is headed.

He continues with a wide smile. "We used to go out on dates everywhere. To the mall, the salon, even to her dorms. We were so in love." His dazed expression turns sour. "Then that stupid boy shows up outta nowhere. He took her from me. He dared to take something so precious from me. So, I couldn't take it anymore and, uh, kinda killed them."

You watched him rub the back of his neck sheepishly, like the situation was no more than a mere broken dish he dropped on accident. You nod your head carefully, writing the last bit of information down. Clicking your pen, you look up and give the young man a fake smile.

"Well, that's it for today, Kirishima. I must take my leave, but I'll be back to run some tests soon."

Kirishima frowns and quickly stands up. "W-Wait, already?"

You gather up your notes and clipboard. "Yes, unfortunately. I do have some other patients I need to get to before-" as you go to stand up, your foot gets caught under the chair leg and you trip. You accidentally fall forward and into something hard. Looking up, you realized you fell against Kirishima himself, your hands splayed out against his chest.

His eyes widen, staring down at your hands against his chest, something shifting in his eyes. Before you're able to pull your hands away, his own reach up and snatch your wrists, holding them in place. A blush appears on the apples of his cheeks.

"Y-Y/N. I-I had no idea you felt the same."

Your eyes widen in fear. You attempt to tug your hands away, but his iron grip tightens into a bruising force. "Kirishima, I would advise you to kindly let go of me. Please, don't misunderstand the situation."

His grin widens, showcasing his sharp teeth. Red eyes bore into yours with a wild look. You hear the door buzz behind you and a flood of voices coming in. You feel a pair of arms reach around you and hands grip your elbows. Two pairs of hands each grab Kirishima by the arms and force him to release his grip on you. You watched two of Aizawa's assistants hold down a struggling Kirishima as you were forcibly dragged out of his room.

Once safely outside, you were spun around to meet the eyes of a fuming and worried doctor. "Are you alright, Y/N?" Aizawa's eyes travel along your body, doing a quick examination to make sure nothing was injured.

You nod your head and rotate your slightly bruised wrists. "Y-Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little shaken up."

Aizawa sighs. "Didn't I say NOT to touch him? His obsession tends to solidify with physical contact."

You wince. "I know. This time it was an accident. I tripped and he just happened to, uh, be the 'wall' I fell against." You think back to the moment you fell against Kirishima. His chest felt almost rock solid, not like a normal human body would be. Now you're thinking that his quirk leaked through the cuffs and that thought scares you.

"Nobody said you were clumsy when you were hired," he sighs and runs a hand down his tired face. "There are still 9 other inmates you need to check with. And 6 out of the 9 are above Kirishima's danger level. Are you still up for it today?"

You shake out your hands and nod your head. "Yes! I am. A little scare never bothered me. This is my job."

Aizawa hummed in reply and flipped through his clipboard, stopping on a page. "Inmate 09, Keigo Takami. Mafia leader. He's a level 7 as well, but doesn't have delusions like Inmate 04 does. While he's very dangerous, he's a little more tolerable." Aizawa hesitates before continuing. "Er, minus the excessive flirting."

You sigh and flip through Keigo's information. "Oh goodie. Well, let's get this over with." You follow Aizawa to Keigo's door and once it buzzes, you enter the pristine, white room.

"Good afternoon Mr. Keigo, my name is Y/N and I'll-" You look up from your notes to see a half naked man with blonde hair and bright red bird wings lounging on his bed. Your jaw drops and you hold your clipboard up in front of your suddenly heated face.

Keigo looks over to you with his brows raised. "Well well, looks like we've got ourselves a new baby bird. How…" The handsome man's lips turn up into a cocky smirk.

"...interesting."

~~~

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(If your name is bolded, I couldn’t tag you)

[parablesoftheone]

Ginko and Adashino: a study in Daoist perspectivism

Huizi said, “I am not you, to be sure, so I don’t know what it is to be you. But by the same token, since you are certainly not a fish, my point about your inability to know the happiness of fish stands intact.”

Zhuangzi said, “Let’s go back to the starting point. You said, ‘Whence do you know the happiness of fish?’ Since your question was premised on your knowing that I know it, I must have known it from here, up above the Hao River.”

—Zhuangzi: Essential Writings, pg. 76

It would be criminally neglectful to talk extensively about Mushishi without discussing Ginko and Adashino’s friendship. Apart from Ginko himself, Adashino is the most frequently recurring character in the stories, and he and Ginko obviously share a connection that goes well beyond trading in mushi-related goods. 

In contrast to Ginko’s other significant relationship, this one is not with someone who shares his degree of centeredness. Adashino’s focus is markedly external, his habits of life and outlook very much out of line with the teachings of Lao Tzu. Most obviously, he stockpiles a wealth of mushi-related treasures and is always on the lookout for more, while Ginko’s possessions are pretty much what he has in his backpack. The storing up of wealth and possessions, the Dao De Jing warns, can only bring grief: "Amass a store of gold and jade,” it says in verse #9, “and no one can protect it.” And indeed, Adashino’s storehouse is invaded with dire consequences no later than the tenth episode of the first season. His insatiable desire for interesting items persists nonetheless, leaving him open to a level of emotional excitability Ginko never displays even at his most distressed.

(Still, a man’s gotta protect his property...)

This is hardly the only particular in which Adashino and Ginko are decidedly unalike. S2 E8 "Wind Raiser” especially develops their differences. When Adashino takes credit for Ginko’s cure, Ginko completely ignores it; when Adashino speculates about what the young man Ginko advises will do, Ginko responds with a laconic, “Who knows?” These simple interchanges point toward their fundamental contrast: Ginko’s mindset is Daoist, and Adashino’s is (mostly) not. In accord with multiple verses of the Dao De Jing (#2, #10, #30...), Ginko doesn’t care a damn about who gets credit for his work; neither does he care to speculate about future events, preferring to “move with the present” (Dao De Jing #14). His focus is centered; Adashino's is outward.

Given these divergent values and the fact that Ginko reguarly cheats Adashino—of which Adashino is well aware—an observer might wonder why these two have anything to do with each other, much less why they’re such good friends. 

But their bond makes perfect sense through a Daoist eye. 

Daoist perspectivism

To the Daoist mind, contrasts and differences are part of how the world functions—and this includes differences from the Daoist mind. Zhuangzi not only teaches followers of the dao to not disdain non-Daoist values but hold “perfectly to the differing allotments of things” (Zhuangzi: Essential Writings, pgs. 70–71); his own closest friend Huizi is a man with whom he trades debates and criticisms throughout the Zhuangzi (pgs. 8, 38, 112...). This worldview doesn’t seek the exclusion of others—the Daoist idea of “oneness” means that opposing views and forces are inherently one, without being made to unite or agree.

Along with this embracing of contrasts comes a firm belief in perspectivism: that anything that can be affirmed from one perspective can be negated from another and vice versa, and that each person and creature’s nature and experiences determine what is right from her/his/its own perspective. "The embrace of the same viewpoint,” says the Zhuangzi, “comes simply from being in the same position” (pg. 101).

Just as Ginko understands that the natures of the mushi are rightful parts of the world whether they’re valued by humans or not, he also understands the validity of differing human viewpoints. Though he scolds Adashino for the trouble his collection causes, he doesn’t consider him lesser or unworthy of friendship because of it, or because of any other contrasts between them. Through all the disparity in their values, they share a connection—and in true Daoist fashion, their differences are likely what brought them together in the first place. Ginko gathers mushi-related items, and Adashino wants them. Ginko has no desire to collect things or haul them around, so he’s happy to sell... if not always honestly.

Which raises the next point about their relationship: Ginko’s shady business ethics. 

Perspectivism applies here too. As Zhuangzi tells us, “whatever might be [from some perspective] strange, grotesque, uncanny, or deceptive” (pg. 13) can be affirmed as right from another view, and this certainly applies to Ginko and Adashino’s exchanges. To an outsider, they’re questionable as all get out—but it’s not an outsider’s view that matters. Both Ginko and Adashino freely choose to associate with each other on their current terms, because that choice makes sense to them. Adashino knows from the start that Ginko isn’t always on the level—from his first appearance in S1 E5 “The Traveling Swamp,” he’s questioning Ginko’s story about the green sake cup. And as Ginko points out, Adashino is under no obligation to buy from him—he chooses to, knowing the odds, and continues to choose to. And we can see in “Wind Raiser” that Adashino values even the more questionable items Ginko’s sold him; he’s held on to all of it, even the stuff he's probably guessed is junk.

Whether this arrangement makes sense or seems right to an outsider is irrelevant. Ginko and Adashino accept each other as they are, and the only ones who need to validate those choices are themselves. 

So, for all their differences, do Ginko and Adashino have anything in common? 

In fact, they do—and one significant value they share is the very perspectivism that shapes their relationship. We can see as much in “The Traveling Swamp,” when Adashino asks Ginko why he’s so determined to save Io from becoming a mushi. 

“If the girl said she wanted desperately to live,” he says, “I’d understand. But she wanted to become part of the swamp, right? That might be her happiness... Sometimes that’s the way it is in this world, though it sounds cruel...”

Adashino’s statement points to the path along which he and Ginko connect: No less than Ginko, Adashino is open to another’s perspective, even one that he acknowledges sounds terrible. He fully understands that “rightness” for one person is not the same as “rightness” for another.

Ginko’s reply underscores that he shares this value. In S1 E1 “The Green Throne,” he made a human a mushi because it was her choice—despite his own assessment that becoming a mushi is a terrible fate for a human. He seeks to prevent the same from happening to Io, not because he doesn’t value her choice, but because his observation of her has convinced him that she doesn’t understand what she’s giving up—that she’s making her choice without full knowledge. 

Interestingly, in this sense, Ginko and Adashino’s exchange is reminiscent of one between Zhuangzi and Huizi. Crossing over a river with his friend, Zhuangzi comments on the happiness of the fish below. Huizi protests and asks, "Whence do you know the happiness of fish?” In his frequently smartass fashion, Zhuangzi replies that he knows it from the position where they stand, above the river, watching the fish (pg. 76).

Not simply a play on words, this exchange is an illustration of Daoist perspectivism. Zhuangzi’s point is that, while we truly can’t know the perspectives of anyone other than ourselves, we must proceed from our own—including our observations of what may or may not make others happy. Not able to consult Io on the matter, Ginko has to proceed from his own observations, which lead him to believe she still cherishes human feelings.

Like Zhuangzi and Huizi, Ginko and Adashino both know that perspective is individual, and they respect the choices others make from their own. Adashino respects that Io may, after all, want to become a mushi, and Ginko respects that, in his assessment, she probably doesn’t—just as, in Renzu’s case, he respects that she does. 

By this same principle, they respect each other’s natures, Ginko accepting that Adashino is an outward-focused, obsessive collector of things, and Adashino accepting that Ginko will occasionally chastise him or sell him a bad coat. 

On these multiple levels, their relationship is one of Daoist perspectivism. And in the same way that Ginko can guess what Io’s happiness might be, we can “know” from observing them that Ginko and Adashino value their relationship just as it is—with no need for any foundational “rightness” other than their own choices.

With all that said, there is another kind of rightness to their friendship. In their contrasts to each other, Ginko and Adashino fit together. This is even signaled visually: Adashino's light-reflecting monocle signifies the yang within his yin, just as the tokoyami in Ginko's opposite eye is the yin within his yang. Like Ginko and Tanyuu, Ginko and Adashino form a Taiji, interlinked and corresponding through their similarities and their differences alike.

[airi-p4]

Pirate Luka AU

I wrote this fic for my amazing friend @katydoodles​ Birthday. This story is based on Katy’s Pirate Luka AU (check her art if you haven’t yet because it’s amazing!), and it’s Luka/Harem (with Kagami, Chloe, Marinette and Adrien).

Beware this story may differ from Katy’s original story.

TW: mentioned violence (cut tongues / severed body parts) idk how I should tag this

Happy Birthday Katy! 💙💙💙

AO3

________________________________________

Luka admired his newly acquired prize in his ship chamber- the captain’s room. His boots were on the table, legs crossed and his back laid back, while he observed, satisfied, the jar that contained XY’s freshly cut tongue in it. His lips curled in a pleased smirk. He had been considering throwing it to feed the sharks, but the gratification the reward gave him made him glad to have dismissed the idea.

XY deserved to be silenced.

And he was now.

Once more, Luka reached where ‘justice failed’ with his law of silence.

Luka stood up to place the jar back to its place on the shelf. He took one step backwards and walked slowly around the wooden room contemplating his collection. Dozens- hundreds- of jars filled with tongues decorated the room, as if they were the displays of a museum. Each jar was completed by the owner’s name, the date, and their crime properly tagged.

All jars full- except for one.

The pirate ship’s captain teeth clenched and his black nails sank in his skin as he remembered that man- the man who betrayed his father’s tongue, the man who ruined his family. The man he swore revenge to. The man that turned him into a pirate, and the one he couldn’t wait to kill. His blood boiled at the memory of that face- that ugly face he had many ideas of how to destroy, such as-

A knock at the door distracted him from his thoughts.

“Come in” Luka ordered, releasing his anger; and his first officer obeyed, entering the room and closing the door behind her.

“Captain. Everything’s ready”

“Very well. Thank you, Kagami” he smiled, fixing one of the tags that were blurried by dust with his finger.

“Were you watching your collection again, Captain? It certainly is impressive. As expected of my Captain.”

Luka smiled proudly at his first officer. Who would have thought a noble Lady like her would fit so perfectly in his crew? He clearly remembered how grossed out she was the first time she entered his chamber. Now she was grossed out by the people those tongues belonged to: rapists, murderers, dishonorable and corrupted powerful people (such as judges or city rulers), slavers, pedophiles (the real kind, not those who draw harmless art like some people overreacting may say) and art reposters (those had all their tongues in the same jar, nameless but still punished). All of them were silenced now in Luka’s jars on the shelves.

His crewmates were mostly people saved from the hands of those men. He had let them choose if they wanted to join him or leave freely, but most of them wanted to stay to serve their savior. Nino had been one of the slaves Luka rescued. Alix was abused by her step-father, a corrupted ruler of one of the cities they stopped at. Kim was forced to hard work for stealing from a noble for the poor, and he was about to be hanged just before Luka stepped in to help. Ivan and the rest of his crewmates had similar stories to share.

Captain Luka was more than respected by all his crewmates, and he considered them friends. He trusted them blindly with his life, and it was the same for them.

“Let’s go, Kagami”

“Yes, Captain!”

Luka stepped out of his chamber followed by his first officer, who closed the door behind them. They walked upstairs to the deck.

“Land in sight!” Kim yelled from up the crow’s nest when he noticed Luka.

Luka approached the bowsprit, put one of his feet on it, and gestured to Kagami for a telescope. She immediately lent him one, and he observed the new landscape in front of him: a cliff, a lighthouse, a harbor, and a town. And more importantly: a castle up a hill.

Perfect.

“Ivan, turn 20 degrees to your right, we’re stopping behind those rocks”

“Yes, Captain!” Ivan obeyed.

“Nino, Alix, stay on your positions and take care of the sails”

“Yes Captain!” They answered in unison.

A smile formed on Luka’s lips. That’s the piracy he liked- steal treasures from the rich and punish the bad guys. That island appeared to have both. Luka licked his lips in excitement as he returned the telescope to Kagami.

“Hey!” Out of nowhere, a female voice from below yelled. “Help me up!”

Kagami’s eyes narrowed as she recognized the voice owner. She was about to draw her sword when Luka stopped her.

“It’s fine, Kagami, I’ll take care of her”

Kagami followed his instructions, but she didn’t even try to hide her disagreement. “We should sell her and she would leave us alone…” she mumbled, and Luka chuckled at her reaction. Jealous Kagami was always adorable and a delight. He couldn’t help but feel fortunate and moved for having her full attention- not that he didn’t have some worship for her too.

Luka walked towards a fishnet that rested at the side of the ship. He looked down, amused at the difficulties the person below was having to climb up. “You again, huh?” Luka asked. “Why do you keep coming back? Aren’t you scared of pirates? We could sell you, Lady Siren.”

“My name is Chloe!” her yellowish eyes glowed from below. “Hurry up and help me up! I have something to show you”

“Hmm… Those magical jewels from under the sea again, maybe? Weren’t they guarded by your other siren friend? Did you steal them?”

“Yes! I snatched a few! Now help me and let you show you!”

Luka sighed, but he couldn’t hide his curiosity as he helped her up. What he thought made him almost fall on his butt to the floor.

The siren had LEGS. Legs that still couldn’t control enough to carry her own weight, apparently, but still legs. Human legs. Luka’s breath was taken away by the sight, and even Kagami couldn’t hide her astonishment.

What was going on?

“What? Surprised?” Chloe attempted to stand up holding onto the rail, smiling triumphantly. “I told you those jewels were magical! I’m a human now! So hurry up and propose to me. Your ridiculous excuse is not valid anymore!”

Luka’s eyes started glowing in yellow, bright as the former siren’s one, but before he could open his mouth, Kagami stepped between them. “Show respect to our Captain! He would never marry someone unworthy like you!” She pointed her sword to Chloe’s throat and noticed Luka’s eyes return to his original sky blue color, freeing him from Chloe’s spell. “Try something funny and I’ll cut you,” she warned.

“How did you do that?” Luka asked, gesturing Kagami to lower her sword. “What happened to your legs? Is it the jewel’s power? What other powers do they have?”

Chloe directed a victorious smirk to Kagami from behind Luka’s shoulder. The first mate was boiling in anger, but her respect for Luka was more important to her own feelings. Loyalty was what Luka valued the most about her, her Captain had confessed to her before. She couldn’t betray his trust- not even for her jealousy.

“I told you they were amazing, didn’t I?” Chloe raised her chin proudly as she laughed hysterically. “I have this one for you too - the snake one. It has the power you just need to get your revenge. I can give it to you if you accept to marry me!”

“I’m not interested in marriage, but I’m interested in those jewels. What are their powers?” Luka asked, fascinated to see how she had indeed real feet and toes. He examined them with his hands and she giggled at the tickles.

“All of them have the ability to give legs to sirens. The Bee one, the one I have, can paralyze opponents with just one gaze. The snake one is special: can control both time and space. You can know where and when you can find whatever you’re looking for, and even predict your opponent's moves beforehand. For example... “ Chloe continued, and with a finger snap he made Kim teleport down to the deck.

“What the-!?” he yelled. “What happened? I was up the crow’s nest!”

Luka looked mesmerized at the magic he had just seen. “Kim, go back up. Sorry about that”. Kim scratched his head in confusion and started climbing up again. “How much for that jewel?”

“My Captain! You can’t accept that! That would be cheating!” Kagami shouted. “You’re better than that!”

“No, listen, Kagami. I don’t pretend to use this to take advantage of my enemies. I just want to find that man- the man who ruined my family. The man I swore revenge on. I’ll find him thanks to this jewel and I’ll finally be free from this hate that haunts me. The chase will be over”

“What about us, then, Captain!? What about this ship, our adventures!?” Kagami seemed heartbroken at the thought of her piracy story ending. And also scared to be separated from her dearest Captain. “I left everything for you and this crew! You can’t just betray us like that!”

“Oh, no, my dear Kagami. Finding that man will not change much. I want to keep sailing together with all of you, forever. You’re my family too” Kagami blushed at Luka’s unusually tender smile. “But I need to keep my promise. You know I never leave business unfinished”

“I understand, captain” Kagami used her sleeve to dry her tears. “But I still think it’s not worth it losing your freedom and marrying that- that fish for that purpose. We’ll find that man, we don’t need magic for that!”

Luka stared at Kagami, moved by her trust in him. She was really cute, wasn’t she? He almost couldn’t hold his smile back. “I know we will.  And I don’t plan to marry. I just don’t want someone else to kill him before we find him” He reassured his first officer, and she smiled fondly. That was his captain.

“Oh, no, pirate! No marriage, no deal!” Chloe rumbled under Kagami’s judging stare. “You have no idea how hard it was to get this! Not even all the gold from your world would be enough to buy it!”

“Then we just have to kill you and steal it, right?” Kagami glared, getting her sword ready causing Chloe to shriek.

“Wait, Kagami. We don’t know how to use it. We can’t kill her” That wasn’t exactly the only reason he wanted her alive. Luka couldn’t deny he felt himself… attracted to the siren’s looks. She was beautiful, even if she was somewhat noisy. And her singing voice was hypnotizing… He didn’t want her or her song to die.

“Make your decision fast, because if you don’t, I’m destroying it!” Chloe warned.

“No, no, wait!!

“Captain, no!”

“I’m going to destroy it! I’ll give you 10 seconds…! 10… 9…”

“No- wait!”

“8… 7…”

“Captain, you can’t do it!”

“6… 5… 4…”

“I know but-!”

“3… 2…1….”

"Chloe wait, I-"

“STOP WHERE YOU ARE, CHLOE!” A new voice shouted, and a new siren jumped from the sea to the deck. Her hair was long and black, and her tail was beautiful in pink.

“Argh! Not now, Marinette Dupain-Cheng!” Chloe groaned in disgust. “He was about to accept my proposal!”

Luka stared as the new siren called for some magical words and shifted his tail to legs. ‘Another magical jewel’ he realized, and was fascinated by her beauty (the fact that she was naked didn’t help either). She looked as if she had come straight out from a painting, and his heart beat fast in an unknown feeling. The most beautiful song he had ever heard: clear as a music note, sincere as a melody. He wished for that melody to last forever in his ears.

“Chloe! Give the Miraculous back!” The siren shouted in anger. “You know how dangerous they are yet you stole them!”

“Hey!” Luka snapped out at Chloe’s cry and hurried to grab a tablecloth from nearby and offer it to the naked siren, while looking the minimum as possible. “Use this”

Marinette turned to look at him confused, wondering what was supposed to do with that. She noticed how Chloe was wearing something similar to cover herself, and the blush on that unknown man made her remember being naked was a big deal in the human world. She exploded in embarrassment. “Thank you…” she hurried to snatch the clothes.

She found herself staring at his relieved smile. And her heart started beating faster. Breath-taken by his handsomeness and calm. Their eyes met and time stopped, and Marinette finally understood why Chloe would wish to steal those jewels for selfish reasons. She would consider it too if she wasn’t the guardian.

“Hey! He’s mine, don’t you dare take him away from me!” Chloe hissed. She clumsily ran to Luka’s side and fell into his arms when her legs couldn’t support her any longer.

“Captain!” Kagami soon cried in worry, and approached to try to separate them.

“Chloe!” A new emotion formed in Marinette’s chest. Jealousy. “Give it back!” she jumped to pull her away from Luka.

And Luka- well, he couldn’t move. Surrounded by beautiful ladies… He had always been a heartbreaker, never a ladies man- what was wrong with him? He was enjoying that situation too much for his own sanity.

Suddenly, another siren jumped to the deck- a blond man with the most beautiful emerald colored eyes Luka had ever seen. Even Kagami seemed impressed by them, and that was new in Luka’s first officer.

“Adrien!” The mermaid called Marinette called him. “Help me!”

“Immediately, M’lady!” even his voice was cute, Luka thought. That couldn’t be healthy for his heart.

Adrien shifted to a human after calling for some magical words and Marinette tossed him a part of tablecloth she tore from hers. He looked confused at first, but imitated Marinette’s use for it.

Adrien tackled Chloe from the side, resulting in all of them falling down to the floor. Taking advantage of being on top after falling down, Luka managed to steal the snake Miraculous from Chloe. He raised up his hand… “Kagami! I’ve got it! Take it!” but… an eagle descended and took it from him in its talons and flew away from them towards the island in sight. “Ah-”

All of them observed in denial and powerless how the bird carried the powerful jewel away. Their faces turned blue out of the shock, and Marinette entered in panic.

“No no no! That can’t be happening! What are we going to do now!?” she bawled. “Chloe! This is your fault! You better help us recover it!”

“No, this is Luka’s fault! If he had agreed to marry me and didn’t try to play dirty this wouldn’t have happened!”

“Don’t you dare badmouth My Captain!”

Everyone’s eyes were on Luka, who, confused, was trying to process what had just happened. “Give me a minute”. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and waited for one minute. He came to his conclusion.

“I can’t deny this is partly my fault… So I’ll take responsibility. I’ll help you find the jewel, but with one condition: you’ll let me use it once when we find it”

“We can’t allow that!” Marinette and Adrien complained.

“Oh, and I’ll need you tell me more about these jewels in order to help you”

“Deal” Chloe quickly agreed, to Marinette and Adrien’s shock.

“Hey! You can’t decide that alone!” Marinette protested.

“You’ve seen the bird- it went into the lands. The rest of lost jewels could be on land too. What’s better than humans to help us? It would be ridiculous not to accept when all they ask in return is to use one of them just once!” Chloe exposed.

Marinette’s eyebrows frowned as she looked at Adrien, who seemed convinced with Chloe’s explanation. She couldn’t deny anything to those green eyes of him who desired to discover more from land and the human world, so she gave in, still unconvinced. “Fine”

“Great. Welcome abroad. I promise we’ll recover that jewel” Luka stood up and helped the rest of them up too, one after the other. “My name is Luka. I’m the Captain of this pirate ship. And this lovely lady is my first mate, Kagami.” She bowed despite her glare shown killing instincts towards all of them. Luka noticed and patted her back, causing her to calm down immediately. When he blinked at her with a sneaky smile she knew well, she realized his true intentions: he was going to get the jewel without having to marry the annoying mermaid. ‘As expected of my captain’, she smiled fondly.

“I’m Marinette and he is Adrien. I’m the guardian of the Miraculous and he’s my partner for this job. Nice to meet you, Captain”

Luka’s piracy adventures seemed to have just started now that 3 new unusual members joined his crew. Misunderstandings and fun seemed ensured.

What fantastic adventures lie before them? They couldn’t wait to find out.

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

The Supergirl Team calls you in despair. You’ve 2/3 episodes to save this season and leave a cliffhanger to the next season. You can do any ship, cut any actor, unlimited budget. What do you do?

My first call is to Brenda Strong, clearly. Lillian caustically provides Lena a reality check by not so subtly reminding her how Lex is an asshole and can't be trusted. She reveals she retained her pre-crisis memories, and remembers more than Lex deigned to tell her.

Lena is unimpressed, and dryly remarks, "And now you finally get to see everything Lex should have been. You must be thrilled."

"Yes, I do," Lillian affirms. "But a victory without sacrifice isn't victory. It's a handout."

Luthors don't accept handouts.

Lena stares at her mother, confused and wary. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying Lex didn't earn it."

None of this was earned through toil. Lex chanced onto an opportunity and manipulated it to his utmost ability. Once upon a time, she might have been proud of his aptitude for machinations, Lillian admits, but she finds herself disillusioned with him.

"Not only does intended matricide sour the relationship somewhat," Lillian elaborates, "but more and more lately I've come to realize that while Lex indeed had incredible potential, I allowed that potential to blind me to yours."

Lex didn't earn his success, but Lena did. In just a few short years, Lena embodied the Luthor spirit unlike any Luthor had since the first generation-- since the generation that worked for their first million, their first merger, the first everything. She battled prejudice and attacks and failures, and though there may have been times she may have wavered, she always persisted.

"So why," her mother asks, "are you giving up now?"

Finally, Lena gives voice to her helplessness. How her friends have forsaken her and how in this world, she feels nineteen again, like she can do nothing without Lex.

"How can I," Lena asks, "when he crafted this very reality?"

"He has always crafted your reality, Lena. Your entire life has revolved around him, been shaped and warped by him. But what I've come to realize is that this world isn't his. It never was. All along, it was yours."

And so begins the tentative yet deepening relationship between Lena and her mother, as they conspire against Lex. They know he's up to something, but don't know what. In the end, they decide it doesn't matter what it was-- they would simply need to neutralize him.

Permanently.

----

On the other side of things, the superfriends start to realize that their goal of taking down Lex from the outside isn't working. They learn Brainy is compromised, and find themselves without a significant resource they had counted on. So they focus on mitigating the fallout of his use of the DEO.

Alex and Jonn find their way to helping aliens recover after DEO raids. Sometimes its just property damage, sometimes its arrests. They commiserate with the victims, promising that Lex won't be in power for much longer.

"It doesn't matter who is in power," the victims reply. It will only be someone just as cruel, or even indifferent. The DEO has always been this way, and it will always be this way.

When one alien mentions a specific raid, Alex realizes it was one that occurred under her tenure as Director. That as an agent and director she contributed to the abuse of aliens rights, liberties, and persons.

Later, she confesses to Kara that she always thought she was doing good at the DEO. But all along she'd really only been doing good for Kara.

"I will always be there for you, you know that right?" she asks, and Kara nods. "But I think, for the next little while, I need to focus on doing good for everyone else."

----

Meanwhile, at CatCo, Nia finds herself in a quandary. One day, Will asks her to grab him a coffee. Taken aback, Nia doesnt have time to respond before Will is off on his way. Unsure of what else to do, she uncomfortably obliges, choosing to believe it was a one off.

It isn't.

Again and again with increasing frequency, Will asks her to do things like grab coffee, make copies, etc. Soon she finds herself stuck in a cycle of doing what she's told and is too nervous to call him out after so long.

It takes Kara noticing and offering to speak to William about it before Nia bucks up the courage to do it herself.

"No," she says, the next time Will opens his mouth in her direction. "I will not get your coffee, or make your copies, or pull your copy edits. I am a reporter, just like you. Maybe a little less experienced, sure, but the only way I'm going to get experienced is by doing my own work and not the work of your assistant."

Will stares at her, and then flushes. "Nia, I am so sorry, I thought you were the office assistant. I had no idea."

This time it's Nia's turn to stare. "What? But-- I have over a dozen by-lines."

"Really?"

"I've been at every pitch meeting!"

Grimacing, Will meets her gaze. "I thought you were there to take notes. Honestly, I thought you and Kara were tight because she came from the assistant pool."

Nia scowls. "You also could have just asked me."

"And I should have. I truly am sorry, I've just been so wrapped up in--" He catches himself abruptly, then swiftly changes the subject. "Let me make it up to you. I have an interview with Lenny Maddow in twenty minutes. Would you like to sit in?"

Sit in with a Nobel-winner who isn't Lex Luthor?

"Uh, YEAH."

Nia recoups more of her pride when she asks some insightful questions that gets their guest to open up to an insane degree, and Will recognizes her talent as a reporter. He even tells her as much.

"I don't know how I ever mistook you for anything else."

He starts lending her more advice and opportunity-- before long he's the kind of mentor Kara used to be, but lost the time for. And after Will decides he can trust her he brings her in on his secret project investigating the Luthors.

Namely, Lena.

"She's the weak link. If she goes down, the rest will follow like dominos."

---

"I know we're kind of not on Team Lena right now," Nia remarks to the others at the tower later, "but the kind of things he thinks she's responsible for doesn't sound like Lena. In any reality."

J'onn and Alex both look at Kara. "It might be time to set aside our wounds for a moment," J'onn observes. "I don't need to be a fifth dimensional imp to deduce that a downfall for Lena would not be a good thing."

"Lex would be left unchecked," Alex chimes in.

Kara doesn't need convincing. She goes to Lena immediately, and squares off against Lena's chill reception with concern.

"I came to warn you."

"Let me guess... Lex can't be trusted."

With a grimace, Kara equivocates. "Yes, but I'm not the only one who thinks so. William Dey is digging into the Luthors, and for whatever reason, he's decided your the fulcrum to the entire operation."

"The reporter, William Dey?"

Kara shares what she knows of William's vendetta-- the best friend who died, the suspicions that Lex was involved. To her surprise, Lena huffs a mirthless laugh.

"He said he was going to be better."

"You... say that like you don't believe him."

"Of course I don't believe him. But I wanted to."

Lena knows better than to leave LuthorCorp. But she does pledge her help.

"This doesn't make us friends," Lena clarifies. "But whatever Lex is planning, he'll burn the world to the ground to get it."

Kara nods solemnly. "I understand."

---

The Superfriends now have their in. It's Lena who finally pieces together that Lex is after Leviathan. It's Lillian who pales at the mention, and after much toothpulling reveals that what no one ever told Lena is that her mother didn't just die-- she was murdered.

"Your home was broken into shortly after you were removed. The investigators only found one item of interest, hidden behind a piece of loosened baseboard. A cipher, on a folded piece of paper. Even Lionel only managed to translate two words. One was Leviathan."

The other, Lena soon discovers, was Acrata.

---

Altogether, the superfriends and Will and Lena all manage to erode Lex's stranglehold on the new reality. Lex doesn't make it easy, but a combination of J'onn and Alex earning more of the public trust, Supergirl resisting Lex at every turn, Will and Nia tag-teaming Andrea's connection to Leviathan, Lena beats Lex to the Leviathan sanctum.

By a matter of minutes, sure, but the fact she finds her way there on her own when Lex has to be led by Gamemnae is a true victory, and a practical embodiment of Lillian's earlier words.

Lena's victory is compounded when Lex's eyes flash with irritation: he doesn't expect to see her there.

"Heya, sis. I didn't realize we had a meeting."

"We don't," Lena tells her brother, even her eyes lock on the woman beside him.

The woman steps towards Lena, her lips curling into a pleased smile.

"We do," the woman confirms. It's clear she doesn't include Lex.

Before he can do more than sputter, she continues. "I was wondering how long it would take you to find us."

Lena holds her gaze. "The medallion."

Gamemnae nods. "Ever since it was found, we knew it would only be a matter of time."

There's only one question Lena intends to ask.

"Who was my mother?"

And so she learns that her mother was part of Leviathan-- that she had grown lonely, and sought comfort in the arms of mortals. It had only meant to be temporary, but when the unthinkable happened, and she found herself pregnant, she chose to remain in the mortal world with her daughter.

What Gamemnae doesn't explain, but Lena senses instinctively, is that her mother had sought to protect Lena from Leviathan. To keep her human, keep her alive. That somehow, despite being an agent of destruction, Lena's birth had prompted her mother to leave Leviathan behind, and to be better than she was.

Gamemnae's pitch is enticing-- the ability to bring humanity together through disaster, to call upon their communal instincts by reducing their numbers, reset the world so that the planet and its population have a chance to survive for eons to come.

She offers power and influence, and a long life-- millenia to engage with and observe the discoveries still far in the future.

It's almost enough for Lena to say yes.

Almost.

It is enough for Lena to accept the medallion, the only true memory Lena has of her mother. Gamemnae summons it from the ether, and Lena takes it in her fingers, cradling it like the precious artifact it is.

When she closes her hand around it, Lena blinks and finds herself in a place of utter darkness. But despite the emptiness, she isn't afraid.

"Lena."

"Mom."

The woman who appears before her is familiar in a way that touches deep in Lena's soul. Tears fill Lena's eyes as she drinks in the sight of her mother, committing her to memory.

"I forgot what you looked like," Lena confesses with a breathless laugh. "When I generated an avatar of you, I had to base it on my own image."

The embrace her mother wraps her in is unbidden and unexpected. It steals Lena's breath and floods her with warm. Her tears spill over as she clutches her mother tight.

"I've missed you."

"And I you, my darling," her mother murmurs. "You have grown to be everything I ever wanted for you."

A bolt of shame travels down Lena's spine, and she pulls away.

"You mean embroiled in the most hated family in history?"

"I mean that you are strong, and powerful, and brilliant. Your compassion and empathy are a force powerful than you know."

Lena looks away. How can she explain how close she had come to lose the soul her mother had loved so dearly. Non Nocere burns like a hot poker of shame, digging deep in her belly and twisting sharply.

But her mother cups her cheeks, tilting her gaze up to meet hers once more.

"We all make mistakes, my love. What matters most is what you do to correct them."

Before Lena can say anything more, her mother kisses her on the head, and offers a smile as warm as the sun.

"Everyone you have ever loved is carried inside you. They speak to you every day. When times are uncertain, listen to your heart. They will never lead you astray."

Lena blinks back to the Leviathan sanctum to find Lex pelting Gamemnae with outrage and accusations.

"We had an agreement! You and I had a partnership!"

"And now that it has brought me your sister, I am no longer in need of it."

"You forget that I watched Rama Khan in our previous reality-- I know Leviathan's style. My baby sister isn't the type you would want to recruit."

"You don't comprehend what Leviathan is," Gamemnae only smiles sweetly, unfazed by Lex's posturing. "We are born and chosen both. That is what Lena is. And you, Alexander Luthor, are neither."

"Buh--"

With a wave of Gamemnae's hand, Lex disappears, transported.... somewhere. Lena can barely think to consider his welfare before Gamemnae turns her powerful gaze towards her once more.

"Welcome home, Lena."

---

In the end, Lena doesn't accept. The power offered her is tempting, but she's wise enough to know that a deal so sweet could never come without strings. Whether it be her humanity, her soul, or something else entirely, she would lose something dear. Something precious.

"Come now, Lena," Gamemnae cautions. "I know how ingelligent you are. You know that you won't be allowed to leave alive should you decline."

Her mother's voice echoes in Lena's ears: listen to your heart. She does, and she hears them all-- her people. Her loved. Her lost.

Her mother.

Jack.

Even Kara.

It's Kara that makes her pause, nearly has her agreeing. She knows the prospect of Kara's future, a life of longevity that would see her watching all her family die, for generations to come. If Lena could share those centuries with her, surely they could eventually find forgiveness and trust once more.

But Kara wouldn't want her to. Not like this.

So instead of taking Gamemnae's hand, Lena snatches her by the wrist and closes her hand around the medallion. This time Gamemnae appears in the void with her, where Lena's mother waits again.

"I need your help," Lena says. "All of you."

One by one, they materialize. All of the voices who have guided her appear from the shadows, their features kind and ready. Lena pushes Gamemnae towards them.

"Make our guest comfortable. She'll be staying with you for the foreseeable future."

Jack is the one who steadies Gamemnae. When he blinks, his eyes open to pitch darkness. So do the eyes of those around him, wraiths all. Even Lena's mother.

Lena hesitates only long enough to give her mother one last look.

"I love you."

Her mother nods. "I never doubted for a second. Go," she urges, "and live."

Lena returns to the Leviathan sanctum alone. She shatters the medallion to ensure no one else would use it, and sweeps the pieces up to liquidate against any attempts to reconstruct it.

Leviathan is done, without a single drop of blood shed.

Back at LuthorCorp, Lex is nowhere to be found. After a perfunctory search, control falls to Lena. Though she'll have to wait a mandated period of time before she can rebrand back to L-Corp, things are already feeling normal.

At least, right up until the moment Lena finally visits the Tower for the first time.

"Lena!" Kara calls in delight. During their time working together, things between them have repaired enough for her to wrap Lena in a brief hug and usher her further into the space.

"Come to beg us to back to the DEO?" Alex taunts. "I gotta warn you, I've gotten used to being my own boss."

"Actually," Lena says, "I'm disbanding the DEO."

There's a beat of silence, and then the entire room erupts into chaos. Questions fly at her from every direction, and she endures them quietly until she finally lifts a hand for quiet.

"It's time. The DEO has never been entirely above board, and if we're going to make strides in accepting aliens into Earth society, we have to start with nixing the extrajudicial arrests and imprisonment."

Lena looks at Kara, who has been suspiciously silent. Kara meets her gaze in apprehension.

"What does that mean for Supergirl?'

Lena offers her a smile that refreshes her soul.

"Well, it would be foolish to claim she isn't still needed, and that heroes don't do a lot of good. So I've already talked with the mayor about implementing a municipal licensing program for vigilante heroes. If successful, you'd basically be doing the exact same thing, with just a little more oversight, and a little less smash and grab."

Nia beams. "That sounds so cool!"

"And," Lena adds, sliding her gaze towards Alex and J'onn, "the program is going to need leadership that's familiar with both heroes and bureaucracy."

J'onn nods his readiness and agreement, but to everyone's surprise, Alex hesitates.

"It sounds like a great idea, Lena, really," Alex obfuscates, "but I think I still have more work to do on this side of things. As you say, the DEO has a lot to make up for."

Kara hugs her sister tight. "I'm so proud of you," she whispers.

"Wait, wait, wait..." Nia says, pumping the brakes ever so slightly. "Does this mean we don't get to be the Superfriends anymore?"

But Lena has an answer for that too.

"As the pilot heroes of this new program, I'm sure all of you will continue to work closely together, and I'm sure the legislation will include provisions for teams as well as individual. Which means that as National City's first and premier superhero league, the only thing you're missing is a sponsor." Which is to say, Lena intends to sponsor them.

"From my personal accounts," Lena is sure to specify, "and with tech either commercially available or engineered in my personal lab. LuthorCorp will won't be anywhere near it, and I will be operating as anonymously as possible... though given our history, I'm sure it wouldn't be too hard a guess for people to figure out."

When the team leaves for celebratory drinks, Kara and Lena linger. The air hangs thick and heavy between them, until Lena finally speaks.

"You once asked for bygones--"

"I did," Kara confirms. "And as much as I would love to return the favor--"

"We have a lot to talk about."

Kara nods, and Lena takes a deep breath. "All I ask," she continues, "is that you accept the good with the flaws. And that I only ever wanted to do good."

That much, Kara agrees without hesitation.

"I never thought anything else."

She loops her arm through Lena's, and together they walk towards the lift. As it rises to collect them, Kara rocks back on her heels.

"A lot of changes are coming our way," she remarks.

Lena hums an agreement, but misses the glance Kara gives her as they step into the lift before issuing one last pardon.

"There's no one else I'd rather face them with."

The elevator gate closes on the image of them gazing at each other, eyes locked and smiles brimming with the possibility of something new.

[just-a-random-cipher]

!Theories about Gravity Falls!

Enjoy Reading:)👁

I recently came to the understanding that some people in the Gravity Falls fandom are slightly confused as to what little the fandom knows about Bill Cipher’s past. Everyone who watches the show knows he comes from another dimension known as the Nightmare Realm, which is decaying and fated to be destroyed by its very own mechanisms. However, given the release of Journal 3 by Alex Hirsch and Disney, and a rather interesting and hidden page on the Disney XD site (found here), Bill’s background is obviously not as simple as him being a megalomaniacal, dimension hopping villain.

Let’s start with the Axolotl.

Most people know this amphibious being from the last few seconds Bill is alive. He says something close to, “Axolotl, my time has come to burn. I invoke the ancient power that I may return.” If you want to hear it yourself, check out any of the YouTube videos on the subject. However, this seems to point out that Bill knows of, or somehow personally knows, the Axolotl. This is where the hidden link comes into play. Below is a picture of where the link leads to.

Take note of the first highlighted section. Dipper is asking what the Axolotl knows about Bill Cipher. Now, seeing as the Axolotl resides in the “time and space between time and space,” it could have the ability to see and know all of what happens in other places of time and space. This would give the Axolotl a distanced, somewhat unbiased view of what happened in Bill’s original dimension.

The riddle that is boxed gives some insight into Bill’s past from what the Axolotl knows. The first two lines refer to Bill - proof of him being an equilateral triangle due to the three sixty degree angles the Axolotl describes.

The third and fourth lines explain what happened to Bill’s dimension. The dimension burned, and he misses it. The “can’t return” at the end of the fourth line seems to hint that he is trying to get back to his dimension, or is trying to undo its destruction. Also note that Bill watched his dimension burn, meaning he was likely already outside of his dimension. Say this was his first time dimension hopping, and his first time leaving his dimension had some kind of effect like Weirdmageddon did on Earth - only, instead of there being weirdness waves that changed the environment, it was something much worse which basically rendered the entire dimension uninhabitable or entirely wiped it from existence.

Moving on, the Axolotl implies that Bill is lying to himself about being happy, and possibly other things. “Blame the arson for the fire”  could have several meanings at this point. Was there someone else who actually destroyed Bill’s universe? Should we be blaming Bill because he is the arson? Does Bill blame someone else who is the true arson? Seeing as the word “Blame” is a mere imperative verb that is ordering a person or thing to do something, and there is no other person or personal pronouns given in the sentence, it is hard to say who the Axolotl is ordering. If it was “blames,” then it could be derived that it means “Bill blames” since “You blames,” referring to Dipper and likely the only other person the Axolotl could be thinking of in this context, doesn’t make grammatical sense.

The seventh line seems fairly obvious, and the only questions left are: who is Bill shirking the blame to, and what blame precisely? He has supposedly committed hundreds of atrocities and probably broken all the laws in every universe just to say he did, so is he putting the blame for all of his actions on someone else, or just a singular time where he was to blame?

The eighth line likely connects to Bill’s last moments in Stan’s mind. As stated before, Bill says “Axolotl, my time has come to burn. I invoke the ancient power that I may return.” Notice how Bill uses Axolotl’s name, and later says invoke. Kinda obvious connection there. But also note how Bill says “my time has come to burn.” Now, we do see literal fire taking over Stan’s mind, but we never see him actually burn. Of course, this could also point toward a more metaphorical description or that he just needed to rhyme, just as the Axolotl did in answering Dipper’s question, in order to truly invoke the Axolotl.He could also be referencing that he is dying, and that he probably should have died ages ago with the rest of his dimension which burned, but hey. I look for double meanings everywhere. Especially with Bill Cipher.

As for the last two lines… The fandom can only speculate on it. Bill can only liberate himself by doing one singular thing. And apparently a different form and different time are involved. That could have many different meanings. “Different form” could be physically or mentally - Bill could be a different shape, could be reborn as another species somehow, could reaffirm himself and admit the truth, or he could simply get some kind of interdimensional cold and be “out of shape.” The other half seems pretty obvious: “a different time.” It could be the future, the past, the present, the in between times, or even the second or third or hundredth time he tries to make amends.

A different form and time could also refer to a different universe, which holds a different form and different times, or himself entering Gravity Falls’ dimension and gaining a physical body (new form) and trying to start a new reign in another dimension that (this time) won’t just collapse someday without warning.

Basically, the Axolotl states that (in my own opinion) Bill possibly had a hand in the destruction of his home dimension, but likely tried to stop said destruction and failed. He misses his home and can’t return, but is still trying to find a way back to it. He’s lying to himself and someone is definitely to be blamed for the destruction of his universe, but he won’t admit to it. Bill needs the Axolotl in order to put the blame on someone else, and there is only one way, in another time and another form, that he can free himself from the blame.

Alright. Onto The Oracle. Finally.

In the Third Journal, Ford explains what exactly what happened for those 30 years he was missing. After getting attacked in a 2-D Dimension, he met The Oracle in Dimension 52. She knew all about him and his “mission” to defeat Bill. She was the one who helped Ford get a metal plate in his head. She also was the one who told Ford about Bill’s past.

The first few things I want to go over is the page in which Ford depicts The Oracle. She stands, staring with crossed arms partially obscuring an amulet, in front of what seem to be tapestries of the Axolotl. Bubbles and/or orbs seem to be hanging from the ceiling and rising from the floor in front of the tapestries.

The Third Journal does show that some people in the multiverse know of the Axolotl and the Oracle seems to have some kind of psychic power, evidence when she knew Stanford’s name, his purpose, and what he was destined to do. So perhaps that isn’t as interesting as it first appears. The amulet is also rather intriguing… Could it be in the shape of an eye?

But what about the bubbles and orbs?

I kinda feel like I’m looking too deeply into this, but the only other time when bubbles seem to be important is during Weirdmageddon when Bill uses a bubble to trap Mabel and unleashes weirdness bubbles on the town. It seems somewhat weird that the person who gives Ford all the answers seems to have some kind of connection to Bill - albeit a stretched connection with just these pieces of information in hand. It just seems too much like he’s being used again, which I’ll get into later.

Ford, on some level, seems to notice the connection between the Oracle and Bill. The symbols underlined above the circled Axolotl can be decrypted to read, “The opposite of Bill.” This seems to make sense with what little we know of her. She seems to know all, but never tells Ford that she is indeed psychic or omniscient - notice how Ford states, “Whether she was psychic or had just read my wanted poster is hard to say,” implying that he doesn’t know how she knew about him. She is also noted to be “calm” when talking about her desire to end Bill’s reign. However, Bill seems to believe himself to be omniscient due to his ability to peer into all realms from his Nightmare Realm. But he constantly doesn’t foresee issues - Mabel knocking the safe’s code out of his hands in Dreamscaperers and outsmarting him in Sock Opera, the Weirdness Containment Bubble around Gravity Falls, the dino-arm pulling his eye out, the Stans swapping clothes. He also is known to be rather hotheaded and, as many people in the fandom point out, likely to be insane.

Now, you might be wondering where all this comes into play, right? Well, if you look at the second page, where Ford details their encounter a bit more, he says that the Oracle told him that Bill was power hungry, which caused him to burn his dimension and everything and everyone in it.

That doesn’t sound like what the Axolotl said, right? Which is why people are conflicted on what, or rather who, to believe.

But why would she shape her words into something that Ford could easily misinterpret? Well, first things first: she’s an oracle and prophecies can be easily misinterpreted. But that seemed to fit a bit too easily, so I looked a little harder at the wording of the document and came to one conclusion:

She wants Bill dead and out of the picture.

My reasoning? 1) Look at the line “She spoke of him without anger, but with a calm, steely, clinical resolve to see his reign end.” Pretty straight forward. Ford can tell that she doesn’t like Bill’s reign and will not stop until he is stopped. 2) “She… said I had the face of the man who was destined to destroy Bill.” She said destroy Bill, not Ford’s constant “defeat” that he mentions throughout the series. Destroy means to utterly annihilate, reduce to nothing, ruin emotionally and spiritually, to kill. If this is what she said to him, then she obviously wasn’t just messing around. 3) Ford and her spent the entire night partying after she revealed this. They were partying about someone’s death. Kinda harsh

There is one other point that really hammers it into me that the Oracle was manipulating her own words: her own name. The first paragraph reveals her name to be Jheselbraum the Unswerving. The Unswerving. Which means that once she’s dedicated to something - like destroying a dimension hopping demon by the name of Bill - she will not stop until she succeeds.

Seeing as Ford mysteriously found himself in another dimension after he and the Oracle partied together, it’s pretty obvious that she didn’t tell Ford about him being destined to defeat Bill until that last day. You’d expect someone whom could pull someone out of another dimension into their own, whom knew who Ford was way before they met, whom already had a difficult surgery in mind to aid Ford, and whom was obviously invested in taking Bill down to simply tell Ford that he was the multiverse’s savior, right?

She instead kept it all a secret until the last day, at which point Ford was even more resolute to kill Bill instead of just defeating him and keeping him out of his dimension. 

So who do you trust more? Or do you trust no one? On one hand you have a mysterious being that answered Dipper’s question with a riddle instead of a straight answer, and said riddle could be seen in a variety of lights. On the other, you have an equally mysterious Oracle who might have manipulated her words to ensure Ford’s resolve against Bill.

It's just my opinion! So you don't have to say anything about it! :)))

[jovialyouthmusic]

Past Times

A Regency Period Romance

Okay, so this really has nothing to do with TRR any more apart from some names and maybe that it’s all going in in either Bastien or Sophia’s imagination, but if you’re interested, here is the next chapter. Elizabeth has to convince her father that Duncan is not a suitable match

Word Count 3653

A/N This will eventually get smutty, but for now - no warnings.

1 Breaking Off

When the gentlemen had rejoined the ladies in the drawing room, Elizabeth feigned surprise at seeing Captain Lykel holding the book he had selected from the library and had used it as an excuse to converse with him. She rebuffed any attempts by Duncan to engage her, inwardly boiling with rage at the memory of how he had revealed what he truly thought of women.

‘Captain Lykel, you must have visited some exotic places with the Navy.’ her mother enquired, seeing that he was spending a little too much time alone with her daughter.

‘Indeed I have, Lady Charlotte, though I fear seafaring is becoming much more dangerous with French privateers becoming bolder. They would not dare to venture close to our fair capital though, you may have no fear of that.’

‘I would love to hear of your travels.’ Elizabeth interjected. ‘I have a particular interest in far off places.’ Her father cleared his throat.

‘I fear the hour is late.’ he announced. ‘Pleasant as it has been to entertain you all, the time has come for my family to retire. Gentlemen, Walker has your coats ready against the chill of the evening air. I hope to see you all again in the near future.’ His manservant, who doubled as butler, nodded from the door of the drawing room, and the gathering dispersed. Elizabeth’s mother drew her aside.

‘What ails you, Lizzy? You were very cool toward poor Duncan.’ she chided her. ‘and you paid far too much attention to the Captain.’ Elizabeth swallowed. She feared to tell her mother she had been unchaperoned when she overheard her fiancé talking so crudely, or reveal she had briefly been alone with the Captain. But she hated to tell a falsehood, and she didn’t wish to continue with her courtship, so she must tell her something. Omission was far less a sin than lying, she decided.

‘Oh mother, what will you think of me?’ she said, casting her gaze to the floor. ‘I hid myself behind the curtains in the library to surprise Duncan.’

‘Lizzy, that was most improper! You said you had gone to retrieve your handkerchief.’ Her mother was disappointed, she could tell. ‘You should have sent Jane to fetch it’

‘I’m so sorry Mama. I promise you I did not reveal myself to him or his friends’ This was not untrue, but she was not going to tell her of the Captain discovering her. But her mother was nothing if not observant.

‘So what occurred in the library? You were very cool toward Duncan.’

‘Oh mother’ she swallowed hard. ‘I overheard him talking of things that changed my opinion of him. Such impropriety – it was shocking.’

‘My dear girl’ her mother took her hand. ‘You must tell me instantly’

‘He spoke…’ her voice broke. ‘he spoke of visiting women of ill repute.’ Her mother’s face blanched.

‘Lizzy…’ she was shocked, and it was a while before she spoke again. ‘young men do such things, I am afraid. I am sure when you are married that will come to an end.’

‘But mother, that wasn’t all.’ she said quietly, gathering her courage. ‘He spoke so of women, saying they are fit only for bearing children and managing the house. I fear he will not respect me or treat me as an equal.’

‘My poor girl.’  her mother shook her head. ‘For many women that is the case, but he is of good family and has an income that will support you well.’ Anger rose in the young woman’s breast.

‘I refuse to accept him as husband.’ she said defiantly. ‘I will tell Father so in the morning’

‘Lizzy!’ her mother cried, but one look at her daughter’s face and she knew she was determined. She sighed. A first refusal would not damage her daughter’s reputation very much and there were many other eligible young men in the city. That of course was the reason they had moved their household from their country estate. ‘Very well. I will talk to your father and warn him of your thoughts. But I cannot guarantee his opinion on the matter.’

Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief. She had not revealed her brief encounter with the Captain, and hopefully her mother would smooth the way for her to break off her engagement.

‘Thank you mother.’ she breathed ‘I feel most earnestly on the matter.’

‘We shall see what tomorrow brings.’ Lady Charlotte said. ‘Now go to bed, your complexion will benefit from rest. Goodnight, daughter.’

------

Elizabeth rose the day after the dinner party, and the maid, Jane, helped her to dress for breakfast. Later that afternoon she was to go to her dancing lesson, and Walker would accompany her, walking if the weather was fair, which it seemed set to be. Although she found lessons tedious, the opportunity to get out into the fresh air was pleasing, and she always made sure she was ready in good time so they did not have to rush.

But for now, she needed to speak to her father. She had breakfast with her mother and sister – Sir James was in the library going over some figures, so Jane was despatched to enquire whether he was ready to receive her. She didn’t have to wait long before she was called.

Sher father’s face was grave when she entered, curtseying as was appropriate now that she was of marriageable age. Gone were the days of running into her papa’s arms for a warm embrace. Such shows of affection were only for children, and now the most she might expect was a fond look, warm praise or a touch on the arm or waist.

‘What’s this I hear, Lizzy? Your mother tells me you reject young Duncan’s suit.’ he said sternly ‘not only that, but I gather you engineered to be alone with him beforehand.’

‘I am sorry Father’. she said, hanging her head ‘I am not proud of myself, but rest assured we were not alone for a single second. He never knew I was in the window seat, I was well concealed from him behind the curtains. I did not reveal myself, as he was accompanied by his friends.’ Her father’s frown lessened a little.

‘I hope your experience served as a lesson not to repeat your subterfuge.’ He scolded ‘You are kept safe within the house and chaperoned without for good reason. As an unmarried young woman your reputation would suffer greatly were you to be alone with any young man, single or no.’

‘I am truly sorry Father.’ she repeated ‘But what I overheard Duncan saying to his friends has convinced me that I could not spend the rest of my life with him.’ Again he frowned, and anger showed in his visage. She shook with fear at his ire and tears sprang to her eyes.

‘Your mother has told me of the impropriety of his words and I am shocked to hear that you were subjected to such a thing. Duncan had seemed to be a good match, but money and reputation is not all.’ her father continued, but then his expression softened. ‘Come closer Lizzy, do not tremble, it is your fiancé I am angry with, not you.’ She moved closer, and he took her hand, looking up at her with fondness.

‘I see you are contrite.’ he said softly ‘and I would not have my Lizzy so upset. I will look further into your young man’s character. It is fortunate that your affairs are still at an early stage. It may still be possible to withdraw from your arrangement without damaging your reputation.’ She smiled, assured that all was not lost.

‘Thankyou so much father.’ she replied. ‘I know you wish for me to be well provided for. It is every young woman’s dream to be happy within their marriage, and I fear that would not be the case with Duncan.’

‘That may be so.’ He patted her hand ‘Now run along – do you not have a dancing lesson after luncheon? You will need to be light and sprightly on your feet if you seek another suitor.’

‘Indeed, father.’ He beckoned her to lean down, and he kissed her on the cheek.

‘Bless you, child. It seems only moments that I was holding you in my arms as a squalling babe. I can only do my best to keep you safe until you find a suitor willing to take you off my hands. I hope we can find someone more to your taste.’ With that, she turned and left the study, relieved that her father had been so receptive.

------

Sir James frowned as a serving man placed a glass of brandy on the side table beside his plush leather armchair. The front room of his club, Mackies, was a comfortable place to spend his afternoons in the company of other respectable gentlemen and nobles like himself. He preferred to drink and smoke in the wood panelled room while other men – usually younger than himself – frequented the back room in which gambling was rife. He himself did not care much for the pastime, as his town house was expensive to keep up, especially with a wife and two daughters to provide for. He recently had to sell some little used land from his country estate and he feared if he did not marry Elizabeth off soon, the dowry he hoped to provide her with would be small.

‘So, James.’ his drinking companion, Lord Beaumont, said. ‘you have doubts about the suitability of young Duncan Noble.’

‘I do.’ he replied. ‘I have heard that he frequents houses of ill repute, and it seems he is a little too fond of gambling.’ His companion scoffed.

‘What young man does not?’ he replied. ‘He will soon settle down when he is married. I’m sure you have naught to worry about regarding Elizabeth’

‘I am not certain of that’ he mused. ‘It is a matter of degree. I must discover more of his habits. I have asked my man, Walker, to make enquiries and discover where and how often he indulges his youthful behaviour.’

‘I suppose that is wise. You do not want to see your daughter’s inheritance squandered away, I am sure.’

‘Indeed’ He sipped his brandy. ‘It is telling that the young man in question does not frequent the gaming table in this establishment. I look forward to discovering where he indulges his habits.’

-------

On returning to his town house, Sir James was met at the door by Walker.

‘Good afternoon sir, I trust you had a pleasurable afternoon at your club.’

‘I did indeed. Pray tell me if you have made any progress in the matter we discussed this morning?’

‘I have, sir – I shall attend you in the library.’ Sir James handed him his great coat and hat, and went upstairs and waited for Walker to follow him.

‘Well man, spit it out, don’t keep me waiting.’ he snapped once the door was closed against eavesdroppers. Walker had accompanied young Elizabeth and her sister to their dancing lessons and had been busy gathering information before he went to collect them and bring them safely home.

‘The news is not good, Sir. I fear young master Duncan is a very frequent visitor at Mrs Reed’s establishment – and I am told he does not visit to give them charity, but partakes fully in the services provided by the young women there.’ Sir James sucked in his breath.

‘That is grave news, that house is not well regarded by gentlemen of repute. Did you discover anything of his gambling habits?’

‘Sadly, yes. The establishments he favours are also not the sort of place that respectable gentlemen frequent. They are very low and feature cock fighting and bear baiting, not cards and he is most profligate with his allowance.’ Sir James’s face darkened.

‘That is most unfortunate.’ He squared his jaw determinedly.  ‘I feel I have no choice but to reject his suit for Elizabeth’s hand. I will write a letter forthwith to his father to warn him to curb his son’s excesses, and he may be able to improve his behaviour for another young lady. But I will not have him marry my daughter, as she has taken a dislike to him, and I must give some thought to her happiness. There is still ample time for her to find another suitable young man. She will be eighteen soon.’

‘Indeed sir, you are wise.’

‘I will compose my letter and you may deliver it in the morning. You may go.’ Sir James went to his desk and drew out a sheet of paper and got his pen and ink ready to write down his thoughts.

------

So it was that the engagement was broken off, and Duncan and his young friends no longer visited the house, though they saw her father in society. The house became a dull place without male company, and Elizabeth devoted herself to her studies, to dancing, to her French and to her embroidery and to playing the pianoforte and singing. Her favourite pastime was reading, and although her father thought it a waste of money to teach her such subjects as history, she read on the subject as much as she could, and was also often to be seen with a slim book of poetry.

She thought often of the Captain, but news came that his father had passed away and he was away from the city settling his affairs, being an only child and inheriting his estate.

------

It was some weeks before Captain John Lykel visited the household again. He presented himself to Sir James in the drawing room.

‘Sir James, thank you for receiving me.’ he bowed deeply.

‘It is a pleasure to see you, Captain.’ he replied. ‘I’m deeply sorry to hear of your father’s death. I trust you have been making yourself familiar with the running of your estate, now he has left all to you.’

‘Indeed, I have visited my mother and made sure she is comfortable at the manor. You may guess that I am able to support her financially and still have a comfortable income myself. That is of course dependant on my being able to manage the estate profitably, but I have my Navy pension as well.’

‘Of course, of course. Society expects much of men such as you and I and there are expenses to be met if one maintains a town house.’ Sir James paced the room as the younger man sat uneasily in a straight backed chair, leaning on his cane. ‘Let me cut to the chase, Captain Lykel, and ask why you chose to visit me today.’

‘Of course, Sir. You know I was widowed only a short while after marrying my Georgiana, who died bearing a child, who sadly also perished.’

‘That was indeed tragic. You were away at sea at the time, were you not?’

‘Yes Sir, it is a great sorrow to me and I still mourn her even though it was some years ago now.’

‘I am truly sorry - childbirth is a dangerous thing and I myself have been blessed with a wife of good health who has borne me two daughters.’ The older man looked pensive. ‘It is a worry to me that I must find them good matches, even though I hope to provide adequately for them if all goes well with my affairs’

‘That is good to hear, Sir. You speak of your daughters. The last time I was here, your older daughter, Elizabeth, was betrothed, was she not?’ The nobleman nodded and sighed deeply.

‘That was so, but I fear that is no longer the case. She told me that she did not wish to marry him, and shortly after I discovered that he had been visiting a house of ill repute, and was gambling heavily. I could not hand my daughter over to such a man.’

‘I’m sorry to hear it’ The Captain shifted in his chair. ‘I was much impressed by Miss Elizabeth – we share a love of Burns and she questioned me about my travels at sea.’ Sir James smiled fondly.

‘Yes, she has a great curiosity about the world, and a lively mind. I feel she may not have been able to express that with her former suitor.’

‘Sir.’ the Captain shifted again, gripping his cane. ‘I hope you will not think me presumptuous if I ask whether you might permit me to court Miss Elizabeth. I much enjoyed her company, and as I have stated, should she return my affections I would be able to provide for her financially.’ Sir James widened his eyes in surprise, but inwardly he was pleased.

‘That is an interesting proposition, young man.’ he replied. He paced the room, looking thoughtful, and the Captain held his breath while attempting a casual air. At last he stopped and turned to face him. ‘You may certainly pay your suit and discover if she might accept your company.’ The Captain let his breath go, and allowed himself a small smile.

‘That is most generous of you, Sir. May I ask when I might be permitted to visit?’

‘I must check with my wife as to when Elizabeth is at home.’ he replied. ‘of course she has dancing and music lessons and such like, and she will be able to tell me when it would be convenient. I will send my man over to your house before the end of the day.’ He stopped again in thought ‘I daresay it might be possible within the next two or three days, should Elizabeth be receptive to you in the first instance. In due time we shall hold another supper and you will be invited, all being well.’

------

As it happened, Elizabeth knew that the Captain had arrived and was talking to her father. Her mother did too, and would not allow her near the window when she heard him leaving. Her agitation was almost unbearable, but she tried hard not to let it show, and made her best effort to concentrate on her sewing. Before long, her father sent for her mother, and she was left to her thoughts for an agonising length of time during which she got up, paced the room and wrung her hands together. Jane entered after a while.

‘Please Miss, your father wants to talk to you in the library.’ She dipped a little curtsy, and Elizabeth drew herself together, smoothed down her clothes and pinched her cheeks to appear more presentable before entering the library, where both her parents sat waiting. Her mother had a soft expression on her face but did not speak. Her father cleared his throat.

‘Well, Lizzy.’ he began. ‘had you a notion as to what might just have occurred?’ he asked, looking at her sternly.

‘No father – what did business did Captain Lykel have with you?’ She asked innocently. He fixed her with his gaze, and her heart hammered in her chest.

‘It appears he is much taken with you, and has asked permission to court you.’ She caught her breath, certain she would faint away, but she kept her senses, gripping the back of the chair beside which she stood. Her father’s mouth twitched a little as if he were trying not to laugh ‘Please Lizzy, do sit, I don’t want to have to pick you off the floor.’

‘Oh father.’ she gasped, and sank onto the chair, her legs shaking. ‘What did you say to him?’

‘I said he had my permission to call, but that it was up to you as to whether you accept his company or not.’ She felt tears spring to her eyes. She had hoped the Captain had not forgotten her, and it had been agonising wondering if he would call again.

‘Well Lizzy, what is your opinion of John Lykel?’ her mother asked softly. ‘Do you think you might receive him?’ Elizabeth wanted to laugh and dance with joy, but that would be unseemly, so she arranged her face into a tranquil expression.

‘I fear I do not know him very well, mother, but he seems agreeable.’

‘Good lord, girl, he is most eligible now that he has inherited his father’s estate’. her father retorted suddenly. ‘You would do well to consider him. He has retired from the Navy so you will not have to spend long months apart, he will be managing his business affairs on land.’

‘If you think it is seemly, then I will attempt to know his character better.’ she said solemnly. Her father sighed in exasperation.

‘You girls will be the death of me. Your mother tells me you have no lessons tomorrow afternoon. I will instruct the Captain to pay us a visit tomorrow.’ Here her mother spoke.

‘You know how to behave, Elizabeth. After I have introduced you  in the front parlour and withdrawn, Betsy will remain as chaperone. If you wish to end the visit before your time is up, you will signal her and I will return to show the Captain the door.’

‘Yes mother, as it was with Duncan’ she replied. ‘I remember it well.’

‘Very well, things have been set in motion.’ her father replied. ‘I only hope that you regard this young man better than the previous one. I cannot afford to keep turning down perfectly good suitors for your hand.’ Elizabeth blanched.

‘I hope so too, father. I liked him well enough last time we met.’

‘Well then, let us hope all goes well tomorrow.’ her mother interjected. ‘Now then, your music master will be here soon, please prepare yourself. Perhaps you can pick out a pretty tune to play for our next dinner party.’

‘Yes Mama.’ she got up and curtsyed before leaving the room, feeling a little light headed and excited about the events the next day would bring.

[twohearts-hs]

‘You’re A Monster’ - Shawn Mendes Gang AU

Words: 5k

Pairing: Gang Leader!Shawn Mendes & Surgeon!(Y/N) (Y/L/N)

Warnings: Swearing and Death

|| Masterlist in bio ||

-

“So you’re a surgeon?” The man in front of her asked, a smirk on his face. This wasn’t what she intended to happen, sitting in front of a quite large man in a dimly lit room in the basement of a warehouse. The email led her here for the job offer, therefore she shouldn’t complain.

“Was.” She replied, trying to keep a strong front. He nodded slowly, leaning back in his chair and giving her a look that sent shivers up her spine. He quickly leaned forward, inches away from her, creating a reflex of moving back for her.

“What’d you do to have your license removed?” He grinned mischievously. This definitely was not her scene.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” She replied. He shook his head and clicked his tongue.

“This is not how it goes, honey. What did you do?” She refused to speak, “Do you want the job or not?” He reasoned.

“Of course I want the bloody job.” Y/N replied all too quickly, while he merely shrugged his shoulders. She took a breath, “I saved a woman who was pregnant, but I didn’t follow protocol, so they stripped me of my license. I didn’t kill someone, I saved someone; that’s a surgeon’s job.”

It was all true. Y/N did indeed need a job as she was fired from the last one over trying to save a woman. But, she constantly reminded herself it was for the best because it would’ve been selfish to let the woman die in order to keep her license. But, she didn’t expect herself to be using her medical knowledge in potentially getting a job at a well-known gang. She was desperate, the med school loans were getting higher, and her bills were due or late; she had to figure something out, and this was her only option.

“Let’s get you to talk to the boss and see if you’re hired.” He told her, getting up and motioning her to follow. Y/N accepted, taking a deep breath and calming her nerves; after all, it was a gang; she was allowed to be nervous.

She grabbed her bag and followed the unknown man down a few hallways. He turned around, looking at her, “He can be a little too much sometimes.” Y/N didn’t know how to respond, so she kept walking. She really didn’t know what to expect, possibly some old man or maybe a middle age man that had way too many girls in his life or a wife that is more plastic than alive. But, she remembered the fact that she didn’t even know his name.

“Boss?” She bumped into the man interrogating her and looked up, seeing a tall man’s back ahead of her.

“What?” The man spun around and glared at the man calling him.

“Dr Y/L/N is here to meet you.” The so-called ‘boss’ raised his eyebrows.

Y/N looked at the man and had to admit that he was definitely not what she was expecting. Young, early twenties, curly brown hair, and chestnut eyes; he was attractive, yet her eyes wandered down and saw a pistol. This is definitely a gang.

“Who?” He growled. She was shocked by his tone; it was harsh, controlling.

“The new surgeon.” He nodded, walking up to her.

“You’re a surgeon?” He asked. She nodded and smiled.

“Uhh, yes, sir.” She managed to say. He nodded and walked away. Y/N raised her eyebrows and scoffed, “Am I hired?” she blurted, causing Shawn to stop in his step.

“Can you take care of a gunshot wound?” He asked, back to her.

“Of course I can,” she scoffed, “simple medicine.” Shawn turned around and stood in the same spot, a smirk on his face.

“Then you’re hired.” He told her, “Are we done?” She rolled her eyes.

A burst of confidence came to her, and she walked towards him, “I think we should talk terms in your office. I don’t work for whatever.” He smirked at her and shook his head.

“Princess, this is life or death right now. Work with me, you live, and if you don’t I’ll kill you on the spot because you know where we are stationed. There are no terms in this business, you work for me in order to keep your life.” He replied sternly.

“If I don’t accept, your men, doing illegal things, may I add, would die—” She began but was interrupted.

“I can call any surgeon to replace you. But, you can’t get another job, princess, your license has been stripped. Yes, I’ve read your file, Y/N.” He added, she stood still.

“Then call any other surgeon, I am not working to keep my life.” Shawn groaned, throwing his head back.

“You bloody doctors think you own the place with all your medical knowledge...thirty grand.” He tried to settle.

“A month?” He scoffed and shook his head.

“A year.”

“I am a surgeon. I make five times that.”

“You’re not a surgeon, not anymore.” He really had to rub it in.

“One fifty.”

He was so close to being done, but honestly, he was starting to dig her persistent personality, “One hundred, beautiful.”

She nodded, placing her hand out to him. “Deal.” He shook it, “So what do I call you, boss?” Y/N asked.

“Shawn, princess.”

-

Y/N hasn’t seen Shawn since and she had been there for a week. It was a job, she went there to help people because that was what she was destined to do. She went there to save people from bloody (excuse the pun) gunshot wounds, and repeat.

It was boring if she was, to be honest. Y/N missed the OR and holding a beating heart in her hands, having to figure out whether they live or die, but at least she still had a scalpel in her reach. The most interesting thing that had happened was a knife in the eye, where she had to give that man a pat on the back and an eye patch, nothing else to do.

Yet, it was a job. She could pay her bills, but it wasn’t the best paycheck to pay off med school. It angered her, how stubborn and unfair that her boss was. But, she was paying the price of her mistake; though she didn’t regret saving that woman.

Y/N closed the door to her car and locked it, shoving her handbag on her shoulder and taking steps to her townhouse. Another interesting day of gang members with awful tattoos hitting on her.

“Princess,” she jumped looking to her left and seeing Shawn leaning against a fence. Y/N placed her hand over her heart and let out a breath.

“Fuck, Shawn,” she mumbled, looking at him, “next time warn me.”

He laughed, pushing himself off the fence and walking to her. “Aren’t you gonna invite me in?”

She didn’t know how to reply, therefore she walked up to her door. “Think I have too.” She told him, opening her door and walking in, the handsome fella following her.

She set her bag on the kitchen counter and watched Shawn look around her living area, particularly eyeing her degrees.

“I’ve read your work. You’re an amazing surgeon. The boys and I are blessed to have you.” She scoffed, opening a bottle of wine and pouring herself a hefty glass.

“Your boys. Fuck, they have no respect for women.” Shawn raised his eyebrows and gave her a worrying look. Y/N passed him also a glass of wine, which he declined, making her pour his portion into her glass.

“What do you mean?” Shawn sounded worried.

She shook her head and brought the glass to her lips. “They are your typical ‘bad boys’. Catcalling, touching, etc. But, don’t worry, it’s my job to help them, live or die, ey?”

Shawn just looked blankly at her. “It doesn’t matter. They need to respect you. You’re a part of the group, princess. Fuck, you’re more valuable to me than them.”

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t care who and what is valuable, I’m not an object. I’m just there to do my job. Now, why are you here?”

He raised his brows and smirked. “A few reasons. For one, I want to tell you that I am your boss and you have to talk to me with respect. And, if anything happens to you regarding those shits or anything, you bloody tell me, ok?” She nodded, “Now, you’re well known for your surgical skills, so I need you to fake your death.” That came out of nowhere.

Y/N choked on her wine and stared, “what?”

He groaned; no patience in within him. “You are known to the medical community. If word got out that you were working with a gang and that leads them to me, that’ll be a problem. So, I have to do something. I’m going to arrange for you to die, so you can’t be traced, and then we go from there.”

She stared at him with shock. “What?” She sneered, “I’m not going to die, I have family and friends. I am not part of your gang.”

Shawn stood blank-faced and just stared at her. “Life or death, honey. Chose wisely.”

Y/N had no idea what she got herself into. She had no idea what this meant, “You keep saying that and I really don’t know what you mean.” She yelled at him, grabbing her hair in frustration, “I signed up to save your people, and I am pretty god damn good at my job.”

Shawn was mesmerized by her attitude. She wasn’t scared of him, even though he had killed more men than he could count on his fingers and toes. He had scars across his body, people quivered from his stare, and he was more than just deadly. Y/N didn’t give a fuck about all that, and it was mesmerizing to him.

“You’re not scared of me, eh?” He placed an arm against the wall and leaned in.

She scoffed, “Some people may be scared of you, boss, but I see the real you. I see the soft Shawn inside. I read people, and that is why I am so good at what I do. I know when people are in pain without them telling me.” She replied with no emotion. Maybe she knew, maybe she didn’t.

“Really? Tell me what you get from me then.” He whispered playfully.

“You are lonely, and you fill your days by being rude, nasty, mean, and murderous to try and make yourself feel better. But, it doesn’t work. At the end of the day, you just want someone to hold you.”

Shawn stayed still, not knowing what to say. “You don’t know shit about me.” He mumbled, smirk long gone.

“I know you don’t like people knowing your secrets.”

“I think you should be careful who you open your mouth too, princess.” He cocked, putting his hands on his hips and revealing a hidden gun. He looked at her once more and walked out the door. She knew that she couldn’t get out of this any more.

-

“Alejandro!” She exclaimed as she walked into the room, grabbing rubber gloves and placing them on.

“Mi amor!” She welcomed him with a big smile. She pulled the stool out and sat down, gathering her utensils to check out his wound.

“How are the grandkids?” She asked, beginning to remove the bandage from his arm.

The older man chuckled, “Fine, fine, mi querido. How are you, beautiful?” She smiled, as she began stitching his wound up.

“Quite dandy. So, tell me about your day?”

Alejandro was her favourite patient, always able to make her laugh and forget her worries. He was the kind of guy you’d never expect to be in the drug business. He was so kind and wore his heart on his sleeve. He was the only piece of sunshine in her life at the moment.

“Any cute boys in your life, amigo?”

She laughed. “I’ll tell you once you stop injuring yourself. Every week I see you in here. Your poor wife.”

He laughed, shaking his finger. “That bitch doesn’t care, amor. But if I don’t get hurt, I can’t see you. Boss doesn’t like when we hang around the medical bay.”

She laughed and nodded.

They talked for a few more minutes until they got interrupted. In a second, Shawn appeared with a gun to her friend’s head.

“Five million. Where is my five million dollars?” He spat out, not even looking at Y/N. It hurt him seeing her expression in the side of his eye. She stood there, shocked while clenching her forceps.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, boss,” Alejandro muttered, quivering by the tip of the gun hitting his forehead. Y/N stared at the man that she deeply believed had a little bit of remorse or nobility. She wouldn’t accept that she was scared, in fact, she truly believed that he was a good person.

“You stole five million from me.” Alejandro looked at him with a blank expression, and instantly he was shot.

Y/N screamed. Shawn looked at her, sadness in his eyes for her, but no pity for the dead man.

“Get him out of here.” He muttered to his two guys next to him, “And grab her.”

She was grabbed by the arm by some guy, yet she didn’t object as she was simply in shock. She was in shock because she just saw her only friend at the moment getting shot. Not just shot, but dead in front of her eyes.

Y/N had seen death many times in her life before. She had battled it for her patients every day, but seeing someone kill another was totally different. Death was nasty to her, constantly trying to steal people away from her. But, Death didn’t play the role today; Shawn did. Shawn took away someone.

Shawn closed the door behind him, telling his guys to leave them alone. She was left in a darkened room with a desk and computer. She sat, looking blankly at him.

“Are you scared of me?” He asked, closing the door, but still back towards her.

It took a while for her to find her voice, but eventually, she did, “No.” She muttered. He sighed, turning around and looking at her with the most loving eyes she had ever seen in her life.

“I’m sorry you had to see that, Y/N.” He mumbled, walking towards her and pulling a chair out, sitting and grabbing her hands.

He looked at her, wanting sympathy, yet she didn’t know where she was lying at the moment. He’d just killed someone. He was a murderer.  

“You killed someone,” she choked out, letting a tear roll down her cheek. He nodded, gripping her hands so tightly, as if he wanted human connection more than oxygen. He wanted to be real for a moment, to expose himself to her.

“I had too.” She shook her head rapidly, as she looked up to his chestnut eyes.

“You don’t have to do anything, Shawn. You killed a man who meant so much to me. He was the only person in my life that cared for me at the moment. You took that away.”

She was shocked not only by his actions minutes ago, but the way he was opening up to her was even more shocking, yet he still killed someone. 

“I care for you, Y/N. I care so fucking much about you, you don’t understand. I can’t sleep because all I can think of is you putting your hair into a ponytail or the laughter you share with the guys or the smile you have whenever you look at me. I care way too much for you and it hurts that I can’t be the person you want me to be.” He told her, holding onto her hands hard as they faced each other.

“Don’t use that as an excuse for what you did,” she spat. Shawn understood where she laid. He shouldn’t have brought up his feelings for her. But, he did, and that was what made him an awful person in his eyes.

“He stole five million dollars, princess.” She shook her head, pulling her hands away from his. His heart sank from the lack of heat from her small hands.

“I knew he stole five million dollars from you, Shawn, he told me when he did. He was so afraid of you. Yet, he stole it to save his village back at home. He stole it to send his granddaughter to university; she wants to be a doctor. You have so much money, Shawn. He wanted to be a good person, someone you could never be.” She told him, getting up and heading to the door.

“You said you’re not scared of me.” He said right as she was about to grab the doorknob.

“I’m not scared of you, Shawn. But, I do think that you’re a monster.” She told him, turning around and looking at the man she had caught feelings for the last few weeks.

She walked out. Shawn closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, anger and misery beginning to consume his bloodstream. She told him that he was a monster, and she walked out. And in theory, he did believe he was a monster.

-

Shawn didn’t sleep that night. He constantly rolled around his king bed, trying to find comfort, but her words lingered in his brain. “You're a monster.” To him, Y/N was perfection in his dark world of corruption. Shawn opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. He needed to clear things with her, but at the moment it was so raw. He was falling for her, and he was falling for her hard.

He got up, walking through his apartment and grabbing a glass of water. It was a little past three. He opened the fridge, looking for something, but there wasn’t much; leftovers mostly. He groaned the only light in the room was the fridge light and the moonlight coming from the big window behind him.

The brunette was up all night, therefore he had time to think. He was a monster; he had come to terms with it. But, he got into this business, so he had to be. But, he wasn’t a monster to her. He was trying so hard to be perfect to her. But, Shawn was quiet and rude around her. That, or flirtatious and mysterious. He was a player, but for her, he’d go down on his knees and beg for mercy.

A knock was what brought him out of his daze. He walked towards his door, loose sweatpants hung to his figure, messy hair and tired bags complimented him. Yet, he wondered who would come at this time. He hadn’t gotten a call telling of an emergency, but he had an urge to open it.

“Y/N?” He opened, staring at the girl’s worried expression. She stood in front of him, with pyjama pants and a coat. She looked at him, and he questioned everything about why she was there.

“You sell drugs, right?” She asked out of nowhere. He was still trying to place puzzle pieces together; how she knew he lived here, why she was here, was she ok.

“Yes.” He answered. She looked cold and he just wanted to grab her and hold her forever.

“Do you have enemies?” Y/N was so emotionless with her questions, and it drove him to pain; he needed to figure out what was wrong.

“Of course.” She nodded, noticing now that he was shirtless, scars littering his body.

Yet, she didn’t know how to put this next statement to him, “I feel unsafe,” she muttered, “I went to the warehouse to find you, but you weren’t there. Matt told me your address.”

Shawn instantly got worried and opened the door to let her in. He closed it and turned to her.

“I was about to go home, but there was a guy hanging by my door. I stayed put in my car for an hour and he didn’t move. I can’t call the police, so I came to you.” Shawn nodded, looking at her as she stood in the moonlight, and all he could do was be in awe.

“What did he look like?” He watched as she dropped her coat and grabbed the blanket that was thrown across his couch. “Here, let me get you a hoodie.” He mumbled, walking back to his room and retrieving one and handing it to her.

Y/N reluctantly put it on, and she was so cute in it, so perfect. “I couldn’t see his face, but he had this tattoo on his arm. It was like a skull and a triangle and-”

“Fucking Isaac.” He muttered, running his hands through his hair and looking at her. “You aren’t going back to your house until this is sorted. I’ll get one of the guys to grab you some stuff, but otherwise, you’re staying with me.” He told her.

“Shawn, is that really necessary?” He looked at her and placed his hands on her cheeks.

“I care about you a lot, Y/N. Isaac is from our rival gang. He must’ve heard how important you are to me. So, yes, it is necessary. You aren’t to leave without me, you go with me to work, you are to never be alone. Because this could go either two ways: he kills you, or he kidnaps you, and that’s worse than being killed.” She nodded. He let out a shaky breath and grabbed her shoulders, bringing her into a hug.

Y/N was surprised for a second, yet later wrapped her hands around the gentle giant. Shawn nuzzled his face into her hair and placed a delicate kiss on her head. He pulled away and tucked her hair behind her ears and smiled. She had to admit, he may be a horrible person in his work environment, but he was the softest person to her.

“Thank you.” She muttered, looking up at his eyes and he smiled, grabbing her hands and bringing it to his lips.

“Bedtime for you.” She nodded, as she followed him to the guest room.

“But Y/N, thank you for being in my life.” She smiled, getting into the duvet as Shawn closed the lights and headed to his room.

The minute his head hit the pillow, sleep drowned him. He was finally able to sleep at this late hour, but it didn’t take long till he heard small paddling of feet in his hallway. As a person who is constantly in danger, the smallest sounds wake him. His eyes shot open and he heard his door open and instantly - forgetting that he had Y/N staying over - he leaned to his left and grabbed his gun on his bedside table and pointed it at the unknown figure.

“Shawn?” Her small delicate nectar voice was heard and he relaxed, placing the gun down.

“Hi, honey,” she leaned against the door, “can’t sleep?” She nodded. Shawn bit his lip and placed the gun back to where it was. He pulled the duvet up to signal her to come in; which she complied.

Y/N sat on the mattress and swung her legs over, watching as Shawn placed the blankets on her small body compared to his.

“Thank you.” He smiled, watching as she turned away, therefore he followed.

Moments later, he heard the ruffle of blankets and a body moving. He was welcomed to an arm swung across his frame and a face nuzzling into his neck. He smiled, feeling so happy at the moment. Y/N was cuddling him. His future love was touching him in a matter that wasn’t forced. She was asleep in his bed and she was holding him, so he fell asleep with a smile on his face.

-

His first feeling was heat. He felt sweat and heat between two bodies and he instantly remembered the beautiful lady in his bed. A humble smile came to him as he opened his eyes to morning dawn and the chirping of little birds outside his window.

Shawn looked around and saw that her face was laid on his chest and his arms were wrapped around her. It was perfect. It was the most beautiful way to be woken up. He just pitied himself for not having this happiness sooner.

He placed a kiss on her forehead and she began to move gently. “Morning,” he mumbled as her pearl eyes opened. She wasn’t afraid, far from it.

“I have to get to work.” Is all she mumbled. Shawn let out a little laugh and she smiled.

“Let’s get something to eat first.” He mumbled, playing with her hair as he stared into her eyes. She gave him a smile.

“Shawn?” He cocked his eyebrow. “Kiss me.” He laughed awkwardly, but she was so much in a daze to realise.

“Y/N-” She shook her head.

“You care about me, I care about you. We have major tension between us. We have feelings for each other, so just kiss me.” He nodded, leaning down and grabbing her cheeks gently as their lips met.

It was so clichè, but it was perfect for them. He was gentle, not dominating, as they kissed each other with perfect rhythm. Her fingers were in his hair as his hands wandered to her hips. He tugged on them, making her move to be on top of him as they continued to make out. But, it was pure bliss and way too overwhelming to worry about anything.

“You’re so cute,” she mumbled, pulling away and looking at him like a lovesick puppy.

“I prefer the word sexy or hot, honey, but that’ll do.” He told her, kissing her lips again.

-

They left each other at the warehouse with the linger of a hand touching and a kiss to the cheek. It was cute, honeymoon-like. And every one of Shawn’s mates would agree that he deserved this, he deserved to be happy.

Little did she know what the problems were with being with a gang leader. He was constantly in danger.

Y/N hadn’t heard from Shawn all day. Honestly, she wasn’t worried about it. She sat, hanging around, checking up on her patients, going out for lunch with Geoff and grabbing a coffee for herself, and doing a little shopping. She honestly thought that being out in broad daylight wouldn’t cause problems, and Geoff was with her. So, that night she filled it with drinking wine and watching reruns of a sitcom.

But, she went back, hearing from Geoff that there was a heist that night and had to return back to the warehouse. Yet, he let out all the details as to just how bad this fight was.

“What do we got?” She asked, grabbing gloves and walking to Geoff. He gave her a look and pointed to one of the medical beds that a curtain covered.

She went to it, opening it and stared. Shawn. Shawn was in her medical bay and he was hurt...really bad.

“Don’t touch me. Get my girlfriend.” He muttered to one of the guys who was trying to apply pressure to the gashing wound on his stomach.

“Get, Y/N. She’s the best, don’t bloody touch me!” He kept going on and on and Y/N took a breather.

“Shawn.” His eyes shot up to her and he smiled, yet recognised her worried face.

“Baby. I got a little roughed up, that’s all, I promise you.” She nodded, walking towards his wound and pulling open the bandage. She closed her eyes and looked at him.

“What happened?”

He smiled, trying to lighten up the mood. “Just got in a fight, that’s all.”

She laughed. “A fight? You’ve got a cut in your abdomen, so close to muscle. And your shoulder is dislocated.” He smiled an awkward smile and she groaned. “Everyone get out!” She turned away from him, gathering supplies to disinfect the wound and to create stitches. “You’re gonna be out of the ballgame for a little while.” She muttered, turning around as he looked at her with puppy eyes.

“Baby…” She raised her eyebrows and walked towards his dislocated shoulder.

“This is gonna hurt… a lot. Scream as loud as you want.” She told him grabbing his arm and placing it to the side, hearing a groan. Then, slowly she moved his arm so that his hand was behind her head. Finally, she began reaching for the other shoulder and his shoulder popped right in.

“Fuck!” He yelled, making her giggle.

“Stop being a pussy.” She mumbled, grabbing the needle and forceps and getting down to business.

“So, keep that patch on for a few days. I live with you, so I’ll change it soon.” She told him, still not making eye contact with her boyfriend.

He sensed her anger and worry. Yet, he knew she shouldn’t let personal feelings break through. Shawn was hurt, yes. Shawn got himself in trouble, yes. So she shouldn’t be such a bitch.

“Y/N,” she turned around and stared at him, all bandaged up, “come here.” She obliged and walked towards him.

Shawn grabbed her hand with the hand that wasn’t strapped within the brace and looked at her.

“Thank you,” She smiled as he gave her the kissy lips, which she leant down to, connecting the two together.

“I love you,” he muttered, pulling away. She looked at him, as he realised what he said.

“Y/N, princess, I-”

She smiled, placing her finger against his lips, “I love you too, doofus.”

-

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[aplaceofstone]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Twin Peaks Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Dale Cooper & Laura Palmer Characters: Dale Cooper (Twin Peaks), Laura Palmer Additional Tags: character-typical orientalism, Dreamscapes, Post-Canon, Symbolism, Road Trips, Future Fic, but also past fic! what year is this, trick - Freeform Summary:

Windom told Dale about the dugpas. Dale tells Laura about the dugpas. Laura doesn't say much in this one, already knowing that projection is one hell of a drug. And while they don't talk about it, they both remember peeking under the curtains only to find themselves staring at a vast and starless expanse beyond. In the end there is nothing to say.

My Trick or Treat story for @cerealninjakat!

ETA I’m told AO3 is being glitchy, does this work?

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It's another all-night drive to nowhere. Town after town, highway after highway until time and distance lose meaning. Their whole world has shrunk to the space within the arcs of a rental car's headlights, all dark asphalt and road paint. The radio is broken. When words flow out of their throat, they come out heavy and full of static. All they fill the air with is ghosts.

"Have I told you of my encounter with the dugpas?" asks Cooper.

"The what?" asks back Laura, eager to break the silence, not quite sure this is the way to do it.

"Dugpas, Laura." He grows bold, there's an echo of an old story molding his words, it's an easy path to follow. "The dark magicians who are otherwise known as red caps, as Madame Helena Blavatsky describes them in her early theosophical writings. They are an old sect of monks who resisted the yellow-cap gelugpa reform of the fourteenth century - a deeply spiritual affair, the details of which, if I am to be completely honest, mostly elude me - and practice their drunken sorceries in the great monastery of Sakia-jong, deep in the heart of Tibet. Or… in Bhutan." He frowns, losing momentum, struggling to chase back that memory, that knowledge, the abstract idea of a geographical map, finding no help in Laura's distant gaze. "...sources differ. It is said... that they can imbue even common objects with their evil magnetism. It is a fearsome power to be sure. To hex pieces of cloth that they place on the mountain paths that lead to their monastery, so that incautious hikers will step upon them and be subject to a tremendous psychic shock, making them fall to their doom. The high path of knowledge and spirituality is indeed a treacherous one..."

"Oh, yes." She nods, slowly. It's a slow day. "I met those. Didn't think they were monks, though."

"What do you mean?"

"I met those. But I didn't think they were monks."

Cooper nods. Certainties like that, they go nowhere. One day he and Laura herself will find out what she meant by those words, if it was her memory, or his, or something they have not experienced yet, or they will not. Happens to the best of them.

Regardless, he has his tale to tell, a tale which, as he recalls, began when he appeared in the mountains, far, far away. "Laura, the mountains…"

In his memory, which is coming back to him as would a dream, one moment he was not there, the next he was, dragged through the ether by invisible forces. Summoned, is, the word, through obscure magic rituals. The mountains! The stone was old and heavy under the melting snow, banded, folded upon itself in so many layers that traced their parallel lines along the sharp cut of the mountainside; the gray horizon stretched farther than he had ever seen. Cooper stood motionless on a flat, dark rock. The pale six o'clock sun was still high in the sky. Amidst that stillness, a crimson line snaked through the valley, slowly marching toward him. It was a procession of monks, chanting in unison as they walked, and they wore red robes and red hats, and he knew what they were, and he could not move, overtaken as he was by fear. One by one, as they came next to him, they grabbed his face and observed it, tracing their fingers along his hairline and down to his jaw as if to find some secret there, a crack, a fault line. He didn't know their faces and they knew his face and they judged him. He knew, as he knows now, that there were good monks far away, in the monastery which lay at the end of the valley, whose golden domes could be seen on the horizon where the two mountains met. He thought, in his terror, that if he could get away, he would be able to take refuge there and the good monks would look after him. He thought they would show him their truths. But he could not get away. One by one, they grabbed his face and observed him, and they let him go.  Imperfect moon, they said. Imperfect moon. There was no moon in the sky, but that is what they said, and then they left. The valley was empty again. He wanted to run to the safety of the monastery, but as the last monk passed him by, he was not in the mountains anymore. Whatever mystical force had taken hold of him had loosened its grip, or another power had grown stronger. He found himself back in his bed, relieved by the simple familiarity of the objects around him, and went on to get a good cup of coffee, a fact which is positioned as the moral of the story, and maybe it is, he concludes with an awkward smile.

And then: with the gravity of the plate collision that gave birth to the mountains, this moment shifts, morphs, stretches, grows tighter and more brittle.

They linger in their motel room. The desert fills the horizon outside their window; Laura feels that she has seen this place already, with its vast clouds above and constellations of cacti on the ground, and lived this life already, and heard this story already. So it goes, on and on, swirling in the clouds, already written in secret patterns on the ground. They are tired.

"Have I told you of my encounter with the dugpas?" asks Cooper.

"The what?" asks back Laura.

"Dugpas, Laura. That is a name for the darker parts of the self. There is, you see, a tendency in occultist writings to speak in metaphors for the struggle of the human soul, so a text may describe the depraved dealings of a dark sorcerer, but when push comes to shove, what they mean to show is that all men may fall prey to those fallacies. It has long been proven that symbolic images are a way for the human brain to grasp abstract concepts that would be much too difficult to be absorbed directly. And so the Path of the Shadow, or the Left-Hand Path as it is also known, is a dark discipline for the the so-called black magicians of the Occident, but their archetype applies to us all. In a way, it is said, it stands for the selfish choices made by our ego in every little event in our lives, when we move away from universal unity and toward separation."

"Story of our lives," Laura laughs. There is no answer Cooper could offer that would make them feel better, so he offers none. Story of their lives.

Her laughter fades and he has to keep telling his story, to make sense of it. In this particular story of his life, then, the curtains parted and the mountains appeared before him.

"No, no, no, let me start again: I was standing in a small room, back then," he says, and they both know where that  back then is, and that it still looms over them, trembling red in the corner of their eye, chevron reflections in a diner's toilet. It is them. But back then they curtains and the chevron were all around them, they were a place, which usually affords a certain degree of separation from the self. Except all of a sudden the curtains came up to him, sneaking on the floor and rising up against him from all directions. His body was surrounded by heavy red velvet. He tried to fend off the attack, but he saw faces in the fabric's folds, sneering at him. What he had thought to be curtains were rows of men and women dressed in red vests and red caps, some of them old, some of them young, their faces were all harsh and marked by evil, and they were all him.

This sea of red-clad people who were him swarmed to him and parted back, and instead of the room, the mountains laid before him. The mountains! The stone was old and heavy under the melting snow, banded, folded upon itself in so many layers that traced their parallel lines along the sharp cut of the mountainside; the gray horizon stretched farther than he had ever seen. Cooper stood motionless on a flat, dark rock, trembling, feeling naked against the open expanse of the valley. The pale six o'clock sun was still high in the sky. The figures in red had swarmed the ground. A doctor came forward - long face, gray hair, a veterinarian, a distant part of Dale Cooper but a part of him nonetheless - and visited him as he stood there, paralyzed by fear. Cooper knew that this sea of red was not all of him: there was a house far away at the end of the valley, whose roofs could be seen where the two mountains met, where all the good he had done waited for him, wearing different vests and different faces, to look after him and to show him the way.

"Ever had any luck running from yourself?" asks Laura, her interest piqued.

"Oh, they let me go."

The doctor stitched him back up, shaking his head at the end of his exam. Instead of explaining himself, he fell atop him, unfolding like a piece of fabric, leaving behind only the echo of his words: he shall bring others. He was a curtain again, and so were the others, and Cooper was back there, back inside. He spent the rest of that day thinking about those faces, an instant and twenty-five years. But the curtains never showed them again. They were far away.

Once again the moment shifts. It cracks, splinters, gains new mass.

They walk, because a car will not lead them where they need to be. They have been walking for a long time. The day is cold for the season, the snow hasn't fully relented yet, but their jackets are warm and their boots well-worn. The slope is mild and they are not alone on the path, tourists and locals alike enjoying the pleasures of a sunny day.

A row of gaudy little flags planted on the edge of the path catches Dale's attention; he waves at Laura to wait for him and kneels down to check out the closest one. The fabric is smooth under his fingers. The ground is smooth under his knees and he falls off the path, down the cliff. The world goes dark. Eventually, he lands on a different path underneath, one they did not tread on their way up. Laura is following after him, balancing herself with her open arms as she steps on big, flat stones on the mountain's side. With one last hop, she is standing by his side, helping him back up with a steady hand. They look ahead, trying to find their bearings.

The mountains beckon them. The mountains! It comes back to them, as would a dream, or they come back to it, or both at once when seen from an impossible perspective encompassing both ends of the story. The stone is old and heavy under the melting snow, banded, folded upon itself in so many layers that trace their parallel lines along the sharp cut of the mountainside; the gray horizon stretches farther than he has ever seen. Cooper stands motionless on a flat, dark rock, Laura by his side. The pale six o'clock sun is still high in the sky.

There are people walking on the path above; some stop to look at them. There are rows of people on a path higher up still, and yet more on the other side. Wool hats all over, 'tis the season (although which season it is, they could not say); some of them are red. They stare, for a while. Then they walk away, carrying their red hats with them, struck by indifference, keeping their secrets, their vices, their miseries, spreading them into the world. This place does not care. They have fallen into a mirror of itself and see now with razor-sharp clarity the simplicity of it all under the tales and symbols. It is vast and terrifying.

"Have I... told you… about...?" Dale says, and they are among ghosts, and a cold fog covers his words.

"Tell me that story," says Laura with the same urgency in her voice. "How did you get out?"

"I…"

The valley ends somewhere up North, as all valleys do. But there is nothing at the end of the road, where the mountains meet. No-one has summoned them: no-one has the power to let them go. Evil exists. A desolate crossing place leads into the unknown.

"I don't think I ever did."

[an-ambivalent]

World Of Gluttony [Yandere! Vampire! Kim Seok-jin] [Reader-Insert]

Warning: As this story contains yandere themes, the characters display behaviors that can be triggering or uncomfortable to read. Read at your own risk. This work is purely fiction. I do not believe any of the mentioned members would display any sort of this behaviour irl. 

(Honestly, this chapter isn't too bad. It's pretty vanilla compared to my other yandere works but I guess works like these still require warnings). 

Word count: 4.5K 

It was late at night, precisely around 9 pm when you and two of your other friends had returned from your shopping spree for junk food from the neighbourhood supermarket. Doing something as mundane as grocery shopping with your best friends while wearing pajamas felt special in its own way. Unfortunately all of you had miscalculated just how cold the night was, because by the time Vicki opened the door to her and Mina’s apartment, and all of you rushed in, you were shivering.

Simultaneously, all of you settled the bags of grocery carelessly on the floor, and your other friend Mina, turned on the room’s light, as Vicki rushed to turn on the heat pump. You shuddered as you took of your shoes, before you picked up your blanket you had left on the couch, and wrapped it around yourself.

“This is getting ridiculous,” You began, as Vicki grabbed two enormous party size packets of some chips, and one packet of biscuits, while Mina turned on the TV. “It’s summer at the moment and by definition summer equals hot weather. I shouldn’t be shivering like its a 5 degree winter night during this time of the year. Why has it been so cold lately?” You whined. Vicki was going to respond, when Mina hushed her and directed her and your’s attention towards the news that was being displayed and read on the TV.

“We can discuss our complaints later. There’s been weird things going on lately. Let’s see what the news says,” She said, and while you usually did not like to watch the news, you stayed quite and obliged since she was right.

In your country, you resided in the small town called Glutala[1]. Despite the crimes or political agenda that may have existed in the rest of your country, your town was a fairly small one that was not unknown very well even within the country. It was somewhat notorious for its tales and history about supernaturals that had supposedly existed and resided here centuries ago.

Due to its small population, it was generally tranquil and nice to live in. Nothing exciting ever took place. So most of the local news about the town was always about something a rich person may be doing, their kids, or one or two small robberies that occurred once in a while. There was nothing of much interest so you usually never stayed updated  with the news. However, with everything that has been happening recently, you needed stay updated — for your own safety.

“It is said to be another cold night and the temperature was recorded to be dropping down more. As of yet, no logical explanation has been found behind this phenomenon. However, based on how the temperature has continued to drop in the last few weeks, it seems as if that will continue. In other news, more killings have been reported where the victim is unrecognizable due to their decayed skin. Similar to all of the other reported killings, the victim was once again found with no blood left in their body—“ The news continued, before it became insignificant background noise because your friends busied you in a conversation.

“Another killing? We haven’t had a case like this since that university girl and her ex boyfriend went missing and were never heard or found[2]. But it's been happening so much lately, I’m starting to become scared,” Mina said shivering, and Vicki’s lips stretched into a mischievous smile.

“Didn’t they say the victims were found with no blood? What if it's a vampire?” Vicki suggested, and she roughly poked Mina in her stomach, causing the girl to yelp loudly. Instantly, Mina reacted by hitting Vicki’s hand roughly and agitatedly hissing a “knock it off.” Their tactics caused you to laugh before you shook your head.

“While that notion is intriguing in it owns way[3], fyi vampires aren’t real,” You stated simply, and  your words brought the discussion to an end. In response, Vicki rolled her eyes and Mina smiled. Afterwards, as the conversation of your sleepover with them, and worries of the looming dangers in the town shifted to gossip about classmates and professors, all of you failed to notice the gleaming red eyes that glowed in the darkness of the night, and watched you silently.

                     _______________________________________

When you arrived to your class, you were not surprised to see the entire classroom discussing the recent and sudden change in weather, along with killings, in their own little cliques. As you made your way to the front of the class to your assigned seat, you briefly waved at Vicki and Mina who were assigned to sit together at the back. Unfortunately, it was monday again. Since you had stayed up quite late at your sleepover with your friends on the Saturday night, you stayed up late yesterday’s night as well to catch up on your university homework. You lacked sleep, and it showed on your face with the dark circles that were under your eyes.

You settled your coffee on your table, and your bag on the floor, before taking out your study material. Kim Namjoon, who was assigned to sit next to you, gave you a friendly smile. You wondered how he could smile like that on a monday morning.

“Morning [Name], you look like you slept well,” He said grinning, and you could feel the sarcasm radiating off his words.

“Haha,” You replied with a deadpan stare, which caused Namjoon to chuckle. Then, you sat down in your seat, and did not exchange any more words with the classmates around you. You simply sat, becoming lost in your thoughts as you waited for the class to commence.

As varies thoughts drifted in the realm existing in your mind, one sudden thought occurred to you, and you pondered on it, before deciding that it was strange. See, you were an adult, and that meant for the most part, you were capable of being responsible of your own decisions. So, being an university student, you would think that you could  sit where ever you wanted? Well, you could in all of your classes, except for this one.

For some reason, your professor for this class had assigned you particular seats from the very first day.  While there were rotations every few weeks, you were the only one who never rotated. For some strange reason, you were always assigned to your current specific spot. It was in the middle of the front row, right before where the professor usually stood and spoke. It wasn’t long before the clock struck 10, and Professor Kim Seok-jin entered the classroom.

As always, he looked incredibly dashing and was well dressed. He was a sight to see, and due to his good looks, a lot of your peers felt physically attracted to him. You did not want to admit it to yourself, but you had also formed a crush on the black-haired male -- something about him was just too captivating.

“Good morning everyone, I have finished marking your essays on your chosen topic. I will hand them out to you and explain the criteria you needed to follow for each grade,” He explained, as he began to walk around the classroom, and hand out assignments.

You thought that perhaps you were paranoid because you always felt yourself to be withdrawn to Professor Jin too much. The casual glances he threw your way more than necessary, felt like it was something more.

Truth be told, despite the fact that you were intelligent and received good grades most of the time, you were never able to focus in his class. More often than not, you pretended to be extremely focused on the displayed lectures slides, and faked writing notes. And whenever you did this, you would always feel Jin’s heavy gaze on you that seemed to be staring into your very soul. You found any excuse, and did whatever you could to avoid having to look at Jin. You thought it was just your own paranoia, but something about his eyes felt red and dangerous. These vibes you felt from him were not what scared you. Your fear stemmed from the realization that there was a very high possibility that you were subconsciously attracted to that danger.

Then there was also his voice. His unique and velvety voice that forced you to drown everything around you, and just focus on how oddly ancient and transfixing it sounded. When he spoke, his words seemed to hold wisdom that one could only attain by living through the centuries.  Additionally, when he began to speak, in this class which was filled with other people, it would eventually end up feeling as if you two were the only ones in the room, and he only cared enough to speak just for you. It was strange indeed, and it made you wonder whether he felt the same sensations and emotions as you did. And if did, did he feel them as deeply as what you felt for him?

You were brought out of your thoughts when Jin laid your assessment upside down on your desk, so your mark would be hidden. It was not necessary, but he still did it and you appreciated that mentally.  

As you grabbed your marked assessment, Jin’s fingers brushed against the skin of your hands. His touch felt icy, and it caused goosebumps to arise at the back of your neck. You could not help but notice how his touch on your skin lingered for a few seconds too long, and caused your eyes to move towards him.

Your emotive eyes filled with wonder met his haunting dark ones. He held your gaze for a few seconds, and just before he looked away, you swore you saw them glint crimson. Additionally, it also seemed as if his lips twitched up in a slight smirk.  But it was all so quick, so you thought of it as nothing more than a figment of your imagination. Afterwards, Jin moved onto the next student.

You did not realize you had been holding your breath until you exhaled deeply. Without being too conscious of what you were doing, you flipped your test to see what grade you were given. You groaned in annoyance when you saw it was not the grade that had aimed for. The little written note underneath it that read  ‘see me after class’ just made the entire situation more agonising.

                     _______________________________________

“So [Name], would you care to explain what happened with this assignment?” Jin asked, and under the harshness of his gaze, you flinched.

“I-I um,” You stammered, because you were unable to think of a response that did not portray the truth as to why you could never concentrate in his class and get decent marks.

At your response, Jin sighed exaggeratedly. The chair he was sitting on, skidded a bit against the floor as he stood up, and walked towards you.

“You know what’s strange [Name], you are doing really well in all of your other classes except for mine,” Jin began, and he came to a halt when he stood before you. His tall body structure towered above yours, and you gulped audibly as he corned you against his desk.

He leaned closer towards you until his lips were against your ear. His breath fanned your ears, his closeness caused your cheeks to redden, and your heart to skip a beat. You could not see his face. So, you were unaware of the crimson glow that had began to illuminate his irises, and his canine teeth that were desperate to show themselves and pierce into the surface of your delicate skin.

“S-Sir, I don’t think this is appropriate--” You began, before Jin cut you off.

“Are you wearing a new perfume?” He enquired, and your eyes widened in surprise. You opened your mouth to reply, but Jin had no plans of letting you speak just yet.

“You smell so good,” Jin whispered, and he attached his lips to your neck, causing a heavy gasp to leave your lips. Then, just as he gently bit into your neck, and his teeth prickled your skin, you winced in pain,  and harshly pushed him off of yourself. Luckily, it took you a few seconds to gather yourself and avert your gaze towards Jin. Within those few seconds, the crimson redness of his eyes had died, and he had quickly licked the small amount of blood he drew from you, so you would not see it.

“What the hell?!” You cried, feeling embarrassed and alarmed due to Jin’s unexpected actions.

Your response was one that Jin had not expected. He was sure that by now, he had entranced you enough so would not resist him. However, he may have underestimated you. Unbeknownst to him, you were entranced. Had it not been for the suddenness of the situation, you would not have pulled away no matter how inappropriate the current situation was - rules be damned. But, that was if the situation had not turned out to be what it was.

For Jin, it was not all bad though, because as long as he got one bite in, it was going to be more than enough.

“Sorry about that,” Jin said, and gave you an apologetic smile which was anything but apologetic. While his voice sounded sincere, his eyes told a completely different story. You were able to see right through his lie, and knew that he did not regret his actions one bit.

Suddenly, you started to feel a strange sensation coursing through your body. You put your hands on the bitten spot and covered it defensively. Simultaneously, your legs began to feel a little shaky. Your mouth felt a bit dry, and you became aware of how your eyes suddenly felt more watery. You gulped, and stared at Jin with dewed eyes.

You found yourself unable to respond, and your silence caused him to finally smile genuinely at you.

“Your grades — your work has not been up to my standard. While the topic of your essay ‘The value of a human life’ was really interesting and beautiful to read, you will need to do some extra work for me to boost up your grade. I have a special project you will be assisting me with, and depending on your contribution, I will give you your final grade. Does that sound fair Miss. [Surname]?” He asked, and there was something in the way that he addressed you by that title and your surname, rather than you first, that made the trembling in your legs feel worse. You were so focused on the words Jin spoke to you, and the effect he was having on you mentally, that you failed to realize that the ‘trembling’ in your legs was metaphorical. It was only slight sensation, and was actually not occuring physically on your body.

You knew — you knew that this entire special project thing he was talking about was fake and nothing but nonsense. Your university did not have this type of system. But you were immersed by the curiosity of what he had in store for you, which made you agree without any hesitation.

“Okay,” You agreed quietly, and Jin’s eyes lit up in response. Gently, he walked closer towards you. He was evidently more cautious of his actions this time so he would not startle you again. Tenderly, he placed his hand on your cheek, and you knew that this was his way of asking for your permission without using any words. His lips were merely inches away from yours, and you were not sure if the hotness you felt on your cheeks was due to a blood rush, or the touch of his soft hand burning against your skin.

You decided it was both, and then nodded shyly. Right away, he pecked your lips softly.

“I’ll see you tonight then,” Jin began, and as soon as his lips left yours, your body finally felt as if it was under your control again. “Meet me by the ancient stones tonight, and do not tell anyone about this.”

                         _______________________________________

When you arrived at ancient stones, it was midnight. As you had walked here, you could not help but shudder at the eerie vibes you continued to feel. There was also  heaviness and discomforting thickness that had lingered in the atmosphere. Throughout your walk, in the starless night that even the moon had not made an appearance on, you felt a harsh stare on your back the entire time. Each time you turned around in hopes to spot someone, you saw nothing.

Standing by the entrance of the ancient stones, you sent a text to Jin to inform him of your arrival, and asking him when he would arrive. Ten minutes passed, and you still had not received any reply from him. The coldness of the night was merciless. Although this time, you were smart enough to wear a lot of layers so you would prevent yourself from getting cold, the cold still manage to feel as if it was prickling your skin like wet ice. It was uncomfortable and unusual,  more so when the wind suddenly picked up.

You hissed and pulled your jacket closer to your form.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” You muttered to yourself, as you walked through the entrance doors and entered the premises of the ancient stones. “This is so ridiculous. He’s the one who told me to meet here at such an ungodly hour. I’ve really got to stop letting people trick me so easily,” You whispered. While you were busy talking to yourself, you failed to notice how the doors behind you had been shut, and locked so you would not be able to escape.

You were in the middle of composing another text to Jin about how you could not wait any longer, and if he does not reply in the next five minutes you were going to leave, when you heard a very familiar voice that caused you to halt.

“[Name]? What are you doing here?” You heard, and as you turned towards the speaker, you were surprised to see that it was your seatmate.

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion.

“Namjoon? I could ask you the same thing,” You said, and smiled at him politely. For a few moments, you received no response from him, except for the widened eyes stare he examined you with. At first, he appeared to be sceptic. However, soon, he wore a relaxed expression on his face.

Casually, he stuffed his hands in his pockets, and walked towards you with a wide smile on his face. While you usually felt comfortable around Namjoon and found his bright smile to be his attractive feature, this time his smile unsettled you.

“Did Professor Jin send you?” He asked, and you heard a metallic sound come from his pocket that sounded suspiciously dangerous. Subconsciously, with each step he took towards you, you began to take one back.

“What’s it to you?” You shot back sassily. As soon as the sass had appeared in your voice, it had disappeared. It morphed into fear when Namjoon took a knife from his pocket, and stared at you with a murderous glint in his eyes.

You were given no chance to react as Namjoon lunged at you without a warning. You screamed loudly when he tackled you to the ground by throwing himself at you. Your head, and body, hit the pavement of the concrete harshly, and since your skin rubbed against the concrete roughly, you felt a lot of your skin being torn. You winced and tried to fight Namjoon off of yourself. However, all of your struggling ceased when he ripped the part of your clothes which covered your shoulders, and once the skin of your shoulder was visible, he harshly stabbed the knife in. You screeched loudly in pain.  

He grinned when he saw blood beginning to form underneath the knife. He was eager to yank out the knife straight away, dig his fangs into your delicate skin, and drink every single drop of the blood that you had to offer. His obvious thirst  made his eyes glint red brightly. Namjoon ignored your cries, and licked his lips hungrily.

“I didn’t expect Jin to lure in someone we know since we need to avoid suspicion, and not let anyone except for our victims, find out about us. But I’m not going to going to complain. You are going to make a very delicious meal [Name],” Namjoon whispered in your ears, and then, licked your cheek. The sensation of his tongue felt sharp and revolting. Despite your weakening state, you still tried to shove him off of yourself.

Even though you were stabbed, pinned under him, scared, in a lot of pain, and close to hyperventilating, you manage to listen to his words. The downside was that his words made no sense to you.

“What the hell are you talking about?!” You cried out in distress.

Choosing to spare you from complete torture and show you some mercy in your seemingly last moments, Namjoon lifted up your chin so you could see him fully.

You frozen in bewilderment and fear when you noticed his red eyes, bloodlust expression, and long and sharp fangs. Your frightened expression made his grin widen, and it was obvious that he felt more than satisfied by the fear he made you feel.

“Y-You’re a—“ You started in a stammer, and Namjoon cut you off.

“A vampire, yeap. That’s what they all say before I drink em dry,” Namjoon began proudly, with a hearty laugh. Then, he returned his attention to you, and when he noticed how much you were shaking, he lightly patted your head. “Don’t move or struggle and it won’t hurt as much. Now, to start my meal—” He said, and just as he was about to remove the knife from your flesh and start to drink your blood, he froze.

You watched in horror as he rasped. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, and then only the sclera of eyes was visible. Then, you heard his bones snapping rapidly. All of his body parts, and the skin of his body were pulled back in one direction like vacuum until Namjoon was left as nothing but ash. Behind Namjoon’s now deceased form, stood the person you were originally supposed to encounter; Jin clicked his tongue in distaste as some of Namjoon’s blood had splashed onto him.

“What a mess,” Jin began, as he flicked Namjoon’s blood off of himself in disgust. Similar to Namjoon, his eyes were glowing a shade of red. However, unlike Namjoon, who’s shade was closer to a light hue of red, Jin’s was rich. It was the hue of a red ruby, and it glinted in the darkness like the blood moon would during a pitchless black night.

Jin’s eyes then drifted towards you, and met your petrified ones. As this happened, you froze. While you felt hypnotized by him before, at the moment, you were somewhat traumatised by what had occurred with Namjoon. You desperately wanted to run away as far as you could from Jin’s approaching form, but due to your injuries, you could barely move.

In an almost conscious state, you watched as he hovered over, before he gently wrapped his arms around you, and made you sit up. As carefully as he could, Jin removed the stabbed knife from your shoulder, and the pain from it caused you to yelp out in pain. Instantly, you wrapped your arms around his neck, and clutched the material of his shirt tightly, as tears welled up in the corner of your eyes.

“It hurts,” You cried in a whisper, and there was barely any life left in your voice. Jin’s gaze softened, and as a form of genuine apology, and source of comfort, he kissed your head.

“I know [Name], I know. But I’ll make it all better, I promise. You won’t be in pain for much longer. Just leave it to me and I’ll make you feel better,” He promised, and the sincerity in his words caused more tears to fall down your cheeks. You felt a great amount of blood leave the injury from your shoulder, which made you let out a sob, and bury your head in the crook of Jin’s neck.

“I don’t want to die,” You pleaded softly, and Jin combed his fingers through your hair reassuringly.

“You won’t die babygirl, I promise. Whatever I do, it will be all for your own good. Just tell me one thing [Name]. Do you trust me?” Jin asked in a whisper, and as soon as he had asked that question, you felt a strange churning in your stomach. It was such a simple question but it felt like it was something much more — as if your answer was going to decide something big for your fate.

You gulped, and with how delicately Jin was handling you, something beyond your control prompted you to answer without a moment of hesitation.

“I trust you Jin,” You answered, and instantly, the crimson of his eyes glowed blindingly brighter, and he leaned towards your injury. Just before his lips got a taste of your blood, you saw his fangs make an evident appearance which struck a bit of fear into you. But you could not go back on your words, and you realized you would not need to, when you felt no biting or draining of your blood. What you felt were slow, and tender licks that cleaned the blood which had stained your skin, and they helped heal your injury.

“You made all the right choices [Name],” Jin began mumbling in between his licks, and his words confused you greatly. But you never got to question it, because he continued to speak.

“I was never meant to hurt you in this world. I wouldn’t even think about it. I would rather die than hurt you. You have no idea how much I love you. Thank you for letting me mark you as mine, and saving me from becoming someone like Namjoon. I promise that in this lifetime, you are only one I will ever feed on. I promise to only love you, and never let anyone hurt you ever again,” Jin whispered passionately, with nothing but fondness he held for you etched in his eyes.

His peculiar promises increased your confusion. Simultaneously, your body seem to realize that it was no longer in danger because all of the pain, screaming, crying, and exhaustion from tonight finally caught up to you. Black dots clouded your vision and you began to lose consciousness.

“Jin, what?” You breathed, as your eyes closed on you. In response, he only silenced you with  a sweet kiss to your lips.

As you completely lost consciousness to get the much needed sleep your body required, Jin smiled at you, and whispered a definite promise.

“In this time world and lifetime, you will only belong to me.”

GOOD ENDING

<< previous: Prologue | next: Sloth [Yandere! Emperor! Yoongi] >> | Masterpost

[1]  This is two words combined — gluttonous + vetala which means vampire in Sanskrit. Basically, the town’s name suppose to indicate gluttonous vampire which refers to the name of the chapter and the au that the chapter is based on.

[2]  Reference to Notice Me Noona 

[3] Literally a dialogue I integrated from Ouran High School host Club haha. It's that episode where Kyoya is left alone sleeping in a common's mall. 

A/N: First of all, congratulations for getting the good ending on the very first chapter!! I'm so happy and proud of all of you T_T!! Secondly, I would just like to explain something about this story: It is a chaptered story in a way that it is a series too. Each chapter dedicated to one member can be read individually and will have its own plot, however, they will be all connected in the epilogue. The endings of each chapter matters because you want to get majority of them as good endings to get to the good ending. That's about it :) Keep up the good work!! See you in the next update~ (or on my blog haha)

[versuswhitescar]

Malam Manor

We all grow up with that once upon a time, crap. When you're little, you believe it. Who believes it as an adult? I mean, really? We have smartphones, rumbas, and clap on lights. No one meets a 17-year-old vampire who supposed to be 52. But I have, and I found his tapes by accident. Now I'm living a filliping ounce upon a time that Anne Rice would drool over. If I don't find the f-ing cave his sister is trapped in, I'm going to be enjoying a lot less sunlight for damn sure.

I know if I could figure out the details, I'll find the cave. And the murderer and maybe be spared, or I fail, and I'm the next Elena Gilbert. I sure hope not.

I'm just a damn tutor who needs money for her master's degree. Why did I even think that posting a flyer online was a good idea? Hell, my only tinder date turned out to be a 300 lb guy catfishing for a date to his sister's wedding. I stupidly, no innocently thought I'd get some pimply high school sophomore struggling through R and J and Shakespeare word salad.

Man, was I wrong? Mr. Cain Haywater answered my ad. Normal name for an average guy, right? Well, who the hell names their kid after the first murder in the Bible, but I'm getting off track. My ancient 98 jeep with more rust than metal is not going up the hill to the "Malam Manor." Later I Google it and turns out the word is Latin for bad. I should have asked Siri sooner. Too late, Cain Haywater a ward of the state. Because he's 17 and wicked rich is paying me 50 bucks an hour to help write his family's history.

This house is unusual in ways I can't even begin to describe. Its windows seem to follow you like eyes while I rev up the circle drive. The brick looks like it's from out of the Hogwarts rejection pile. The height makes it at least three floors, and there's a damn covered entry that carriages pulled under in the 19th century. Besides the semi-creepy outsides, even though it looks well maintained, I'm coming here close to 9 pm. Ounce, the sun is down on the hottest July night in history. I should have done a business major instead of English lit. Follow your bliss, my mom said. What does she know she's a nail tech for the last 12 years. She probably has brain damage from the polish fumes.

I can't imagine anyone hears my lame knock at the gigantic door. But I swear to God it seems like a cat or something opened the door. I thought maybe the heat melted my brain, but it looked like a fuzzy ken doll. It darted behind a curtain. Before I could investigate Cain, hold my breath beautiful, Haywater stands ten feet in front of me in his large foyer in black jeans, skin-tight grey shirt with a badass blue tattoo that seems to have a deep center that radiates over his forearm. I'm shook in so many ways I can barely speak "Nyx, Nyx Jackson?" My name never sounded so smooth coming out of any humans mouth ever. That was when my brain should have clicked over to reality that he wasn't human. He hadn't been human since 1989.

Sadly only 2 hours into my best tutoring gig ever, I discovered Cain Haywater was indeed a real vampire. And his beloved twin sister Danielle, Dani, as he referred to her, was just as dead only traped in a watery caved transformed into a rusalka for the last 34 years. I was Cains's last chance at finding her cave and the wort boyfriend a girl could ask for. Jefferson Granton. A 200-year-old vampire that he needed to kill. My life wasn't fair and only made worse by the fact that I'm sure I'm going to fail, and my last meal was crappy ramen.

It was my stomach and too much curiosity that made me start playing with the vintage tape recorder Cain had on the black walnut desk. He heard my growling belly and while he searched for food. I pressed play. Big mistake, I'm not sure where he went to kill the food, but I listened to almost one side of a cassette tape. The quick spark notes, once he came back with cheese, apples, and fancy crackers to catch me, went fast.  

Back in May of 1986, he and his twin sister were graduating from Xaiver highschool. Somehow she latched on to an older college guy that wandered into town on a semester off to find himself. Jefferson Granton was mesmerizing, according to Cain, tall blond lovely to look at and even more interesting to listen to. He swept naive Danni off her feet on a cross country trip. He had a long term plan. One he had been cooking up for at least 100 years when Cain's family made a fortune in lumber and now stocks.

Jeffy boy started life as Jacarde Gulomar in the Brittany region of France. He accepted the gift of eternal life from a Norse vampire who wanted a mate. Jeff never entirely made his fortune and became a bad luck symbol for the covens all over Europe. Eyes on the new country to the west, he hopped a ship and arrived to wonder the grandness of the US just after the civil war. Comming upon early decedents of the Haywater clan. William Percy Haywater knew the deal equipped each member of the family with a hawthorn stake, holy water, and a warning against a freshly minted newly named Jefferson Granton.

No one fell for him until Danni, with all her beauty and openness, fell in love, and became a target for her trust fund. By the time the twins were 17, their parents were dead at the fate of a drunk driver, and a deaf Aunt looks after them. Danni fell under Jefferson's spell forgetting all caution to follow to the whispering cave. Now oddly in the middle of the mind-melting story, a flash caught my eye, and I met the grandfather like ken doll Cain shared his mansion with.

Pere was a domavoy who kept Cain and Malan safe as much as he could. Cain respects and adored him, so I was polite. Over the next three weeks, I moved in search their land every day when Cain joins me and feasts on Pere's cooking skills. His little face sparkled at each new dish he made for me after decades of blood bags. On steamy Saturday, July 31st, I finally found, or more fell into the mouth of the cave. Much of Cain's memory was erased on the night he watched Jefferson murder Danni while he hogtied in the corner of the damp cave. Only to meet a fate worse than Danni by forcefully being turned and compelled to kill and drain his Aunt of all her blood. Jefferson helps smooth it all over with some compulsion and tricks, but Cain secured his wealth in the next few days only to vanish. He picked a small fishing village in Maine, where he met Gabriel 100-year-old vampire who taught him to live and gave him advice on how to avenge Danni. Gabriel's plan centered on Cain coming home as his namesake's son Cain Haywater II. The mansion and his tie to Danni or Cain's greatest strength. It was clear why Jefferson failed to control them.

The night I stumbled into the cave, I wore my Danni look-alike costume Pere helped me pull together. I looked like a backup dancer on a Wham video. It was. It was to trick Jefferson, but oddly I caught the attention of another creepy creature a leshii in the woods. I thought it was Cain because the voice fit, and I felt drawn to the being. Only when it had led me halfway across the land did I catch a glimpse of its eyes. Pure white scalaris was not a hint of iris or pupil. Taking off back towards the cave, I felt two forces moving me one I can now sense with Cain, and the other I was damn sure was Jefferson. He'd been down a rough road probably because, in life, he was a bit of a narcissist. Only to have that enhanced by his Vampire Life, he thought I was Danni, and he'd Follow Me to Hell to get that money. Once we made it to the rippling silver pond within the cave, I laid eyes on Daniella. My wham costume was a joke compared to her beauty.

She swept as close to us as possible, shouting silently in my brain to turn now. Cain stands between me and Jefferson stake in hand slowly I fell to the wash of a cool breeze flowing over us which I knew mixed with my warm body temp to engulf Cain it was in that moment I saw the vague outline of a man just like he left a speakeasy in 1926. He became more gas-like to almost solid, yet I could still see right through him. He is handsome except for that visible gunshot wound to his right Temple. Why was I surprised that we now have a ghost to add to the mix. Pere spoke of the cave as whispered he claimed someone took their life after the 1920 stock crash here he was with eyes for Danni.

The extraordinary power Cain had wasn't just his home or his connection to his twin. It was that he could feel loved. He survived and lived by keeping his Humanity. I saw beautiful sparkling Jefferson with his flowing blonde hair realize it too. Cains power made the cave hum Jefferson was cocky, and that was very clear. He charged expecting to deflect the steak easily, but with Danni's strength and God help me my feelings for Cain. He drove the stake straight and true into Jefferson's lean chest.

Before I can blink Cain without a blade from his boot and with incredible strength severed the head like clockwork Cain without a new Zippo lighter and flicked it on to Jeffy. Making a roaring vampire candle. Can quickly turn to glance behind making a connection with Danni. "find your bliss" I heard in my head, and I knew Cain heard it too. The 1920s gentleman back into Danni as they drifted further back into the cave. We're only water held the floor we stood still.   "Nyx?" his velvet voice floated over me. I can only gape open mouth, watery eyes, and some snot beginning to flow. At that moment, my stomach rumbled loudly. He smiled a genuinely genuine smile with all the years that he waited. I knew without any doubt Cain Haywater would be in my future Tech probably my whole life, and I smiled too.

Let me know what you think and If you want more 

[collateralfiction]

07

Bailey

"I'm proud of you, yo. I remember you dreading High School and now look at you?! 'Bout to be a junior in College this fall. Shit, you're better than Ryan," Riley chuckled, leaning against the couch cushion. It was rare to have Riley in New York when he's usually down south but his random visits here and there were nothing short of amazing for me. No matter what he would always find some time to spend the day with me or whatever the case may be since he doesn’t live in New York. I was just happy that he kept me in his thoughts the way he did. While he and Ryan might not have had the best of a relationship, it was a work in progress and that's what matters. I just know without a doubt Riley and I clicked off bat. "Real shit, B. I don't say it enough to you though,"

"Thank you," I mumbled, playing with the ends of my hair. “Besides my parents, I'm graduating for you as well,"

"Shit, you might as well," he chuckled. "I should have put my degree to use. I don't know why I haven’t,"

"Same here. But, it's never too late to make use of it; you’re smart and furthermore, know that I'm supporting you 100%. I just want to dedicate this to you as well because you are a strong reason as to why I'm majoring in Sociology to begin with. Trust, you're definitely included in this journey with me," I teased. He shook his head slowly and sunk further into the white couch. As a tradition, my family and his would come together for dinner, smack dab in the middle of the week. It was just a bonus that Riley came down when he did because he was literally M.I.A and it was rare that we would all be in the same space at the same time.

"I think I'm going to move my ass up here, soon,"

My eyes instantly enlarged at his revelation. With him and his brother reconnecting, a move to the east coast would be amazing. Georgia is great and all, but his real family is in New York and that’s where he should reside at. “Are you serious? That’s one of the best news I’ve heard all week,” I gushed. Up until Wednesday night, it had seemed like I was experiencing the worse week of my life. A visit upstate to my father was supposed to occur but due to his behavior, they suspended visitation and calls for three weeks. He’s in solitary confinement and I’m worried that this might push him in for a longer sentencing. Other than that, I’ve just seemed to have bad luck; none of the test I’ve gotten back have been over an eighty, my partner for a project that’s due in a week has been slacking and Ryan and I aren’t on the best of terms.

“Now, I don’t want you to get gassed ‘cause of this because it’s not set in stone but I’m letting you know,”

“My lips are sealed. Just make it happen,” I smiled widely.

“I want it to be the perfect timing, so everything will fall into place. If not, shit will be a mess,” he stated.

“What? What do you mean by that?” I riposted, sitting up.

Is that what he truly meant?

Precision is key?

Without precision, what are you really left with?

A mess.

That must have been a warning early on; a premonition. But who am I kidding? I don't believe in those.

I brought the flat iron to my hair, gently sliding it against the grasp of hair I had left. I did the one thing I swore I wouldn’t do today and accidentally allowed my hair to get wet from the shower I took earlier and due to the heat, it’s no surprise that my hair began to curl. The weather was perfect for a day in where I wore my hair straightened so I was going to take full advantage of that and straighten it for this special occasion. I’m just hoping my hair lasted for as long as I needed it to. Blowing out a steam of air, I placed the flat iron against the counter of my mother’s bathroom and smiled at the finished product. If I do say so myself, I did do a damn good job at straightening my hair. All I needed to do was apply a bit of makeup and I’d be set.

Normally, it would be a blessing for someone to see their graduation day and for me, that’s exactly what it was, ten times over. 4 weeks – a month – had passed and I was safe, well as safe as I could get. I’m not too sure what occurred but days had passed since a week had gone by and not a word from Adrian. I was starting to suspect that Ryan finally handled the situation like I advised him to, but I would never know if he indeed handled the situation like I asked him to anyhow. Whatever the case may be, I was grateful,l and I was doing the one thing that I knew would make my parents and Riley extremely happy. As of lately, my mother has been in a stressful state and even with me somewhat living back home, it seems like paranoia is still infused into her thinking. But, I can’t say I don’t fault her for her thinking.

“Wedges or heels?” I mumbled quietly to myself. I was already dressed and wore a white, strapless dress. It hugged my body in all the right places but was more than appropriate to wear for graduation. There was a hint of blue in the dress along the sides, but it just made for a great touch in color.

“Heels, baby,” I jumped slightly and turned around, coming face to face with my mother. Graduation began at 3 and it was 12 now. It took my mother quite some time to get ready, so I hope she doesn’t make matters worse by causing everyone else to be late. Behind her walked in my aunt from my father’s side, Nia, who looked absolutely flawless with no makeup on her chocolate complexion. I quickly rushed towards her, extending my arms out for a hug. She smelled of peaches and you might as well say that, that was her signature scent.

“I agree with your mom, baby doll,” I smiled inwardly at the term baby doll. According to her, growing up, I looked nothing like a live baby. Instead, I resembled those brown American Girl dolls you would see on T.V. and downtown. From there, I would constantly have her calling me that, but I loved it, especially since it came from her. “College graduation doesn’t come with a prom, so you might as well floss while you can,” she smiled, rubbing my back gingerly. My Aunt Nia lived in California but would frequently make her rounds to New York, especially since her brother is incarcerated. She’s been staying with my mother and I for over a week and it has been very pleasant, especially with the new company of a family member in this lavish house of ours. My cousin is Upstate at the moment, so there’s more than enough room and space for Aunt Nia. “Try these,” she offered after rummaging through my mother’s closet.

I clasped my hand over my mouth as I stared at my mother’s shocked facial expression. “The infamous red bottoms, I’ll take them,” I said with no hesitation.

“And come with me now, miss lady!” she said, leading me towards the bathroom. “I need to do your makeup and then we can go,” she mumbled. “You need more for dramatic effect,”

“What about you and my mother? Oh, let’s not forget Rayne!”

“Rayne is ready. She’s napping now but she’s ready. Your mother is getting ready now, trust me. As for me, I’m good to go. You think I need makeup?” I giggled while shaking my head. I plopped down in the sole chair in the middle of the bathroom and removed my iPhone from the charger. It was alarming how much messages occupied my lock screen. For a second, I began to feel overwhelmed, but I knew these messages were all out of love. I just wasn’t in the mood to hold lasting conversations with anyone. The only person I would like to hold a conversation with is my father.

And maybe Ryan.

As expected, he wouldn’t be able to attend my graduation and furthermore, I haven’t talked to him in over two weeks. The last time we talked, I had decided it was in my best interest to leave out what’s been happening lately. But what broke me the most is that he mentioned not a single word on my graduation. Maybe it slipped his mind, maybe it didn’t. I just wished he would have acknowledged it, so I wouldn’t be struggling now to enjoy my day.

Aunt Nia had pulled my hair into a neat ponytail behind me while wrapping a black towel around my shoulders. “Any ideas for today?” she inquired.

“Plain and simple, nothing too extravagant,” I mumbled.

“You okay, baby doll? You don’t look like you’re happy. Is something wrong?” she said, resting her hand on my shoulder.

“I’m fine,” I lied through my teeth. “I just wish daddy was here, you know? Other than that, I can’t wait to get my diploma, go home and sleep. Eating is included in there by the way,” I chuckled.

“I understand. We all miss him, I sure know I do,” she murmured, going into her purse to pull out a few essential MAC products that would be used on me. “But, let’s think positively, okay? This is your day, your moment to shine. Even when your dad is away, he still gets attention. No more,” she paused to laugh. "Don't worry, boo. It'll all get better. How's Ryan? I haven't heard or seen him lately,"

"Well, Ryan and I are... on a break," I sighed. I was more than serious with my statement towards Ryan. In those two days, if he didn't have his shit together, I would be gone. Of course, I didn't mean it for real, but I knew I had to start being firm with him or he wouldn't understand how serious I'm being. We just both came to the terms of being on a break because it was for the best at this point. We were both aware of the sudden difference and changes in our behavior with one another and preventing us from tearing apart any further, we need to halt what we have now and come back when the timing is right. The only things that seemed to hurt me more than the break was how quickly Ryan agreed to it. I was at least hoping he would be against the idea of one but, I was wrong, so wrong.

From that day on, I haven't heard nor talked to him. I hear a few things here and there about him but other than that, it's nothing. The time apart from Ryan has given me some time to reflect and think about certain things but besides that, it's been making me a bit unsatisfied about my decision. I miss him. Her loud gasp expelled from her rose-colored lips and I knew any second now, she was going to hit me with a million and one questions. Questions I wasn't too interested in answering but I knew I would have to anyhow. She removed her hands from me and stood directly in front of my face with disbelief written all over.

She hasn't been informed on the Adrian situation yet and I don't see a reason to, to begin with. The break stemmed from him, to be honest. I've kept this from my father for so long and it's not like he can do anything from behind bars, so I see no point in bringing it to my aunt's attention. "Please? No," I muttered, deciding I wouldn't spill any beans on the situation.

"Okay," she mumbled. "Let's get you all dolled up then," she said exasperatedly.

"Thank you,"

__

I couldn't believe how undeniably handsome Chance looked in his suit. He opted out of wearing the suit jacket and decided to show off his blue shirt with the perfect tie resting atop it. Then, he had on the other half of the suit on his bottom half with perfect shoes to correlate. He went to the barbershop earlier in the day and trimmed his hair and facial hair. Out of the few years of knowing him, it was amazing to see him in such a different light. I nearly attacked him with love in a hug as soon as my mother and I picked him up. He gave my dress a once over and noted that it was above my knees, unacceptable according to him. Once all greetings were done, we were on our way to the famous Carnegie Hall for the ceremony. I waited to see if Ryan would call or show up but to no avail, he didn’t. "Fuck that nigga," I muttered, handing Rayne my phone. I was going to start being selfish and focus on my own well-being. It was about time. “I’ll see you guys after the ceremony. Chance and I have to take our seats,” I mumbled towards my mother.

She smiled, gathering me in yet another hug before placing a kiss on my cheek.

Adrian

Tape?

Rope?

Bat?

Gun?

Taser?

Do I really need any of that? Not at all. My presence is intimidating enough. I don’t need much reinforcement with what I’m about to do. My plan is simple; the less extravagant, the better. The best advice someone would ever receive from me is knowing your shit. You can’t proceed to do shit without having basic information. So, research was my best friend for the past week. Bailey Banks: twenty-one, daughter of Anthony Banks and Camryn Banks, works at her mother’s day care Monday, Wednesday and Thursday, best friend name is Chance and has relatives in California, Florida and Virginia. It was basic information to me but more than enough to raise a few alarms in her head; perfect. Standing up from tying my sneakers, I grabbed my watch from off my nightstand and placed it over my wrist. I spritzed a little bit of cologne on me before heading down the stairs.

To cause less attraction to myself, I decided to go alone. Having my boys around would just bring more attention and this has to run as smoothly as possible. “Alright, I’m out,” I mumbled, grabbing the car keys to my Range. “I should be back in a few hours,” I stated.

“Alright,” They all nodded.

“This should be fun,” I grumbled.

__

Seated in the back of the auditorium, a pair of shades rested on the brim of my nose. Apparently, you needed a ticket in order to be seated inside of the auditorium but that was the least of my worries. There is nothing a few bucks can’t do. For the duration of the two hours, I used my phone as a source of entertainment. I killed nearly fifty percent of my batteries just sitting here. Shit was too boring, but they were finally getting down to the main source of entertainment. With Bailey’s last name starting with a B, I sat up and watched as she sashayed across the stage. Even from afar, I was able to see her perfectly. The gown that covered her body did nothing to stop from showing her shape. I know from prior knowledge she was on the track team and all that running did her body great justice.

Licking my lips, I watched on as she smiled and accepted her diploma with grace. In a few rows ahead of me, her family stood, clapping loud as fuck. They might as well, this will be the last few memories they’ll have with baby girl. Standing up, I removed myself from the row I was seated in and went outside to my car and got in. There was no need for me to watch everyone else graduate. A pack of cigarettes rested on the dashboard and I took one out, lightening it before placing it to my lips.

Smoke after smoke exited my mouth until there was nothing left of the cigarette. My patience was growing thin, just having to wait but patience was a strong virtue. A flock of people began to exit through the entrance of the building causing me to sit up. I kept my eyes on the surrounding people, not wanting to miss Bailey at any moment. Lucky for me, Bailey seemed to part away from the group and headed towards her car. This friend of hers, Chance, slid into the other side of the car and before I knew it, they were off. I revved up my car and followed behind them discreetly. I needed to know where exactly they were heading and if Bailey would once be alone. I remained a few cars behind them, cutting into different streets to cause less attention to be placed on me. Within twenty minutes, I recognized her neighborhood from the first time paying her a visit.

However, this time wasn’t a visit.

I parked on the next block over, deciding to walk a block over. When I approached the block of her building complex, her and her friend approached their building, opening the door and walking inside. Being as casual as ever, I strolled towards the door and politely held the door open for the woman and child that approached it as well. By the time I entered into the building, Bailey was nowhere to be seen so I assumed they took the stairs. That left me with one option, so I took the elevator up to the correct floor landing. As the elevators parted, I was blessed to see Bailey by herself, reaching into her purse to pull out her keys. Smirking, I strolled off the elevator and towards her, which was quite a distance. As expected, she has quite the shape. Since her dress was all white, it really highlighted her physical appearance. That ass is fat!

Since my footsteps were light, she didn’t suspect or notice anyone coming from behind her as she entered into her apartment. Before she had the opportunity to close the door, I stuck my foot inside the small space causing her to abruptly freeze. She turned to look at me and her jaw dropped. “Baby girl, we meet again,” I chuckled. “Close your mouth. You won’t be doing any of that yet,” I winked. I locked the door behind us, pushing her further into her apartment. She remained silent, too shock to realize what was happening right before her pretty brown eyes.

“Get out!” she gritted.

“Oh, I will but you’ll be coming with me,” I stated. “You honestly didn’t think I would forget, now did you?” Still, she remained quiet. I pulled her closer to me and leveled my mouth close to her ear. “Listen and listen closely. I will only repeat myself once, make me do it twice, you’re pushing it. Hand over your keys and phone. Pack a few articles of clothing and we’ll leave as soon as you’re done. Don’t think about speaking out nor acting a fool in front of me. Do the wrong thing, suffer the consequences,” I spoke clearly, enunciating all vowels and syllables. I gripped her elbow and pushed her further into her apartment, slightly causing her to stumble. “The faster, the better,”

“I don’t have my phone on me,” she spoke, dropping her keys on the floor for me to pick up. Chuckling a bit at her antics, I clenched my jaw.

“Make this easy for us, alright? I don’t have all damn day!” I snatched her purse from her grasp and turned it upside down, like expected her gold iPhone was displayed on the floor. Lucky for her, no crack insight. Unlucky for her, she won’t be using it. "GO!" She jumped at the sound of my voice before stalking off. Shaking my head, I grasped her phone in my hand, along with her keys before throwing her wallet to the side.

Knowing women like the back of my hand, I headed straight towards her kitchen. There’s a chance she would put up a fight, although she’s quiet at the moment. I grabbed the trash can, dumping all knives I could get my hands onto into the garbage can. This seems to be moving along swell, too swell in fact. Her home phone was on the kitchen counter and knowing that most people have more than one, I unplugged the device, watching it immediately turn off and knowing everything else did as well. Standing tall, I turned around, coming face to face with Bailey herself. A smirk emerged on my face. “The feisty type, huh? Kind of sexy but you ain’t finna get on my nerves today,” I grimaced. She stared at me with the blankest of all expressions on her beautiful face. However, I knew this all too well. She was about to fight a nigga; cool with me. I just don’t think she would look too attractive with a busted lip.

Bailey

It wasn’t until I was in the comfort of my own room where my fight or flight senses kicked in. Things were too good to be true. A month passes and not once does Adrian find the need to speak existence into his words? I believed him once when he spoke on it, but I am without a doubt shocked to see him now. The whole duration of graduation, I was happy for once and that all wiped away as soon as Adrian came around. I stood in the corner of my room, helpless; I had absolutely no phone for communication and to make matters worse, I was alone and defenseless. My heart slammed against my chest rapidly as I went to lock my bedroom door. I had to think quickly so I stripped from my graduation dress, throwing it on the bed. Rummaging through my dresser, I found a sweat suit ensemble and threw it over my body. My mind was disheveled as I thought of possible ways to handle this situation under pressure. I felt like giving up and surrendering but my father immediately popped into my mind. I couldn’t.

Ridding myself of the tears that managed to escape, I got up from the space on the floor and calmed myself down. My father’ words rang louder than ever: “Regardless of what others will tell or do to you, Bailey, this is your life. Don't let no one take that from you. You are the last one standing at the end, remember that. Use your head in this game, not your heart, you hear me?" I started to cough profusely as tears began to swell in my eyelids. They weren't tears that I was possibly scared out of my mind but tears of anger. "You cannot run on impulses, Stay strong,"

At this point, I had no other choice but to fight, even if I wouldn't win.

Creeping up behind him, I took notice of how he was emptying my knives and throwing them away. To be quite honest, those were the last things I thought of using. I was trying to protect myself, not end up in jail. When he was finished, he turned around with that infamous smirk plastered over his face. For someone so cocky, he’s so sure of it that I wouldn’t fight back. He ranted and raved about shit I couldn’t care less about. Standing firm in my spot, I watched intently as he strolled towards me. His hands were outstretched just a smidge, but I took this as my chance to attack. Before he could slyly wrap his arms around me, I balled my fist up, aiming perfectly at his structured jaw. I stepped back, watching the shocked expression harbor across his facial expression. “Bitch!” he hissed. Seeing him take steps towards me, I began walking backwards and running like my life depended on it towards the door.

Before I could even get close enough, he roughly snatched me from the hood of my sweater, pulling me back and slamming me against the wall roughly. “Get the fuck off of me!” I snarled, squirming out of his tight grasp.

“Can’t do that, baby girl,” he said against my skin, lightly kissing it. Remembering that the knives were in the garbage can, I had to do everything in my power to get towards them and I’d be good. I stopped moving, hoping he’d believe that I was finally going to comply with him. “That’s right,” he said evenly. He leaned off against me and turned me towards him. With my body aligned to his, I kneed him in his groin causing his cheeks to flutter red in a matter of seconds. His grip loosened on me a bit and when that did occur, I slid from between him and the wall and towards the garbage can, grabbing the largest knife I could find and holding it tightly in my arm. Hearing his heavy footsteps behind me, I quickly turned around and ducked, briskly walking away from him and on to the other side of the island. “You’re going to stab me? That ain’t gon’ do shit. You don’t have it in you,” he taunted.

“You don’t know shit about me,” I gritted.

“That’s cute ‘cause I’m sure I do,” he stated, licking his lip. “But that doesn’t matter. Your ass is mine! Girls like you are just too defiant, huh? For what? It would be so much easier if you just complied. We wouldn’t have to fight like this,” he said with a pout.

“Fuck you!” I gritted, deciding it was in my best interest to run.

“We’ll get there,” With his height and long legs as an advantage, he gripped my hair and pulled me back once again causing my body to slam against the hardwood floor. I groaned, turning on my side to alleviate pain from my back and shutting my eyes tightly. I hadn’t noticed my glass table shattered beneath me nor majority of my intricate painting and frames fallen and on the floor.

“Fuck,” I groaned. The impact alone from crashing on the floor had surfaced through my body all too quickly. I let go of the knife in my hand, watching Adrian come into my view. He kneeled beside me, shaking his head.

“See what happens when you don’t comply,” he muttered. “All your fault,” he mumbled, sucking his teeth. Every muscle in my body seemed to be on fire so badly. I felt as if someone were sticking knives into me repeatedly. Where was Ryan at when I needed him the most? All those conversations of him promising to be there no matter what were all in vain. They didn’t hold any substantial value at all. My life was literally slipping away and the moment I needed him the most, I would receive less action from him than before. Ryan said that he would protect me and do everything in his power to make sure I’d be alright while my dad was away. At this very moment, he went back on his word while my life is slipping, and no one knows it. He allows for shit to simmer and allows for his supposed loved ones to be hurt in the process. At this point, I want nothing to do with Ryan. I see what he chose to focus on and it includes me not one bit. “Since you’re too stubborn for your own good, I’m not going to give you any freedom at all. Fuck your first amendment as of now. What we’re going to do is leave this apartment complex and I swear to God, if you do something out of the ordinary in public, that’s your life you’re chancing, got it?”

His grin was wicked, almost sadistic like. I was held against the wall, feeling like my legs were on its way of giving out. If it weren’t for Adrian holding me up, I would have fell. I nodded, coughing profusely.

“Speak up,”

“Got it,” I strained to say.

“We’ll see,” he grumbled. His heavy boots plodded against my hardwood floor as he stared at me. With my body on fire, I wasn’t able to tell how disheveled I really looked. “Your ass can walk so that’s what you’ll do. No running or anything of that shit,” he spoke near my ear. I verbally responded towards him, feeling like I lost this battle like I knew I would. Chance and I were supposed to come home, change out of our clothes and meet back up with my mother for a dinner and so on but I don’t see where our plan was flawed. Chance doesn’t even know what’s going on above him. Days without him, my sister or mother will make me life hard, let alone make theirs the same way. I couldn’t even fathom the emotional part of this because I didn’t want to. Tears were threatening to fall from my eyes at any given moment and I didn’t want to give in to my tears of weakness and defeat.

Grabbing ahold of my hand roughly, he began to walk towards the entrance of my apartment with me trailing slowly behind. I froze in my stance once I heard Chance’s voice from the other side of the door. Adrian turned and looked at me skeptically. “Tell him to go away,” he muttered, gripping my forearm tighter than before.

I winced from his rough action. “I can’t,”

“Do it or I’ll kill the both of you,” he threatened. Not once had I seen a gun on him, but I wouldn’t doubt his capabilities just yet. He had me feeling like I was about to collapse anytime soon.

“Ayo, Bailey!” Chance said once again, knocking on the door this time.

“Uh, I’m coming,” I said, keeping my eyes on Adrian.

Letting go of me, he allowed me to go towards the door, limping, while he moved to the other side of the door. I unlocked the door from the top and due to Adrian’s feet held at a certain position, I could only open the door so far. “Don’t fuck up,” he stated.

“What’s up, Chance?” I said, trying to hide the pain I was currently in with a smile.

Chuckling quickly, he asked, “Why you acting so strange? Open the door so I can come in,”

Licking my lips, I knew that was the last thing I could do. “Uh, not now, Chance. I have Ryan here and uh, we’re talking over some things,” I lied.

His eyes widened out of pure shock. “How long do you think it’ll be? Do you want me to wait or?”

“Give me twenty minutes,” I said. He nodded and took a step back, so I could close the door. I heard his footsteps grow faint before blowing out a sigh of relief. I huffed, leaning against the wall. I stared at Adrian with a blank expression to which he simply smirked at. He's always smirking; I hate it.

“See what happens when your nigga doesn’t come through for you?” he chuckled. “I guess he wasn’t your nigga to begin with anyhow,” he shrugged. My face frowned into confusion at his words, but I had not a second or time to think about his words because he was practically dragging me out of my apartment the next minute. Instead of taking the stairs like I thought he would, we merged onto the elevator, taking it to the lobby. His hands dropped from my forearm and into my small hands, filling out the small gaps. His eyes were solely focused ahead so I’m not sure he caught my stares. Apart of me just had to wonder what true purpose I would be to him. How would I benefit him? I would ask but I don’t think I would get a true answer just yet. In order for me to get any answer or any taste of freedom, I would have to play the game correctly. I wasn’t stupid, but in this scenario, playing dumb just might get me where I need to be or at least, that’s where I’m hoping it would take me.

Once the elevator doors parted, Adrian took full control, holding onto my hand and walking with a powerful and confident stride. From the pains radiating through my sides, it was sort of difficult to do the same, but I wasn’t willingly to put myself in more danger now that I’m in this predicament right now. The doormen smiled at me and I forced one upon my features. Once we stepped outside, he dropped my hand from his and used his car keys to unlock this metallic colored Range Rover. I waited for further instructions like the dumb ass I was portraying to be before being shoved into the passenger side of his expensive vehicle.

“Can you be any rougher?” I groaned, turning around and bringing my fist up. This time he caught it, clenching his jaw in the process.

“Watch it,” he gritted. “Get in and keep to yourself. Don’t touch a thing,” he ordered. He came over on the other side of his car and slid in, bringing the car to life. “And to answer your question, yes I can,” he winked. I scoffed, crossing my arms over my bust.

“Don’t flatter yourself, asshole. Have your fun now but I won’t be here forever,” I snapped. His husky chuckles fled past his pink lips. “What is my purpose exactly?

“Nothing more than collateral, baby girl. Then again, you’re nice arm candy,”

“Why thank you,” I muttered.

“Alright, shut the fuck up. No more talking for the duration of the ride. I’on need it,”

“You don’t need me,”

“On the contrary,” he mumbled before zooming down the street.

__

Almost close to two hours had passed and I had not once fallen asleep. With my sides aching from pain and exhaustion, you would think I would find some sort of comfort in wanting to fall asleep and numb all of this, but I couldn’t. I had an urge to look at my phone, but I realized he had it in his possession this whole time. I could only fathom for a second what could have been occurring in New York and what my mother was experiencing. Surely, Chance would have come back after twenty minutes and noticed that I wasn’t there any longer. His best bet would be to call Ryan and by the time he called Ryan, he would have figured out I was lying. Coming to an abrupt halt, I looked away from my nails and towards the large estate before me. It looked to be something that came out of MTV cribs. The driveway was in the shape of a circle with a small fountain in the center. The house itself was a tan color with intricate design details aligning the exterior of the estate. Without a doubt, I was reminded of something resembling royalty when I took a glance at the exterior of the extravagant building. No way was a regular nine to five job pulling something this huge.

The doors on the car finally unlocked and for the first time in four hours, I felt free… to a certain extent. “Get out the car,” his rough voice invaded my eardrums causing my head to snap in his direction.

“Oh, you’re not going to open it for me?” I said sarcastically.

He smirked, removing the key from the ignition. “I would if you were more compliant. This’ll be fun though,” Rolling my eyes, I stepped out of the vehicle and slammed the door behind me. Adrian walked ahead of me and I timidly walked behind him, taking in my surroundings. The place looked oddly familiar, but I couldn’t put a name to it. “Welcome to your new home for however long it is that I would like to keep you,” he said, extending the door for me to walk through. "You're officially mine,"

Play the game but don’t get played…

[daphnewritings]

Chapter 6: The Troll

Summary: It’s Halloween bb and Draco is experiencing varying degrees of hysteria

Warnings: Danai threatens Crabbe and Goyle but they deserve it

Word Count: 2.9k

- Chapter 5 / Chapter 7 - 

Pansy was not right, as the Slytherins would come to realize over the next week. Not only was Potter not expelled, he also didn’t get into any trouble whatsoever. This left Draco in an absolutely foul mood that reached its peak a week later.

“What the hell did he mean it was thanks to me that he got a broomstick? And why is Potter even aloud to have a broomstick in the first place?!”

“Draco, please, you’re going to wear a path in the rug if you don’t stop pacing,” Blaise said with a sigh.

Draco ignored him, swinging back around in the track he was wearing into the floor in front of the fireplace in the Slytherin common room. “But it doesn’t make any sense! He didn’t even get into any trouble! And now they’re giving him broomsticks? And not just any broomstick either, but a Nimbus 2000!”

Daphne Greengrass settled into one of the chairs at the table Draco was currently holding a very unsympathetic court at, twirling some of her long golden hair around her finger. The other boys around the table immediately sat up, and Draco swore he actually saw Goyle’s cheeks turn a little pink at the fact she’d decided to sit down next to him. Draco internally rolled his eyes at their idiocy, and at the fact that he had lost his captive audience so easily.  

Sure, Daphne was pretty by societal standards, he guessed, but the fact that the boys would all start falling over themselves whenever she deigned to speak to them was ridiculous. In instances like these, he liked Theo the most because he seemed to be the only other boy who wasn’t affected by her charms.

She sipped from her mug of tea, chamomile from the smell of it, and glanced around at the group of boys conspiratorially. “I heard a rumor about Potter today.”

Draco was immediately okay with her stealing the other boys’ attention away from him. “Spill,” he commanded, sitting back down into the chair he’d vacated in favor of his pacing hysterics.

She leaned forward and accidentally brushed up against Goyle in the process. Draco just hoped he would refrain from cardiac arrest until after Daphne had explained the day’s gossip about Potter. “Lavender Brown told Hannah Abbott who told me that Harry is the new Gryffindor Seeker.”

“Rubbish.”

“It’s not rubbish! You said so yourself, Draco, why would McGonagall give Potter a broom otherwise?”

“Well, it wouldn’t be to make him the new bloody Seeker!” he sputtered. “That would be mad.”

Daphne just shrugged and sipped her tea, “Whatever you say Draco. I was just passing on what I heard earlier to stop you from having your obviously impending nervous breakdown.” She stood up and patted Goyle on the shoulder with her free hand, “Well, I still have to finish the rest of that essay McGonagall assigned yesterday, that hag. Two whole feet of parchment! Can you guys believe it?” Crabbe, Goyle, Blaise, and Morag all shook their heads dumbly and Daphne gave them a winning smile.

She turned back to Draco and dropped her voice into a stage whisper as she leaned over the table towards him, “Say, Draco, did you already finish it?”

“Yes.”

“Would you mind if I took a look at it? I just need some…fresh ideas.”

Draco curled his lip at her. “No, you may not cheat off of me Daphne. Go ask Pansy if you’re so hard up for those fresh ideas.”

Daphne huffed, “You’re no fun when you’re all wound up like this, Draco.” Then she turned and strutted back the way she’d come.

Blaise reached over and slapped Draco upside the back of his head, “Are you insane? Give her your essay.”

“Why the bloody hell would I do that?” Draco asked, smoothing a hand down the back of his head to make sure that Blaise hadn’t messed up his hair.

Blaise scoffed, “Mate, if you don’t know the answer to that then I can’t help you.”

“Well, maybe the next time you need, how did Daphne put it? Some fresh ideas for your own essay, maybe you should just go ask her instead of me.”

“Maybe I will.”

“Okay then.”

“Fine.”

The table was silent for a few minutes, the only sound the turning of pages or the scratch of a quill across parchment. Draco, unable to take the silence that he’d caused, asked, “But, come on, you guys don’t actually think they made Potter the new Gryffindor Seeker, do you?”

There were several loud groans of exasperation as the other first year Slytherin boys started throwing their quills and spare pieces of parchment at him.

>< 

The next few week seemed to fly by once Draco found out that Potter was indeed the new Gryffindor Seeker. Once he’d come to terms with the fact that his own actions had led to Potter being put up for the position, Draco decided that the best course of action was to simply act like he didn’t exist.

This plan was foolproof, considering that the Slytherins only shared one class a week with the Gryffindors. Potions became particularly interesting, considering that now that Draco was acting like the air that Potter occupied was empty, Draco got to do things like bump him while walking back from the wall of dried potions ingredients and send his handful of newt eyes scattering across the floor in all directions.

“Malfoy!” Potter had barked in indignation from the floor, the eyes flung out in all directions around him.

“Theo, did you hear something?” Draco had asked, settling back down in his seat beside him.

“Nope,” Theo said airily without even glancing up to see what Draco had done, “not a thing.”

They both laughed quietly as Snape had forced Potter to scour every inch of the room until every newt eye had been picked up.

The morning of Halloween was no different. Draco took the long way around the Great Hall to find his seat besides his fellow Slytherins. And by the long way, he meant walking past the Gryffindor table and “accidentally” knocking Potter’s pumpkin juice into his lap after he “tripped”. It wasn’t his fault that the floor was so uneven in the Great Hall.

Draco simply straightened his robe and continued walking down the divide between the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor tables, acting as if nothing had happened while Potter spluttered and shook himself like a wet dog, spraying the students around him with juice.

“Malfoy!” he yelled after him, but Draco only allowed himself a slight smirk as he sat down between Crabbe and Goyle at the Slytherin table.

After a particularly boring Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson in which Professor Quirrell had gone on and on about the differences between the spirits that haunted Hogwarts and malevolent ghosts that wanted to hurt the living, Draco was ready for the time when they were free to go to dinner. The delicious smell of sharp spices and buttery desserts emanating from the kitchens had been wafting through the castle as the school’s house elves cooked and baked the day away in preparation for the feast that night.

Draco had also been very preoccupied during Quirrell’s lesson by his view out the window of Hagrid dragging massive pumpkins across the grounds, which he assumed would be carved into jack-o’-lanterns. Draco had always loved their leering faces, ever since he was young. One of his earliest memories was of his mother carving pumpkins with magic while he’d watched from the safety of his father’s arms.

When the time for the Halloween feast finally rolled around, Draco was not disappointed. The Great Hall had been transformed. Several large jack-o’-lanterns were lined up behind the table at which the professors sat at, and many more lined the walls in varying shapes and sizes. A few incredibly small ones were placed on the tables as decorations, their tiny triangle eyes winking as the candles within flickered in the breeze that was stirred up every few minutes from the great cloud of live bats that was swooping over the house tables.

Then Draco forgot all about the decorations as the feast appeared suddenly before his eyes, just like at the start of term banquet, concealing the spotless golden platters under its weight. Draco had just begun to lift a bit of everything that was in reach onto his plate, wondering idly how he could possibly sneak one of the tiny jack-o’-lanterns into the dorm, when Professor Quirrell banged through the doors of the Great Hall.

He raced up the divide between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables, his turban askew and terror prominent on his face, and collapsed to his knees in front of Professor Dumbledore. The Great Hall had fallen into silence as everyone stared at the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor from where he kneeled before the headmaster, gasping.

“Troll,” he panted, “in the dungeon. I thought you ought to know.” And then he promptly collapsed in a dead faint.

The Great Hall dissolved into chaos, students yelling and scrambling for the doors. But before anyone could get very far, a booming, “SILENCE!” rang across the room. Every head turned in the direction of the high table where Professor Dumbledore had risen to his feet. He waited until absolute silence had indeed fallen before he spoke again. “Prefects, please lead your houses back to their dormitories immediately.”

He turned to the professors on either side of him, “Teachers, please follow me to the dungeons.”

Draco, who had already leapt off the bench to run anyway, hardly had to wait long before a warm hand settled on his shoulder. He looked up into the tan face of Danai Shafiq, her skin paler than usual, but her expression was a mask of calm. “Come on kids, follow me please. Quickly now.”

The group of first years hardly had to be told twice.

Once they had weaved their way through the throng of students and stood outside the Great Hall doors for Danai to make sure she hadn’t left any of them behind, Pansy asked in a voice that was higher than usual, “But Danai, if the troll is in the dungeons, how would we be any safer in our dorm?”

Danai laughed slightly, “Pansy, do you really think something like a troll would be able to break through the protections that paranoid Salazar Slytherin put around our space?”

“Well, it is a troll.”

Danai cuffed her on the chin fondly, “Nothing, not even Dumbledore himself, would be able to break through the enchantments Salazar put around our dorms unless a Slytherin brought them inside. You have nothing to worry about.”

“However,” she said with irritation, “we do have to get inside first. Have any of you seen Vincent and Gregory?”

Vincent and Gregory? Draco thought to himself. Oh, she meant-

Just then, Crabbe and Goyle both emerged from the emptying Great Hall with their arms loaded down with sweets. Goyle looked at the group gathered just outside and said, “What?”

Without further delay, Danai grabbed them by the scruffs of their necks and pushed them towards the stairs. “The next time you decide that sweets are more important than your fellow Slytherin’s lives, you will find yourselves without tongues,” she snapped, “Five points from Slytherin. From both of you.”

They stared at her, dumbfounded, but she was already leading the way down the stairs to the dungeons, her wand out and at the ready. In what seemed like no time at all, they’d reached the knights that guarded the hidden doorway to the Slytherin common rooms.

Danai grasped the knight on the right’s forearm and hissed the password. The knight promptly nodded and the wall swung open, allowing the first years to push through to the other side. Allowing the wall to swing back into place behind them, Danai leaned over the balcony railing and called to the Slytherins milling about below, “Is everyone accounted for?”

After a few resonant yesses sounded up from below, Danai looked across to two older students who stood across from them at the top of the grand staircases that led down to the common room below. One of them, a girl who looked like an older version of Danai, called across to her, “Lock it.” Draco could see the gleam of the Head Girl badge that was pinned to her chest from across the room. Danai nodded once and turned back to the wall, placing her palm against the it and hissing a few more words in Parseltongue, a phrase that was different to the one she’d said to the knight outside only a minute before.

Draco watched as two glittering, transparent walls of gold converged upon the spot on which Danai’s palm rested, forming a shimmering barrier across the door. When Danai finally removed her hand from the wall, causing the barrier to meld itself to the stones behind it, she turned to the group of first years and started ushering them around the balcony towards the stairs on the other side.

“What did you just do?” Draco asked her.

“It’s an old spell that activates the warding around the Slytherin dorms. A bomb could be dropped on the castle and our dorms would still be left standing, unscathed.”

Draco looked back at the door in awe and then out the large glass window that looked into the depths of the Black Lake. Sure enough, the glass was shimmering with the same golden barrier.

Salazar Slytherin may have been a paranoid bastard, like Danai said, but he clearly wasn’t a stupid one.

It took about an hour before a green fire blazed to life in one of the massive, marbled fireplaces and a note was spat out. The Head Girl who looked like an older version of Danai, who Draco had learned was her sister, picked up the note. The room was tensely silent as she read. Draco watched as her eyes widened and then she flipped the note back over and quickly scratched a reply on the back of it before tossing it back into the green flames.

“What did it say, Kilani?” Danai asked her.

“They caught the troll. That was just Professor Snape telling us we could lift the wards.” At that, Danai bounded up the steps to do just that.

“Did it say anything else?” another Slytherin asked.

“Well, I guess I should rephrase what I said,” Kilani paused as if trying to work something out herself, “The teachers didn’t catch the troll. Harry Potter did.”

“What?!” Draco yelped.

He heard Pansy sigh dejectedly beside him and knew that both Blaise and Theo had probably echoed that same sentiment.

“Harry Potter caught the troll and knocked it out,” she looked at Draco with slight sympathy in her eyes, “And I think Snape is just about as thrilled with that as you are, Draco.”

That was an understatement. When Draco made no further comments, Kilani waved her wand and platters of food and sweets appeared on every flat surface. There was a hearty cheer as House Slytherin descended upon the trays of food.

Draco, still unable to believe what Kilani had said about the contents of Snape’s note, snatched up a plate for himself and managed to swipe himself a slice of shepherd’s pie before it was all gone. Settling around the table that the first year Slytherins had taken to congregating around when they were all together, Theo slid into a seat beside him.

From within his robe, Theo pulled out a small, glowing orange object and plunked it down in front of Draco. He stared down at the tiny unexpected jack-o’-lantern in surprise.

“I could see it on your face earlier that you wanted to snatch one,” Theo said sheepishly. Draco looked over at him and saw that his cheeks were starting to redden.

Unable to resist, Draco reached out and pinched one of them. “Theodore Nott, aren’t you just the cutest thing since Puffskeins?” he teased. Theo swatted his hand away and Draco laughed, but nonetheless moved the tiny jack-o’-lantern to the middle of the table.

>< 

The next day in Potions, upon entering the dank dungeon, Draco made a beeline for where Potter sat.

“Did you really fight a troll?” he hissed.

Potter sighed heavily and set aside the parchment and quill he’d just been digging out of his bag. “Decided to acknowledge my existence again, have you?”

“Just answer the question, Potter,” Draco snapped.

Potter pretended to think for a second, his finger tapping against his chin. “Actually, I don’t think I will.”

“Why not?”

“Because I want you to apologize first.”

Draco stepped back in surprise. It was in that moment that he realized they had an audience, since every student in the room was now either outright watching them or pretending not to and listening anyway. The latter applied to the Weasel, of course. “For what?”

“For acting like a prat the past couple of weeks just because I beat you at flying.”

“You did not beat me in anything, Potter!” Harry just shrugged and continued pulling supplies out of his bag. “And it will be a cold day in hell before I apologize to you for anything,” Draco snapped, before whirling around and stomping to his seat. Snape walked in, blessedly breaking the silence as the other students started hurriedly pulling out their own supplies now that the Malfoy vs. Potter show had ended.

Snape started scratching out the day’s task on the chalkboard at the front of the classroom and Pansy leaned back in her chair to whisper in Draco’s ear. “Feel better, Dray?”

“Shut up, Pansy,” he snapped back, and he heard her smother a giggle as Snape started their lesson.

< Chapter 5 / Chapter 7 >

[pocket-anon]

The Long Way Home (2/10)

On to Chapter 2!  Thank you all so much for the lovely feedback, reblogs, kudos, and comments you left me on Chapter 1!  I hope you continue to enjoy this story - I promise there’s a lot more of... well, EVERYTHING, to come.  Chapter 1 was more of an introductory chapter; the rest are considerably longer, so tuck in!

As always, thanks to my beta, @captainstudmuffin, and to @lifeinahole27, @clockadile, and @ladyciaramiggles for their additional feedback.  Additional thanks to my wonderful CSBB artists, @waiting-for-autumn and @giraffes-ride-swordfishes for providing some gorgeous artwork to accompany this fic!  Links to their illustrations of certain scenes (*) will be in the text - go show them some love!

Find it on AO3.  Nautical term glossary here.

Missed a chapter?  Get caught up here.

Summary:  After an unnaturally long life fraught with personal tragedy, Killian Jones has become known throughout the realms as the infamous Captain Hook, an opportunistic ne’er-do-well and one of the most formidable pirates to ride the waves.  When he crosses paths with a mysterious young woman with no memory of who she is or how she arrived there, he recognizes the chance to claim a monetary reward that will constitute his biggest score yet.  But a journey across the world to get her home leads to a series of adventures that reveal that her value lies in far more than gold and jewels.  A Captain Swan Anastasia AU - sort of.  (Captain Swan Enchanted Forest AU.  Romance, Adventure, & Eventual Smut.  Rated E.)

Warning: Brief but graphic depictions of violence, peripheral character death, and smut.

Hook spends the following morning haggling over the sale of the Jolly Roger’s loot – barrels of tea leaves, casks of fine spices, bottles of expensive perfumes, bolts of cloth, and loose gems they’ve taken off a handful of merchants over the last few weeks.  It’s their usual routine in port to sell the spoils first to refill the coffers and empty the hold and then to resupply shortly before departing.  Much to his relief, Blackbeard’s ship, the Queen Anne’s Revenge, is doing the latter, and rumor is she’s heading back out to sea today.  Hook watches her through his spyglass from across the wharf, her decks a bustle of activity as packs of salted meat, crates of dried fruits and vegetables, boxes of hardtack, and casks of fresh water are loaded aboard.  With any luck, they’ll be gone by sundown, he thinks grimly, and everyone will be able to breathe a bit easier.

He stows his glass and turns his attention toward the town, fingering the full purse on his belt and enjoying the jangle of the coins therein.  Their earnings from this morning have already been distributed to the crew and the remainder secured aboard the ship, and, with the exception of the men standing the current watch, the rest of his crew have already gone ashore to indulge in what pleasures of port their money can buy.  He, too, plans to enjoy a bit of leisure time this afternoon, and he contemplates where to go first.  It’s little surprise when his mind turns to a certain bookshop and the intriguing girl he might find there, and before he knows it, he’s headed down the gangplank, his feet light as they carry him into town.

Swan and her mysterious past constitute the most interesting diversion he’s had for a long time, and he turns the puzzle over and over in his mind while he wanders the humble dirt streets.  He’s known men to lose their memories and even their faculties after head injuries, but the girl obviously has her wits about her (indeed, to a captivating degree) and there were no signs of physical injury on her arrival, to hear Maggie tell of it.  Maggie had suggested a curse, which seems more likely in his mind.  Swan is special, as anyone can see, and it’s long been his experience that special people have a tendency to find glory or trouble, if not both.

He hasn’t shared this particular insight with her, but he suspects that she might be noble.  Despite her skill in handling rowdy tavern patrons and lusty pirates, her manners and the way she carries herself suggest good breeding. He’s already pointed out that she bears no signs of a life of manual labor, and that suggests some amount of money. The way she’d handled Blackbeard’s knife is also interesting.  She’d wielded it properly, flipping it about in her hand and holding it at the ready like a woman trained to handle a blade.  Who taught her?  Her father, perhaps?  A brother? A husband? he wonders with a frown.  And are these people looking for her?  Surely she’s being missed by someone, unless some horrible fate has also befallen her family.

To his disappointment, he doesn’t see her when he locates the little town’s bookshop and peeks in the window, but across the way lies a swordsmith, and he decides that perusing their weapons is as good a way as any to pass his time.   He waves off help from the swordsmith’s young apprentice and contents himself to browse the racks of weapons on display, picking them up, testing their weight, eyeing the curves of their blades, and putting them back, always with one eye on the street.  The selection and quality here is good, and he makes a mental note to return and find a few new swords for the Jolly’s armory.

It’s nearly two o’clock when at last he spots a slender figure in a dark blue cloak who looks as though she’s trying not to draw attention as she steals down the street with a large covered basket draped over one feminine arm.  The hood obscures her face from this angle, but a stray blond wisp betrays her, and he recognizes Swan immediately.  He hastily replaces the saber he’s examining and steps outside. “’Afternoon, milady!”

She halts and turns her head, looking a little shy even as she offers him a smile that makes his heart leap.  Swan smoothes back the errant lock of hair and glances up and down the street for onlookers before she makes her way over to him. “Captain.”

“Fancy meeting you here,” he says blithely.  “What are you about today?”  He gestures toward her basket.

One eye narrowed as though she sees right through him, she grins nonetheless and allows him a peek inside at a collection of carrots, onions, and heads of cabbage.  “For dinner tonight at the tavern,” she explains. “I was going to stop by the bookshop to see those maps on the way back.  You?”

Hook tips his head toward to the swordsmith’s shop behind him.  “Looking to restock the ship’s armory,” he answers.  An idea occurs.  “Care to look around with me?  You seem to know your way around a blade.”

She snorts.  “Yes, I know which is the pointy end,” she chuckles wryly.

Hook laughs. “You may know more than that.  Let’s find out.”  He motions for her to follow him inside and flashes his most winning smile.  When she opens her mouth in protest, he lifts his brows beguilingly.  “Humor me, darling?”

Swan rolls her eyes and sighs, allowing him to shuttle her through the door of the smithy.  Once inside, she sets her basket down, pulling back the hood of her cloak and surveying the large space curiously, her head craning to look upon the racks of shining weapons that line the walls.  

He steps away to pick out a few different swords, the metal clanking as he threads the hilts over his upturned hook.  “Here we are, love.”  He returns and holds one up for her to inspect.  “Do you know what this type of blade is called?”

“It’s a cutlass,” she answers with a shrug.  “Most sailors carry them.”

“Very good.”  He favors her with an encouraging grin and hands the cutlass off to the apprentice before sliding the next sword off his hook. “And this?”  He watches with satisfaction as she takes in the weapon’s features and her face brightens.

“I think it’s called a backsword.”

“Excellent,” he crows, his smile growing wider.  “And this?” He holds up a third.

“That’s a smallsword.”

He swings the smallsword in the direction of a much larger blade displayed on the wall.  “And that?”  

“A longsword.”  Her delicate features form an expression of awe and excitement as she realizes what she knows.

“And if you needed to defend yourself, which would you reach for first?”

She smirks.  “The closest one.”

Gods, she’s bloody brilliant.  Hook laughs, shaking his head.  “You know what I mean, love.  Which would you be most comfortable wielding?”

Swan purses her lips in thought, and her lashes flutter closed as she tries to envision her weapon of choice.  Head still bowed, she lifts a finger toward the sword on the wall.  “That one.”

The certainty in her voice causes him to raise an eyebrow.  “Really?  Alright.”  He returns the smallsword and bids the smith’s apprentice to bring him a couple of long wooden practice blades from a bin in the corner.  The teenage boy eagerly complies, running the polished rods over and then scrambling to take up a seat in the corner in order to watch. Hook throws the lad a wink as he passes one practice sword to Swan and then brandishes the other.

“Uh, what are we doing?”

“Something most people try to avoid,” he replies matter-of-factly, rotating his wrist with practiced ease to get a feel for the balance of his weapon.  A playful grin curves his mouth.  “You’re about to cross blades with a pirate.”  He holds up his hook to stifle her objection.  “Look, Swan, clearly you’ve had some weapons education; you even have a clear preference in swords.  Someone somewhere has taught you something.  Let’s just see how much you know, yeah?”

Her forehead wrinkles, and she blinks at him helplessly.  “You know this is crazy, right?”

Hook shrugs. “On the contrary, love, if it helps get your memories back, it strikes me as quite rational.”

“Okay, but why?”  Swan plants her free hand on her hip and angles her head.  “Why are you helping me?”  

“Because this is the most interesting thing I’ve found to do in a long time,” he admits with exasperation, motioning for her to raise her weapon.  “Now come on.”

She looks down at her practice sword and back to his expectant expression.  At last, she throws caution to the wind with a huff. “Ugh.  Fine.”  Undoing the clasp of her cloak, she pulls it off and deposits it atop her basket, revealing a pretty white blouse with short puffed sleeves and a dark green petticoat beneath a brown leather underbust corset that flatters her body in such ways as to make his mouth run dry.  Swan tests the weight of the practice blade and gives it a few swings with a thoughtful hum.  Then, meeting his eyes, she executes a two-handed sideways slash at his head.

Though he’s momentarily distracted by her appearance, sharp reflexes and years of experience allow him to instantly deflect her attack, the loud clack of wood on wood echoing through the shop.  They circle around one another as she attempts several more strikes, each of which he smoothly parries, but he roars encouragement to her as she goes, his eyes flashing with enthusiasm.  “Good! Nicely done.  Again!”  

After several minutes, he begins to introduce some basic attacks of his own, determined not to harm her but interested to know whether she’s been taught defense.  As usual, Swan does not disappoint.  Her skills are not overly polished, but they’re far from rudimentary.  Sweat beads on her forehead, and though she just barely manages to block a few of his jabs, she guards herself well and doesn’t give up too much ground as he tries to advance, meeting him strike for strike with determined grunts and a stubborn bent to her brow. He notes that she switches between a one-handed and two-handed grip frequently.  Even more interesting however, is that she appears to be enjoying herself as her confidence grows, her face a mixture of focus and exhilaration.  After five minutes, however, she begins to visibly tire, and he reluctantly decides to end their match.  With a wide rotation of his sword and a flick of his wrist, her blade drops to the floor.

He answers her pout with a consoling smile.  “That was excellent, Swan.  You’ve been taught well.”  He tries not to stare at the way her chest heaves or the way a thin sheen of sweat makes her creamy skin glow in the afternoon light.  

She dabs her forehead with the back of her wrist.  “Is that all that tells you?” she asks breathlessly.

“Uh…”  Hook tears his eyes off her with some effort and coughs weakly.  “No.” He collects the practice blades and returns them to the apprentice, flicking the boy a copper for his trouble. “By your choice of the longsword and the way you handle it, I suspect you were trained by a soldier or a warrior in one of the northern lands.  Your skill suggests that either you’re a quick study or that whoever trained you devoted a fair amount of time to it and was probably an excellent swordsman.”  He allows her to contemplate this while he scoops up her cloak and basket, arranging them over his hook arm before herding her toward the door with his hand on the small of her back.  “Come. If you’re not too tired, you can show me to this bookshop, and we’ll see what else we can discover about you.”

 *             *             *

 Swan wears a private smile as she watches Hook confer with the proprietor of the bookshop from her seat in the corner.  She bites back a giggle at the sight of the fearsome captain being surprisingly patient with the intimidated shopkeeper, a mouse of a man who is clearly unaccustomed to having pirates in his store.  His wizened little hands tremble as he leafs through his parchments and atlases, and his bespectacled eyes keep darting nervously to the Captain’s hook hand.  Hook shoulders the man's fear of him with ease, clearly accustomed to being viewed as a threat.

She chews her lip as she considers Killian Jones.  She’s heard of Captain Hook a number of times since her arrival in port.  From what she’s gathered, he has a reputation for being ruthless, devious, and cunning, and a position on his crew is highly coveted by sailors looking to work for a man who is demanding but wildly successful.  The women adore him, and it’s not hard to see why.  He’s intelligent and suave and unfairly handsome, with blue eyes as mercurial as the ocean and a smile that draws her in and begs for her affection. Swan can’t deny the sparks that seem to dance across her skin each time he finds an excuse to touch her or the low flutter in her stomach whenever she catches him watching her with poorly-disguised want.  But the thing that intrigues her most about the man is his obvious interest in discovering who she is, rather than simply seducing her.  He’d implied some degree of boredom, though what could be boring about a life filled with swashbuckling adventures is beyond her.  Swan takes a deep breath.  Well, whatever his motive, he’s helped her figure out more about herself in the last 24 hours than anyone else has been able to deduce in six weeks, and for that she supposes she owes him a debt of thanks.  A shiver runs between her shoulder blades at the thought of how he might elect to receive such gratitude, and she blinks rapidly and looks away, attempting to redirect her mind toward something – anything – else.

To her great relief, the Captain himself provides a distraction when he returns bearing an enormous atlas.  “Here we are, Swan.  Hopefully this will do.”

“Oh?” she asks, looking up with a nervous flutter of her lashes.  She feigns a smirk while praying her cheeks are not as red as they feel. “Are you saying I might not have to visit your ship after all?”

“Well, let’s not be hasty.” He flashes a wicked sideways grin and thumps the book down on the table in front of her, opening it to a particular page with a creak of the spine and rotating it her direction.  “Here’s a map of the lands to the north.  Given your skill with the longsword, I think it best to start here.”  Inspiration seems to strike him, and he pulls out a black scarf and drapes it over the page.

“What are you doing?”

“Just trust me.”  He responds to her arched eyebrow with a sly wink and pulls part of the scarf back to reveal the far upper left corner of the map.  “There’s Arendelle.  What lies to the east?”

For twenty minutes they work their way across the map, heads bowed together, Hook gradually pulling back the scarf to reveal more and more of the northland as he quizzes her about what lies just beyond the visible parchment.  It becomes evident to them both that she has in fact been taught more than a little about the geography of the world, but as they move a little farther down the giant page, her knowledge of the terrain becomes more and more detailed.

Hook points to a large river that disappears beneath the scarf’s edge.  “Do you know what becomes of this?”

Swan sighs, the whispers of impatience beginning to take hold, but he eggs her on with an irresistible smile and a little nod, and she lets her eyes fall shut and dutifully struggles to remember.  “It… winds through a mountain pass,” she says haltingly.  “There are a lot of twists and turns.  Then it turns hard to the east and becomes the northern border of Misthaven. Eventually it runs all the way to the White Sea.”

There’s a prolonged silence, and she opens her eyes to find him staring at her, his face inexplicably dumbstruck.  She frowns. “Captain?”

He licks his lips, blue eyes shining, a small awed smile blooming on his face.  “Bloody hell, Swan,” he breathes. “I think I know who you are.”

Her mouth falls open.  “What?  Who?  How?”

He whisks the scarf away and stares at the now-revealed map of Misthaven, a medium-sized kingdom that lies along the eastern border of the large central continent.  His finger absently traces the river that runs exactly the course she predicted.  “It makes sense,” he mutters.

“What does?”  She grabs his forearm to draw his attention back to her.  “What makes sense?”

Hook glances down at her hand almost curiously, and Swan pulls her fingers away, willing her face not to warm.  He grins softly.  “I haven’t been in that part of the world for a while,” he begins, “but we came across a long-distance merchant ship from Glowerhaven about a month ago.  There was a royal communiqué among the captain’s papers addressed to all of that kingdom’s ships – an alert about a missing person.”  He leans back in his chair and gestures to her.  “Princess Emma of Misthaven.”  He chuffs.  “Apologies, love, I should have thought of it sooner.”

Swan squints, trying to process his words in a way that doesn’t make them seem preposterous.  “Wait, what? You think I’m royal?”  She crosses her arms with a disbelieving laugh.  “That’s insane.”

“Is it?” he presses, arching an eyebrow.  “You carry yourself like nobility, Swan, you have the manners and education of someone high-born, and you’ve been trained to fight by a great swordsman, like a knight or a king.”

“What do you mean I…” The indignant question fades from her lips, and Swan is suddenly so overwhelmed with nervous energy she leaps to her feet and begins to pace restlessly.  Noble? Royal?  Her?  That’s absurd.  

Isn’t it?  

Hook’s piercing gaze continues to follow her, his expression maddeningly sensible.  “They say the Princess is beautiful and clever, if a bit unconventional.  I daresay it’s an apt description.”  His eyes glint with amusement.  “There’s also your talent for rebuffing men to take into account.”

She pauses, shooting him an irritated look.  “What does that have to do with anything?”

He chuckles, brushing the side of his curled index finger with his thumb.  “As I recall, there was a bloody pilgrimage of suitors to Misthaven last summer.  Went home empty-handed, the lot of them.  Forgive me, love, but I have no trouble believing that was your doing.”

Swan snorts, but the shadow of a smile flits across her face.  She wanders back to her chair, thoughts still reeling.  “I had no idea you had a taste for royal gossip,” she manages.

“Yes, well, word travels fast in my circles when the waterways are filled with wealthy noblemen.”  His smirk fades at the unamused tilt of her head, and he sighs.  “Look, I know this seems crazy,” he says soberly, “but you have to listen to me.  Deep down, you know I’m right.”

“How could it be true?” she demands, lines creasing her forehead in rows.  “How could I forget everything and end up on the other side of the world? It’s impossible.”

Hook smiles patiently.  “Love, I’ve traveled this realm and a few others for over 170 years.”  He responds to her shocked blink with a dismissive wave.  “Long story.  But suffice it to say there’s very little that’s impossible.  I promise you there’s an explanation.”  He nudges the book closer to her with his fingertips.  “You have good instincts.  Trust your gut, Swan.  It will tell you what to do.”

She’s silent for a long while, reaching to gingerly trace her fingers over Misthaven’s winding borders.  His reasoning is sound – she doesn’t question that – but it’s all so much.  Too much.  What if he’s wrong?  He has to be wrong.  She doesn’t feel like a princess (whatever that feels like).  She’s just an ordinary person, a little lost girl taken in by a tavernkeep, a girl who sweeps floors and takes orders and serves ale and dodges handsy drunkards.  And suddenly she finds herself keeping company with an infamous (infamous, devastatingly handsome, and apparently ancient) pirate captain who’s convinced she’s heir to a kingdom half a world away, and it’s too much.

She looks up and searches his face.  His eyes are uncharacteristically honest and imploring, and she finds she cannot resist their silent plea.  At last she exhales with a shudder.  “If,” she says slowly, “If you’re right… then what do I do? Who could have done this?”

Hook shakes his head. “I don’t know.  Perhaps an enemy of your parents?  Alas, I’m not an expert on royal politics, though I know something about having magical enemies.”  He pointedly holds his hook aloft.

Her eyebrows tick upward, but she decides not to pursue that tale for now.  “So what do I do?” she asks again, tucking another stray lock of hair behind her ear.

“Well, that seems rather obvious.  You go home.”

She eyes the map again, following the path of Misthaven’s coastline and letting her thumb drift over the tiny drawing of a castle a little ways inland.  The royal seat.  “Home?” she repeats softly.

He nods.  “Even if we’re wrong, Swan, it’s clear you won’t find any more answers around here.  I think travel to the northern lands is your best bet.”

“With little money and no resources?”  She utters a strained laugh.  “How would I even get there?”

The knowing smile that curls at his mouth illuminates Hook’s face like the sun.  “Why, on the Jolly Roger, of course.”

 *             *             *

 Bloody hell.  She’s the Crown Princess of Misthaven.  The bloody Princess.  Hook escorts Swan back to the tavern, sneaking sideways glances at her perfect face, and the more he considers the idea, the surer he is of it.  The problem now lies in convincing her.  She seems to be considering his proposal to travel north, but belief, aye, belief is another thing all together.  He can’t say he blames her – it seems quite the fantastical story.  But then, he’s lived enough fantastical stories to know that the truth is capable of being more bizarre than the tallest tale.

His plan to take her back to Misthaven on the Jolly is perfect, though – she’ll get her best chance to find out who she is, and he’ll get to enjoy her delightful company for well over a month.  And if the communiqué he found was correct and the King and Queen are willing to reward him handsomely for the safe return of their beloved daughter, well, he wouldn’t be a pirate if he turned down a profitable endeavor, would he?

He leaves Swan at the tavern to help Maggie prepare for the evening crowd, giving her arm a gentle squeeze and gently tipping her chin up with the curve of his hook so he can meet her conflicted eyes.  “I know it’s a lot to think about, love,” he says, “but try.  I can help you find what you’re looking for.”

She smiles weakly and offers a timid nod.  “I’m sure I’ll see you soon, Captain.”

Hook gives his most reassuring grin and a bow.  

As soon as she disappears around the doorway, he makes haste back to the docks.  A passenger on the Jolly means another mouth to feed and more supplies to buy for the journey, a matter to discuss with the quartermaster. And a female passenger means adjusting the crew’s sleeping arrangements. Smee will have to give up the first mate’s berth, the only private sleeping quarters on the ship other than his own – unless, of course, the Princess wants to join him in the captain’s quarters.  

Hook bites his lip and shakes his head.  The idea is a wonderfully salacious distraction, but Swan isn’t a common whore with whom he can just have some fun and part ways.  There was a time, back when he was more promiscuous, when he wouldn’t have hesitated to try to bed a woman as beautiful as her, regardless of the circumstances.  But he’s mellowed a little over the decades, and while her royal title doesn’t automatically inspire much respect from him, Swan herself certainly does.  The Princess, even unmarried, has no business consorting with a pirate except in his wildest fantasies – she’s too pure, too special to be sullied by a man like him.  She may not remember turning down every eligible nobleman who’s sought to win her, but she has.  Fate, it seems, has an even worthier hero in store for her.  He grits his teeth and glances down at the heavy rings he wears, trophies from men who once crossed him and met their ends.  For the first time in over 100 years, the sight of them brings a pang of regret, rather than reassurance.  A hero he most certainly is not.  He and his brother once dreamt of becoming heroes long ago, but that’s no more than a distant memory now, a pleasant dream completely obscured by Liam’s death and the hard lesson it taught him about the steep price of maintaining gallant ideals in a cruel world.

Transporting the Princess back to Misthaven should be an interesting adventure and certainly a lucrative one – that’s all that matters, isn’t it?  There’s no room in his heart for love anymore anyway, he reminds himself bitterly; he’s destined to mourn his first love, his Milah, forever.  That’s his sad fate and a fitting punishment for the villain he’s become.

When he arrives at the Jolly, he summons the quartermaster and Smee to his cabin and orders them to close the door.  

The quartermaster, Roberts, shares a questioning look with Smee and complies.  “Captain?”

Hook throws both men a look of forewarning.  “This is for your ears only, understand?”  His tone brokers no room for argument.

The men glance at one another again and nod.  “Yessir,” they answer in unison.

He wanders over to a cabinet filled with rolled maps and star charts and begins sorting through them.  “I’ve come across a rather extraordinary opportunity for us, but it will require some modification of our previous plans and an unusual situation on board for the next two months.”  He locates his comprehensive map of the White Sea.  “We’ll be taking a female passenger to Misthaven.”

Smee balks.  “A woman?  Who?”

Hook chooses his words carefully.  “It has yet to be confirmed, but I think she’s their missing princess.”  He ignores his crewmen’s startled expressions as he rolls the map out over his table and secures it with paperweights.  “She’s lost her memories somehow, but I’ve spent enough time with her to be convinced of her identity.  Word is that the King and Queen are offering quite the sum for her safe return.”  He glances up at them meaningfully and grins.  “Enough to set us up for a long time.”

“So we’re kidnappin’ ‘er then?” Roberts asks, raising an eyebrow, no judgment on his weather-worn face. It would hardly be the first time a pirate had taken a royal for ransom.

Hook smiles wider and waves a finger.  “That’s the beauty of it.  I don’t think there will be a need.  I think the lass is going to come with us willingly.  She may not be sure of who she is, but she knows traveling north with us is her best chance to find some answers.”

“Well, that will certainly make it easier,” Smee agrees, brightening.

“I’m glad you agree, Mr. Smee,” Hook replies amiably, “because she is likely going to need your berth for the journey while you bunk with the rest of the men.”  

Smee’s face falls immediately.  

“It also means,” Hook continues, turning to Roberts, “that we’ve another mouth to feed.  You and I are going to revise the purchase list.  I want us resupplied and back out to sea in no more than two days.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Not a word of this to anyone, anywhere,” he emphasizes, giving them each a hard look.  “That includes the rest of the crew until she’s aboard and we’re underway.  If word gets out that the Princess is in port, the excitement could spook her, or someone else may try to steal her away for themselves.  She is highly precious cargo, and this will require discretion.  We will not collect our reward unless we deliver her to her kingdom safely.”  

After dismissing Smee and modifying the purchase list with Roberts, Hook leans over the map on his table with a distant stare.  With any luck, they’ll be back out to sea in a day or two with the Princess on board. A small smile pulls at his mouth as his mind begins to wander.  He envisions them sharing the occasional meal at this table and wiling the evenings away in pleasant discussion.  He can regale her with stories of his adventures and enjoy the way her gorgeous face lights up when she laughs that warm, infectious laugh of hers. Perhaps he’ll resume her weapons training – give her a few lessons on deck and teach her to use a cutlass or a nimble smallsword in addition to that less wieldy longsword she currently favors. Perhaps he’ll point out the constellations to her as they sail on moonlit waters; even with her royal education, he doubts she can read the night sky better than he.  He imagines her standing on the deck with a hand at the rail, the wind tugging at her silken hair and the hem of her skirt while her shining eyes gaze out over the dark waves toward the horizon.  

Hook catches himself in his reverie and freezes, his fingers tightening into a fist.  He has to stop.  As bloody amazing as the Princess is, he cannot afford to develop any real feelings for her; it’ll only lead to heartache when they return her to her kingdom and bid her farewell, and he’s had enough of that for several lifetimes, he thinks, glowering at his right forearm where Milah’s name lies inscribed in ink beneath his sleeve.  Hook sets his jaw in silent rebuke.  He’s been in this business long enough to know that sentimentality only leads to regrets or empty pockets, and frankly, he can afford neither.

 *             *             *

 “Are you alright, Swan?” Maggie bangs her ladle against the inside of the stew pot with a few loud clangs and sets it aside.  “You’ve hardly said two words all afternoon.”

Swan glances up from the potato she’s peeling, forcing a smile that does not reach her eyes.  “I’m fine,” she reassures the older woman, “Just… thinking.”

Maggie snorts, placing a lid over the pot and adding another small log to the wood-burning stove. “Oh, thinking,” she repeats good-naturedly.  “What’s turned your head?”  She crooks an eyebrow.  “It wouldn’t be a certain handsome pirate captain, would it?”  Swan gives a start, and the tavern keeper nods sympathetically. “He’s a charming bastard, isn’t he? You certainly aren’t the first to pine after him.”

“Ugh, I’m not pining,” Swan retorts, wrinkling her nose.  “I mean, he’s not what I expected, and he is charming, but it’s not that.”

“Of course.”  Maggie smiles indulgently and hauls out her cutting board.  “Well, what then?”

Swan tosses the potato in a bowl and reaches for another.  “He…”  She pauses, brow creased.  “He thinks he’s figured out who I am.  Who I really am,” she clarifies.

The other woman gasps and spins, agog. “You’re serious?”  When Swan nods, she muffles her happy cry with both hands.  “Well, tell me, girl!”

Swan smiles weakly. “He thinks I’m from Misthaven.” She doesn’t want to share the fact that Hook believes her to be a member of the royal family; even if she were convinced of it herself, labeling herself as a princess seems a good way to invite trouble.  “He’s… heard of a woman who’s been missing, and he thinks I fit her description. He wants to take me there to see if we can find some answers.”

“Heavens.”  Maggie aims a puzzled look at the ceiling as she tries to remember.  “I think I’ve heard of Misthaven.  Where is it?”

Swan bites her lip. “Practically on the other side of the world.”

“Well, what would you be doing here then?”

“I don’t know!”  Swan tosses another potato into the bowl with more force than necessary and hunches forward on her little stool, her eyes dropping to her hands as she anxiously rolls the paring knife between her palms.  “It’s crazy, right?”

Maggie considers her for a moment before humming and gently collecting the knife and the bowl of peeled potatoes from her.  “It’d certainly be a strange thing,” she agrees.  She sets to dicing vegetables, and for a few long minutes, the only sound between them is the crackle of the fire in the stove and the repetitive thunk of her knife on the wooden cutting board.  “But then,” she offers at last, “if anyone would know about strange things, it’s the Captain.”

Swan looks up at her warily and scoffs.  “Are you saying you think he’s right?  That I should just go off on some caper?  With a pirate?”

“I hardly know, my dear,” Maggie concedes serenely, her eyes on her work.  “But while Killian Jones is indeed one of the most feared pirates in these parts, he also strikes me as a very smart man.  What he says could be worth considering, so long as you don’t think he’s trying to deceive you.”  She wipes down the cutting board with a rag and throws Swan a glance over her shoulder. “Do you think he’s lying?”

“No.”  Her reply is immediate, and Swan gives a frustrated huff. She doesn’t know how, but she’s sure that he isn’t lying.  The fact is that she’s discovered an unnatural propensity for knowing when people are lying in general – that strange way her skin crawls when husbands claim to be unmarried or soldiers spin exaggerated tales of their exploits in the hopes of enticing her to their beds.  It’s just one more thing about her life that she cannot explain. She lets out a harsh laugh. “Strange, isn’t it?  A pirate who hasn’t lied to me?”

Maggie grins and shrugs. “Pirate though he may be, Killian Jones has never struck me as truly evil – formidable and extremely complicated, to be sure, but he’s got himself an honorable streak that would surprise you.” She chuckles.  “And I must say, my girl, I’ve known him for many years, and I’ve never seen him take as much interest in a woman as he has in you.” She winks.  “Perhaps you just bring out the best in him.”

Swan wills her cheeks not flush, her features carefully neutral when she stands defiantly and hauls out a sack of flour to begin making bread.  

Maggie watches her with a look of amusement and a little sadness as she checks on the simmering contents of the pot and then begins separating sprigs of rosemary.  They work in companionable silence for a while until Swan has the dough combined and divided and they move to knead the loaves side-by-side at the work bench.  “So when do you leave?” she asks.

Swan turns her head, her eyes shining with a shade of helplessness and her shoulders undulating as she works the bread in a practiced rhythm.  She directs her gaze back to her hands and sniffs.  “I never said I was going.”

Beside her, Maggie’s mouth forms into a quiet little smile.  “Oh, Swan.  You didn’t have to.”

 *             *             *

 It’s late in the evening by the time Hook makes his way back to Maggie’s.  In addition to making his purchases from the swordsmith, he’s spent the remainder of the afternoon haggling prices with various merchants and suppliers.  Securing all the food and supplies the Jolly needs is always a task, and he’s gratified to have completed it in a single day.   Now, however, he finds himself weary and yearning for a warm meal and a pint or two, and the thought of finding those things and Swan in the same place eases the tension between his shoulders as he pushes the tavern door open. The dinner crowd has mostly dispersed at this hour, and he has no difficulty finding an empty table in the corner.

Swan – Emma, he supposes – emerges from the kitchen several minutes later with a tankard of ale and part of a loaf of bread.  “Hi.” She seems almost shy as she places the items on the table in front of him, wiping her hands on her apron.

He beams, exhaustion dissipating at the sight of her.  “Swan.”

She appears to relax a fraction and returns his smile.  “You look tired.”  She studies the subtle signs of fatigue written on his face, and her expression grows sympathetic.  “Hungry?”

“Famished,” he admits. “I wouldn’t mind seeing what became of those vegetables you had with you earlier.”

“Of course.”  Her grin warms him more effectively than the nearby fire as she turns and hustles toward the kitchen.

The stew is better than adequate, and Hook practically inhales it, mopping up the last drops at the bottom of his bowl with a few torn pieces of bread.

Maggie’s satisfied laugh meets his ears, and the tavernkeep appears and plops herself down at his table. “An empty bowl is the best compliment a cook can receive,” she comments.

He rumbles in agreement. “Aye.  If you have some more, I would gladly compliment you again.”

She chuckles and signals Emma, who is cleaning up behind the bar.  The girl disappears into the kitchen, and Maggie rotates back to face him. “Swan tells me you think she’s from Misthaven.”

Hook nods and lifts his tankard, giving it a swirl before raising it to his lips.  “Mark my word – all signs point north as far as the girl is concerned.”

Maggie surveys him mildly. “For a man who only met her last night, you’re awfully sure of yourself.”

“How long have you known me?”

She laughs.  “Many years,” she acknowledges.  “I don’t doubt you’re right about who you think she is. I’ve just never known you to be so eager to play the hero.  I assume you’re getting something out of this?”

He gives her the side-eye and winks.  “Perhaps.”

She arcs a graying eyebrow. “Something other than the chance to get in the good graces of a girl you can’t stop staring at?”

Hook’s gaze falls to the table, though he shrugs and plasters on a nonchalant grin.  “Pirate, love.  I’m perfectly capable of appreciating profit and a pretty face.”

Maggie sits back and tuts, her brown eyes boring uncomfortably into him.  “She’s more than that, and you know it.  You’ve figured out how special she is.”

“I know treasure when I see it,” he acquiesces quietly, studying his tankard.  His eyes flick back up to her face.  “Would you be disappointed if some of my intentions were honorable?”

“Of course not.  I’m actually rather proud of you, Captain.” The woman smiles fondly at him. “I encouraged her to go with you.”

“She hasn’t decided yet?”

“Oh, she has,” Maggie replies airily.  “She just won’t admit it.”  She rises to her feet as Emma emerges from the kitchen and heads toward them with a bowl of stew in one hand and another half a loaf of crusty bread on a platter in the other. The older woman claps a hand heavily on the pirate’s shoulder, somehow making it feel like the weight of the world. “Take care of her, Captain.”

Hook swallows hard and nods as she walks away.

 *             *             *

 The sounds of the street outside have only partly died down by the time Swan returns to the tiny attic above the tavern where she’s slept since Maggie first took her in. Through the single open window she can still hear the scattered calls of drunken revelers and the occasional blush-inducing groans and breathy yelps of the prostitutes servicing their latest round of clients in the brothels (and, indeed, the alleys) down the way.  She briefly wonders if Hook is one of those clients, but she quickly shakes her head to try to banish the lurid and unwanted images from her mind.

Hunching to avoid striking her head on the low vaulted ceiling, she steps over to the thin straw mattress that sits on the floor to one side of the window and lowers herself to sit on the edge with a tired sigh.  Swan sets her lantern carefully aside and goes to work stripping out of her corset and petticoat, her thoughts a jumble as she sets them aside and breathes deep. It’s been a long and eventful day, and she hardly knows what she’s feeling about all of its revelations – that she knows how to wield a sword and read maps, that the Captain now believes her to be a missing princess from a country so far away it may as well be on the moon, that Maggie appears to trust his judgment, that she feels undeniably drawn to him…

She huffs and reaches for the small, worn hairbrush she inherited from one of the other barmaids, staring out into the night as she absently works the out the day’s tangles with the fraying bristles.  

Leave Vicarstown.  

Does she dare?  

Her eyes flit up and down the dimly lit street, and she winces at the unmistakable sound of some inebriated soul turning out the contents of their stomach nearby.  Is she willing to accept a life holed up in this port town?  Is whatever lies out there for her worth braving a long voyage at sea with pirates? She chews on her lip.  

Is it riskier to stay and never find out?

Trust your gut, Swan.  It will tell you what to do.

That’s what Hook had said. They both know what he wants, but he isn’t asking her to trust him, she realizes suddenly.  He’s asking her to trust herself.

She huffs and scrunches her face in a tormented mask.

Okay.  Okay.

Swan straightens and begins to gather her meager belongings into a neat pile next to her bed before she loses her nerve.  Her gaze flies around the attic at the various storage crates she shares the space with, searching for a spare sack in which to carry her things.

The sound of heavy footsteps climbing the stairs gives her a start, and Swan freezes, the hairs on her neck rising on end until Maggie’s silhouette, illuminated in the dark by her own lantern, appears half bent-over in the low doorway.  The tavernkeep is in her faded cotton dressing gown, her hair in a braid down one shoulder and a dark bundle in her hand.  

Swan’s surprise must be obvious on her face, because the other woman smiles apologetically. “Sorry to have frightened you.”

Swan releases a breath she didn’t realize she was holding.  “It’s alright,” she chortles nervously.  “I thought you’d gone to bed hours ago.”

Maggie’s keen gaze alights on Swan’s small stack of belongings, and she smiles knowingly in the lantern light.  “It occurred to me you might be needing this,” she says, holding out the bundle and giving it a shake.  A large old burlap rice sack unfurls.

Swan rises and comes forward, emotion suddenly swimming in her eyes as she hesitantly accepts the offering, cherishing the sensation of the coarse fabric against her fingertips. She suddenly flings herself forward, her arms wrapping around Maggie’s broad torso and her voice wavering with the first tear that rolls down her cheek.  “Thank you.”

Maggie sniffles back. “Ah, my dear.  You’ve always been welcome.”

Thanks for reading!  Ready for the next chapter?  Click here!

[queenofnohr]

FGO Material Book III - Paracelsus von Hohenheim Profile

Thank you to @empress-alba for commissioning this!

*If anyone is interested in commissioning me, here’s my regular commission page, and here’s my chart for Chapter America/E Pluribus Unum!

Class Skills:

Territory Creation: A

As a magus, he can create a “special terrain” that is advantageous to himself. Because this skill is A rank, it is possible for him to create a “temple” that exceeds a “workshop.”

Item Construction: EX

The ability to create a magical item. Because of a tale of his, this skill is placed at EX rank. The creation of a particular crystal called the Philosopher’s Stone, artificial spirits corresponding to the five elements called Elementals, and artificial humans (homunculi) capable of synchronous thought process in multiple bodies. The mass production of jewels used in Jewel Magecraft is also possible by using leylines.

Personal Skills:

High-Speed Incantation: A

The ability to accelerate incantation speed. He can cast Great Magic during the first stage. Additionally, in his case, he plans to optimize the efficiency of Jewel Magecraft (specifically the Philosopher’s Stone) with combining it with this.

Elemental: A+

The ability to use artificial spirits that correspond to the five elements. Paracelsus named these artificial spirits Elemental, or an elemental clump. It is a magical existence created with crystals inside of which the five elements are packed in an ultra-dense aggregation. For example, a fire elemental is an agglomeration of flame, manipulating very high heat. If it is an earth elemental, it’s high mass has hardness equal to vajra (diamond). (It is to be noted that what is referred to as a void, or ether, elemental mass is different than an “Ether Clump”) Depending on the time taken to create one, it is a familiar that can be manipulated the degree of being used in a Servant battle.

Philosopher’s Stone: A

An accumulation of strong magical energy within a crystal refined by himself--- the technique of handling photonic crystals. The rank varies greatly depending on the degree of purification. Although it shows various effects depending on the rank, at rank A it can result in pseudo-immortality in any subject.

Noble Phantasm:

Sword of Paracelsus

Rank: A+ Classification: Anti-Army Range: 1~99 Maximum Number of Targets: 300 people

Sword of Paracelsus. The original Azoth Sword. Paracelsus’s magical blade. A Mystic Code he created with the Philosopher’s Stone during his lifetime. The entire blade is a refined high-density Philosopher’s Stone. Its foremost effect is to amplify, assist, and strengthen magic. He does not attack being directly with the sword, instead using the magical energy put into the sword to instantly cast ritual magic. By using the five elements, he can reach the power of the Age of Gods, and turns into a light of destruction that pierces all around it.

In addition, although it’s true function is different than simply destroying…… It isn’t implemented in FGO.

Personal:

Personality:

Intelligent and quiet, he is a scholarly magus. He has a mild disposition and does not like battle. His cool and collected stance never falters, and as he delights in enlightening the youth, he often wears a smile.

Rare of a magus, he advocates the idea that human affection is precious. He regards modern magi as descendants of the pupils who inherited his own teachings, and thinks of them as his own children. He believes they are the future, holding infinite possibility, and that the accumulation of those possibilities are what will eventually be the truth of the world, lead to reaching the Root. His words are regarded as something like madness by commonplace magi who respect bloodline, but he does not intend to be swayed from his ideals. He is an inborn mad scientist.

The does not change no matter if he is interacting with a man or woman.

Motivation and Attitude Toward Master:

He quietly swears allegiance to his Master. Or perhaps it is more accurate to call it friendship. If a magus becomes his Master as in a conventional Holy Grail War, he looks to build an equal relationship between comrades aiming for the Root. If his Master does not study magic, he proposes they be friends. His desire for the Holy Grail is to “reach the Root.” Additionally, he wishes to confirm his theory that the True Ether that once filled the planet is indeed the light of the planet (for example, from a Holy Sword) is shining from the Root, however. Currently, he may be seeking atonement.

Speech Examples:

“Please, let us be friends” “The beloved children on this earth - they are the precious light of this planet” “I believe that True Ether will lead us to the lost Mysteries of the Age of Gods. I want to obtain the glow of the planet the philosophers of Chaldea correctly reached. It is the final light twinkling in this universe, and also the light of this planet.” “……The light of the planet emitted from your blade is truly beautiful.” “What is the magic of an Average One? Well, I shall show you.”

Portrait of the Historical Figure:

A legendary physician and alchemist. He was known as a person who was alive during the Renaissance period, in the 16th century. He studied medicine and alchemy over the course of his lifetime, leaving behind achievements such as “rediscovery of the four (five) elements” and “rediscovery of the three humors” and others as well as books.

This Figure in FGO:

A rare person who made his name in both human and maugs history. He was a powerful magus (Average One) who possessed the four elements of “earth,” “water,” “fire,” and “wind” as well as the element of “void,” a cultivator of Jewel Magecraft, and deeply involved with the advent of alchemy as a Thaumaturgy Foundation. It has been widely reported by magi in the modern age that he was possibly the sole pioneer that deeply ingrained alchemy into the world as a Thaumaturgy Foundation. Although he was affiliated with the Clock Tower, he networked heavily with both the Atlas Institution and the Wandering Sea, thus they developed each others’ research. And, as one can see by the fact his name went down in history, Mysteries were to remain hidden, yet he proposed that hey should be “shared with the people.” Ignoring the Clock Tower’s warnings for him to stop over and over again, he continued to present pieces of magical research to the general public, and in the end, his trying to increase production of Philosophers Stones to share is what lead to his life being lost by enforcement. When his assailants visited his manor, he showed no panic, and greeted them with a smile.

He was a rare magus who loved children and respected human nature. That is the man named Paracelsus von Hohenheim--- however. Suddenly, the possibility of abandoning his moral code was not an absolute zero. For example, if he met someone connected to the Root itself.

Regarding the Five Elements’ Corresponding Colors:

Earth (yellow), water (silver), fire (red), air (blue), and ether (a dark purple close to black). The criteria for coloring the five elements in western magic is allocated by the standard set by the Indian Tattva.

Regarding His Usual Weapon:

He uses long range attacks with magic. His magical attacks are with the five elements. When using magic, something like a large gem (Elemental) corresponding to the element floats around Paracelsus.

Ties to Characters:

Arturia (Saber)/Arthur (Prototype): The wielders of Excalibur, which is filled with the planet’s light, is the subject of much research to him, as well as a goal he should overcome as a display of tenacity.

Siegfried: If he knew True Ether was hidden in the sword, Balmung--- there’s a lot. (This was shortened.)

Makiri Zolgen: An acquaintance during life. Although the content of his research differed, he is a magus with valuable ideas. He wants to be friends. Because he knew Makiri as a noble and respectable idealist, he wouldn’t recognize him as the same person in the 21st century, I think.

Leonardo da Vinci: Really, he knew her during his lifetime. He deeply respected Da Vinci, who was a Renaissance Man, even in magic. While he wanted to be friends, he also thought she was awe-inspiring. He doesn’t remember whether or not she was a woman though. Let’s see when they met, what was it……?

Arash and Henry Jekyll/Hyde: ……There seems to be something on his mind.

Illustrator Comments:

Everytime he’s on the game screen, it makes me smile for some reason. Serious teachers and gag-type teachers are my favorites, yup.